“Who you be?” asked the Indian. “I’m Joe, sah. Joe Congo, one ob de stewards, sah, to de _Enterprise_, wot was lost, sah. You must hab seen it in de newspapers, sah”--and Joe was rattling off a long story when the red man interrupted him. “Speakum slow,” he said, “and don’t chatter-chatter.” “Yes, sah--sartain! Den--dat’s all! Dat’s who I am.” Joe became conscious now, for the first time, that he was an object of the greatest curiosity to the whole crowd. Their alarm having subsided, they were pressing closely to him on all sides, looking narrowly at him, and some reaching out their fingers gently to touch his hands and his face, until, being rebuked by their leader, they drew back, and contented themselves with staring. “Are you great medicine man?” asked Running Water, after a pause for reflection. “Not very,” replied Congo. “I don’t often take medicine. I berry well--t’ank you.” “Ware you git your paint?” “Paint?” “Uh! Ware you git um?” repeated the savage, rubbing his fingers over the negro’s hands, and then looking at them to see if the color came off. “Jingo! Dat ain’t paint, cap’n! Dat’s my nat’ral color, sah. Didn’t you nebber see culled gemmen before?” The chief did not reply, but gave some direction in his own tongue to one of his people, who disappeared, and presently appeared with a gourd of water, which he put down before Congo. Running Water pointed first to the water and then to the left hand of the negro, and said: “Wash! Make um white!” “Golly! But I wish I could, sah! I can’t!” “Make um white!” repeated the other severely. Joe laughed, and, dipping the hand into the water, scrubbed away at it with the other for some minutes, and then held it up, black as before, saying: “Dare, sah--you see, I can’t and dat water is jes’ as clean as it was afore; not quite, dough--but dat is only de dirt.” “More water!” said the chief, looking at the discolored fluid. “I tell you it’s no use, sah! It won’t come off. I only wish it would.” Another experiment failing to make the hand any whiter, and leaving the liquid scarcely discolored. Running Water seemed satisfied, and said: “Good paint! Stick fast. Have you got um?” Puzzled for a reply, Joe hesitated for a moment, and then, pointing to the sky, said: “Up dar. I was borned so.” The Indian bowed profoundly. “From the Great Spirit?” he said. “Yes, sah.” More convinced now than before that Joe was a great medicine man, endowed with power to heal the sick, to give success in war and the chase, or to harm them with an evil eye, Running Water and his followers treated him with the respect which was due to his supposed character. They set food before him, but Joe, though very hungry, stopped only to swallow a few large mouthfuls before resuming his negotiations in behalf of his friends, from whom he had been absent so long that he feared they might return to their boats without him.