Also, he rebraided his scalp-lock with great care, doubtless desiring that it should appear a genteel trophy if taken from him, and be an honour to his conqueror and himself.
These matters presently accomplished, he drew from their soft and beaded sheaths hatchet and knife, and fell to shining them up as industriously as a full-fed cat polishes her fur.
"Mayaro," said I, amused, "is a battle then near at hand that you make so complete a preparation for it ?" A half-smile appeared for a moment on his lips: "It is always well to be prepared for life or death, Loskiel, my younger brother." "Oho!" said I, smiling.

"You understood the express rider when he said that Indians had fired on our pickets a week ago!" The stern and noble countenance of the Sagamore relaxed into the sunniest of smiles.
"My little brother is very wise.

He has discovered that the Siwanois have ears like white men." "Aye--but, Sagamore, I was not at all certain that you understood in English more than 'yes' and 'no.'" "Is it because," he inquired with a merry glance at me, "my brother has only heard as yet the answer 'no' from Mayaro ?" I bit my lip, reddened, and then laughed at the slyly taunting reference to my lack of all success in questioning him concerning the little maiden, Lois.
At the same time, I realized on what a friendly footing I already stood with this Mohican.

Few white men ever see an Iroquois or a Delaware laugh; few ever witness any relaxation in them or see their coldly dignified features alter, except in scorn, suspicion, pride, and anger.
Only in time of peace and amid their own intimates or families do our Eastern forest Indians put off the expressionless and dignified mask they wear, and become what no white man believes them capable of becoming--human, tender, affectionate, gay, witty, talkative, as the moment suits.
At Guy Park, even, I had never seen an Iroquois relax in dignity and hauteur, though, of course, it was also true that Guy Johnson was never a man to inspire personal confidence or any intimacy.

Nor was Walter Butler either; and Brant and his Mohawks detested and despised him.
But I had been told that Indians--I mean the forest Indians, not the vile and filthy nomad butchers of the prairies--were like ourselves in our own families; and that, naturally, they were a kindly, warm-hearted, gay, and affectionate people, fond of their wives and children, and loyal to their friends.
Now, I could not but notice how, from the beginning, this Siwanois had conducted, and how, when first we met, his eye and hand met mine.