"Two canoes," he said, in the deep guttural tones of his race,
holding up the number of fingers he mentioned, by way of preventing
mistakes; "one for you --one for me."
"No, no, Mingo, that will never do. You own neither; and neither
shall you have, as long as I can prevent it. I know it's war atween
your people and mine, but that's no reason why human mortals should
slay each other, like savage creatur's that meet in the woods; go
your way, then, and leave me to go mine. The world is large enough
for us both; and when we meet fairly in battle, why, the Lord will
order the fate of each of us."
"Good!" exclaimed the Indian; "my brother missionary - great talk;
all about Manitou."
"Not so - not so, warrior. I'm not good enough for the Moravians,
and am too good for most of the other vagabonds that preach about
in the woods. No, no; I'm only a hunter, as yet, though afore the
peace is made, 'tis like enough there'll be occasion to strike a
blow at some of your people. Still, I wish it to be done in fair
fight, and not in a quarrel about the ownership of a miserable
canoe."
"Good! My brother very young - but he is very wise. Little warrior
- great talker.
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