Naza! Naza! Naza! 



&quot; Yes, I am the man,&quot; he said. 



&quot; The chiefs of the Chippewayan and Great Slave 

 tribes have been apprised of your coming. They 

 have held council and are here to speak with you.&quot; 



At a motion from the commandant, the line of 

 chieftains piled down to the level bench and formed 

 a half-circle before the voyager. To a man who 

 had stood before grim Sitting Bull and noble Black 

 Thunder of the Sioux, and faced the falcon-eyed 

 Geronimo, and glanced over the sights of a rifle at 

 gorgeous-feathered, wild, free Comanches, this semi 

 circle of savages lords of the north was a sorry 

 comparison. Bedaubed and betrinketed, slouchy and 

 slovenly, these low-statured chiefs belied in appear 

 ance their scorn-bright eyes and lofty mien. They 

 made a sad group. 



One who spoke in unintelligible language, rolled 

 out a haughty, sonorous voice over the listening mul 

 titude. When he had finished, a half-breed inter 

 preter, in the dress of a white man, spoke at a signal 

 from the commandant. 



&quot; He says listen to the great orator of the Chippe 

 wayan. He has summoned all the chiefs of the tribes 

 south of Great Slave Lake. He has held council. 

 The cunning of the pale-face, who comes to take 

 the musk-oxen, is well known. Let the pale-face 

 hunter return to his own hunting-grounds; let him 



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