Hardscrabble; or, the fall of Chicago. a tale of Indian warfare by John Richardson
page 43 of 239 (17%)
page 43 of 239 (17%)
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medal suspended over the breast of the athletic and
well-proportioned Indian. "Yes, me chief. Pottawattamie chief," and he made a sign in the direction of the Fort, near which the encampment of that tribe lay. "You friend, then?" remarked the corporal, extending his hand. "Yes, me friend," he answered promptly, brightening up and taking the proffered hand; "you give 'em boat?" "Do you see any thing green in my eye?" asked the Virginian, incapable, even under the circumstances, of repressing the indulgence of his humor. But the party questioned, although speaking a little English, was not sufficiently initiated in its elegancies to comprehend this; so, he merely answered with a "ugh!" while the greater portion of the men laughed boisterously, both at the wit of the corporal, and at the seeming astonishment it excited. This mirth by no means suited the humor of the Indian. He felt that it was directed towards himself, and again he stood fierce, and with a dilating frame before them. Corporal Nixon at once became sensible of his error. To affront one of the friendly chiefs would, he knew, not |
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