The appearance of Ohquamehud indicated no hostility when he presented himself before the Recluse, whom he found weaving baskets in front of his cabin, nor did his visit seem to surprise the latter.  For an instant the Indian looked with disdain upon an employment which his wild education had taught him was fit only for women; but suppressing the expression of a sentiment that might have interfered with his purpose, with a quiet dignity, and, as if in answer to a wave of Holden’s hand, he seated himself on a large stone by his side.  For a time he was silent, as if either out of deference to the superior years of the other, or because he wished to collect his thoughts before he began the conversation.  Finding, however, he could obtain from the Solitary no further sign of recognition, he spoke in his own language.

“My brother has a big heart.  He is making gifts for the beautiful women of his nation.”

“Indian,” replied Holden, “think not to deceive me.  At this moment thou considerest this an occupation unfit for a man.”

“My brother has very long eyes.  They can see the woodpecker on the rotten tree across the river, but they reach not here,” laying his hand upon his breast.  “The Holder of the Heavens loves not to see things alike.  He therefore made the leaf of the oak to differ from that of the hickory, and the pine from both, and also the white race from the red.  And, for the same reason, he taught the white man to make big lodges of wood, and brick and stone, and to swim over the waters in large canoes with wings:  while to the red man he gave the forests and prairies, with the deer, and bear, and buffalo, and caused him to dwell in very small wigwams made of bark.  And so, also, he taught my white brother to weave beautiful baskets, but denied the skill to my father’s son.”

The Indian must have supposed he had seriously offended his new acquaintance, to induce him thus elaborately to attempt to avert his suspicions.  However that might be, the Solitary resumed the conversation as though he felt no resentment.

“There is wisdom in thy speech.  The Great Spirit loves variety, and it is he that maketh men to differ.  But there was once a time many moons ago, when thy ancestors builded great houses and dwelt in cities, and sailed over the seas in winged-canoes.”

The Indian cast a quick, sharp glance at the Solitary, as if he wished to read his very soul.  For a moment he looked as though he doubted the evidence of his senses.  But recovering his composure, he said: 

“The thoughts of my brother are very high, and his voice like the sound of a great wind.”

“Thou comprehendest me not.  Know then, Indian, that innumerable years ago, there lived far towards the rising sun, twelve tribes, called the ‘Children of Israel,’ whom the Master of Life greatly loved.  And they had wise and brave Sachems, who led them to battle, and their feet were red with the blood of their enemies.  But they became wicked, and would not hearken unto the words of the Great Spirit, and He turned his face away from them.  So their enemies came upon them, and despoiled them, and drove them from the land.  Two of the tribes still linger near the rising sun, but ten wandered far away into distant countries, and they are thy fathers.”