Peter took the little volume, which the missionary extended as if inviting any one who might so please, to examine it also.  It was the first time the wary chief had ever suffered that mysterious book to touch him.  Among his other speculations on the subject of the manner in which the white men were encroaching, from year to year, on the lands of the natives, it had occurred to his mind that this extraordinary volume, which the pale-faces all seemed to reverence, even to the drunkards of the garrisons, might contain the great elements of their power.  Perhaps he was not very much out of the way in this supposition; though they who use the volume habitually, are not themselves aware, one-half the time, why it is so.

On the present occasion, Peter saw the great importance of not betraying apprehension, and he turned over the pages awkwardly, as one would be apt to handle a book for the first time, but boldly and without hesitation.  Encouraged by the impunity that accompanied this hardihood, Peter shook the leaves open, and held the volume on high, in a way that told his own people that he cared not for its charms or power.  There was more of seeming than of truth, however, in this bravado; for never before had this extraordinary being made so heavy a draft on his courage and self-command, as in the performance of this simple act.  He did not, could not know what were the virtues of the book, and his imagination very readily suggested the worst.  As the great medicine-volume of the pale-faces, it was quite likely to contain that which was hostile to the red men; and this fact, so probable to his eyes, rendered it likely that some serious evil to himself might follow from the contact.  It did not, however; and a smile of grim satisfaction lighted his swarthy countenance, as, turning to the missionary, he said with point—­

“Let my brother open his eyes.  I have looked into his medicine-book, but do not see that the red man is anything but a red man.  The Great Spirit made him; and what the Great Spirit makes, lasts.  The pale-faces have made their book, and it lies.”

“No, no—­Peter, Peter, thou utterest wicked words.  But the Lord will pardon thee, since thou knowest not what thou sayest.  Give me the sacred volume, that I may place it next my heart, where I humbly trust so many of its divine precepts are already entrenched.”

This was said in English, under the impulse of feeling, but being understood by Peter, the latter quietly relinquished the Bible, preparing to follow up the advantage he perceived he had gained, on the spot.

“My brother has his medicine-book, again,” said Peter, “and the red men live.  This hand is not withered like the dead branch of the hemlock; yet it has held his word of the Great Spirit!  It may be that a red-skin and a pale-face book cannot do each other harm.  I looked into my brother’s great charm, but did not see or hear a tradition that tells me we are Jews.  There is a bee-hunter in these openings.  I have talked with him.  He has told me who these Jews are.  He says they are people who do not go with the pale-faces, but live apart from them, like men with the small-pox.  It is not right for my brother to come among the red men, and tell them that their fathers were not good enough to live, and eat, and go on the same paths as his fathers.”