and stained waistcoat that had once been bright green. Nor did he wear any hat, but, instead, three blue feathers woven into his hair. He carried a bow and arrows and a hunting-knife hung at his girdle. A string of wampum encircled his neck. That he had seen David as soon as David had seen him was evident, for his hand was already raised in greeting.
“’Tis you, Tanopet,” called David. “For the moment I took you for the bear that has been dining at yonder stump.”
“Aye,” grunted the Indian, approaching, “Greeting, brother. Where see bear?”
David explained, Joe Tanopet listening gravely the while. Then, “No good,” he said. “No catch um in swamp. What shoot, David?” He pointed to the boy’s musket.
“Nothing, Joe. I brought gun along for friend to talk to. Where you been so long? You haven’t been here since winter.”
Tanopet’s gaze wandered and he waved a hand vaguely. “Me go my people,” he answered. “All very glad see me. Make feast, make dance, make good time.”
“Is your father Big Chief still living, Joe?”
“Aye, but um very old. Soon um die.
