carpet on the floor, and a white bed, and wear red frocks every day,
like Betty.

Just then she heard voices talking. Oostogah had come back; he sat
upon a log; and the trader, who came around once a year, stood beside
him, a pack open at his feet. It was this peddler, Hawk, who was
talking.

"I tell you, Oostogy, the miller's a fool. There's no new settlers
coming here, and nobody wants your land. There's hundreds and
thousands of acres beyond better than this. You'd better take my
offer. Look at that suit!"

He held up short trousers of blue cloth worked with colored porcupine
quills, and a scarlet mantle glittering with beads and gold fringe.

"I don't want it," grunted Oostogah. "Sell my land for big pile
money."

"Oh, very well. I don't want to buy your land. There's thousands of
acres to be had for the asking, but there's not such a dress as that
in the United States. I had that dress made on purpose for you,
Oostogy. I said: 'Make me a dress for the son of a great chief. The
handsomest man'" (eying the lad from head to foot) "'that lives this
side of the great water.'"

Oostogah grunted, but his eyes began to sparkle.

"Here now, Oostogy, just try it on to please me. I'd like to see you
dressed like a chief for once."