The maiden here cast an uneasy glance at Claud, and a deprecating one at her father, at the unnecessary caution, as she believed it, which she perceived the latter intended to convey by his words to the former. But, to her relief, Claud did not appear as if he thought the remarks had any application to himself, for he frankly responded: “Your distinction is a just one, chief. Your views about these matters are my own views. Your creed is a good creed, so far as the remembrance of benefits is concerned; and I wish I could see it observed as generally among my people as I believe it to be among yours. But, chief, your daughter makes too much out of my assistance, the other day. I did only a common duty,--what I should have been a coward not to have done. I have no claim for any particular gratitude from her or you.” “Our gratitude was strong before; the young man now makes stronger,” remarked the other, exchanging appreciating glances with his daughter. “No, chief,” resumed Claud, “I did not come here to boast of that small service, nor claim any thanks for it, but to see a sagamore, who could give me the knowledge of the Red Man which I would like to possess; to see one who, in times gone by, was as a king in this lake country. His own history, and that of his people especially, I would like to hear. They must be full of interest and instruction to an inquirer like me. Will not the chief relate it briefly? I have leisure,--my ears are open to his words.” “Would the young man know the history of Wenongonet, alone?” said the other, with a musing and melancholy air. “It may be told easier than by words. Does the young man see on yonder hill that tall, green pine, which stands braced on the rocks, and laughs at the storms, because it is strong and not afraid?” “I do.” “That is Wenongonet fifty winters ago. Now, does the young man see that tall, dry pine, in the quiet valley below, with a slender young tree shooting up, and tenderly spreading its green branches around that aged trunk, so it would shield its bare sides in the colds of winter, and fan its leafless head in the heats of summer?” “Yes, I see that, also.” “That dry tree, already tottering to its fall, is Wenongonet now.” “But what is the young tree with which you have coupled it?” “The young man has eyes,” said the speaker, glancing affectionately at his blushing daughter. “But the young man,” he resumed after a thoughtful pause, “would know more of the history of the Red Men who once held the country as their own? Let him read it in the history of his own people, turned about to the opposite. Let him call the white man’s increase from a little beginning, the red man’s decrease from a great,--the white man’s victories, the red man’s defeats,--the white man’s flourishing, the red man’s fading; and he will have the history of the red men, and the reasons of their sad history, in this country.