Thus without any choice of mine I was given the name which has ever since clung to me.
The Fox offered me his hand, and said in friendly tones: “If Old Shatterhand will, we will be friends and brothers. We love men who can knock down an enemy with a blow, and he shall be welcome among us.”
Which really meant: “We need allies with such strength, so come to us.”
However, I replied: “I love the red men, for they are the sons of the Great Spirit, whose children we also are. We are brothers, and will unite against all enemies who do not respect us.”
A smirk of satisfaction passed over his greased and painted face as he replied: “Old Shatterhand has spoken well; we will smoke the pipe of peace with him.” So saying he seated himself, and brought out a pipe which he filled with a mixture apparently of red turnip, hemp, chopped acorns, and sour sorrel, lighted it, rose, took a whiff, puffed it towards heaven and earth, and said: “Above dwells the Great Spirit, and here on earth exist the plants and beasts which he made for the Kiowa warriors.” Then he took another whiff, and blew it towards the north, east, south, and west, saying: “In all directions dwell the red and white men who wrongfully take these beasts and plants for themselves; but we shall find them, and take what is ours. I have spoken. How!”
What a speech! This Kiowa openly declared his tribe the owner of everything, and hence robbery was not only his right but his duty. And I must treat this sort of people as friends!
The Fox handed the pipe to Sam, who took half a dozen puffs and said: “The Great Spirit judges not the appearance of men, nor can they deceive Him by painting their faces, for He sees the heart. The hearts of the warriors of the glorious tribe of the Kiowas are brave and wise. Mine is bound to them as my mule is tied to the tree, and will be so forever. I have spoken. How!”
That was just like Sam, the artful, jolly little man, who always knew how to win his hearers, and yet have his joke.
And now it was my turn to take the foul pipe and become eloquent. I also rose, took a whiff, and—yes, the turnip, hemp, acorns, sour sorrel were all there in the pipe-bowl, but there seemed to be a fifth ingredient in the mixture, for it tasted as if it had bits of felt shoes in it. I puffed the smoke towards the earth and the sky and said: “The sunshine and air come from Heaven, whence come all good gifts. The earth receives the warmth and moisture, and gives them to the buffalo and mustang and bear and deer, to the pumpkin and corn and all good plants from which the red man makes his kinnikinnic, that in the pipe of peace breathes brotherly love.”