But there must be some good reason, he argued, for
this. Perhaps it was only the natural pride an Indian feels, and which
prevents him from admitting to the palefaces that he is helpless to
supply the wants of his people.
"Name Frank," he said, touching his breast "What call you?"
"Running Elk, chief among Crees. Long he lead them in the hunt and in
battle. But a serpent come among my people and poison all against
Running Elk. Now they think the half-breed Pierre La Motte best man to
follow. Him talk, talk, all time, and warriors dream. Some day they wake
up and know him for bad man. Then p'raps they ask Running Elk come back
again. Wait, see!"
That was the Indian idea of patience. Frank could understand it all now.
Plainly, a smart half-breed had managed to hypnotize the braves in the
Cree village, and influence them to turn against their own chief. When
he and his family resisted they were ignominiously exiled, and sent
forth to face the world without means for providing food for the squaws
and pappooses.
Somehow, Frank felt a strong sense of sympathy for the old exiled chief.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161