Oak Openings / Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

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Title: Oak Openings

Author: James Fenimore Cooper

Release Date: July, 2003 [Etext# 4215]
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[This file was first posted on December 11, 2001]

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OAK OPENINGS

JAMES FENNIMORE COOPER




PREFACE.

It ought to be matter of surprise how men live in the midst of
marvels, without taking heed of their existence. The slightest
derangement of their accustomed walks in political or social life
shall excite all their wonder, and furnish themes for their
discussions, for months; while the prodigies that come from above
are presented daily to their eyes, and are received without
surprise, as things of course. In a certain sense, this may be well
enough, inasmuch as all which comes directly from the hands of the
Creator may be said so far to exceed the power of human
comprehension, as to be beyond comment; but the truth would show us
that the cause of this neglect is rather a propensity to dwell on
such interests as those over which we have a fancied control, than
on those which confessedly transcend our understanding. Thus is it
ever with men. The wonders of creation meet them at every turn,
without awakening reflection, while their minds labor on subjects
that are not only ephemeral and illusory, but which never attain an
elevation higher than that the most sordid interests can bestow.

For ourselves, we firmly believe that the finger of Providence is
pointing the way to all races, and colors, and nations, along the
path that is to lead the east and the west alike to the great goal
of human wants. Demons infest that path, and numerous and unhappy
are the wanderings of millions who stray from its course; sometimes
in reluctance to proceed; sometimes in an indiscreet haste to move
faster than their fellows, and always in a forgetfulness of the
great rules of conduct that have been handed down from above.
Nevertheless, the main course is onward; and the day, in the sense
of time, is not distant, when the whole earth is to be filled with
the knowledge of the Lord, "as the waters cover the sea."

One of the great stumbling-blocks with a large class of well-
meaning, but narrow-judging moralists, are the seeming wrongs that
are permitted by Providence, in its control of human events. Such
persons take a one-sided view of things, and reduce all principles
to the level of their own understandings. If we could comprehend the
relations which the Deity bears to us, as well as we can comprehend
the relations we bear to him, there might be a little seeming reason
in these doubts; but when one of the parties in this mighty scheme
of action is a profound mystery to the other, it is worse than idle,
it is profane, to attempt to explain those things which our minds
are not yet sufficiently cleared from the dross of earth to
understand. Look at Italy, at this very moment. The darkness and
depression from which that glorious peninsula is about to emerge are
the fruits of long-continued dissensions and an iron despotism,
which is at length broken by the impulses left behind him by a
ruthless conqueror, who, under the appearance and the phrases of
Liberty, contended only for himself. A more concentrated egotism
than that of Napoleon probably never existed; yet has it left behind
it seeds of personal rights that have sprung up by the wayside, and
which are likely to take root with a force that will bid defiance to
eradication. Thus is it ever, with the progress of society. Good
appears to arise out of evil, and the inscrutable ways of Providence
are vindicated by general results, rather than by instances of
particular care. We leave the application of these remarks to the
intelligence of such of our readers as may have patience to peruse
the work that will be found in the succeeding pages.

We have a few words of explanation to say, in connection with the
machinery of our tale. In the first place, we would remark, that the
spelling of "burr-oak," as given in this book, is less our own than
an office spelling. We think it should be "bur-oak," and this for
the simple reason, that the name is derived from the fact that the
acorn borne by this tree is partially covered with a bur. Old Sam
Johnson, however, says that "burr" means the lobe, or lap of the
ear; and those who can fancy such a resemblance between this and the
covering of our acorn, are at liberty to use the two final
consonants. Having commenced stereotyping with this supernumerary,
for the sake of uniformity that mode of spelling, wrong as we think
it, has been continued through-out the book.

There is nothing imaginary in the fertility of the West. Personal
observation has satisfied us that it much surpasses anything that
exists in the Atlantic States, unless in exceptions, through the
agency of great care and high manuring, or in instances of peculiar
natural soil. In these times, men almost fly. We have passed over a
thousand miles of territory within the last few days, and have
brought the pictures at the two extremes of this journey in close
proximity in our mind's eye. Time may lessen that wonderful
fertility, and bring the whole country more on a level; but there it
now is, a glorious gift from God, which it is devoutly to be wished
may be accepted with due gratitude and with a constant recollection
of his unwavering rules of right and wrong, by those who have been
selected to enjoy it.

June, 1848.




THE OAK OPENINGS.


CHAPTER I.

       How doth the little busy bee
       Improve each shining hour,
       And gather honey all the day,
       From every opening flower.
                     WATTS' HYMNS FOR CHILDREN.

We have heard of those who fancied that they beheld a signal
instance of the hand of the Creator in the celebrated cataract of
Niagara. Such instances of the power of sensible and near objects to
influence certain minds, only prove how much easier it is to impress
the imaginations of the dull with images that are novel, than with
those that are less apparent, though of infinitely greater
magnitude. Thus it would seem to be strange indeed, that any human
being should find more to wonder at in any one of the phenomena of
the earth, than in the earth itself; or should especially stand
astonished at the might of Him who created the world, when each
night brings into view a firmament studded with other worlds, each
equally the work of His hands!

Nevertheless, there is (at bottom) a motive for adoration, in the
study of the lowest fruits of the wisdom and power of God. The leaf
is as much beyond our comprehension of remote causes, as much a
subject of intelligent admiration, as the tree which bears it: the
single tree confounds our knowledge and researches the same as the
entire forest; and, though a variety that appears to be endless
pervades the world, the same admirable adaptation of means to ends,
the same bountiful forethought, and the same benevolent wisdom, are
to be found in the acorn, as in the gnarled branch on which it grew.

The American forest has so often been described, as to cause one to
hesitate about reviving scenes that might possibly pall, and in
retouching pictures that have been so frequently painted as to be
familiar to every mind. But God created the woods, and the themes
bestowed by his bounty are inexhaustible. Even the ocean, with its
boundless waste of water, has been found to be rich in its various
beauties and marvels; and he who shall bury himself with us, once
more, in the virgin forests of this widespread land, may possibly
discover new subjects of admiration, new causes to adore the Being
that has brought all into existence, from the universe to its most
minute particle.

The precise period of our legend was in the year 1812, and the
season of the year the pleasant month of July, which had now drawn
near to its close. The sun was already approaching the western
limits of a wooded view, when the actors in its opening scene must
appear on a stage that is worthy of a more particular description.

The region was, in one sense, wild, though it offered a picture that
was not without some of the strongest and most pleasing features of
civilization. The country was what is termed "rolling," from some
fancied resemblance to the surface of the ocean, when it is just
undulating with a long "ground-swell."

Although wooded, it was not, as the American forest is wont to grow,
with tail straight trees towering toward the light, but with
intervals between the low oaks that were scattered profusely over
the view, and with much of that air of negligence that one is apt to
see in grounds where art is made to assume the character of nature.
The trees, with very few exceptions, were what is called the "burr-
oak," a small variety of a very extensive genus; and the spaces
between them, always irregular, and often of singular beauty, have
obtained the name of "openings"; the two terms combined giving their
appellation to this particular species of native forest, under the
name of "Oak Openings."

These woods, so peculiar to certain districts of country, are not
altogether without some variety, though possessing a general
character of sameness. The trees were of very uniform size, being
little taller than pear-trees, which they resemble a good deal in
form; and having trunks that rarely attain two feet in diameter. The
variety is produced by their distribution. In places they stand with
a regularity resembling that of an orchard; then, again, they are
more scattered and less formal, while wide breadths of the land are
occasionally seen in which they stand in copses, with vacant spaces,
that bear no small affinity to artificial lawns, being covered with
verdure. The grasses are supposed to be owing to the fires lighted
periodically by the Indians in order to clear their hunting-grounds.

Toward one of these grassy glades, which was spread on an almost
imperceptible acclivity, and which might have contained some fifty
or sixty acres of land, the reader is now requested to turn his
eyes. Far in the wilderness as was the spot, four men were there,
and two of them had even some of the appliances of civilization
about them. The woods around were the then unpeopled forest of
Michigan; and the small winding reach of placid water that was just
visible in the distance, was an elbow of the Kalamazoo, a beautiful
little river that flows westward, emptying its tribute into the vast
expanse of Lake Michigan. Now, this river has already become known,
by its villages and farms, and railroads and mills; but then, not a
dwelling of more pretension than the wigwam of the Indian, or an
occasional shanty of some white adventurer, had ever been seen on
its banks. In that day, the whole of that fine peninsula, with the
exception of a narrow belt of country along the Detroit River, which
was settled by the French as far back as near the close of the
seventeenth century, was literally a wilderness. If a white man
found his way into it, it was as an Indian trader, a hunter, or an
adventurer in some other of the pursuits connected with border life
and the habits of the savages.

Of this last character were two of the men on the open glade just
mentioned, while their companions were of the race of the
aborigines. What is much more remarkable, the four were absolutely
strangers to each other's faces, having met for the first time in
their lives, only an hour previously to the commencement of our
tale. By saying that they were strangers to each other, we do not
mean that the white men were acquaintances, and the Indians
strangers, but that neither of the four had ever seen either of the
party until they met on that grassy glade, though fame had made them
somewhat acquainted through their reputations. At the moment when we
desire to present this group to the imagination of the reader, three
of its number were grave and silent observers of the movements of
the fourth. The fourth individual was of middle size, young, active,
exceedingly well formed, and with a certain open and frank
expression of countenance, that rendered him at least well-looking,
though slightly marked with the small-pox. His real name was
Benjamin Boden, though he was extensively known throughout the
northwestern territories by the sobriquet of Ben Buzz--extensively
as to distances, if not as to people. By the voyageurs, and other
French of that region, he was almost universally styled le Bourdon^
or the "Drone"; not, however, from his idleness or inactivity, but
from the circumstances that he was notorious for laying his hands on
the products of labor that proceeded from others. In a word, Ben
Boden was a "bee-hunter," and as he was one of the first to exercise
his craft in that portion of the country, so was he infinitely the
most skilful and prosperous. The honey of le Bourdon was not only
thought to be purer and of higher flavor than that of any other
trader in the article, but it was much the most abundant. There were
a score of respectable families on the two banks of the Detroit, who
never purchased of any one else, but who patiently waited for the
arrival of the capacious bark canoe of Buzz, in the autumn, to lay
in their supplies of this savory nutriment for the approaching
winter. The whole family of griddle cakes, including those of
buckwheat, Indian rice, and wheaten flour, were more or less
dependent on the safe arrival of le Bourdon, for their popularity
and welcome. Honey was eaten with all; and wild honey had a
reputation, rightfully or not obtained, that even rendered it more
welcome than that which was formed by the labor and art of the
domesticated bee.

The dress of le Bourdon was well adapted to his pursuits and life.
He wore a hunting-shirt and trousers, made of thin stuff, which was
dyed green, and trimmed with yellow fringe. This was the ordinary
forest attire of the American rifleman; being of a character, as it
was thought, to conceal the person in the woods, by blending its
hues with those of the forest. On his head Ben wore a skin cap,
somewhat smartly made, but without the fur; the weather being warm.
His moccasins were a good deal wrought, but seemed to be fading
under the exposure of many marches. His arms were excellent; but all
his martial accoutrements, even to a keen long-bladed knife, were
suspended from the rammer of his rifle; the weapon itself being
allowed to lean, in careless confidence, against the trunk of the
nearest oak, as if their master felt there was no immediate use for
them.

Not so with the other three. Not only was each man well armed, but
each man kept his trusty rifle hugged to his person, in a sort of
jealous watchfulness; while the other white man, from time to time,
secretly, but with great minuteness, examined the flint and priming
of his own piece.

This second pale-face was a very different person from him just
described. He was still young, tall, sinewy, gaunt, yet springy and
strong, stooping and round-shouldered, with a face that carried a
very decided top-light in it, like that of the notorious Bardolph.
In short, whiskey had dyed the countenance of Gershom Waring with a
tell-tale hue, that did not less infallibly betray his destination
than his speech denoted his origin, which was clearly from one of
the States of New England. But Gershom had been so long at the
Northwest as to have lost many of his peculiar habits and opinions,
and to have obtained substitutes.

Of the Indians, one, an elderly, wary, experienced warrior, was a
Pottawattamie, named Elksfoot, who was well known at all the
trading-houses and "garrisons" of the northwestern territory,
including Michigan as low down as Detroit itself. The other red man
was a young Chippewa, or O-jeb-way, as the civilized natives of that
nation now tell us the word should be spelled. His ordinary
appellation among his own people was that of Pigeonswing; a name
obtained from the rapidity and length of his flights. This young
man, who was scarcely turned of five-and-twenty, had already
obtained a high reputation among the numerous tribes of his nation,
as a messenger, or "runner."

Accident had brought these four persons, each and all strangers to
one another, in communication in the glade of the Oak Openings,
which has already been mentioned, within half an hour of the scene
we are about to present to the reader. Although the rencontre had
been accompanied by the usual precautions of those who meet in a
wilderness, it had been friendly so far; a circumstance that was in
some measure owing to the interest they all took in the occupation
of the bee-hunter. The three others, indeed, had come in on
different trails, and surprised le Bourdon in the midst of one of
the most exciting exhibitions of his art--an exhibition that awoke
so much and so common an interest in the spectators, as at once to
place its continuance for the moment above all other considerations.
After brief salutations, and wary examinations of the spot and its
tenants, each individual had, in succession, given his grave
attention to what was going on, and all had united in begging Ben
Buzz to pursue his occupation, without regard to his visitors. The
conversation that took place was partly in English, and partly in
one of the Indian dialects, which luckily all the parties appeared
to understand. As a matter of course, with a sole view to oblige the
reader, we shall render what was said, freely, into the vernacular.

"Let's see, let's see, STRANger," cried Gershom, emphasizing the
syllable we have put in italics, as if especially to betray his
origin, "what you can do with your tools. I've heer'n tell of such
doin's, but never see'd a bee lined in all my life, and have a
desp'rate fancy for larnin' of all sorts, from 'rithmetic to
preachin'."

"That comes from your Puritan blood," answered le Bourdon, with a
quiet smile, using surprisingly pure English for one in his class of
life. "They tell me you Puritans preach by instinct."

"I don't know how that is," answered Gershom, "though I can turn my
hand to anything. I heer'n tell, across at Bob Ruly (Bois Brulk
[Footnote: This unfortunate name, which it may be necessary to tell
a portion of our readers means "burnt wood," seems condemned to all
sorts of abuses among the linguists of the West. Among other
pronunciations is that of "Bob Ruly"; while an island near Detroit,
the proper name of which is "Bois Blanc," is familiarly known to the
lake mariners by the name of "Bobolo."]) of sich doin's, and would
give a week's keep at Whiskey Centre, to know how 'twas done."

"Whiskey Centre" was a sobriquet bestowed by the fresh-water sailors
of that region, and the few other white adventurers of Saxon origin
who found their way into that trackless region, firstly on Gershom
himself, and secondly on his residence. These names were obtained
from the intensity of their respective characters, in favor of the
beverage named. L'eau de mort was the place termed by the voyagers,
in a sort of pleasant travesty on the eau de vie of their distant,
but still well-remembered manufactures on the banks of the Garonne.
Ben Boden, however, paid but little attention to the drawling
remarks of Gershom Waring. This was not the first time he had heard
of "Whiskey Centre," though the first time he had ever seen the man
himself. His attention was on his own trade, or present occupation;
and when it wandered at all, it was principally bestowed on the
Indians; more especially on the runner. Of Elk's foot, or Elksfoot,
as we prefer to spell it, he had some knowledge by means of rumor;
and the little he knew rendered him somewhat more indifferent to his
proceedings than he felt toward those of the Pigeonswing. Of this
young redskin he had never heard; and, while he managed to suppress
all exhibition of the feeling, a lively curiosity to learn the
Chippewa's business was uppermost in his mind. As for Gershom, he
had taken HIS measure at a glance, and had instantly set him down to
be, what in truth he was, a wandering, drinking, reckless
adventurer, who had a multitude of vices and bad qualities, mixed up
with a few that, if not absolutely redeeming, served to diminish the
disgust in which he might otherwise have been held by all decent
people. In the meanwhile, the bee-hunting, in which all the
spectators took so much interest, went on. As this is a process with
which most of our readers are probably unacquainted, it may be
necessary to explain the modus operandi, as well as the appliances
used.

The tools of Ben Buzz, as Gershom had termed these implements of his
trade, were neither very numerous nor very complex. They were all
contained in a small covered wooden pail like those that artisans
and laborers are accustomed to carry for the purpose of conveying
their food from place to place. Uncovering this, le Bourdon had
brought his implements to view, previously to the moment when he was
first seen by the reader. There was a small covered cup of tin; a
wooden box; a sort of plate, or platter, made also of wood; and a
common tumbler, of a very inferior, greenish glass. In the year
1812, there was not a pane, nor a vessel, of clear, transparent
glass, made in all America! Now, some of the most beautiful
manufactures of that sort, known to civilization, are abundantly
produced among us, in common with a thousand other articles that are
used in domestic economy. The tumbler of Ben Buzz, however, was his
countryman in more senses than one. It was not only American, but it
came from the part of Pennsylvania of which he was himself a native.
Blurred, and of a greenish hue, the glass was the best that
Pittsburg could then fabricate, and Ben had bought it only the year
before, on the very spot where it had been made.

An oak, of more size than usual, had stood a little remote from its
fellows, or more within the open ground of the glade than the rest
of the "orchard." Lightning had struck this tree that very summer,
twisting off its trunk at a height of about four feet from the
ground. Several fragments of the body and branches lay near, and on
these the spectators now took their seats, watching attentively the
movements of the bee-hunter. Of the stump Ben had made a sort of
table, first levelling its splinters with an axe, and on it he
placed the several implements of his craft, as he had need of each
in succession.

The wooden platter was first placed on this rude table. Then le
Bourdon opened his small box, and took out of it a piece of
honeycomb, that was circular in shape, and about an inch and a half
in diameter. The little covered tin vessel was next brought into
use. Some pure and beautifully clear honey was poured from its spout
into the cells of the piece of comb, until each of them was about
half filled. The tumbler was next taken in hand, carefully wiped,
and examined, by holding it up before the eyes of the bee-hunter.
Certainly, there was little to admire in it, but it was sufficiently
transparent to answer his purposes. All he asked was to be able to
look through the glass in order to see what was going on in its
interior.

