Their story excited no suspicion at Quallatown: the craft of the
Cherokees is an antiquated endowment, and has not kept pace with modern
progress. Even the woman, who arrogated a spirit of prophecy and had long
practised the devices of a fortune-teller, thus accustomed to scan the
possibilities and in some degree versed in the adjustment of the
probabilities, accorded the homely verisimilitude of their worldly-wise
representations the meed of a simple and respectful credulity. The
mountaineers were ignorant indeed in their sort, but far too
sophisticated to entertain aught but the most contemptuous disbelief in
her pretensions of special foresight and mysterious endowment. They did
not fear her discrimination, and told their story, through an
interpreter, with a glib disregard of any uncanny perspicacity on her
part. She was one of the many Indians of the reservation who speak no
English. Her cabin was far from Quallatown, and indeed at a considerable
distance from any other dwelling. With her and her few associates, the
moonshiners thought the child would soon forget his name, his language,
and his terrible experience, and they promised themselves that when all
was buried in oblivion they would come and reclaim him and place him more
suitably among themselves, and see to it that he should have some chance,
some show in the world to make a man of himself.
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