"All white men do not feel so," I said.
"Not all," he assented. "But most."
"I go now," I continued, "to Governor Burnet. I shall ask him to
make a law that Indians shall be as safe from mockery as from
violence in New York."
"Governor Burnet is a good man. My brother will speak to friendly
ears. He does not say '---- Injun' and 'dirty beast' because we live
differently from him. He is a man."
"You call me brother," I said. "I have no friends in this land. May
I call you brother?"
That wonderful expression of burning intelligence lighted his face
again.
"My brother has befriended Ta-wan-ne-ars. Ta-wan-ne-ars is his
friend and brother. Ta-wan-ne-ars will not forget."
He raised his right hand arm high in the gesture of greeting or
farewell, and we separated.