Having made these preliminary arrangements, Buzzing Ben--for the
sobriquet was applied to him in this form quite as often as in the
other--next turned his attention to the velvet-like covering of the
grassy glade. Fire had run over the whole region late that spring,
and the grass was now as fresh, and sweet and short, as if the place
were pastured. The white clover, in particular, abounded, and was
then just bursting forth into the blossom. Various other flowers had
also appeared, and around them were buzzing thousands of bees. These
industrious little animals were hard at work, loading themselves
with sweets; little foreseeing the robbery contemplated by the craft
of man. As le Bourdon moved stealthily among the flowers and their
humming visitors, the eyes of the two red men followed his smallest
movement, as the cat watches the mouse; but Gershom was less
attentive, thinking the whole curious enough, but preferring whiskey
to all the honey on earth.

At length le Bourdon found a bee to his mind, and watching the
moment when the animal was sipping sweets from a head of white
clover, he cautiously placed his blurred and green-looking tumbler
over it, and made it his prisoner. The moment the bee found itself
encircled with the glass, it took wing and attempted to rise. This
carried it to the upper part of its prison, when Ben carefully
introduced the unoccupied hand beneath the glass, and returned to
the stump. Here he set the tumbler down on the platter in a way to
bring the piece of honeycomb within its circle.

So much done successfully, and with very little trouble, Buzzing Ben
examined his captive for a moment, to make sure that all was right.
Then he took off his cap and placed it over tumbler, platter,
honeycomb, and bee. He now waited half a minute, when cautiously
raising the cap again, it was seen that the bee, the moment a
darkness like that of its hive came over it, had lighted on the
comb, and commenced filling itself with the honey. When Ben took
away the cap altogether, the head and half of the body of the bee
was in one of the cells, its whole attention being bestowed on this
unlooked-for hoard of treasure. As this was just what its captor
wished, he considered that part of his work accomplished. It now
became apparent why a glass was used to take the bee, instead of a
vessel of wood or of bark. Transparency was necessary in order to
watch the movements of the captive, as darkness was necessary in
order to induce it to cease its efforts to escape, and to settle on
the comb.

As the bee was now intently occupied in filling itself, Buzzing Ben,
or le Bourdon, did not hesitate about removing the glass. He even
ventured to look around him, and to make another captive, which he
placed over the comb, and managed as he had done with the first. In
a minute, the second bee was also buried in a cell, and the glass
was again removed. Le Bourdon now signed for his companions to draw
near.

"There they are, hard at work with the honey," he said, speaking in
English, and pointing at the bees. "Little do they think, as they
undermine that comb, how near they are to the undermining of their
own hive! But so it is with us all! When we think we are in the
highest prosperity we may be nearest to a fall, and when we are
poorest and hum-blest, we may be about to be exalted. I often think
of these things, out here in the wilderness, when I'm alone, and my
thoughts are acTYVE."

Ben used a very pure English, when his condition in life is
remembered; but now and then, he encountered a word which pretty
plainly proved he was not exactly a scholar. A false emphasis has
sometimes an influence on a man's fortune, when one lives in the
world; but it mattered little to one like Buzzing Ben, who seldom
saw more than half a dozen human faces in the course of a whole
summer's hunting. We remember an Englishman, however, who would
never concede talents to Burr, because the latter said, a
L'AmEricaine, EurOpean, instead of EuropEan.

"How hive in danger?" demanded Elksfoot, who was very much of a
matter-of-fact person. "No see him, no hear him--else get some
honey."

"Honey you can have for asking, for I've plenty of it already in my
cabin, though it's somewhat 'arly in the season to begin to break in
upon the store. In general, the bee-hunters keep back till August,
for they think it better to commence work when the creatures"--this
word Ben pronounced as accurately as if brought up at St. James's,
making it neither "creatur'" nor "creatOOre"--"to commence work when
the creatures have had time to fill up, after winter's feed. But I
like the old stock, and, what is more, I feel satisfied this is not
to be a common summer, and so I thought I would make an early
start."

As Ben said this, he glanced his eyes at Pigeonswing, who returned
the look in a way to prove there was already a secret intelligence
between them, though neither had ever seen the other an hour before.

"Waal!" exclaimed Gershom, "this is cur'ous, I'll allow THAT; yes,
it's cur'ous--but we've got an article at Whiskey Centre that'll put
the sweetest honey bee ever suck'd, altogether out o' countenance!"

"An article of which you suck your share, I'll answer for it,
judging by the sign you carry between the windows of your face,"
returned Ben, laughing; "but hush, men, hush. That first bee is
filled, and begins to think of home. He'll soon be off for HONEY
Centre, and I must keep my eye on him. Now, stand a little aside,
friends, and give me room for my craft."

The men complied, and le Bourdon was now all intense attention to
his business. The bee first taken had, indeed, filled itself to
satiety, and at first seemed to be too heavy to rise on the wing.
After a few moments of preparation, however, up it went, circling
around the spot, as if uncertain what course to take. The eye of Ben
never left it, and when the insect darted off, as it soon did, in an
air-line, he saw it for fifty yards after the others had lost sight
of it. Ben took the range, and was silent fully a minute while he
did so.

"That bee may have lighted in the corner of yonder swamp," he said,
pointing, as he spoke, to a bit of low land that sustained a growth
of much larger trees than those which grew in the "opening," "or it
has crossed the point of the wood, and struck across the prairie
beyond, and made for a bit of thick forest that is to be found about
three miles further. In the last case, I shall have my trouble for
nothing."

"What t'other do?" demanded Elksfoot, with very obvious curiosity.

"Sure enough; the other gentleman must be nearly ready for a start,
and we'll see what road HE travels. 'Tis always an assistance to a
bee-hunter to get one creature fairly off, as it helps him to line
the next with greater sartainty."

Ben WOULD say acTYVE, and SARtain, though he was above saying
creatoore, or creatur'. This is the difference between a
Pennsylvanian and a Yankee. We shall not stop, however, to note all
these little peculiarities in these individuals, but use the proper
or the peculiar dialect, as may happen to be most convenient to
ourselves.

But there was no time for disquisition, the second bee being now
ready for a start. Like his companion, this insect rose and
encircled the stump several times, ere it darted away toward its
hive, in an air-line. So small was the object, and so rapid its
movement, that no one but the bee-hunter saw the animal after it had
begun its journey in earnest. To HIS disappointment, instead of
flying in the same direction as the bee first taken, this little
fellow went buzzing off fairly at a right angle! It was consequently
clear that there were two hives, and that they lay in very different
directions.

Without wasting his time in useless talk, le Bourdon now caught
another bee, which was subjected to the same process as those first
taken. When this creature had filled it-self, it rose, circled the
stump as usual, as if to note the spot for a second visit, and
darted away, directly in a line with the bee first taken. Ben noted
its flight most accurately, and had his eye on it, until it was
quite a hundred yards from the stump. This he was enabled to do, by
means of a quick sight and long practice.

"We'll move our quarters, friends," said Buzzing Ben, good-
humoredly, as soon as satisfied with this last observation, and
gathering together his traps for a start. "I must angle for that
hive, and I fear it will turn out to be across the prairie, and
quite beyond my reach for to-day."

The prairie alluded to was one of those small natural meadows, or
pastures, that are to be found in Michigan, and may have contained
four or five thousand acres of open land. The heavy timber of the
swamp mentioned, jutted into it, and the point to be determined was,
to ascertain whether the bees had flown OVER these trees, toward
which they had certainly gone in an air-line, or whether they had
found their hive among them. In order to settle this material
question, a new process was necessary.

"I must 'angle' for them chaps," repeated le Bourdon; "and if you
will go with me, strangers, you shall soon see the nicest part of
the business of bee-hunting. Many a man who can 'line' a bee, can do
nothing at an 'angle'."

As this was only gibberish to the listeners, no answer was made, but
all prepared to follow Ben, who was soon ready to change his ground.
The bee-hunter took his way across the open ground to a point fully
a hundred rods distant from his first position, where he found
another stump of a fallen tree, which he converted into a stand. The
same process was gone through with as before, and le Bourdon was
soon watching two bees that had plunged their heads down into the
cells of the comb. Nothing could exceed the gravity and attention of
the Indians, all this time. They had fully comprehended the business
of "lining" the insects toward their hives, but they could not
understand the virtue of the "angle." The first bore so strong an
affinity to their own pursuit of game, as to be very obvious to
their senses; but the last included a species of information to
which they were total strangers. Nor were they much the wiser after
le Bourdon had taken his "angle"; it requiring a sort of induction
to which they were not accustomed, in order to put the several parts
of his proceedings together, and to draw the inference. As for
Gershom, he affected to be familiar with all that was going on,
though he was just as ignorant as the Indians themselves. This
little bit of hypocrisy was the homage he paid to his white blood:
it being very unseemly, according to his view of the matter, for a
pale-face not to know more than a redskin.

The bees were some little time in filling themselves. At length one
of them came out of his cell, and was evidently getting ready for
his flight. Ben beckoned to the spectators to stand farther back, in
order to give him a fair chance, and, just as he had done so, the
bee rose. After humming around the stump for an instant, away the
insect flew, taking a course almost at right angles to that in which
le Bourdon had expected to see it fly. It required half a minute for
him to recollect that this little creature had gone off in a line
nearly parallel to that which had been taken by the second of the
bees, which he had seen quit his original position. The line led
across the neighboring prairie, and any attempt to follow these bees
was hopeless.

But the second creature was also soon ready, and when it darted
away, le Bourdon, to his manifest delight, saw that it held its
flight toward the point of the swamp INTO, or OVER which two of his
first captives had gone. This settled the doubtful matter. Had the
hive of these bees been BEYOND that wood, the angle of intersection
would not have been there, but at the hive across the prairie. The
reader will understand that creatures which obey an instinct, or
such a reason as bees possess, would never make a curvature in their
flights without some strong motive for it. Thus, two bees taken from
flowers that stood half a mile apart would be certain not to cross
each other's tracks, in returning home, until they met at the common
hive: and wherever the intersecting angle in their respective
flights may be, there would that hive be also. As this repository of
sweets was the game le Bourdon had in view, it is easy to see how
much he was pleased when the direction taken by the last of his bees
gave him the necessary assurance that its home would certainly be
found in that very point of dense wood.




CHAPTER II.

       How skilfully it builds its cell,
       How neat it spreads the wax,
       And labors hard to store it well,
       With the sweet food it makes.
                  WATTS' HYMNS FOR CHILDREN.


The next thing was to ascertain which was the particular tree in
which the bees had found a shelter. Collecting his implements, le
Bourdon was soon ready, and, with a light elastic tread, he moved
off toward the point of the wood, followed by the whole party. The
distance was about half a mile, and men so much accustomed to use
their limbs made light of it. In a few minutes all were there, and
the bee-hunter was busy in looking for his tree. This was the
consummation of the whole process, and Ben was not only provided for
the necessities of the case, but he was well skilled in all the
signs that betokened the abodes of bees.

An uninstructed person might have passed that point of wood a
thousand times, without the least consciousness of the presence of a
single insect of the sort now searched for. In general, the bees
flew too high to be easily perceptible from the ground, though a
practised eye can discern them at distances that would almost seem
to be marvellous. But Ben had other assistants than his eyes. He
knew that the tree he sought must be hollow, and such trees usually
give outward signs of the defect that exists within. Then, some
species of wood are more frequented by the bees than others, while
the instinct of the industrious little creatures generally enables
them to select such homes as will not be very likely to destroy all
the fruits of their industry by an untimely fall. In all these
particulars, both bees and bee-hunter were well versed, and Ben made
his search accordingly.

Among the other implements of his calling, le Bourdon had a small
spy-glass; one scarcely larger than those that are used in theatres,
but which was powerful and every way suited to its purposes. Ben was
not long in selecting a tree, a half-decayed elm, as the one likely
to contain the hive; and by the aid of his glass he soon saw bees
flying among its dying branches, at a height of not less than
seventy feet from the ground. A little further search directed his
attention to a knot-hole, in and out of which the glass enabled him
to see bees passing in streams. This decided the point; and putting
aside all his implements but the axe, Buzzing Ben now set about the
task of felling the tree.

"STRANger," said Gershom, when le Bourdon had taken out the first
chip, "perhaps you'd better let ME do that part of the job. I shall
expect to come in for a share of the honey, and I'm willing to 'arn
all I take. I was brought up on axes, and jack-knives, and sich sort
of food, and can cut OR whittle with the best chopper, or the
neatest whittler, in or out of New England."

"You can try your hand, if you wish it," said Ben, relinquishing the
axe. "I can fell a tree as well as yourself, but have no such love
for the business as to wish to keep it all to myself."

"Waal, I can say, I LIKE it," answered Gershom, first passing his
thumb along the edge of the axe, in order to ascertain its state;
then swinging the tool, with a view to try its "hang."

"I can't say much for your axe, STRANGER, for this helve has no
tarve to't, to my mind; but, sich as it is, down must come this elm,
though ten millions of bees should set upon me for my pains."

This was no idle boast of Waring's. Worthless as he was in so many
respects, he was remarkably skilful with the axe, as he now proved
by the rapid manner in which he severed the trunk of the large elm
on which he was at work. He inquired of Ben where he should "lay the
tree," and when it came clattering down, it fell on the precise spot
indicated. Great was the confusion among the bees at this sudden
downfall of their long-cherished home. The fact was not known to
their enemy, but they had inhabited that tree for a long time; and
the prize now obtained was the richest he had ever made in his
calling. As for the insects, they filled the air in clouds, and all
the invaders deemed it prudent to withdraw to some little distance
for a time, lest the irritated and wronged bees should set upon them
and take an ample revenge. Had they known their power, this might
easily have been done, no ingenuity of man being able to protect him
against the assaults of this insignificant-looking animal, when
unable to cover himself, and the angry little heroes are in earnest.
On the present occasion, however, no harm befell the marauders. So
suddenly had the hive tumbled that its late occupants appeared to be
astounded, and they submitted to their fate as men yield to the
power of tempests and earthquakes. In half an hour most of them were
collected on an adjacent tree, where doubtless a consultation on the
mode of future proceedings was held, after their fashion.

The Indians were more delighted with le Bourdon's ingenious mode of
discovering the hive than with the richness of the prize; while Ben
himself, and Gershom, manifested most satisfaction at the amount of
the earnings. When the tree was cut in pieces, and split, it was
ascertained that years of sweets were contained within its capacious
cavities, and Ben estimated the portion that fell to his share at
more than three hundred pounds of good honey--comb included--after
deducting the portions that were given to the Indians, and which
were abstracted by Gershom. The three last, however, could carry but
little, as they had no other means of bearing it away than their own
backs.

The honey was not collected that night. The day was too far advanced
for that; and le Bourdon--certainly never was name less merited than
this sobriquet as applied to the active young bee-hunter--but le
Bourdon, to give him his quaint appellation, offered the
hospitalities of his own cabin to the strangers, promising to put
them on their several paths the succeeding day, with a good store of
honey in each knapsack.

"They do say there ar' likely to be troublesome times." he
continued, with simple earnestness, after having given the
invitation to partake of his homely fare; "and I should like to hear
what is going on in the world. From Whiskey Centre I do not expect
to learn much, I will own; but I am mistaken if the Pigeonswing,
here, has not a message that will make us all open our ears."

The Indians ejaculated their assent; but Gershom was a man who could
not express anything sententiously. As the bee-hunter led the way
toward his cabin, or shanty, he made his comments with his customary
freedom. Before recording what he communicated, however, we shall
digress for one moment in order to say a word ourselves concerning
this term "shanty." It is now in general use throughout the whole of
the United States, meaning a cabin that has been constructed in
haste, and for temporary purposes. By a license of speech, it is
occasionally applied to more permanent residences, as men are known
to apply familiar epithets to familiar objects. The derivation of
the word has caused some speculation. The term certainly came from
the West-perhaps from the Northwest-and the best explanation we have
ever heard of its derivation is to sup-pose "shanty," as we now
spell it, a corruption of "chiente," which it is thought may have
been a word in Canadian French phrase to express a "dog-kennel."
"Chenil," we believe, is the true French term for such a thing, and
our own word is said to be derived from it--"meute" meaning "a
kennel of dogs," or "a pack of hounds," rather than their dwelling.
At any rate, "chiente" is so plausible a solution of the difficulty,
that one may hope it is the true one, even though he has no better
authority for it than a very vague rumor. Curious discoveries are
sometimes made by these rude analogies, however, though they are
generally thought not to be very near akin to learning. For
ourselves, now, we do not entertain a doubt that the sobriquet of
"Yankees" which is in every man's mouth, and of which the derivation
appears to puzzle all our philologists, is nothing but a slight
corruption of the word "Yengeese," the term applied to the
"English," by the tribes to whom they first became known. We have no
other authority for this derivation than conjecture, and conjectures
that are purely our own; but it is so very plausible as almost to
carry conviction of itself. [Footnote: Since writing the above, the
author has met with an allusion that has induced him to think he may
not have been the first to suggest this derivation of the word
"Yankee." With himself, the suggestion is perfectly original, and
has long since been published by him; but nothing is more probable
than the fact that a solution so very natural, of this long-disputed
question in language, may have suggested itself to various minds.]

The "chiente'" or shanty of le Bourdon stood quite near to the banks
of the Kalamazoo, and in a most beautiful grove of the burr-oak. Ben
had selected the site with much taste, though the proximity of a
spring of delicious water had probably its full share in influencing
his decision. It was necessary, moreover, that he should be near the
river, as his great movements were all made by water, for the
convenience of transporting his tools, furniture, etc., as well as
his honey. A famous bark canoe lay in a little bay, out of the
current of the stream, securely moored, head and stern, in order to
prevent her beating against any object harder than herself.

