De Troyes and Iberville, thinking that a truce and
parley were meant, returned the salute with their swords, and presently
the canoes of both parties made over to the shore. It was a striking
sight: the grave, watchful faces of the Indians, who showed up grandly in
the sun, their skin like fine rippling bronze as they moved; their tall
feathers tossing, rude bracelets on their wrists, while some wore
necklets of brass or copper. The chief was a stalwart savage with a
cruel eye, but the most striking figure of all--either French or Indian
--was that of the chief's body guard. He was, indeed, the Goliath of the
tribe, who, after the manner of other champions, was ever ready for
challenge in the name of his master. He was massively built, with long
sinewy arms; but Iberville noticed that he was not powerful at the waist
in proportion to the rest of his body, and that his neck was thinner than
it should be. But these were items, for in all he was a fine piece of
humanity, and Iberville said as much to De Casson, involuntarily
stretching up as he did so. Tall and athletic himself, he never saw a
man of calibre but he felt a wish to measure strength with him, not from
vanity, but through the mere instincts of the warrior.
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