Little he learned, however, from the unfriendly ones.
When making gifts to these redmen he could never be certain that his offerings were appreciated.

The jewels and gold he had brought west with him went to the French traders, who in exchange gave him trinkets, baubles, bracelets and weapons.

Jim made hundreds of presents.

Boldly going up to befeathered and befringed chieftains, he offered them knives, hatchets, or strings of silvery beads.
Sometimes his kindly offerings were repelled with a haughty stare; at other times they would be accepted coldly, suspiciously, as if the gifts brought some unknown obligation.
For a white man it was a never-to-be-forgotten experience to see eight or ten of these grim, slowly stepping forest kings, arrayed in all the rich splendor of their costume, stalking among the teepees of the Village of Peace.

Somehow, such a procession always made Jim shiver.