The dwelling had been constructed with some attention to security.
This was rendered necessary, in some measure, as Ben had found by
experience, on account of two classes of enemies--men and bears.
From the first, it is true, the bee-hunter had hitherto apprehended
but little. There were few human beings in that region. The northern
portions of the noble peninsula of Michigan are some-what low and
swampy, or are too broken and savage to tempt the native hunters
from the openings and prairies that then lay, in such rich
profusion, further south and west. With the exception of the shores,
or coasts, it was seldom that the northern half of the peninsula
felt the footstep of man. With the southern half, however, it was
very different; the "openings," and glades, and watercourses,
offering almost as many temptations to the savage as they have since
done to the civilized man. Nevertheless, the bison, or the buffalo,
as the animal is erroneously, but very generally, termed throughout
the country, was not often found in the vast herds of which we read,
until one reached the great prairies west of the Mississippi. There
it was that the red men most loved to congregate; though always
bearing, in numbers, but a trifling proportion to the surface they
occupied. In that day, however, near as to the date, but distant as
to the events, the Chippewas, Ottawas, Pottawattamies, kindred
tribes, we believe, had still a footing in Michigan proper, and were
to be found in considerable numbers in what was called the St.
Joseph's country, or along the banks of the stream of that name; a
region that almost merits the lofty appellation of the garden of
America. Le Bourdon knew many of their warriors, and was much
esteemed among them; though he had never met with either of those
whom chance now had thrown in his way. In general, he suffered
little wrong from the red men, who wondered at his occupation, while
they liked his character; but he had sustained losses, and even ill-
treatment, from certain outcasts of the tribes, as well as from
vagrant whites, who occasionally found their way to his temporary
dwellings. On the present occasion, le Bourdon felt far more
uneasiness from the circumstance of having his abode known to
Gershom Waring, a countryman and fellow-Christian, in one sense at
least, than from its being known to the Chippewa and the
Pottawattamie.

The bears were constant and dangerous sources of annoyance to the
bee-hunter. It was not often that an armed man--and le Bourdon
seldom moved without his rifle--has much to apprehend from the
common brown bear of America. Though a formidable-looking animal,
especially when full grown, it is seldom bold enough to attack a
human being, nothing but hunger, or care for its young, ever
inducing it to go so much out of the ordinary track of its habits.
But the love of the bear for honey amounts to a passion. Not only
will it devise all sorts of bearish expedients to get at the sweet
morsels, but it will scent them from afar. On one occasion, a family
of Bruins had looked into a shanty of Ben's, that was not
constructed with sufficient care, and consummated their burglary by
demolishing the last comb. That disaster almost ruined the
adventurer, then quite young in his calling; and ever since its
occurrence he had taken the precaution to build such a citadel as
should at least set teeth and paws at defiance. To one who had an
axe, with access to young pines, this was not a difficult task, as
was proved by the present habitation of our hero.

This was the second season that le Bourdon had occupied "Castle
Meal," as he himself called the shanty. This appellation was a
corruption of "chateau au Mtel" a name given to it by a wag of a
voyageur^ who had aided Ben in ascending the Kalamazoo the previous
summer, and had remained long enough with him to help him put up his
habitation. The building was just twelve feet square, in the
interior, and somewhat less than fourteen on its exterior. It was
made of pine logs, in the usual mode, with the additional security
of possessing a roof of squared timbers of which the several parts
were so nicely fitted together as to shed rain. This unusual
precaution was rendered necessary to protect the honey, since the
bears would have unroofed the common bark coverings of the shanties,
with the readiness of human beings, in order to get at stores as
ample as those which the bee-hunter had soon collected beneath his
roof. There was one window of glass, which le Bourdon had brought in
his canoe; though it was a single sash of six small lights, that
opened on hinges; the exterior being protected by stout bars of
riven oak, securely let into the logs. The door was made of three
thicknesses of oaken plank, pinned well together, and swinging on
stout iron hinges, so secured as not to be easily removed. Its
outside fastening was made by means of two stout staples, a short
piece of ox-chain, and an unusually heavy padlock. Nothing short of
an iron bar, and that cleverly applied, could force this fastening.
On the inside, three bars of oak rendered all secure, when the
master was at home.

"You set consid'rable store by your honey, I guess, STRANger," said
Gershom, as le Bourdon unlocked the fastenings and removed the
chain, "if a body may judge by the kear (care) you take on't! Now,
down our way we ain't half so partic'lar; Dolly and Blossom never so
much as putting up a bar to the door, even when I sleep out, which
is about half the time, now the summer is fairly set in."

"And whereabouts is 'down our way,' if one may be so bold as to ask
the question?" returned le Bourdon, holding the door half-opened,
while he turned his face toward the other, in expectation of the
answer.

"Why, down at Whiskey Centre, to be sure, as the v'y'gerers and
other boatmen call the place."

"And where is Whiskey Centre?" demanded Ben, a little
pertinaciously.

"Why, I thought everybody would 'a' known that," answered Greshom;
"sin' whiskey is as drawin' as a blister. Whiskey Centre is just
where _I_ happen to live; bein' what a body may call a travellin'
name. As I'm now down at the mouth of the Kalamazoo, why Whiskey
Centre's there, too."

"I understand the matter, now," answered le Bourdon, composing his
well-formed mouth in a sort of contemptuous smile. "You and whiskey,
being sworn friends, are always to be found in company. When I came
into the river, which was the last week in April, I saw nothing like
whiskey, nor anything like a Centre at the mouth."

"If you'd 'a' be'n a fortnight later, STRANger, you'd 'a' found
both. Travellin' Centres, and stationary, differs somewhat, I guess;
one is always to be found, while t'other must be s'arched a'ter."

"And pray who are Dolly and Blossom; I hope the last is not a
WHISKEY blossom?"

"Not she--she never touches a spoonful, though I tell her it never
hurt mortal! She tries hard to reason me into it that it hurts ME--
but that's all a mistake, as anybody can see that jest looks at me."

Ben DID look at him; and, to say truth, came to a somewhat different
conclusion.

"Is she so blooming that you call her 'Blossom'?" demanded the bee-
hunter, "or is she so young?"

"The gal's a little of both. Dolly is my wife, and Blossom is my
sister. The real name of Blossom is Margery Waring, but everybody
calls her Blossom; and so I gi'n into it, with the rest on 'em."

It is probable that le Bourdon lost a good deal of his interest in
this flower of the wilderness, as soon as he learned she was so
nearly related to the Whiskey Centre. Gershom was so very uninviting
an object, and had so many palpable marks, that he had fairly earned
the nickname which, as it afterward appeared, the western
adventurers had given HIM, as well as his ABODE, wherever the last
might be, that no one of decently sober habits could readily fancy
anything belonging to him. At any rate, the bee-hunter now led the
way into his cabin, whither he was followed without unnecessary
ceremony, by all three of his guests.

The interior of the "chiente," to use the most poetical, if not the
most accurate word, was singularly clean for an establishment set up
by a bachelor, in so remote a part of the world. The honey, in neat,
well-constructed kegs, was carefully piled along one side of the
apartment, in a way to occupy the minimum of room, and to be rather
ornamental than unsightly. These kegs were made by le Bourdon
himself, who had acquired as much of the art as was necessary to
that object. The woods always furnished the materials; and a pile of
staves that was placed beneath a neighboring tree sufficiently
denoted that he did not yet deem that portion of his task completed.

In one corner of the hut was a pile of well-dressed bearskins, three
in number, each and all of which had been taken from the carcasses
of fallen foes, within the last two months. Three more were
stretched on saplings, near by, in the process of curing. It was a
material part of the bee-hunter's craft to kill this animal, in
particular; and the trophies of his conflicts with them were
proportionably numerous. On the pile already prepared, he usually
slept.

There was a very rude table, a single board set up on sticks; and a
bench or two, together with a wooden chest of some size, completed
the furniture. Tools were suspended from the walls, it is true; and
no less than three rifles, in addition to a very neat double-
barrelled "shot-gun," or fowling-piece, were standing in a corner.
These were arms collected by our hero in his different trips, and
retained quite as much from affection as from necessity, or caution.
Of ammunition, there was no very great amount visible; only three or
four horns and a couple of pouches being suspended from pegs: but
Ben had a secret store, as well as another rifle, carefully secured,
in a natural magazine and arsenal, at a distance sufficiently great
from the chiente to remove it from all danger of sharing in the
fortunes of his citadel, should disaster befall the last.

The cooking was done altogether out of doors. For this essential
comfort, le Bourdon had made very liberal provision. He had a small
oven, a sufficiently convenient fire-place, and a storehouse, at
hand; all placed near the spring, and beneath the shade of a
magnificent elm. In the storehouse he kept his barrel of flour, his
barrel of salt, a stock of smoked or dried meat, and that which the
woodsman, if accustomed in early life to the settlements, prizes
most highly, a half-barrel of pickled pork. The bark canoe had
sufficed to transport all these stores, merely ballasting handsomely
that ticklish craft; and its owner relied on the honey to perform
the same office on the return voyage, when trade or consumption
should have disposed of the various articles just named.

The reader may smile at the word "trade," and ask where were those
to be found who could be parties to the traffic. The vast lakes and
innumerable rivers of that region, however, remote as it then was
from the ordinary abodes of civilized man, offered facilities for
communication that the active spirit of trade would be certain not
to neglect. In the first place, there were always the Indians to
barter skins and furs against powder, lead, rifles, blankets, and
unhappily "fire-water." Then, the white men who penetrated to those
semi-wilds were always ready to "dicker" and to "swap," and to
"trade" rifles, and watches, and whatever else they might happen to
possess, almost to their wives and Children.

But we should be doing injustice to le Bourdon, were we in any
manner to confound him with the "dickering" race. He was a bee-
hunter quite as much through love of the wilderness and love of
adventure, as through love of gain. Profitable he had certainly
found the employment, or he probably would not have pursued it; but
there was many a man who--nay, most men, even in his own humble
class in life-would have deemed his liberal earnings too hardly
obtained, when gained at the expense of all intercourse with their
own kind. But Buzzing Ben loved the solitude of his situation, its
hazards, its quietude, relieved by passing moments of high
excitement; and, most of all, the self-reliance that was
indispensable equally to his success and his happiness. Woman, as
yet, had never exercised her witchery over him, and every day was
his passion for dwelling alone, and for enjoying the strange, but
certainly most alluring, pleasures of the woods, increasing and
gaining strength in his bosom. It was seldom, now, that he held
intercourse even with the Indian tribes that dwelt near his
occasional places of hunting; and frequently had he shifted his
ground in order to avoid collision, however friendly, with whites
who, like himself, were pushing their humble fortunes along the
shores of those inland seas, which, as yet, were rarely indeed
whitened by a sail. In this respect, Boden and Waring were the very
antipodes of each other; Gershom being an inveterate gossip, in
despite of his attachment to a vagrant and border life.

The duties of hospitality are rarely forgotten among border men. The
inhabitant of a town may lose his natural disposition to receive all
who offer at his board, under the pressure of society; but it is
only in most extraordinary exceptions that the frontier man is ever
known to be inhospitable. He has little to offer, but that little is
seldom withheld, either through prudence or niggardliness. Under
this feeling--we might call it habit also--le Bourdon now set
himself at work to place on the table such food as he had at command
and ready cooked. The meal which he soon pressed his guests to share
with him was composed of a good piece of cold boiled pork, which Ben
had luckily cooked the day previously, some bear's meat roasted, a
fragment of venison steak, both lean and cold, and the remains of a
duck that had been shot the day before, in the Kalamazoo, with
bread, salt, and, what was somewhat unusual in the wilderness, two
or three onions, raw. The last dish was highly relished by Gershom,
and was slightly honored by Ben; but the Indians passed it over with
cold indifference. The dessert consisted of bread and honey, which
were liberally partaken of by all at table.

Little was said by either host or guests, until the supper was
finished, when the whole party left the chiente, to enjoy their
pipes in the cool evening air, beneath the oaks of the grove in
which the dwelling stood. Their conversation began to let the
parties know something of each other's movements and characters.

"YOU are a Pottawattamie, and YOU a Chippewa," said le Bourdon, as
he courteously handed to his two red guests pipes of theirs, that he
had just stuffed with some of his own tobacco--"I believe you are a
sort of cousins, though your tribes are called by different names."

"Nation, Ojebway," returned the elder Indian, holding up a finger,
by way of enforcing attention.

"Tribe, Pottawattamie," added the runner, in the same sententious
manner.

"Baccy, good"--put in the senior, by way of showing he was well
contented with his comforts.

"Have you nothin' to drink?" demanded Whiskey Centre, who saw no
great merit in anything but "firewater."

"There is the spring," returned le Bourdon, gravely; "a gourd hangs
against the tree."

Gershom made a wry face, but he did not move.

"Is there any news stirring among the tribes?" asked the bee-hunter,
waiting, however, a decent interval, lest he might be supposed to
betray a womanly curiosity.

Elksfoot puffed away some time before he saw fit to answer,
reserving a salvo in behalf of his own dignity. Then he removed the
pipe, shook off the ashes, pressed down the fire a little, gave a
reviving draught or two, and quietly replied:

"Ask my young brother--he runner--he know."

But Pigeonswing seemed to be little more communicative than the
Pottawattamie. He smoked on in quiet dignity, while the bee-hunter
patiently waited for the moment when it might suit his younger guest
to speak. That moment did not arrive for some time, though it came
at last. Almost five minutes after Elksfoot had made the allusion
mentioned, the Ojebway, or Chippewa, removed his pipe also, and
looking courteously round at his host, he said with emphasis:

"Bad summer come soon. Pale-faces call young men togedder, and dig
up hatchet."

"I had heard something of this," answered le Bourdon, with a
saddened countenance, "and was afraid it might happen."

"My brother dig up hatchet too, eh?" demanded Pigeonswing.

"Why should I? I am alone here, on the Openings, and it would seem
foolish in me to wish to fight."

"Got no tribe--no Ojebway--no Pottawattamie, eh?"

"I have my tribe, as well as another, Chippewa, but can see no use I
can be to it, here. If the English and Americans fight, it must be a
long way from this wilderness, and on or near the great salt lake."

"Don't know--nebber know, 'till see. English warrior plenty in
Canada."

"That may be; but American warriors are not plenty here. This
country is a wilderness, and there are no soldiers hereabouts, to
cut each other's throats."

"What you t'ink him?" asked Pigeonswing, glancing at Gershom; who,
unable to forbear any longer, had gone to the spring to mix a cup
from a small supply that still remained of the liquor with which he
had left home. "Got pretty good scalp?"

"I suppose it is as good as another's--but he and I are countrymen,
and we cannot raise the tomahawk on one another."

"Don't t'ink so. Plenty Yankee, him!"

Le Bourdon smiled at this proof of Pigeonswings sagacity, though he
felt a good deal of uneasiness at the purport of his discourse.

"You are right enough in THAT" he answered, "but I'm plenty of
Yankee, too."

"No, don't say so," returned the Chippewa--"no, mustn't say DAT.
English; no Yankee. HIM not a bit like you."

"Why, we are unlike each other, in some respects, it is true, though
we are countrymen, notwithstanding. My great father lives at
Washington, as well as his."

The Chippewa appeared to be disappointed; perhaps he appeared sorry,
too; for le Bourdon's frank and manly hospitality had disposed him
to friendship instead of hostilities, while his admissions would
rather put him in an antagonist position. It was probably with a
kind motive that he pursued the discourse in a way to give his host
some insight into the true condition of matters in that part of the
world.

"Plenty Breetish in woods," he said, with marked deliberation and
point. "Yankee no come yet."

"Let me know the truth, at once, Chippewa," exclaimed le Bourdon. "I
am but a peaceable bee-hunter, as you see, and wish no man's scalp,
or any man's honey but my own. Is there to be a war between America
and Canada, or not?"

"Some say, yes; some say, no," returned Pigeonswing, evasively, "My
part, don't know. Go, now, to see. But plenty Montreal belt among
redskins; plenty rifle; plenty powder, too."

"I heard something of this as I came up the lakes," rejoined Ben;
"and fell in with a trader, an old acquaintance, from Canada, and a
good friend, too, though he is to be my enemy, according to law, who
gave me to understand that the summer would not go over without
blows. Still, they all seemed to be asleep at Mackinaw
(Michilimackinac) as I passed there."

"Wake up pretty soon. Canada warrior take fort."

"If I thought that, Chippewa, I would be off this blessed night to
give the alarm."

"No--t'ink better of dat."

"Go I would, if I died for it the next hour!"

"T'ink better--be no such fool, I tell you."

"And I tell you, Pigeonswing, that go I would, if the whole Ojebway
nation was on my trail. I am an American, and mean to stand by my
own people, come what will."

"T'ought you only peaceable bee-hunter, just now," retorted the
Chippewa, a little sarcastically.

By this time le Bourdon had somewhat cooled, and he became conscious
of his indiscretion. He knew enough of the history of the past, to
be fully aware that, in all periods of American history, the
English, and, for that matter, the French too, so long as they had
possessions on this continent, never scrupled about employing the
savages in their conflicts. It is true, that these highly polished,
and, we may justly add, humane nations--(for each is, out of all
question, entitled to that character in the scale of comparative
humanity as between communities, and each if you will take its own
account of the matter, stands at the head of civilization in this
respect)--would, notwithstanding these high claims, carry on their
AMERICAN wars by the agency of the tomahawk, the scalping-knife, and
the brand. Eulogies, though pronounced by ourselves on ourselves,
cannot erase the stains of blood. Even down to the present hour, a
cloud does not obscure the political atmosphere between England and
America, that its existence may not be discovered on the prairies,
by a movement among the In-dians. The pulse that is to be felt there
is a sure indication of the state of the relations between the
parties. Every one knows that the savage, in his warfare, slays both
sexes and all ages; that the door-post of the frontier cabin is
defiled by the blood of the infant, whose brains have been dashed
against it; and that the smouldering ruins of log-houses oftener
than not cover the remains of their tenants. But what of all that?
Brutus is still "an honorable man," and the American, who has not
this sin to answer for among his numberless transgressions, is
reviled as a semi-barbarian! The time is at hand, when the Lion of
the West will draw his own picture, too; and fortunate will it be
for the characters of some who will gather around the easel, if they
do not discover traces of their own lineaments among his labors.

The feeling engendered by the character of such a warfare is the
secret of the deeply seated hostility which pervades the breast of
the WESTERN American against the land of his ancestors. He never
sees the Times, and cares not a rush for the mystifications of the
Quarterly Review; but he remembers where his mother was brained, and
his father or brother tortured; aye, and by whose instrumentality
the foul deeds were mainly done. The man of the world can understand
that such atrocities may be committed, and the people of the
offending nation remain ignorant of their existence, and, in a
measure, innocent of the guilt; but the sufferer, in his provincial
practice, makes no such distinction, confounding all alike in his
resentments, and including all that bear the hated name in his
maledictions. It is a fearful thing to awaken the anger of a nation;
to excite in it a desire for revenge; and thrice is that danger
magnified, when the people thus aroused possess the activity, the
resources, the spirit, and the enterprise of the Americans. We have
been openly derided, and that recently, because, in the fulness of
our sense of power and sense of right, language that exceeds any
direct exhibition of the national strength has escaped the lips of
legislators, and, perhaps justly, has exposed them to the imputation
of boastfulness. That derision, however, will not soon be repeated.
The scenes enacting in Mexico, faint as they are in comparison with
what would have been seen, had hostilities taken an other direction,
place a perpetual gag in the mouths of all scoffers. The child is
passing from the gristle into the bone, and the next generation will
not even laugh, as does the present, at any idle and ill-considered
menaces to coerce this republic; strong in the consciousness of its
own power, it will eat all such fanfaronades, if any future
statesman should be so ill-advised as to renew them, with silent
indifference.

