"My tradition say a great deal," was the answer, "It say some good,
some bad."
"May I ask of what tribe you are?"
The red man turned his eyes on us kindly, as if to lessen anything
ungracious there might be in his refusal to answer, and with an
expression of benevolence that we scarcely remember ever to have
seen equalled. Indeed, we might say with truth, that the love which
shone out of this old man's countenance habitually, surpassed that
which we can recall as belonging to any other human face. He seemed
to be at peace with himself, and with all the other children of
Adam,
"Tribe make no difference," he answered. "All children of same Great
Spirit."
"Red men and pale-faces?" I asked, not a little surprised with his
reply.
"Red man and pale-face. Christ die for all, and his Fadder make all.
No difference, excep' in color. Color only skin deep."
"Do you, then, look on us pale-faces as having a right here? Do you
not regard us as invaders, as enemies who have come to take away
your lands?"
"Injin don't own 'arth. 'Arth belong to God, and he send whom he
like to live on it. One time he send Injin; now he send pale-face.
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