In the course of the social
and harmonious evening just mentioned, one of the captain's men,
who happened to be something of a virtuoso in his way, and fond of
collecting curiosities, produced a small skin, a great rarity in the
eyes of men conversant in peltries. It attracted much attention among
the visitors from beyond the river, who passed it from one to the other,
examined it with looks of lively admiration, and pronounced it a great
medicine.
In the morning, when the captain and his party were about to set off,
the precious skin was missing. Search was made for it in the hut, but it
was nowhere to be found; and it was strongly suspected that it had been
purloined by some of the connoisseurs from the other side of the river.
The old chief and his cousin were indignant at the supposed delinquency
of their friends across the water, and called out for them to come over
and answer for their shameful conduct. The others answered to the call
with all the promptitude of perfect innocence, and spurned at the idea
of their being capable of such outrage upon any of the Big-hearted
nation. All were at a loss on whom to fix the crime of abstracting the
invaluable skin, when by chance the eyes of the worthies from beyond the
water fell upon an unhappy cur, belonging to the owner of the hut. He
was a gallows-looking dog, but not more so than most Indian dogs, who,
take them in the mass, are little better than a generation of vipers.
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