Radisson. One
hand deftly held his scabbard forward so that the jewelled hilt shone
against the velvet, and the other was raised impressively above the
savages. How had he made the savages come to him? How are some men
born to draw all others as the sea draws the streams?
The poor creatures had piled their robes at his feet as offerings to a
god.
"What did he give for the pelts, Godefroy?" I asked.
"Words!" says Godefroy, with a grin, "gab and a drop o' rum diluted in
a pot o' water!"
"What is he saying to them now?"
Godefroy shrugged his shoulders. "That the gods have sent him a
messenger to them; that the fire he brings "--he was handing a musket
to the chief--"will smite the Indians' enemy from the earth; that the
bullet is magic to outrace the fleetest runner"--this as M. Radisson
fired a shot into mid-air that sent the Indians into ecstasies of
childish wonder--"that the bottle in his hands contains death, and if
the Indians bring their hunt to the white-man, the white-man will never
take the cork out except to let death fly at the Indians' enemy"--he
lifted a little phial of poison as he spoke--"that the Indian need
never feel cold nor thirst, now that the white-man has brought
fire-water!"
At this came a harsh laugh from a taciturn Indian standing on the outer
rim of the crowd.
Pages:
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107