Now, le Bourdon was fully aware that one of the surest pulses of
approaching hostilities between England and America was to be felt
in the far West. If the Indians were in movement, some power was
probably behind the scenes to set them in motion. Pigeonswing was
well known to him by reputation; and there was that about the man
which awakened the most unpleasant apprehensions, and he felt an
itching desire to learn all he could from him, without betraying any
more of his own feelings, if that were possible.

"I do not think the British will attempt Mackinaw," Ben remarked,
after a long pause and a good deal of smoking had enabled him to
assume an air of safe indifference.

"Got him, I tell you," answered Pigeonswing, pointedly.

"Got what, Chippewa?"

"Him--Mac-naw--got fort--got so'gers--got whole island. Know dat,
for been dere."

This was astounding news, indeed! The commanding officer of that
ill-starred garrison could not himself have been more astonished,
when he was unexpectedly summoned to surrender by an enemy who
appeared to start out of the earth, than was le Bourdon, at hearing
this intelligence. To western notions, Michilimackinac was another
Gibraltar, although really a place of very little strength, and
garrisoned by only one small company of regulars. Still, habit had
given the fortress a sort of sanctity among the adventurers of that
region; and its fall, even in the settled parts of the country,
sounded like the loss of a province. It is now known that,
anticipating the movements of the Americans, some three hundred
whites, sustained by more than twice that number of Indians,
including warriors from nearly every adjacent tribe, had surprised
the post on the 17th of July, and compelled the subaltern in
command, with some fifty odd men, to surrender. This rapid and
highly military measure, on the part of the British, completely cut
off the post of Chicago, at the head of Lake Michigan, leaving it
isolated, on what was then a very remote wilderness. Chicago,
Mackinac, and Detroit, were the three grand stations of the
Americans on the upper lakes, and here were two of them virtually
gone at a blow!




CHAPTER III.

              --Ho! who's here?
      If anything that's civil, speak; if savage,
      Take, or lend--

                               Cymbeline


Not another syllable did le Bourdon utter to the Chippewa, or the
Chippewa to him, in that sitting, touching the important event just
communicated. Each carefully avoided manifesting any further
interest in the subject, but the smoking continued for some time
after the sun had set. As the shades of evening began to gather, the
Pottawattamie arose, shook the ashes from his pipe, gave a grunt,
and uttered a word or two, by way of announcing his disposition to
retire. On this hint, Ben went into the cabin, spread his skins, and
intimated to his guests that their beds were ready for them. Few
compliments pass among border men on such occasions, and one after
another dropped off, until all were stretched on the skins but the
master of the place. He remained up two hours later, ruminating on
the state of things; when, perceiving that the night was wearing on,
he also found a nest, and sought his repose.

Nothing occurred to disturb the occupants of "Castle Meal," as le
Bourdon laughingly called his cabin, until the return of day. If
there were any bears scenting around the place, as often occurred at
night, their instinct must have apprised them that a large
reinforcement was present, and caused them to defer their attack to
a more favorable opportunity. The first afoot next morning was the
bee-hunter himself, who arose and left his cabin just as the
earliest streaks of day were appearing in the east. Although
dwelling in a wilderness, the "openings" had not the character of
ordinary forests. The air circulates freely beneath their oaks, the
sun penetrates in a thousand places, and grass grows, wild but
verdant. There was little of the dampness of the virgin woods; and
the morning air, though cool, as is ever the case, even in
midsummer, in regions still covered with trees, was balmy; and, at
that particular spot, it came to the senses of le Bourdon loaded
with the sweets of many a wide glade of his favorite white clover.
Of course, he had placed his cabin near those spots where the insect
he sought most abounded; and a fragrant site it proved to be, in
favorable conditions of the atmosphere. Ben had a taste for all the
natural advantages of his abode, and was standing in enjoyment of
its placid beauties when some one touched his elbow. Turning, quick
as thought, he perceived the Chippewa at his side. That young Indian
had approached with the noiseless tread of his people, and was now
anxious to hold a private communication with him.

"Pottawattamie got long ear--come fudder--" said Pigeonswing; "go
cook-house--t'ink we want breakfast."

Ben did as desired; and the two were soon side by side at the
spring, in the outlet of which they made their ablutions--the
redskin being totally without paint. When this agreeable office was
performed, each felt in better condition for a conference.

"Elkfoot got belt from Canada fadder," commenced the Chippewa, with
a sententious allusion to the British propensity to keep the savages
in pay. "KNOW he got him KNOW he keep him."

"And you, Pigeonswing--by your manner of talking I had set you down
for a king's Injin, too."

"TALK so--no FEEL bit so. MY heart Yankee."

"And have you not had a belt of wampum sent you, as well as the rest
of them?"

"Dat true--got him--don't keep him."

"What! did you dare to send it back?"

"Ain't fool, dough young. Keep him; no keep him. Keep him for Canada
fadder; no keep him for Chippewa brave."

"What have you then done with your belt?"

"Bury him where nobody find him dis war. No--Waubkenewh no hole in
heart to let king in."

Pigeonswing, as this young Indian was commonly called in his tribe,
in consequence of the rapidity of his movement when employed as a
runner, had a much more respectable name, and one that he had fairly
earned in some of the forays of his people, but which the commonalty
had just the same indisposition to use as the French have to call
Marshal Soult the Duc de Dalmatie. The last may be the most
honorable title, but it is not that by which he is the best known to
his countrymen. Waubkenewh was an appellation, notwithstanding, of
which the young Chippewa was justly proud; and he often asserted his
right to use it, as sternly as the old hero of Toulouse asserted his
right to his duchy, when the Austrians wished to style him "le
Marechal DUC Soult,"

"And you are friendly to the Yankees, and an enemy to the red-
coats?"

Waubkenewh grasped the hand of le Bourdon, and squeezed it firmly.
Then he said, warily:

"Take care--Elkfoot friend of Blackbird; like to look at Canada
belt. Got medal of king, too. Have Yankee scalp, bye'm by. Take
care--must speak low, when Elkfoot near."

"I begin to understand you, Chippewa; you wish me to believe that
YOU are a friend to America, and that the Pottawatamie is not. If
this be so, why have you held the speech that you did last night,
and seemed to be on a war-path AGAINST my countrymen?"

"Dat good way, eh? Elkfoot den t'ink me HIS friend dat very good in
war-time."

"But is it true, or false, that Mackinaw is taken by the British?"

"Dat true too--gone, and warrior all prisoner. Plenty Winnebago,
plenty Pottawatamie, plenty Ottowa, plenty redskin, dere."

"And the Chippewas?"

"Some Ojebway, too"--answered Pigeonswing, after a reluctant pause.
"Can't all go on same path this war. Hatchets, somehow, got two
handle--one strike Yankee; one strike King George."

"But what is your business here, and where are you now going if you
are friendly to the Americans? I make no secret of my feelings--I am
for my own people, and I wish proof that you are a friend, and not
an enemy."

"Too many question, one time," returned the Chippewa, a little
distastefully. "No good have so long tongue. Ask one question, answer
him--ask anoder, answer HIM, too."

"Well, then, what is your business, here?"

"Go to Chicago, for gen'ral."

"Do you mean that you bear a message from some American general to
the commandant at Chicago?"

"Just so--dat my business. Guess him, right off; he, he, he!"

It is so seldom that an Indian laughs that the bee-hunter was
startled.

"Where is the general who has sent you on this errand?" he demanded.

"He at Detroit--got whole army dere--warrior plenty as oak in
opening."

All this was news to the bee-hunter, and it caused him to muse a
moment, ere he proceeded.

"What is the name of the American general who has sent you on this
path?" he then demanded.

"Hell," answered the Ojebway, quietly.

"Hell! You mean to give his Indian title, I suppose, to show that he
will prove dangerous to the wicked. But how is he called in our own
tongue?"

"Hell--dat he name--good name for so'ger, eh?"

"I believe I understand you, Chippewa--Hull is the name of the
governor of the territory, and you must have mistaken the sound--'is
it not so?"

"Hull--Hell--don't know--just same--one good as t'other."

"Yes, one will do as well as the other, if a body only understands
you. So Governor Hull sent you here?"

"No gubbernor--general, tell you. Got big army--plenty warrior--eat
Breesh up!"

"Now, Chippewa, answer me one thing to my likin', or I shall set you
down as a man with a forked tongue, though you do call yourself a
friend of the Yankees. If you have been sent from Detroit to
Chicago, why are you so far north as this? Why are you here, on the
banks of the Kalamazoo, when your path ought to lead you more toward
the St. Joseph's?"

"Been to Mackinaw. Gen'ral says, first go to Mackinaw and see wid
own eye how garrison do--den go to Chicago, and tell warrior dere
what happen, and how he best manage. Understan' dat, Bourdon?"

"Aye, it all sounds well enough, I will acknowledge. You have been
to Mackinaw to look about you, there, and having seen things with
your own eyes, have started for Chicago to give your knowledge to
the commandant at that place. Now, redskin, have you any proof of
what you say?"

For some reason that the bee-hunter could not yet fathom, the
Chippewa was particularly anxious either to obtain his confidence,
or to deceive him. Which he was attempting, was not yet quite
apparent; but that one or other was uppermost in his mind, Ben
thought was beyond dispute. As soon as the question last named was
put, however, the Indian looked cautiously around him, as if to be
certain there were no spectators. Then he carefully opened his
tobacco-pouch, and extricated from the centre of the cut weed a
letter that was rolled into the smallest compass to admit of this
mode of concealment, and which was encircled by a thread. The last
removed, the letter was unrolled, and its superscription exposed.
The address was to "Captain--Heald, U. S. Army, commanding at
Chicago." In one corner were the words "On public service, by
Pigeonswing." All this was submitted to the bee-hunter, who read it
with his own eyes.

"Dat good"-asked the Chippewa, pointedly-"dat tell trut'-b'lieve
HIM?"

Le Bourdon grasped the hand of the Indian, and gave it a hearty
squeeze. Then he said frankly, and like a man who no longer
entertained any doubts:

"I put faith in all you say, Chippewa. That is an officer's letter,
and I now see that you are on the right side. You play'd so deep a
game, at first, hows'ever, that I didn't know exactly what to make
of you. Now, as for the Pottawattamie--do you set him down as friend
or foe, in reality?"

"Enemy--take your scalp--take my scalp, in minute only can't catch
him. He got belt from Montreal, and it look handsome in his eye."

"Which way d'ye think he's travelling? As I understood you, he and
you fell into the same path within a mile of this very spot. Was the
meeting altogether friendly?"

"Yes; friendly--but ask too many question--too much squaw--ask one
question, den stop for answer."

"Very true--I will remember that an Indian likes to do one thing at
a time. Which way, then, do you think he's travelling?"

"Don't know--on'y guess--guess he on path to Blackbird."

"And where is Blackbird, and what is he about?"

"Two question, dat!" returned the Chippewa, smiling, and holding up
two of his fingers, at the same time, by way of rebuke. "Blackbird
on war-path;--when warrior on dat path, he take scalp if can get
him."

"But where is his enemy? There are no whites in this part of the
country, but here and there a trader, or a trapper, or a bee-hunter,
or a VOYAGEUR."

"Take HIS scalp--all scalp good, in war time. An't partic'lar, down
at Montreal. What you call garrison at Chicago?"

"Blackbird, you then think, may be moving upon Chicago. In that
case, Chippewa, you should outrun this Pottawatamie, and reach the
post in time to let its men know the danger."

"Start, as soon as eat breakfast. Can't go straight, nudder, or
Pottawatamie see print of moccasin. Must t'row him off trail."

"Very true; but I'll engage you're cunning enough to do that twice
over, should it be necessary."

Just then Gershom Waring came out of the cabin, gaping like a hound,
and stretching his arms, as if fairly wearied with sleep. At the
sight of this man the Indian made a gesture of caution, saying,
however, in an undertone:

"How is heart--Yankee or Breesh--love Montreal, eh? Pretty good
scalp! Love King George, eh?"

"I rather think not, but am not certain. He is a poor pale-face,
however, and it's of no great account how he stands. His scalp would
hardly be worth the taking, whether by English or American."

"Sell, down at Montreal--better look out for Pottawatamie. Don't
like that Injin."

"We'll be on our guard against him; and there he comes, looking as
if his breakfast would be welcome, and as if he was already thinking
of a start."

Le Bourdon had been busy with his pots, during the whole time this
discourse was going on, and had warmed up a sufficiency of food to
supply the wants of all his guests. In a few minutes each was busy
quietly eating his morning's meal, Gershom having taken his bitters
aside, and, as he fancied, unobserved. This was not so much owing to
niggardliness, as to a distrust of his having a sufficient supply of
the liquor, that long indulgence had made, in a measure, necessary
to him, to last until he could get back to the barrels that were
still to be found in his cabin, down on the shore of the lake.

During the breakfast little was said, conversation forming no
material part of the entertainment, at the meals of any but the
cultivated. When each had risen, however, and by certain preliminary
arrangements it was obvious that the two Indians intended to depart,
the Pottawatamie advanced to le Bourdon, and thrust out a hand.

"Thankee"--he said, in the brief way in which he clipped his
English--"good supper--good sleep--good breakfast. Now go. Thankee--
when any friend come to Pottawatamie village, good wigwam dere, and
no door."

"I thank you, Elksfoot--and should you pass this way, ag'in, soon, I
hope you'll just step into this chiente and help yourself it I
should happen to be off on a hunt. Good luck to you, and a happy
sight of home."

The Pottawatamie then turned and thrust out a hand to each of the
others, who met his offered leave-taking with apparent friendship.
The bee-hunter observed that neither of the Indians said anything to
the other touching the path he was about to travel, but that each
seemed ready to pursue his own way as if entirely independent, and
without the expectation of having a companion.

Elksfoot left the spot the first. After completing his adieus, the
Pottawattamie threw his rifle into the hollow of his arm, felt at
his belt, as if to settle it into its place, made some little
disposition of his light summer covering, and moved off in a
southwesterly direction, passing through the open glades, and almost
equally unobstructed groves, as steady in his movements as if led by
an instinct.

"There he goes, on a bee-line," said le Bourdon, as the straight
form of the old savage disappeared at length, behind a thicket of
trees. "On a bee-line for the St. Joseph's river, where he will
shortly be, among friends and neighbors, I do not doubt. What,
Chippewa! are you in motion too?"

"Must go, now," returned Pigeonswing, in a friendly way. "Bye'm by
come back and eat more honey-bring sweet news, hope-no Canada here,"
placing a finger on his heart-"all Yankee."

"God be with you, Chippewa-God be with you. We shall have a stirring
summer of it, and I expect to hear of your name in the wars, as of a
chief who knows no fear."

Pigeonswing waved his hand, cast a glance, half friendly half
contemptuously, at Whiskey Centre, and glided away. The two who
remained standing near the smouldering fire remarked that the
direction taken by the Chippewa was toward the lake, and nearly at
right angles to that taken by the Pottawattamie. They also fancied
that the movement of the former was about half as fast again as that
of the latter. In less than three minutes the young Indian was
concealed in the "openings," though he had to cross a glade of
considerable width in order to reach them.

The bee-hunter was now alone with the only one of his guests who was
of the color and race to which he himself belonged. Of the three, he
was the visitor he least respected; but the dues of hospitality are
usually sacred in a wilderness, and among savages, so that he could
do nothing to get rid of him. As Gershom manifested no intention to
quit the place, le Bourdon set about the business of the hour, with
as much method and coolness as if the other had not been present.
The first thing was to bring home the honey discovered on the
previous day; a task of no light labor, the distance it was to be
transported being so considerable, and the quantity so large. But
our bee-hunter was not without the means of accomplishing such an
object, and he now busied himself in getting ready. As Gershom
volunteered his assistance, together they toiled in apparent amity
and confidence.

The Kalamazoo is a crooked stream; and it wound from the spot where
le Bourdon had built his cabin, to a point within a hundred yards of
the fallen tree in which the bees had constructed their hive. As a
matter of course, Ben profited by this circumstance to carry his
canoe to the latter place, with a view to render it serviceable in
transporting the honey. First securing everything in and around the
chiente, he and Gershom embarked, taking with them no less than
four pieces of fire-arms; one of which was, to use the language of
the west, a double-barrelled "shot-gun." Before quitting the place,
however, the bee-hunter went to a large kennel made of logs, and let
out a mastiff of great power and size. Between this dog and himself
there existed the best possible intelligence; the master having paid
many visits to the prisoner since his return, feeding and caressing
him. Glad, indeed, was this fine animal to be released, bounding
back and forth, and leaping about le Bourdon in a way to manifest
his delight. He had been cared for in his kennel, and well cared
for, too; but there is no substitute for liberty, whether in man or
beast, individuals or communities.

When all Was ready, le Bourdon and Gershom got into the canoe,
whither the former now called his dog, using the name of "Hive," an
appellation that was doubtless derived from his own pursuit. As soon
as the mastiff leaped into the canoe, Ben shoved off, and the light
craft was pushed up the stream by himself and Gershom without much
difficulty, and with considerable rapidity. But little driftwood
choked the channel; and, after fifteen minutes of moderate labor,
the two men came near to the point of low wooded land in which the
bee-tree had stood. As they drew nigh, certain signs of uneasiness
in the dog attracted his master's attention, and he pointed them out
to Gershom.

"There's game in the wind," answered Whiskey Centre, who had a good
knowledge of most of the craft of border life, notwithstanding his
ungovernable propensity to drink, and who, by nature, was both
shrewd and resolute. "I shouldn't wonder"-a common expression of his
class--"if we found bears prowling about that honey!"

"Such things have happened in my time," answered the bee-hunter,
"and twice in my experience I've been driven from the field, and
forced to let the devils get my 'arnin's."

"That was when you had no comrade, stranger" returned Gershom,
raising a rifle, and carefully examining its flint and its priming.
"It will be a large family on 'em that drives us from that tree; for
my mind is made up to give Doll and Blossom a taste of the sweets."

