The boy's face met the sympathetic eye of the master, and he said:

"I was happy on the morning when I came--sun; _she_ hate Indian, talk
against him to you; make me unhappy--shade; think I will have my
revenge--_pil-pil_; then music make me happy; you make me happy; night
come, and I think of her--she hate Indian--shade. Me will have my
revenge--_pil-pil_. She say I have no right here; she have no right here;
the land all belong to Umatilla; then to me; I no have her here. Look out
for the October moon--Potlatch--dance--_pil-pil_."

"I will be a friend to you, Benjamin."

"Yes, Boston tilicum, we will be friends."

"And I will teach you how to be noble--like a king. You felt good when I
was kind to you?"

"Yes, Boston tilicum."

"And when the music played?"

"Yes, Boston tilicum."

"Then you must be good to her; that will make her feel good toward you. Do
you see?"

There came a painful look into the young Indian's face.

"I good to her, make her good? She good to me make me good? She no good to
me. She say I no right here. The land belong to Umatilla. She must go. You