We stayed
there quite a while, I should say. He lived in his own shack, cooking
for himself and all that. He was full of ideas of duty to his wife and
so on. I fell in with the local customs and took up with a sweetheart,
and handled things so well that there was one of their ceremonials
pretty soon in which I was central figure. Ista, it seems, made a public
announcement. That would be natural enough with a tribe so concerned
about the family birth rate. But it made me sorter mad to hear the
natives everlastingly accusing Somerfield of being an undesirable. But
they never let up trying to educate him and make him a Tlinga citizen.
They were patient and persistent enough. On the other hand, I was looked
on as a model young man, and received into the best society.
"About the time we were ready to strike west, Ista, that was my girl,
told me that there would have to be a new ceremonial. She took my going
in good part, for there was nothing more I could do. They were sensible
enough to know that man was only an instrument in the great game as they
understood it. Ista had led me out to a quiet place to put me next. I
remember that vividly because of a little thing that happened that
doesn't mean anything. I often wonder why resultless things sometimes
stick in the mind.
Pages:
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197