The last day of “All Stars”
camp I got my knives back and we went to a little mock Indian pow-wow
with native dancers and nonnative traders. The three knives and
tomahawk were not as cool as some of the stuff on the blankets and
the trading was all being conducted by the secret language of Indian
sign with every gesture explained seconds later in English for those
of us that were unfamiliar with Native American trading signs. Which
was all of us. I was not a bold kid when it came to the serious
business of haggling and trading so I hung back seeing how this whole
haggling Pas-de-deux was enjoined. When I saw a replica bone handled
knife with a stone blade I had to have it and I pushed through my
commercial shyness and sat down in the traders spot on the blanket
and pushed one of my knives forward. The ersatz Indian trader made
the sign for wanting to inspect it and I was guided in how to sign my
approval. He unsheathed it and read the makers mark and gave a
passable Chief Stone-face grudging nod of approval. He motioned to
his wares asking which I wanted in trade. I pointed to the bone
handled stone bladed beauty and he gave a great 'Oh there is no way I
could ever feed my family making such foolish trades as this' look. I
sweetened the pot with a second knife and he repeated the inspection
process. This was a ripper kind of knife that looked as menacing as a
knife could within the constraints of law. He looked it over and once
again nodded his approval of its look and quality. He then
reluctantly pushed the bone and stone object of my desire to the
middle opposed to my two knives and made the sign for a trade. We
traded and I walked away a happy man because I got a really cool
knife in trade for a pair of knives I had stolen from my dad to take
on this trip so all in all I was doing pretty good at this trading
game.