If this was said imprudently, as respects ownership in the prize, it
was said heartily, so far as spirit and determination were
concerned. It proved that Whiskey Centre had points about him which,
if not absolutely redeeming, served in some measure to lessen the
disgust which one might other-wise have felt for his character. The
bee-hunter knew that there was a species of hardihood that belonged
to border men as the fruits of their habits, and, apparently, he had
all necessary confidence in Gershom's disposition to sustain him,
should there be occasion for a conflict with his old enemies.

The first measure of the bee-hunter, after landing and securing his
boat, was to quiet Hive. The animal being under excellent command,
this was soon done; the mastiff maintaining the position assigned
him in the rear, though evidently impatient to be let loose. Had not
le Bourdon known the precise position of the fallen tree, and
through that the probable position of his enemies, he would have
placed the mastiff in advance, as a pioneer or scout; but he deemed
it necessary, under the actual circumstances, to hold him as a
reserve, or a force to be directed whither occasion might require.
With this arrangement, then, le Bourdon and Whiskey Centre advanced,
side by side, each carrying two pieces, from the margin of the river
toward the open land that commanded a view of the tree. On reaching
the desired point, a halt was called, in order to reconnoitre.

The reader will remember that the bee-elm had stood on the edge of a
dense thicket, or swamp, in which the trees grew to a size several
times exceeding those of the oaks in the openings; and le Bourdon
had caused it to fall upon the open ground, in order to work at the
honey with greater ease to himself. Consequently, the fragments lay
in full view of the spot where the halt was made. A little to
Gershom's surprise, Ben now produced his spy-glass, which he
levelled with much earnestness toward the tree. The bee-hunter,
however, well knew his business, and was examining into the state of
the insects whom he had so violently invaded the night before. The
air was filled with them, flying above and around the tree; a
perfect cloud of the little creatures hovering directly over the
hole, as if to guard its treasure.

"Waal," said Gershom, in his drawling way, when le Bourdon had taken
a long look with the glass, "I don't see much use in spy-glassin' in
that fashion. Spy-glassin' may do out on the lake, if a body has
only the tools to do it with; but here, in the openin's, nature's
eyes is about as good as them a body buys in the stores."

"Take a look at them bees, and see what a fret they're in," returned
Ben, handing the glass to his companion. "As long as I've been in
the business, I've never seen a colony in such a fever. Commonly, a
few hours after the bees find that their tree is down, and their
plans broken into, they give it up, and swarm; looking for a new
hive, and setting about the making more food for the next winter;
but here are all the bees yet, buzzing above the hole, as if they
meant to hold out for a siege."

"There's an onaccountable grist on 'em"--Gershom was never very
particular in his figures of speech, usually terming anything in
quantities a'grist"; and meaning in the present instance by
"onaccountable," a number not to be counted--"an onaccountable grist
on 'em, I can tell you, and if you mean to charge upon sich enemies,
you must look out for somebody besides Whiskey Centre for your
vanguard. What in natur' has got into the critters! They can't
expect to set that tree on its legs ag'in!"

"Do you see a flight of them just in the edge of the for-est--here,
more to the southward?" demanded le Bourdon.

"Sure enough! There is a lot on 'em there, too, and they seem to be
comin' and goin' to the tree, like folks"--Gershom WOULD put his
noun of multitude into the plural, Nova-Anglice--"comin' and goin'
like folks carryin' water to a fire. A body would think, by the stir
among 'em, them critters' barrel was empty!"

"The bears are there," coolly returned the bee-hunter; "I've seen
such movements before, and know how to account for them. The bears
are in the thicket, but don't like to come out in the face of such a
colony. I have heard of bears being chased miles by bees, when their
anger was up!"

"Mortality! They have a good deal of dander (dandruff) for sich
little vipers! But what are WE to do, Bourdon? for Doll and Blossom
MUST taste that honey! Half's mine, you know, and I don't like to
give it up."

The bee-hunter smiled at the coolness with which Gershom assigned to
himself so large a portion of his property; though he did not think
it worth his while, just then, to "demur to his declaration," as the
lawyers might have it. There was a sort of border rule, which gave
all present equal shares in any forest captures; just as vessels in
sight come in for prize-money, taken in time of war by public
cruisers. At any rate, the honey of a single tree was not of
sufficient value to induce a serious quarrel about it. If there
should be any extra trouble or danger in securing the present prize,
every craft in view might, fairly enough, come in for its share.

"Doll shall not be forgotten, if we can only house our honey,"
answered the bee-hunter; "nor Blossom, neither. I've a fancy,
already, for that blossom of the wilderness, and shall do all I can
to make myself agreeable to her. A man cannot approach a maiden with
anything sweeter than honey."

"Some gals like sugar'd words better; but, let me tell you one
thing, STRANger-"

"You have eaten bread and salt with me, Whiskey, and both are scarce
articles in a wilderness; and you've slept under my roof: is it not
almost time to call me something else than stranger?"

"Well, Bourdon, if you prefer that name; though STRANger is a name I
like, it has sich an up and off sound to it. When a man calls all he
sees STRANgers, it's a sign he don't let the grass grow in the road
for want of movin'; and a movin' man for me, any day, before your
stationaries. I was born on the sea-shore, in the Bay State; and
here I am, up among the fresh-water lakes, as much nat'ralized as
any muskelunge that was ever cotch'd in Huron, or about Mackinaw. If
I can believe my eyes, Bourdon, there is the muzzle of a bear to be
seen, jist under that heavy hemlock--here, where the bees seem
thickest!"

"No doubt in the world," answered le Bourdon, coolly; though he had
taken the precaution to look to the priming of each of his pieces,
as if he expected there would soon be occasion to use them. "But
what was that you were about to say concernin' Blossom? It would not
be civil to the young woman to overlook her, on account of a bear or
two."

"You take it easy, STRANger--Bourdon, I should say--you take it
easy! What I was about to say was this: that the whull lake country,
and that's a wide stretch to foot it over, I know; but, big as it
is, the whull lake country don't contain Blossom's equal. I'm her
brother, and perhaps ought to be a little modest in sich matters;
but I an't a bit, and let out jist what I think. Blossom's a
di'mond, if there be di'monds on 'arth."

"And yonder is a bear, if there be bears on earth!" exclaimed le
Bourdon, who was not a little amused with Gershom's account of his
family, but who saw that the moment was now arrived when it would be
necessary to substitute deeds for words. "There they come, in a
drove, and they seem in earnest."

This was true enough. No less than eight bears, half of which,
however, were quite young, came tumbling over the logs, and bounding
up toward the fallen tree, as if charging the citadel of the bees by
preconcert. Their appearance was the signal for a general rally of
the insects, and by the time the foremost of the clumsy animals had
reached the tree, the air above and around him was absolutely
darkened by the cloud of bees that was collected to defend their
treasures. Bruin trusted too much to the thickness of his hide and
to the defences with which he was provided by nature, besides being
too much incited by the love of honey, to regard the little heroes,
but thrust his nose in at the hole, doubtless hoping to plunge it at
once into the midst of a mass of the sweets. A growl, a start
backward, and a flourishing of the fore-paws, with sundry bites in
the air, at once announced that he had met with greater resistance
than he had anticipated. In a minute, all the bears were on their
hind-legs, beating the air with their fore-paws, and nipping right
and left with their jaws, in vigorous combat with their almost
invisible foes. Instinct supplied the place of science, and spite of
the hides and the long hair that covered them, the bees found the
means of darting their stings into unprotected places, until the
quadrupeds were fairly driven to rolling about on the grass in order
to crush their assailants. This last process had some effect, a
great many bees being destroyed by the energetic rollings and
tumblings of the bears; but, as in the tide of battle, the places of
those who fell were immediately supplied by fresh assailants, until
numbers seemed likely to prevail over power, if not over discipline.
At this critical instant, when the bears seemed fatigued with their
nearly frantic saltations, and violent blows upon nothing, le
Bourdon deemed it wise to bring his forces into the combat. Gershom
having been apprised of the plan, both fired at the same instant.
Each ball took effect; one killing the largest of all the bears,
dead on the spot, while the other inflicted a grievous wound on a
second. This success was immediately followed by a second discharge,
wounding two more of the enemy, while Ben held the second barrel of
his "shot-gun" in reserve. While the hurt animals were hobbling off,
the men reloaded their pieces; and by the time the last were ready
to advance on the enemy, the ground was cleared of bears and bees
alike, only two of the former remaining, of which one was already
dead and the other dying. As for the bees, they followed their
retreating enemies in a body, making a mistake that sometimes
happens to still more intelligent beings; that of attributing to
themselves, and their own prowess, a success that had been gained by
others.

The bee-hunter and his friend now set themselves at work to provide
a reception for the insects, the return of which might shortly be
expected. The former lighted a fire, being always provided with the
means, while Gershom brought dry wood. In less than five minutes a
bright blaze was gleaming upward, and when the bees returned, as
most of them soon did, they found this new enemy intrenched, as it
might be, behind walls of flame. Thousands of the little creatures
perished by means of this new invention of man, and the rest soon
after were led away by their chiefs to seek some new deposit for the
fruits of their industry.




CHAPTER IV.

             The sad butterfly,
        Waving his lackered wings, darts quickly on,
        And, by his free flight, counsels us to speed
        For better lodgings, and a scene more sweet,
        Than these dear borders offer us to-night.
                                    SIMMS.


It was noon before Ben and Gershom dared to commence the process of
cutting and splitting the tree, in order to obtain the honey. Until
then, the bees lingered around their fallen hive, and it would have
been dangerous to venture beyond the smoke and heat, in order to
accomplish the task. It is true, le Bourdon possessed several
secrets, of more or less virtue, to drive off the bees when disposed
to assault him, but no one that was as certain as a good fire,
backed by a dense column of vapor. Various plants are thought to be
so offensive to the insects, that they avoid even their odor; and
the bee-hunter had faith in one or two of them; but none of the
right sort happened now to be near, and he was obliged to trust,
first to a powerful heat, and next to the vapor of damp wood.

As there were axes, and wedges, and a beetle in the canoe, and
Gershom was as expert with these implements as a master of fencing
is with his foil, to say nothing of the skill of le Bourdon, the
tree was soon laid open, and its ample stores of sweets exposed. In
the course of the afternoon the honey was deposited in kegs, the
kegs were transferred to the canoe, and the whole deposited in the
chiente. The day had been one of toil, and when our two bordermen
sat down near the spring, to take their evening meal, each felt glad
that his work was done.

"I believe this must be the last hive I line, this summer," said le
Bourdon, while eating his supper. "My luck has been good so far, but
in troublesome times one had better not be too far from home. I am
surprised, Waring, that you have ventured so far from your family,
while the tidings are so gloomy."

"That's partly because you don't know ME, and partly because you
don't know DOLLY. As for leaving hum, with anybody to kear for it, I
should like to know who is more to the purpose than Dolly Waring? I
haven't no idee that even bees would dare get upon HER! If they did,
they'd soon get the worst on't Her tongue is all-powerful, to say
nawthin' of her arms; and if the so'gers can only handle their
muskets as she can handle a broom, there is no need of new regiments
to carry on this war."

Now, nothing could be more false than this character; but a drunkard
has little regard to what he says.

"I am glad your garrison is so strong," answered the beehunter,
thoughtfully; "but mine is too weak to stay any longer, out here in
the openings. Whiskey Centre, I intend to break up, and return to
the settlement, before the red-skins break loose in earnest. If you
will stay and lend me a hand to embark the honey and stores, and
help to carry the canoe down the river, you shall be well paid for
your trouble."

"Waal, I'd about as lief do that, as do anything else. Good jobs is
scarce, out here in the wilderness, and when a body lights of one,
he ought to profit by it. I come up here thinkin' to meet you, for I
heer'n tell from a voyager that you was a-beeing it, out in the
openin's, and there's nawthin' in natur' that Dolly takes to with a
greater relish than good wild honey. 'Try whiskey,' I've told her a
thousand times, 'and you'll soon get to like THAT better than all
the rest of creation'; but not a drop could I ever get her, or
Blossom, to swallow. It's true, that leaves so much the more for me;
but I'm a companionable crittur, and don't think I've drunk as much
as I want, unless I take it society-like. That's one reason I've
taken so mightily to you, Bourdon; you're not much at a pull, but
you an't downright afeared of a jug, neither."

The bee-hunter was glad to hear that all the family had not this
man's vice, for he now plainly foresaw that the accidents of his
position must bring him and these strangers much in contact, for
some weeks, at least. Le Bourdon, though not absolutely "afraid of a
jug," as Whiskey Centre had expressed it, was decidedly a temperate
man; drinking but seldom, and never to excess. He too well knew the
hazards by which he was surrounded, to indulge in this way, even had
he the taste for it; but he had no taste that way, one small jug of
brandy forming his supply for a whole season. In these days of
exaggeration in all things, exaggeration in politics, in religion,
in temperance, in virtue, and even in education, by putting "new
wine into old bottles," that one little jug might have sufficed to
give him a bad name; but five-and-thirty years ago men had more real
independence than they now possess, and were not as much afraid of
that croquemitaine, public opinion, as they are to-day. To be sure,
it was little to le Bourdon's taste to make a companion of such a
person as Whiskey Centre; but there was no choice. The man was an
utter stranger to him; and the only means he possessed of making
sure that he did not carry off the property that lay so much at his
mercy, was by keeping near him. With many men, the bee-hunter would
have been uneasy at being compelled to remain alone with them in the
woods; for cases in which one had murdered another, in order to get
possession of the goods, in these remote regions, were talked of,
among the other rumors of the borders; but Gershom had that in his
air and manner that rendered Ben confident his delinquencies, at the
most, would scarcely reach bloodshed. Pilfer he might; but murder
was a crime which he did not appear at all likely to commit.

After supping in company, our two adventurers secured everything;
and, retiring to the chiente, they went to sleep. No material
disturbance occurred, but the night passed in tranquillity; the bee-
hunter merely experiencing some slight interruption to his slumbers,
from the unusual circumstance of having a companion. One as long
accustomed to be alone as himself would naturally submit to some
such sensation, our habits getting so completely the mastery as
often to supplant even nature.

The following morning the bee-hunter commenced his preparations for
a change of residence. Had he not been discovered, it is probable
that the news received from the Chippewa would not have induced him
to abandon his present position, so early in the season; but he
thought the risk of remaining was too great under all the
circumstances. The Pottawattamie, in particular, was a subject of
great distrust to him, and he believed it highly possible some of
that old chief's tribe might be after his scalp ere many suns had
risen. Gershom acquiesced in these opinions, and, as soon as his
brain was less under the influence of liquor than was common with
him, he appeared to be quite happy in having it in his power to form
a species of alliance, offensive and defensive, with a man of his
own color and origin. Great harmony now prevailed between the two,
Gershom improving vastly in all the better qualities, the instant
his intellect and feelings got to be a little released from the
thraldom of the jug. His own immediate store of whiskey was quite
exhausted, and le Bourdon kept the place in which his own small
stock of brandy was secured a profound secret. These glimmerings of
returning intellect, and of reviving principles, are by no means
unusual with the sot, thus proving that "so long as there is life,
there is hope," for the moral, as well as for the physical being.
What was a little remarkable, Gershom grew less vulgar, even in his
dialect, as he grew more sober, showing that in all respects he was
becoming a greatly improved person.

The men were several hours in loading the canoe, not only all the
stores and ammunition, but all the honey being transferred to it.
The bee-hunter had managed to conceal his jug of brandy, reduced by
this time to little more than a quart, within an empty powder-keg,
into which he had crammed a beaver-skin or two, that he had taken,
as it might be incidentally, in the course of his rambles. At length
everything was removed and stowed in its proper place, on board the
capacious canoe, and Gershom expected an announcement on the part of
Ben of his readiness to embark. But there still remained one duty to
perform. The beehunter had killed a buck only the day before the
opening of our narrative, and shouldering a quarter, he had left the
remainder of the animal suspended from the branches of a tree, near
the place where it had been shot and cleaned. As venison might be
needed before they could reach the mouth of the river, Ben deemed it
advisable that he and Gershom should go and bring in the remainder
of the carcass. The men started on this undertaking accordingly,
leaving the canoe about two in the afternoon.

The distance between the spot where the deer had been killed, and
the chiente, was about three miles; which was the reason why the
bee-hunter had not brought home the entire animal the day he killed
it; the American woodsman often carrying his game great distances in
preference to leaving it any length of time in the forest. In the
latter case there is always danger from beasts of prey, which are
drawn from afar by the scent of blood. Le Bourdon thought it
possible they might now encounter wolves; though he had left the
carcass of the deer so suspended as to place it beyond the reach of
most of the animals of the wilderness. Each of the men, however,
carried a rifle: and Hive was allowed to accompany them, by an act
of grace on the part of his master.

For the first half-hour, nothing occurred out of the usual course of
events. The bee-hunter had been conversing freely with his
companion, who, he rejoiced to find, manifested far more common
sense, not to say good sense, than he had previously shown; and from
whom he was deriving information touching the number of vessels, and
the other movements on the lakes, that he fancied might be of use to
himself when he started for Detroit. While thus engaged, and when
distant only a hundred rods from the place where he had left the
venison, le Bourdon was suddenly struck with the movements of the
dog. Instead of doubling on his own tracks, and scenting right and
left, as was the animal's wont, he was now advancing cautiously,
with his head low, seemingly feeling his way with his nose, as if
there was a strong taint in the wind.

"Sartain as my name is Gershom," exclaimed Waring, just after he and
Ben had come to a halt, in order to look around them--"yonder is an
Injin! The crittur' is seated at the foot of the large oak--
hereaway, more to the right of the dog, and Hive has struck his
scent. The fellow is asleep, with his rifle across his lap, and
can't have much dread of wolves or bears!"

"I see him," answered le Bourdon, "and am as much surprised as
grieved to find him there. It is a little remarkable that I should
have so many visitors, just at this time, on my hunting-ground, when
I never had any at all before yesterday. It gives a body an
uncomfortable feeling, Waring, to live so much in a crowd! Well,
well--I'm about to move, and it will matter little twenty-four hours
hence."

"The chap's a Winnebago by his paint," added Gershom--"but let's go
up and give him a call."

The bee-hunter assented to this proposal, remarking, as they moved
forward, that he did not think the stranger of the tribe just named;
though he admitted that the use of paint was so general and loose
among these warriors, as to render it difficult to decide.

