the farm
just now, and I want to see a little of the country round about, so, if
you don't object to my company, I'd like to go."

"The Cree chief will be proud to have the company of the Paleface
chief," replied the Indian, with grave courtesy.

Dan wanted to say "All right," but was ignorant of the Cree equivalent
for that familiar phrase; he therefore substituted the more sober and
correct, "It is well."

"But," said he, "you must not call me a Paleface chief, for I am only an
ordinary man in my own land--what you would call one of the braves."

"Okematan is thought to have a good judgment among his people," returned
the Indian, "though he has not the snows of many winters on his head,
and he thinks that if Dan'el had stayed in the wigwams of his people
beyond the Great Salt Lake, he would have been a chief."

"It may be so, Okematan, though I doubt it," replied Dan, "but that is a
point which cannot now be proved. Meanwhile, my ambition at present is
to become a great hunter, and I want you to teach me."

The chief, who was gratified by the way in which this was put, gladly
agreed to the proposal.

"There is another man who would like to go with us," said Davidson. "My
friend, Fergus McKay, is anxious, I know, to see more of the lands of
the Indian. You have no objection to his going, I suppose?--in another
canoe of course, for three would be too many in your small canoe."

Okematan had no objection.

"Three would not be too many in the canoe," he said, "but two are better
for hunting."

"Very good. But we will want a fourth to make two in each canoe. Whom
shall we invite?"

"Okematan's counsel is," answered the chief, "to take a brave who is
young and strong and active; whose eye is quick and his hand steady;
whose heart never comes into his throat when danger faces him; whose
face does not grow pale at the sight of approaching death; whose heart
is as the heart of the grisly bear for courage, and yet tender as the
heart of a Paleface squaw; whose hand can accomplish whatever his head
plans, and whose tongue is able to make a sick man smile."

Davidson smiled to himself at this description, which the chief uttered
with the sententious gravity that would have characterised his speech
and bearing in a council of war.

"A most notable comrade, good Okematan; but where are we to find him,
for I know nobody who comes near to that description."

"He dwells in your own wigwam," returned the chief.