Then David was introduced.
"I am happy to meet you, m'sieu," said the Frenchman.

His race was softly polite, even in the forests, and Thoreau's voice, now mildly subdued, came strangely from the bearded wildness of his face.

The grip of his hand was like Father Roland's--something David had never felt among his friends back in the city.

He winced in the darkness, and for a long time afterward his fingers tingled.
It was then that David made his first break in the etiquette of the forests; a fortunate one, as time proved.

He did not know that shaking hands with an Indian was a matter of some formality, and so when Father Roland said, "This is Mukoki, who has been with me for many years," David thrust out his hand.