"The crittur' sleeps soundly!" exclaimed Gershom, stopping within
ten yards of the Indian, to take another look at him.

"He'll never awake," put in the bee-hunter, solemnly--"the man is
dead. See; there is blood on the side of his head, and a rifle-
bullet has left its hole there."

Even while speaking, the bee-hunter advanced, and raising a sort of
shawl, that once had been used as an ornament, and which had last
been thrown carelessly over the head of its late owner, he exposed
the well-known features of Elks-foot, the Pottawattamie, who had
left them little more than twenty-four hours before! The warrior had
been shot by a rifle-bullet directly through the temple, and had
been scalped. The powder had been taken from his horn, and the
bullets from his pouch; but, beyond this, he had not been plundered.
The body was carefully placed against a tree, in a sitting attitude,
the rifle was laid across its legs, and there it had been left, in
the centre of the openings, to become food for beasts of prey, and
to have its bones bleached by the snows and the rains!

The bee-hunter shuddered, as he gazed at this fearful memorial of
the violence against which even a wilderness could afford no
sufficient protection. That Pigeonswing had slain his late fellow-
guest, le Bourdon had no doubt, and he sickened at the thought.
Although he had himself dreaded a good deal from the hostility of
the Pottawattamie, he could have wished this deed undone. That there
was a jealous distrust of each other between the two Indians had
been sufficiently apparent; but the bee-hunter could not have
imagined that it would so soon lead to results as terrible as these!

After examining the body, and noting the state of things around it,
the men proceeded, deeply impressed with the necessity, not only of
their speedy removal, but of their standing by each other in that
remote region, now that violence had so clearly broken out among the
tribes. The bee-hunter had taken a strong liking to the Chippewa,
and he regretted so much the more to think that he had done this
deed. It was true, that such a state of things might exist as to
justify an Indian warrior, agreeably to his own notions, in taking
the life of any one of a hostile tribe; but le Bourdon wished it had
been otherwise. A man of gentle and peaceable disposition himself,
though of a profoundly enthusiastic temperament in his own peculiar
way, he had ever avoided those scenes of disorder and bloodshed,
which are of so frequent occurrence in the forest and on the
prairies; and this was actually the first instance in which he had
ever beheld a human body that had fallen by human hands. Gershom had
seen more of the peculiar life of the frontiers than his companion,
in consequence of having lived so closely in contact with the "fire-
water"; but even HE was greatly shocked with the suddenness and
nature of the Pottawattamie's end.

No attempt was made to bury the remains of Elksfoot, inasmuch as our
adventurers had no tools fit for such a purpose, and any merely
superficial interment would have been a sort of invitation to the
wolves to dig the body up again.

"Let him lean ag'in' the tree," said Waring, as they moved on toward
the spot where the carcass of the deer was left, "and I'll engage
nothin' touches him. There's that about the face of man, Bourdon,
that skears the beasts; and if a body can only muster courage to
stare them full in the eye, one single human can drive before him a
whull pack of wolves."

"I've heard as much," returned the bee-hunter, "but should not like
to be the 'human' to try the experiment That the face of man may
have terrors for a beast, I think likely; but hunger would prove
more than a match for such fear. Yonder is our venison, Waring; safe
where I left it."

The carcass of the deer was divided, and each man shouldering his
burden, the two returned to the river, taking care to avoid the path
that led by the body of the dead Indian. As both labored with much
earnestness, everything was soon ready, and the canoe speedily left
the shore. The Kalamazoo is not in general a swift and turbulent
stream, though it has a sufficient current to carry away its waters
without any appearance of sluggishness. Of course, this character is
not uniform, reaches occurring in which the placid water is barely
seen to move; and others, again, are found, in which something like
rapids, and even falls, appear. But on the whole, and more
especially in the part of the stream where it was, the canoe had
little to disturb it, as it glided easily down, impelled by a light
stroke of the paddle.

The bee-hunter did not abandon his station without regret. He had
chosen a most agreeable site for his chiente, consulting air, shade,
water, verdure, and groves, as well as the chances of obtaining
honey. In his regular pursuit he had been unusually fortunate; and
the little pile of kegs in the centre of his canoe was certainly a
grateful sight to his eyes. The honey gathered this season,
moreover, had proved to be of an unusually delicious flavor,
affording the promise of high prices and ready sales. Still, the
bee-hunter left the place with profound regret. He loved his
calling; he loved solitude to a morbid degree, perhaps; and he loved
the gentle excitement that naturally attended his "bee-lining," his
discoveries, and his gains. Of all the pursuits that are more or
less dependent on the chances of the hunt and the field, that of the
bee-hunter is of the most quiet and placid enjoyment. He has the
stirring motives of uncertainty and doubt, without the disturbing
qualities of bustle and fatigue; and, while his exercise is
sufficient for health, and for the pleasures of the open air, it is
seldom of a nature to weary or unnerve. Then the study of the little
animal that is to be watched, and, if the reader will, plundered, is
not without a charm for those who delight in looking into the
wonderful arcana of nature. So great was the interest that le
Bourdon sometimes felt in his little companions, that, on three
several occasions that very summer, he had spared hives after having
found them, because he had ascertained that they were composed of
young bees, and had not yet got sufficiently colonized to render a
new swarming more than a passing accident. With all this kindness of
feeling toward his victims, Boden had nothing of the transcendental
folly that usually accompanies the sentimentalism of the
exaggerated, but his feelings and impulses were simple and direct,
though so often gentle and humane. He knew that the bee, like all
the other inferior animals of creation, was placed at the
disposition of man, and did not scruple to profit by the power thus
beneficently bestowed, though he exercised it gently, and with a
proper discrimination between its use and its abuse.

Neither of the men toiled much, as the canoe floated down the
stream. Very slight impulses served to give their buoyant craft a
reasonably swift motion, and the current itself was a material
assistant. These circumstances gave an opportunity for conversation,
as the canoe glided onward.

"A'ter all," suddenly exclaimed Waring, who had been examining the
pile of kegs for some time in silence--"a'ter all, Bourdon, your
trade is an oncommon one! A most extr'ornary and oncommon callin'!"

"More so, think you, Gershom, than swallowing whiskey, morning,
noon, and night?" answered the bee-hunter, with a quiet smile.

"Aye, but that's not a reg'lar callin'; only a likin'! Now a man may
have a likin' to a hundred things in which he don't deal. I set
nothin' down as a business, which a man don't live by."

"Perhaps you're right, Waring. More die by whiskey than live by
whiskey."

Whiskey Centre seemed struck with this remark, which was introduced
so aptly, and was uttered so quietly. He gazed earnestly at his
companion for near a minute, ere he attempted to resume the
discourse.

"Blossom has often said as much as this," he then slowly rejoined;
"and even Dolly has prophesized the same."

The bee-hunter observed that an impression had been made, and he
thought it wisest to let the reproof already administered produce
its effect, without endeavoring to add to its power. Waring sat with
his chin on his breast, in deep thought, while his companion, for
the first time since they had met, examined the features and aspect
of the man. At first sight, Whiskey Centre certainly offered little
that was inviting; but a closer study of his countenance showed that
he had the remains of a singularly handsome man. Vulgar as were his
forms of speech, coarse and forbidding as his face had become,
through the indulgence which was his bane, there were still traces
of this truth. His complexion had once been fair almost to
effeminacy, his cheeks ruddy with health, and his blue eye bright
and full of hope. His hair was light; and all these peculiarities
strongly denoted his Saxon origin. It was not so much Anglo-Saxon as
Americo-Saxon, that was to be seen in the physical outlines and hues
of this nearly self-destroyed being. The heaviness of feature, the
ponderousness of limb and movement, had all long disappeared from
his race, most probably under the influence of climate, and his nose
was prominent and graceful in outline, while his mouth and chin
might have passed for having been under the chisel of some
distinguished sculptor. It was, in truth, painful to examine that
face, steeped as it was in liquor, and fast losing the impress left
by nature. As yet, the body retained most of its power, the enemy
having insidiously entered the citadel, rather than having actually
subdued it. The bee-hunter sighed as he gazed at his moody
companion, and wondered whether Blossom had aught of this marvellous
comeliness of countenance, without its revolting accompaniments.

All that afternoon, and the whole of the night that succeeded, did
the canoe float downward with the current. Occasionally, some slight
obstacle to its progress would present itself; but, on the whole,
its advance was steady and certain. As the river necessarily
followed the formation of the land, it was tortuous and irregular in
its course, though its general direction was toward the northwest,
or west a little northerly. The river-bottoms being much more
heavily "timbered"--to use a woodsman term--than the higher grounds,
there was little of the park-like "openings" on its immediate banks,
though distant glimpses were had of many a glade and of many a
charming grove.

As the canoe moved toward its point of destination, the conversation
did not lag between the bee-hunter and his companion. Each gave the
other a sort of history of his life; for, now that the jug was
exhausted, Gershom could talk not only rationally, but with
clearness and force. Vulgar he was, and, as such, uninviting and
often repulsive; still his early education partook of that
peculiarity of New England which, if it do not make her children
absolutely all they are apt to believe themselves to be, seldom
leaves them in the darkness of a besotted ignorance. As usually
happens with this particular race, Gershom had acquired a good deal
for a man of his class in life; and this information, added to
native shrewdness, enabled him to maintain his place in the dialogue
with a certain degree of credit. He had a very lively perception--
fancied or real--of all the advantages of being born in the land of
the Puritans, deeming everything that came of the great "Blarney
Stone" superior to everything else of the same nature elsewhere;
and, while much disposed to sneer and rail at all other parts of the
country, just as much indisposed to "take," as disposed to "give."
Ben Boden soon detected this weakness in his companion's character,
a weakness so very general as scarce to need being pointed out to
any observant man, and which is almost inseparable from half-way
intelligence and provincial self-admiration; and Ben was rather
inclined to play on it, whenever Gershom laid himself a little more
open than common on the subject. On the whole, however, the
communications were amicable; and the dangers of the wilderness
rendering the parties allies, they went their way with an increasing
confidence in each other's support. Gershom, now that he was
thoroughly sober, could impart much to Ben that was useful; while
Ben knew a great deal that even his companion, coming as he did from
the chosen people, was not sorry to learn. As has been, already
intimated, each communicated to the other, in the course of this
long journey on the river, an outline of his past life.

The history of Gershom Waring was one of every-day occurrence. He
was born of a family in humble circumstances in Massachusetts, a
community in which, however, none are so very humble as to be
beneath the paternal watchfulness of the State. The common schools
had done their duty by him; while, according to his account of the
matter, his only sister had fallen into the hands of a female
relative, who was enabled to impart an instruction slightly superior
to that which is to be had from the servants of the public. After a
time, the death of this relative, and the marriage of Gershom,
brought the brother and sister together again, the last still quite
young. From this period the migratory life of the family commenced.
Previously to the establishment of manufactories within her limits,
New England systematically gave forth her increase to the States
west and south of her own territories. A portion of this increase
still migrates, and will probably long continue so to do; but the
tide of young women, which once flowed so steadily from that region,
would now seem to have turned, and is setting back in a flood of
"factory girls." But the Warings lived at too early a day to feel
the influence of such a pass of civilization, and went west, almost
as a matter of course. With the commencement of his migratory life,
Gershom began to "dissipate," as it has got to be matter of
convention to term "drinking." Fortunately, Mrs. Waring had no
children, thus lessening in a measure the privations to which those
unlucky females were obliged to submit. When Gershom left his
birthplace he had a sum of money exceeding a thousand dollars in
amount, the united means of himself and sister; but, by the time he
had reached Detroit, it was reduced to less than a hundred. Several
years, however, had been consumed by the way, the habits growing
worse and the money vanishing, as the family went further and
further toward the skirts of society. At length Gershom attached
himself to a sutler, who was going up to Michilimackinac, with a
party of troops; and finally he left that place to proceed, in a
canoe of his own, to the head of Lake Michigan, where was a post on
the present site of Chicago, which was then known as Fort Dearborn.

In quitting Mackinac for Chicago, Waring had no very settled plan.
His habits had completely put him out of favor at the former place;
and a certain restlessness urged him to penetrate still farther into
the wilderness. In all his migrations and wanderings the two devoted
females followed his fortunes; the one because she was his wife, the
other because she was his sister. When the canoe reached the mouth
of the Kalamazoo, a gale of wind drove it into the river; and
finding a deserted cabin, ready built, to receive him, Gershom
landed, and had been busy with the rifle for the last fortnight, the
time he had been on shore. Hearing from some voyageurs who had gone
down the lake that a bee-hunter was up the river, he had followed
the stream in its windings until he fell in with le Bourdon.

Such is an outline of the account which Whiskey Centre gave of
himself. It is true, he said very little of his propensity to drink,
but this his companion was enabled to conjecture from the context of
his narrative, as well as from what he had seen. It was very evident
to the bee-hunter, that the plans of both parties for the summer
were about to be seriously deranged by the impending hostilities,
and that some decided movement might be rendered necessary, even for
the protection of their lives. This much he communicated to Gershom,
who heard his opinions with interest, and a concern in behalf of his
wife and sister that at least did some credit to his heart. For the
first time in many months, indeed, Gershom was now PERFECTLY sober,
a circumstance that was solely owing to his having had no access to
liquor for eight-and-forty hours. With the return of a clear head,
came juster notions of the dangers and difficulties in which he had
involved the two self-devoted women who had accompanied him so far,
and who really seemed ready to follow him in making the circuit of
the earth.

"It's troublesome times," exclaimed Whiskey Centre, when his
companion had just ended one of his strong and lucid statements of
the embarrassments that might environ them, ere they could get back
to the settled portions of the country--"it's troublesome times,
truly! I see all you would say, Bourdon, and wonder I ever got my
foot so deep into it, without thinkin' of all, beforehand! The best
on us will make mistakes, hows'ever, and I suppose I've been called
on to make mine, as well as another."

"My trade speaks for itself," returned the bee-hunter, "and any man
can see why one who looks for bees must come where they're to be
found; but I will own, Gershom, that your speculation lies a little
beyond my understanding. Now, you tell me you have two full barrels
of whiskey--"

"Had, Bourdon--HAD--one of them is pretty nearly half used, I am
afeared."

"Well, HAD, until you began to be your own customer. But here you
are, squatted at the mouth of the Kalamazoo, with a barrel and a
half of liquor, and nobody but yourself to drink it! Where the
profits are to come from, exceeds Pennsylvany calculations; perhaps
a Yankee can tell."

"You forget the Injins. I met a man at Mackinaw, who only took out
in his canoe ONE barrel, and he brought in skins enough to set up a
grocery, at Detroit. But I was on the trail of the soldiers, and
meant to make a business on't, at Fort Dearborn. What between the
soldiers and the redskins, a man might sell gallons a day, and at
fair prices."

"It's a sorry business at the best, Whiskey; and now you're fairly
sober, if you'll take my advice you'll remain so. Why not make up
your mind, like a man, and vow you'll never touch another drop."

"Maybe I will, when these two barrels is emptied--I've often thought
of doin' some sich matter; and, ag'in and ag'in, has Dolly and
Blossom advised me to fall into the plan; but it's hard to give up
old habits, all at once. If I could only taper off on a pint a day,
for a year or so, I think I might come round in time. I know as well
as you do, Bourdon, that sobriety is a good thing, and dissipation a
bad thing; but it's hard to give up all at once."

Lest the instructed reader should wonder at a man's using the term
"dissipation" in a wilderness, it may be well to explain that, in
common American parlance, "dissipation" has got to mean
"drunkenness." Perhaps half of the whole country, if told that a
man, or a woman, might be exceedingly dissipated and never swallow
anything stronger than water, would stoutly deny the justice of
applying the word to such a person. This perversion of the meaning
of a very common term has probably arisen from the circumstance that
there is very little dissipation in the country that is not
connected with hard drinking. A dissipated woman is a person almost
unknown in America; or when the word is applied, it means a very
different degree of misspending of time, from that which is
understood by the use of the same reproach in older and more
sophisticated states of society. The majority rules in this country,
and with the majority excess usually takes this particular aspect;
refinement having very little connection with the dissipation of the
masses, anywhere.

The excuses of his companion, however, caused le Bourdon to muse,
more than might otherwise have been the case, on Whiskey Centre's
condition. Apart from all considerations connected with the man's
own welfare, and the happiness of his family, there were those which
were inseparable from the common safety, in the present state of the
country. Boden was a man of much decision and firmness of character,
and he was clear-headed as to causes and consequences. The practice
of living alone had induced in him the habits of reflection; and the
self-reliance produced by his solitary life, a life of which he was
fond almost to a passion, caused him to decide warily, but to act
promptly. As they descended the river together, therefore, he went
over the whole of Gershom Waring's case and prospects, with great
impartiality and care, and settled in his own mind what ought to be
done, as well as the mode of doing it. He kept his own counsel,
however, discussing all sorts of subjects that were of interest to
men in their situation, as they floated down the stream, avoiding
any recurrence to this theme, which was possibly of more importance
to them both, just then, than any other that could be presented.




CHAPTER V.

      He was a wight of high renown,
        And thou art but of low degree;
     'Tis pride that pulls the country down--
        Then take thine auld cloak about thee.
                                     SHAKESPEARE.


The canoe did not reach the mouth of the river until near evening of
the third day of its navigation. It was not so much the distance,
though that was considerable, as it was the obstacles that lay in
the way, which brought the travellers to the end of their journey at
so late a period. As they drew nearer and nearer to the place where
Gershom had left his wife and sister, le Bourdon detected in his
companion signs of an interest in the welfare of the two last, as
well as a certain feverish uneasiness lest all might not be well
with them, that said something in favor of his heart, whatever might
be urged against his prudence and care in leaving them alone in so
exposed a situation.

"I'm afeard a body don't think as much as he ought to do, when
liquor is in him," said Whiskey Centre, just as the canoe doubled
the last point, and the hut came into view; "else I never could have
left two women by them-selves in so lonesome a place. God be
praised! there is the chiente at any rate; and there's a smoke
comin' out of it, if my eyes don't deceive me! Look, Bourdon, for I
can scarcely see at all."

"There is the house; and, as you say, there is certainly a smoke
rising from it"

"There's comfort in that!" exclaimed the truant husband and brother,
with a sigh that seemed to relieve a very loaded breast. "Yes,
there's comfort in that! If there's a fire, there must be them that
lighted it; and a fire at this season, too, says that there's
somethin' to eat, I should be sorry, Bourdon, to think I'd left the
women folks without food; though, to own the truth, I don't remember
whether I did or not"

"The man who drinks, Gershom, has commonly but a very poor memory."

