It was now confidently believed that Peter would rise. But he did
not. That mysterious chief was not yet prepared to speak, or he was
judiciously exciting expectation by keeping back. There were at
least ten minutes of silent smoking, ere a chief, whose name
rendered into English was Bough of the Oak, arose, evidently with a
desire to help the time along. Taking his cue from the success of
Crows-feather, he followed up the advantage obtained by that chief,
assailing the theory of the missionary from another quarter.
"I am an Injin," said Bough of the Oak; "my father was an Injin, and
my mother was the daughter of an Injin. All my fathers were red men,
and all their sons. Why should I wish to be anything else? I asked
my brother, the medicine-priest, and he owned that Jews are pale-
faces. This he should not have owned if he wished the Injins to be
Jews. My skin is red. The Manitou of my fathers so painted it, and
their child will not try to wash out the color. Were the color
washed out of my face, I should be a pale-face! There would not be
paint enough to hide my shame. No; I was born red, and will die a
red man. It is not good to have two faces.
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