If we take her scalp,
he cannot hurt us. In that, my brother is wrong. The bees have
buzzed too near his ears. Weasels can hear, as well as other
animals; and I have heard that this young squaw is not this bee-
hunter's squaw.
"If Injins are to take the scalps of all the pale-faces, why should
we not begin with these who are in our hands? When the knife is
ready, and the head is ready, nothing but the hand is wanting.
Plenty of hands are ready, too; and it does not seem good to the
eyes of a poor, miserable weasel, who has to creep through very
small holes to catch his game, to let that game go when it is taken.
If my great brother, who has told us not to scalp this bee-hunter
and her he calls his squaw, will tell us the name of his tribe, I
shall be glad. I am an ignorant Injin, and like to learn all I can;
I wish to learn that. Perhaps it will help us to understand why he
gave one counsel yesterday, and another to-day. There is a reason
for it. I wish to know what it is."
Ungque now slowly seated himself. He had spoken with great
moderation, as to manner; and with such an air of humility as one of
our own demagogues is apt to assume, when he tells the people of
their virtues, and seems to lament the whole time that he, himself,
was one of the meanest of the great human family.
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