"That's true--yes, I'll own that; and I wish it warn't as true as it
is; but reason and strong drink do NOT travel far in company--"

Gershom suddenly ceased speaking; dropping his paddle like one beset
by a powerless weakness. The bee-hunter saw that he was overcome by
some unexpected occurrence, and that the man's feelings were keenly
connected with the cause, whatever that might be. Looking eagerly
around in quest of the explanation, le Bourdon saw a female standing
on a point of land that commanded a view of the river and its banks
for a considerable distance, unequivocally watching the approach of
the canoe.

"There she is," said Gershom, in a subdued tone--"that's Dolly; and
there she has been, I'll engage, half the time of my absence,
waitin' to get the first glimpse of my miserable body, as it came
back to her. Sich is woman, Bourdon; and God forgive me, if I have
ever forgotten their natur', when I was bound to remember it. But we
all have our weak moments, at times, and I trust mine will not be
accounted ag'in' me more than them of other men."

"This is a beautiful sight, Gershom, and it almost makes me your
friend! The man for whom a woman can feel so much concern--that a
woman--nay, women; for you tell me your sister is one of the family-
-but the man whom DECENT women can follow to a place like this, must
have some good p'ints about him. That woman is a-weepin'; and it
must be for joy at your return."

"'Twould be jist like Dolly to do so--she's done it before, and
would be likely to do so ag'in," answered Gershom, nearly choked by
the effort he made to speak without betraying his own emotion. "Put
the canoe into the p'int, and let me land there. I must go up and
say a kind word to poor Dolly; while you can paddle on, and let
Blossom know I'm near at hand."

The bee-hunter complied in silence, casting curious glances upward
at the woman while doing so, in order to ascertain what sort of a
female Whiskey Centre could possibly have for a wife. To his
surprise, Dorothy Waring was not only decently, but she was neatly
clad, appearing as if she had studiously attended to her personal
appearance, in the hope of welcoming her wayward and unfortunate
husband back to his forest home. This much le Bourdon saw by a hasty
glance as his companion landed, for a feeling of delicacy prevented
him from taking a longer look at the woman. As Gershom ascended the
bank to meet his wife, le Bourdon paddled on, and landed just below
the grove in which was the chiente. It might have been his long
exclusion from all of the other sex, and most especially from that
portion of it which retains its better looks, but the being which
now met the bee-hunter appeared to him to belong to another world,
rather than to that in which he habitually dwelt. As this was
Margery Waring, who was almost uniformly called Blossom by her
acquaintances, and who is destined to act an important part in this
legend of the "openings," it may be well to give a brief description
of her age, attire, and personal appearance, at the moment when she
was first seen by le Bourdon.

In complexion, color of the hair, and outline of face, Margery
Waring bore a strong family resemblance to her brother. In spite of
exposure, and the reflection of the sun's rays from the water of the
lake, however, HER skin was of a clear, transparent white, such as
one might look for in a drawing-room, but hardly expect to find in a
wilderness; while the tint of her lips, cheeks, and, in a diminished
degree, of her chin and ears, were such as one who wielded a pencil
might long endeavor to catch without succeeding. Her features had
the chiselled outline which was so remarkable in her brother; while
in HER countenance, in addition to the softened expression of her
sex and years, there was nothing to denote any physical or moral
infirmity, to form a drawback to its witchery and regularity. Her
eyes were blue, and her hair as near golden as human tresses well
could be. Exercise, a life of change, and of dwelling much in the
open air, had given to this unusually charming girl not only health,
but its appearance. Still, she was in no respect coarse, or had
anything in the least about her that indicated her being accustomed
to toil, with some slight exception in her hands, perhaps, which
were those of a girl who did not spare herself, when there was an
opportunity to be of use. In this particular, the vagrant life of
her brother had possibly been of some advantage to her, as it had
prevented her being much employed in the ordinary toil of her
condition in life. Still, Margery Waring had that happy admixture of
delicacy and physical energy, which is, perhaps, oftener to be met
in the American girl of her class, than in the girl of almost any
other nation; and far oftener than in the young American of her sex,
who is placed above the necessity of labor.

As a stranger approached her, the countenance of this fair creature
expressed both surprise and satisfaction; surprise that any one
should have been met by Gershom, in such a wilderness, and
satisfaction that the stranger proved to be a white man, and
seemingly one who did not drink.

"You are Blossom," said the bee-hunter, taking the hand of the half-
reluctant girl, in a way so respectful and friendly that she could
not refuse it, even while she doubted the propriety of thus
receiving an utter stranger--"the Blossom of whom Gershom Waring
speaks so often, and so affectionately?"

"You are, then, my brother's friend," answered Margery, smiling so
sweetly, that le Bourdon gazed on her with delight. "We are SO glad
that he has come back! Five terrible nights have sister and I been
here alone, and we have believed every bush was a red man!"

"That danger is over, now, Blossom; but there is still an enemy near
you that must be overcome."

"An enemy! There is no one here, but Dolly and myself. No one has
been near us, since Gershom went after the bee-hunter, whom we heard
was out in the openings. Are you that bee-bunter?"

"I am, beautiful Blossom; and I tell you there is an enemy here, in
your cabin, that must be looked to."

"We fear no enemies but the red men, and we have seen none of them
since we reached this river. What is the name of the enemy you so
dread, and where is he to be found?"

"His name is Whiskey, and he is kept somewhere in this hut, in
casks. Show me the place, that I may destroy him, before his friend
comes to his assistance."

A gleam of bright intelligence flashed into the face of the
beautiful young creature. First she reddened almost to scarlet; then
her face became pale as death. Compressing her lips intensely, she
stood irresolute--now gazing at the pleasing and seemingly well-
disposed stranger before her, now looking earnestly toward the still
distant forms of her brother and sister, which were slowly advancing
in the direction of the cabin.

"Dare you?" Margery at length asked, pointing toward her brother.

"I dare: he is now quite sober, and may be reasoned with. For the
sake of us all, let us profit by this advantage."

"He keeps the liquor in two casks that you will find under the shed,
behind the hut."

This said, the girl covered her face with both her hands, and sunk
on a stool, as if afraid to be a witness of that which was to
follow. As for le Bourdon, he did not delay a moment, but passed out
of the cabin by a second door, that opened in its rear. There were
the two barrels, and by their side an axe. His first impulse was to
dash in the heads of the casks where they stood; but a moment's
reflection told him that the odor, so near the cabin, would be
unpleasant to every one, and might have a tendency to exasperate the
owner of the liquor. He cast about him, therefore, for the means of
removing the casks, in order to stave them, at a distance from the
dwelling.

Fortunately, the cabin of Whiskey Centre stood on the brow of a
sharp descent, at the bottom of which ran a brawling brook. At
another moment, le Bourdon would have thought of saving the barrels;
but time pressed, and he could not delay. Seizing the barrel next to
him, he rolled it without difficulty to the brow of the declivity,
and set it off with a powerful shove of his foot. It was the half-
empty cask, and away it went, the liquor it contained washing about
as it rolled over and over, until hitting a rock about half-way down
the declivity, the hoops gave way, when the staves went over the
little precipice, and the water of the stream was tumbling through
all that remained of the cask, at the next instant. A slight
exclamation of delight behind him caused the bee-hunter to look
round, and he saw Margery watching his movement with an absorbed
interest. Her smile was one of joy, not unmingled with terror; and
she rather whispered than said aloud--"The other--the other--THAT is
full--be quick; there is no time to lose." The bee-hunter seized the
second cask and rolled it toward the brow of the rocks. It was not
quite as easily handled as the other barrel, but his strength
sufficed, and it was soon bounding down the declivity after its
companion. The second cask hit the same rock as the first, whence it
leaped off the precipice, and, aided by its greater momentum, it was
literally dashed in pieces at its base.

Not only was this barrel broken into fragments, but its hoops and
staves were carried down the torrent, driving before them those of
the sister cask, until the whole were swept into the lake, which was
some distance from the cabin.

"That job is well done!" exclaimed le Bourdon, when the last
fragment of the wreck was taken out of sight. "No man will ever turn
himself into a beast by means of that liquor."

"God be praised!" murmured Margery. "He is SO different, stranger,
when he has been drinking, from what he is when he has not! You have
been sent by Providence to do us this good."

"I can easily believe that, for it is so with us all. But you must
not call me stranger, sweet Margery; for, now that you and I have
this secret between us, I am a stranger no longer."

The girl smiled and blushed; then she seemed anxious to ask a
question. In the mean time they left the shed, and took seats, in
waiting for the arrival of Gershom and his wife. It was not long ere
the last entered; the countenance of the wife beaming with a
satisfaction she made no effort to conceal. Dolly was not as
beautiful as her sister-in-law; still, she was a comely woman,
though one who had been stricken by sorrow. She was still young, and
might have been in the pride of her good looks, had it not been for
the manner in which she had grieved over the fall of Gershom. The
joy that gladdens a woman's heart, however, was now illuminating her
countenance, and she welcomed le Bourdon most cordially, as if aware
that he had been of service to her husband. For months she had not
seen Gershom quite himself, until that evening.

"I have told Dolly all our adventur's, Bourdon," cried Gershom, as
soon as the brief greetings were over, "and she tells me all's
right, hereabouts. Three canoe-loads of Injins passed along shore,
goin' up the lake, she tells me, this very a'ternoon; but they
didn't see the smoke, the fire bein' out, and must have thought the
hut empty; if indeed, they knew anythin' of it, at all."

"The last is the most likely," remarked Margery; "for I watched them
narrowly from the beeches on the shore, and there was no pointing,
or looking up, as would have happened had there been any one among
them who could show the others a cabin. Houses an't so plenty, in
this part of the country, that travellers pass without turning round
to look at them. An Injin has curiosity as well as a white man,
though he manages so often to conceal it."

"Didn't you say, Blossom, that one of the canoes was much behind the
others, and that a warrior in that canoe DID look up toward this
grove, as if searching for the cabin?" asked Dorothy.

"Either it was so, or my fears made it SEEM so. The two canoes that
passed first were well filled with Injins, each having eight in it;
while the one that came last held but four warriors. They were a
mile apart, and the last canoe seemed to be trying to overtake the
others. I did think that nothing but their haste prevented the men
in the last canoe from landing; but my fears may have made that seem
so that was not so."

As the cheek of the charming girl flushed with excitement, and her
race became animated, Margery appeared marvellously handsome; more
so, the bee-hunter fancied, than any other female he had ever before
seen. But her words impressed him quite as much as her looks; for he
at once saw the importance of such an event, to persons in their
situation. The wind was rising on the lake, and it was ahead for the
canoes; should the savages feel the necessity of making a harbor,
they might return to the mouth of the Kalamazoo; a step that would
endanger all their lives, in the event of these Indians proving to
belong to those, whom there was now reason to believe were in
British pay. In times of peace, the intercourse between the whites
and the red men was usually amicable, and seldom led to violence,
unless through the effects of liquor; but, a price being placed on
scalps, a very different state of things might be anticipated, as a
consequence of the hostilities. This was then a matter to be looked
to; and, as evening was approaching, no time was to be lost.

The shores of Michigan are generally low, nor are harbors either
numerous, or very easy of access. It would be difficult, indeed, to
find in any other part of the world, so great an extent of coast
that possesses so little protection for the navigator, as that of
this very lake. There are a good many rivers, it is true, but
usually they have bars, and are not easy of entrance. This is the
reason why that very convenient glove, the Constitution, which can
be made to fit any hand, has been discovered to have an extra finger
in it, which points out a mode by which the federal government can
create ports wherever nature has forgotten to perform this
beneficent office. It is a little extraordinary that the fingers of
so many of the great "expounders" turn out to be "thumbs," however,
exhibiting clumsiness, rather than that adroit lightness which
usually characterizes the dexterity of men who are in the habit of
rummaging other people's pockets, for their own especial purposes.
It must be somewhat up-hill work to persuade any disinterested and
clear-headed man, that a political power to "regulate commerce" goes
the length of making harbors; the one being in a great measure a
moral, while the other is exclusively a physical agency; any more
than it goes the length of making ware-houses, and cranes, and
carts, and all the other physical implements for carrying on trade.
Now, what renders all this "thumbing" of the Constitution so much
the more absurd, is the fact, that the very generous compact
interested does furnish a means, by which the poverty of ports on
the great lakes may be remedied, without making any more unnecessary
rents in the great national glove. Congress clearly possesses the
power to create and maintain a navy, which includes the power to
create all sorts of necessary physical appliances; and, among
others, places of refuge for that navy, should they be actually
needed. As a vessel of war requires a harbor, and usually a better
harbor than a merchant-vessel, it strikes us the "expounders" would
do well to give this thought a moment's attention. Behind it will be
found the most unanswerable argument in favor of the light-houses,
too.

But, to return to the narrative: the Kalamazoo could be entered by
canoes, though it offered no very available shelter for a vessel of
any size. There was no other shelter for the savages for several
miles to the southward; and, should the wind increase, of which
there were strong indications, it was not only possible, but highly
probable, that the canoes would return. According to the account of
the females, they had passed only two hours before, and the breeze
had been gradually gathering strength ever since. It was not
unlikely, indeed, that the attention paid to the river by the
warrior in the last canoe may have had reference to this very state
of the weather; and his haste to overtake his companions been
connected with a desire to induce them to seek a shelter. All this
presented itself to the beehunter's mind, at once; and it was
discussed between the members of the party, freely, and not without
some grave apprehensions.

There was one elevated point--elevated comparatively, if not in a
very positive sense--whence the eye could command a considerable
distance along the lake shore. Thither Margery now hastened to look
after the canoes. Boden accompanied her; and together they
proceeded, side by side, with a new-born but lively and increasing
confidence, that was all the greater, in consequence of their
possessing a common secret.

"Brother must be much better than he was," the girl observed, as
they hurried on, "for he has not once been into the shed to look at
the barrels! Before he went into the openings, he never entered the
house without drinking; and sometimes he would raise the cup to his
mouth as often as three times in the first half-hour. Now, he does
not seem even to think of it!"

"It may be well that he can find nothing to put into his cup, should
he fall into his old ways. One is never sure of a man of such
habits, until he is placed entirely out of harm's way."

"Gershom is such a different being when he has not been drinking!"
rejoined the sister, in a touching manner. "We love him, and strive
to do all we can to keep him up, but it IS hard."

"I am surprised that YOU should have come into this wilderness with
any one of bad habits."

"Why not? He is my brother, and I have no parents--he is all to me:
and what would become of Dorothy if I were to quit her, too! She has
lost most of her friends, since Gershom fell into these ways, and it
would quite break her heart, did I desert her."

"All this speaks well for you, pretty Margery, but it is not the
less surprising--ah, there is my canoe, in plain sight of all who
enter the river; THAT must be concealed, Injins or no Injins."

"It is only a step further to the place where we can get a lookout.
Just there, beneath the burr-oak. Hours and hours have I sat on that
spot, with my sewing, while Gershom was gone into the openings."

"And Dolly--where was she while you were here?"

"Poor Dolly!--I do think she passed quite half her time up at the
beech-tree, where you first saw her, looking if brother was not
coming home. It is a cruel thing to a wife to have a truant
husband!"

"Which I hope may never be your case, pretty Margery, and which I
think never CAN."

Margery did not answer: but the speech must have been heard, uttered
as it was in a much lower tone of voice than the young man had
hitherto used; for the charming maiden looked down and blushed.
Fortunately, the two now soon arrived at the tree, and their
conversation naturally reverted to the subject which had brought
them there. Three canoes were in sight, close in with the land, but
so distant as to render it for some time doubtful which way they
were moving. At first, the bee-hunter said that they were still
going slowly to the southward; but he habitually carried his little
glass, and, on levelling that, it was quite apparent that the
savages were paddling before the wind, and making for the mouth of
the river. This was a very grave fact; and, as Blossom flew to
communicate it to her brother and his wife, le Bourdon moved toward
his own canoe, and looked about for a place of concealment.

Several considerations had to be borne in mind, in disposing of the
canoes; for that of Gershom was to be secreted, as well as that of
the bee-hunter. A tall aquatic plant, that is termed wild rice, and
which we suppose to be the ordinary rice-plant, unimproved by
tillage, grows spontaneously about the mouths and on the flats of
most of the rivers of the part of Michigan of which we are writing;
as, indeed, it is to be found in nearly all the shallow waters of
those regions. There was a good deal of this rice at hand; and the
bee-hunter, paddling his own canoe and towing the other, entered
this vegetable thicket, choosing a channel that had been formed by
some accident of nature, and which wound through the herbage in a
way soon to conceal all that came within its limits. These channels
were not only numerous, but exceedingly winding; and the bee-hunter
had no sooner brought his canoes to the firm ground and fastened
them there, than he ascended a tree, and studied the windings of
these narrow passages, until he had got a general idea of their
direction and characters. This precaution taken, he hurried back to
the hut.

"Well, Gershom, have you settled on the course to be taken?" were
the first words uttered by the bee-hunter when he rejoined the
family of Whiskey Centre.

"We haven't," answered the husband. "Sister begs us to quit the
chiente, for the Indians must soon be here; but wife seems to think
that she MUST be safe, now I'm at home ag'in."

"Then wife is wrong, and sister is right. If you will take my
advice, you will hide all your effects in the woods, and quit the
cabin as soon as possible. The Injins cannot fail to see this
habitation, and will be certain to destroy all they find in it, and
that they do not carry off. Besides, the discovery of the least
article belonging to a white man will set them on our trail; for
scalps will soon bear a price at Montreal. In half an hour, all that
is here can be removed into the thicket that is luckily so near; and
by putting out the fire with care, and using proper caution, we may
give the place such a deserted look, that the savages will suspect
nothing."

"If they enter the river, Bourdon, they will not camp out with a
wigwam so near by, and should they come here, what is to prevent
their seein' the footprints we shall leave behind us?"

"The night, and that only. Before morning their own footsteps will
be so plenty as to deceive them. Luckily we all wear moccasins,
which is a great advantage just now. But every moment is precious,
and we should be stirring. Let the women take the beds and bedding,
while you and I shoulder this chest. Up it goes, and away with it!"

