nswered Nittinat rather sadly. "Me and my cousins
Wiccanish, Clyoquot, Maquinna, and Tatoocheatticus, we like heap sell
our furs, and get knives, beads, and brass buttons. Heap like nails,
chisels, and such things. If my young men sometimes stole very little
things, Nittinat's heart was not little. He made the white chiefs
welcome to wood and water; he gave them his women; and sometime make a
big feast--kill two, three, six slaves. White chief heap mean to make
trouble about a few chains or hammers after all that!"

"Oh, the horrid wretch!" whispered Fanny: "Does he say he killed half a
dozen slaves for amusement?"

"If he did, Miss Lane," I answered; "was it worse than the elegant
Romans used to do? The times and the manners have to be considered, you
know."

Fanny shuddered, but said nothing, and I went on addressing myself to
Nittinat:

"How many ships did you ever see in these waters at one time?--I mean
long ago, in Captain Cook's time?"

The old chief held up five fingers, for answer.

"And you and your cousins were friendly to all of them?"

"Maquinna's heart good, too,--_close tum-tum_. Sell land to one Cappen;
he go 'way. Sell land to other Cappen; he go 'way, too. Bime-by two
Cappens come back, quarrel 'bout the land. Maquinna no say anything.
When one Cappen ask: 'Is the land mine?' Maquinna tell him 'yes.' When
other Cappen ask: 'Is the land mine?' Maquinna tell him 'yes,' too, all
same. O yes; Indian have good heart; no want to fight great white chief
with big guns. He stay in his lodge, and laugh softly to himself, and
let the white chiefs fight 'bout the land. Ugh!"

"The mercenary old diplomat!" muttered Charlie, under his hat. "Here's
your 'noble savage,' Fanny. Burn a little incense, can't you?" But Fanny
preferred remaining silent to answering her brother's bantering remarks;
and if she was burning incense at all, I had reason to think it was to
one who shall be nameless.

"Did you always have skins to sell to so many vessels?" I asked,
returning to the subject of the trading vessels.

"Long ago had plenty; bime-by not many. White chief he heap mean. Skin
not good, throw 'em back to Indian. My young men take 'em ashore,
stretch tail long like sea-otter, fix 'em up nice; give 'em to other
Indian, tell him go sell 'em. All right. Cappen buy 'em next time; pay
good price; like 'em heap;" at which recollection the mummy actually
laughed.

"How is that for Yankee shrewdness?" asked a muffled