It is a lie. It is said to do my brother harm. Wicked Injins
will say such things. But we do not mind what THEY say. It is not
necessary.
"My brothers, I wish we knew the tribe of this great chief, who
tells us to take scalps, and then tells us not to take scalps. Then
we might understand why he has told us two stories. I believe all he
says, but I should like to know WHY I believe it. It is good to know
why we believe things. I have heard what my brother has said about
letting this bee-hunter go to his own people, but I do not know why
he believes this is best. It is because I am a poor Injin, perhaps;
and because I am called the Weasel. I am an animal that creeps
through small holes. That is my nature. The bison jumps through open
prairies, and a horse is wanted to catch him. It is not so with the
weasel; he creeps through small holes. But he always looks where he
goes.
"The unknown chief, who belongs to no tribe, talks of this bee-
hunter's squaw. He is afraid of so great a medicine-man, and wishes
him to go, and take all in his wigwam with him. He has no squaw.
There is a young squaw in his lodge, but she is not HIS squaw. There
is no need of letting her go, on his account.
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