Jim made hundreds of
presents. Boldly going up to befeathered and befringed chieftains,
he offered them knives, hatchets, or strings of silvery beads.
Sometimes his kindly offerings were repelled with a haughty stare;
at other times they would be accepted coldly, suspiciously, as if
the gifts brought some unknown obligation.
For a white man it was a never-to-be-forgotten experience to see
eight or ten of these grim, slowly stepping forest kings, arrayed in
all the rich splendor of their costume, stalking among the teepees
of the Village of Peace. Somehow, such a procession always made Jim
shiver. The singing, praying and preaching they heard unmoved. No
emotion was visible on their bronzed faces; nothing changed their
unalterable mien. Had they not moved, or gazed with burning eyes,
they would have been statues. When these chieftains looked at the
converted Indians, some of whom were braves of their nations, the
contempt in their glances betrayed that they now regarded these
Christian Indians as belonging to an alien race.
Among the chiefs Glickhican pointed out to Jim were Wingenund, the
Delaware; Tellane, the Half-King; Shingiss and Kotoxen--all of the
Wolf tribe of the Delawares.
Glickhican was careful to explain that the Delaware nation had been
divided into the Wolf and Turtle tribes, the former warlike people,
and the latter peaceable.
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