Gershom had got to be so much under his companion's influence, that
he complied, though his mind suggested various objections to the
course taken, to which his tongue gave utterance as they busied
themselves in this task. The effects of Whiskey Centre had been
gradually diminishing in quantity, as well as in value, for the last
three years, and were now of no great amount, in any sense. Still
there were two chests, one large, and one small. The last contained
all that a generous regard for the growing wants of the family had
left to Margery; while the first held the joint wardrobes of the
husband and wife, with a few other articles that were considered as
valuable. Among other things were half a dozen of very thin silver
tea-spoons, which had fallen to Gershom on a division of family
plate. The other six were carefully wrapped up in paper and put in
the till of Margery's chest, being her portion of this species of
property. The Americans, generally, have very little plate; though
here and there marked exceptions do exist; nor do the humbler
classes lay out much of their earnings in jewelry, while they
commonly dress far beyond their means in all other ways. In this
respect, the European female of the same class in life frequently
possesses as much in massive golden personal ornaments as would make
an humble little fortune, while her attire is as homely as cumbrous
petticoats, coarse cloth, and a vile taste can render it. On the
other hand, the American matron that has not a set--one half-dozen--
of silver tea-spoons must be poor indeed, and can hardly be said to
belong to the order of housekeepers at all. By means of a careful
mother, both Gershom and his sister had the half-dozen mentioned;
and they were kept more as sacred memorials of past and better days
than as articles of any use. The household goods of Waring would
have been limited by his means of transportation, if not by his
poverty. Two common low-post maple bedsteads were soon uncorded and
carried off, as were the beds and bedding. There was scarcely any
crockery, pewter and tin being its substitutes; and as for chairs
there was only one, and that had rockers: a practice of New England
that has gradually diffused itself over the whole country, looking
down ridicule, the drilling of boarding-schools, the comments of
elderly ladies of the old school, the sneers of nurses, and, in a
word, all that venerable ideas of decorum could suggest, until this
appliance of domestic ease has not only fairly planted itself in
nearly every American dwelling, but in a good many of Europe also!

It required about twenty minutes for the party to clear the cabin of
every article that might induce an Indian to suspect the presence of
white men. The furniture was carried to a sufficient distance to be
safe from everything but a search; and care was had to avoid as much
as possible making a trail, to lead the savages to the place
selected for the temporary storeroom. This was merely a close
thicket, into which there was a narrow but practicable entrance on
the side the least likely to be visited. When all was accomplished
the four went to the lookout to ascertain how far the canoes had
come. It was soon ascertained that they were within a mile, driving
down before a strong breeze and following sea, and impelled by as
many paddles as there were living beings in them. Ten minutes would
certainly bring them up with the bar, and five more fairly within
the river. The question now arose, where the party was to be
concealed during the stay of the savages. Dolly, as was perhaps
natural for the housewife, wished to remain by her worldly goods,
and pretty Margery had a strong feminine leaning to do the same. But
neither of the men approved of the plan. It was risking too much in
one spot; and a suggestion that the bee-hunter was not long in
making prevailed.

It will be remembered that le Bourdon had carried the canoes within
the field of wild rice, and bestowed them there with a good deal of
attention to security. Now these canoes offered, in many respects,
better places of temporary refuge, under all the circumstances, than
any other that could readily be found on shore. They were dry; and
by spreading skins, of which Boden had so many, comfortable beds
might be made for the females, which would be easily protected from
the night air and dews by throwing a rug over the gunwales. Then,
each canoe contained many articles that would probably be wanted;
that of the bee-hunter in particular furnishing food in abundance,
as well as diverse other things that would be exceedingly useful to
persons in their situation. The great advantage of the canoes,
however, in the mind of le Bourdon, was the facilities they offered
for flight. He hardly hoped that Indian sagacity would be so far
blinded as to prevent the discovery of the many footsteps they must
have left in their hurried movements, and he anticipated that with
the return of day something would occur to render it necessary for
them to seek safety by a stealthy removal from the spot. This might
be done, he both hoped and believed, under cover of the rice, should
sufficient care be taken to avoid exposure. In placing the canoes,
he had used the precaution to leave them where they could not be
seen from the cabin or its vicinity, or, indeed, from any spot in
the vicinity of the ground that the savages would be likely to visit
during their stay. All these reasons le Bourdon now rapidly laid
before his companions, and to the canoes the whole party retired as
fast as they could walk.

There was great judgment displayed on the part of the bee-hunter in
selecting the wild rice as a place of shelter. At that season it was
sufficiently grown to afford a complete screen to everything within
it that did not exceed the height of a man, or which was not seen
from some adjacent elevation. Most of the land near the mouth of the
river was low, and the few spots which formed exceptions had been
borne in mind when the canoes were taken into the field. But just as
Gershom was on the point of putting a foot into his own canoe, with
a view to arrange it for the reception of his wife, he drew back,
and exclaimed after the manner of one to whom a most important idea
suddenly occurs:

"Land's sake! I've forgotten all about them barrels! They'll fall
into the hands of the savages, and an awful time they'll make with
them! Let me pass, Dolly; I must look after the barrels this
instant."

While the wife gently detained her eager husband, the bee-hunter
quietly asked to what barrels he alluded.

"The whiskey casks," was the answer. "There's two on 'em in the shed
behind the hut, and whiskey enough to set a whole tribe in
commotion. I wonder I should have overlooked the whiskey!"

"It is a sign of great improvement, friend Waring, and will lead to
no bad consequences," returned le Bourdon, coolly. "I foresaw the
danger, and rolled the casks down the hill, where they were dashed
to pieces in the brook, and the liquor has long since been carried
into the lake in the shape of grog."

Waring seemed astounded; but was so completely mystified as not to
suspect the truth. That his liquor should be hopelessly lost was bad
enough; but even that was better than to have it drunk by savages
without receiving any re-turns. After groaning and lamenting over
the loss for a few minutes, he joined the rest of the party in
making some further dispositions, which le Bourdon deemed prudent,
if not necessary.

It had occurred to the bee-hunter to divide his own cargo between
the two canoes, which was the task that the whole party was now
engaged in. The object was to lighten his own canoe in the event of
flight, and, by placing his effects in two parcels, give a chance to
those in the boat which might escape, of having wherewithal to
comfort and console themselves. As soon as this new arrangement was
completed, le Bourdon ran up to a tree that offered the desired
facilities, and springing into its branches, was soon high enough to
get a view of the bar and the mouth of the river. By the parting
light of day, he distinctly saw FOUR canoes coming up the stream;
which was one more than those reported to him by Margery as having
passed.




CHAPTER VI.

      And long shall timorous fancy see
      The painted chief and pointed spear;
      And reason's self shall bow the knee
      To shadows and delusions here.
                                 FRENEAU.


A bright moon reflected on the earth for about an hour the light of
the sun, as the latter luminary disappeared. By its aid the bee-
hunter, who still continued in the tree, was enabled to watch the
movements of the canoes of the Indians, though the persons they
contained soon got to be so indistinct as to render it impossible to
do more than count their numbers. The last he made out to be five
each in three of the canoes, and six in the other, making twenty-one
individuals in all. This was too great an odds to think of
resisting, in the event of the strangers turning out to be hostile;
and the knowledge of this disparity in force admonished all the
fugitives of the necessity of being wary and prudent.

The strangers landed just beneath the hut, or at the precise spot
where Whiskey Centre was in the habit of keeping his canoe, and
whence Boden had removed it only an hour or two before. The savages
had probably selected the place on account of its shores being clear
of the wild rice, and because the high ground near it promised both
a lookout and comfortable lodgings. Several of the party strolled
upward, as if searching for an eligible spot to light their fire,
and one of them soon discovered the cabin. The warrior announced his
success by a whoop, and a dozen of the Indians were shortly
collected in and about the chiente. All this proved the prudence of
the course taken by the fugitives.

Blossom stood beneath the tree, and the bee-hunter told her, as each
incident occurred, all that passed among the strangers, when the
girl communicated the same to her brother and his wife, who were
quite near at hand in one of the canoes. As there was no danger of
being overheard, conversation in an ordinary tone passed between the
parties, two of whom at least were now fond of holding this sort of
communion.

"Do they seem to suspect the neighborhood of the occupants of the
cabin?" asked Margery, when the bee-hunter had let her know the
manner in which the savages had taken possession of her late
dwelling.

"One cannot tell. Savages are always distrustful and cautious when
on a war-path; and these seem to be scenting about like so many
hounds which are nosing for a trail. They are now gathering sticks
to light a fire, which is better than burning the chiente."

"THAT they will not be likely to do until they have no further need
of it. Tell me, Bourdon, do any go near the thicket of alders where
we have hidden our goods?"

"Not as yet; though there is a sudden movement and many loud yells
among them!"

"Heaven send that it may not be at having discovered anything we
have forgotten. The sight of even a lost dipper or cup would set
them blood-hounds on our path, as sure as we are white and they are
savages!"

"As I live, they scent the whiskey! There is a rush toward, and a
pow-wow in and about the shed--yes, of a certainty they smell the
liquor! Some of it has escaped in rolling down the hill, and their
noses are too keen to pass over a fragrance that to them equals that
of roses. Well, let them SCENT as they may--even an Injin does not
get drunk through his NOSE."

"You are quite right, Bourdon: but is not this a most unhappy scent
for us, since the smell of whiskey can hardly be there without their
seeing it did not grow in the woods of itself, like an oak or a
beech?"

"I understand you, Margery, and there is good sense in what you say.
They will never think the liquor grew there. like a blackberry or a
chestnut, though the place IS called Whiskey Centre!"

"It is hard enough to know that a family has deserved such a name,
without being reminded of it by those that call themselves friends,"
answered the girl pointedly, after a pause of near a minute, though
she spoke in sorrow rather than in anger.

In an instant the bee-hunter was at pretty Margery's side, making
his peace by zealous apologies and winning protestations of respect
and concern. The mortified girl was soon appeased; and, after
consulting together for a minute, they went to the canoe to
communicate to the husband and wife what they had seen.

"The whiskey after all is likely to prove our worst enemy," said the
bee-hunter as he approached. "It would seem that in moving the
barrels some of the liquor has escaped, and the nose of an Injin is
too quick for the odor it leaves, not to scent it."

"Much good may it do them," growled Gershom--"they've lost me that
whiskey, and let them long for it without gettin' any, as a
punishment for the same. My fortun' would have been made could I
only have got them two barrels as far as Fort Dearborn before the
troops moved!"

"The BARRELS might have been got there, certainly," answered le
Bourdon, so much provoked at the man's regrets for the destroyer
which had already come so near to bringing want and ruin on himself
and family, as momentarily to forget his recent scene with pretty
Margery; "but whether anything would have been IN them is another
question. One of those I rolled to the brow of the hill was half
empty as it was."

"Gershom is so troubled with the ague, if he don't take stimulant in
this new country," put in the wife, in the apologetic manner in
which woman struggles to conceal the failings of him she loves. "As
for the whiskey, I don't grudge THAT in the least; for it's a poor
way of getting rich to be selling it to soldiers, who want all the
reason liquor has left 'em, and more too. Still, Gershom needs
bitters; and ought not to have every drop he has taken thrown into
his face."

By this time le Bourdon was again sensible of his mistake, and he
beat a retreat in the best manner he could, secretly resolving not
to place himself any more between two fires, in consequence of
further blunders on this delicate subject. He now found that it was
a very different thing to joke Whiskey Centre himself on the subject
of his great failing, from making even the most distant allusion to
it in the presence of those who felt for a husband's and a brother's
weakness, with a liveliness of feeling that brutal indulgence had
long since destroyed in the object of their solicitude. He
accordingly pointed out the risk there was that the Indians should
make the obvious inference, that human beings must have recently
been in the hut, to leave the fresh scent of the liquor in question
behind them. This truth was so apparent that all felt its force,
though to no one else did the danger seem so great as to the bee-
hunter. He had greater familiarity with the Indian character than
any of his companions, and dreaded the sagacity of the savages in a
just proportion to his greater knowledge. He did not fail,
therefore, to admonish his new friends of the necessity for
vigilance.

"I will return to the tree and take another look at the movements of
the savages," le Bourdon concluded by saying. "By this time their
fire must be lighted; and by the aid of my glass a better insight
may be had into their plans and feelings."

The bee-hunter now went back to his tree, whither he was slowly
followed by Margery; the girl yielding to a feverish desire to
accompany him, at the very time she was half restrained by maiden
bashfulness; though anxiety and the wish to learn the worst as
speedily as possible, prevailed.

"They have kindled a blazing fire, and the whole of the inside of
the house is as bright as if illuminated," said le Bourdon, who was
now carefully bestowed among the branches of his small tree. "There
are lots of the red devils moving about the chiente, inside and out;
and they seem to have fish as well as venison to cook. Aye, there
goes more dry brush on the fire to brighten up the picture, and
daylight is almost eclipsed. As I live, they have a prisoner among
'em!"

"A prisoner!" exclaimed Margery, in the gentle tones of female pity.
"Not a white person, surely?"

"No--he is a red-skin like all of them--but--wait a minute till I
can get the glass a little more steady. Yes--it is so--I was right
at first!"

"What is so, Bourdon--and in what are you right?"

"You may remember, Blossom, that your brother and I spoke of the two
Injins who visited me in the Openings. One was a Pottawattamie and
the other a Chippewa. The first we found dead and scalped, after he
had left us; and the last is now in yonder hut, bound and a
prisoner. He has taken to the lake on his way to Fort Dearborn, and
has, with all his craft and resolution, fallen into enemies' hands.
Well will it be for him if his captors do not learn what befell the
warrior who was slain near my cabin, and left seated against a
tree!"

"Do you think these savages mean to revenge the death of their
brother on this unfortunate wretch?"

"I know that he is in the pay of our general at Detroit, while the
Pottawattamies are in the pay of the English. This of itself would
make them enemies, and has no doubt been the cause of his being
taken; but I do not well see how Injins on the lake here can know
anything of what happened some fifty miles or so up in the
Openings."

"Perhaps the savages in the canoes belong to the same party as the
warrior you call Elksfoot, and that they have had the means of
learning his death, and by whose hand he fell."

The bee-hunter was surprised at the quickness of the girl's wit, the
suggestion being as discreet as it was ingenious. The manner in
which intelligence flies through the wilderness had often surprised
him, and certainly it was possible that the party now before him
might have heard of the fate of the chief whose body he had found in
the Openings, short as was the time for the news to have gone so
far. The circumstance that the canoes had come from the northward
was against the inference, however, and after musing a minute on the
facts, le Bourdon mentioned this objection to his companion.

"Are we certain these are the same canoes as those which I saw pass
this afternoon?" asked Margery, who comprehended the difficulty in
an instant. "Of those I saw, two passed first, and one followed;
while here are FOUR that have landed."

"What you say may be true enough. We are not to suppose that the
canoes you saw pass are all that are on the lake. But let the
savages be whom they may, prudence tells us to keep clear of them if
we can; and this more so than ever, now I can see that Pigeonswing,
who I know to be an American Injin, is treated by them as an enemy."

"How are the savages employed now, Bourdon? Do they prepare to eat,
or do they torture their prisoner?"

"No fear of their attempting the last to-night. There is an
uneasiness about them, as if they still smelt the liquor; but some
are busy cooking at the fire. I would give all my honey, pretty
Margery, to be able to save Pigeonswing! He is a good fellow for a
savage, and is heart and hand with us in this new war, that he tells
me has begun between us and the English!"

"You surely would not risk your own life to save a savage, who kills
and scalps at random, as this man has done!"

"In that he has but followed the habits of his color and race. I
dare say WE do things that are quite as bad, according to Injin ways
of thinking. I DO believe, Margery, was that man to see ME in the
hands of the Pottawattamies, as I now see HIM, he would undertake
something for my relief."

"But what can you, a single man, do when there are twenty against
you?" asked Margery, a little reproachfully as to manner, speaking
like one who had more interest in the safety of the young bee-hunter
than she chose very openly to express.

"No one can say what he can do till he tries. I do not like the way
they are treating that Chippewa, for it looks as if they meant to do
him harm. He is neither fed, nor suffered to be with his masters;
but there the poor fellow is, bound hand and foot near the cabin
door, and lashed to a tree. They do not even give him the relief of
suffering him to sit down."

The gentle heart of Margery was touched by this account of the
manner in which the captive was treated, and she inquired into other
particulars concerning his situation, with a more marked interest
than she had previously manifested in his state. The bee-hunter
answered her questions as they were put; and the result was to place
the girl in possession of a minute detail of the true manner in
which Pigeonswing was treated.

Although there was probably no intention on the part of the captors
of the Chippewa to torture him before his time, tortured he must
have been by the manner in which his limbs and body were confined.
Not only were his arms fastened behind his back at the elbows, but
the hands were also tightly bound together in front. The legs had
ligatures in two places, just above the knees and just below the
ankles. Around the body was another fastening; which secured the
captive to a beech that stood about thirty feet from the door of the
cabin, and so nearly in a line with the fire within and the lookout
of le Bourdon, as to enable the last distinctly to note these
particulars, aided as he was by his glass. Relying on the manner in
which they secured their prisoner, the savages took little heed of
him; but each appeared bent on attending to his own comfort, by
means of a good supper, and by securing a dry lair in which to pass
the night. All this le Bourdon saw and noted too, ere he dropped
lightly on his feet by the side of Margery, at the root of the tree.

Without losing time that was precious, the bee-hunter went at once
to the canoes and communicated his intention to Waring. The moon had
now set, and the night was favorable to the purpose of le Bourdon.
At the first glance it might seem wisest to wait until sleep had
fallen upon the savages, ere any attempt were made to approach the
hut; but Boden reasoned differently. A general silence would succeed
as soon as the savages disposed of themselves to sleep, which would
be much more likely to allow his footsteps to be overheard, than
when tongues and bodies and teeth were all in active movement. A man
who eats after a long march, or a severe paddling, usually
concentrates his attention on his food, as le Bourdon knew by long
experience; and it is a much better moment to steal upon the hungry
and weary, to do so when they feed, than to do so when they sleep,
provided anything like a watch be kept. That the Pottawattamie would
neglect this latter caution le Bourdon did not believe; and his mind
was made up, not only to attempt the rescue of his Chippewa friend,
but to attempt it at once.

After explaining his plan in a few words, and requesting Waring's
assistance, le Bourdon took a solemn leave of the party, and
proceeded at once toward the hut. In order to understand the
movements of the bee-hunter, it may be well now briefly to explain
the position of the chiente, and the nature of the ground on which
the adventurer was required to act. The hut stood on a low and
somewhat abrupt swell, being surrounded on all sides by land so low
as to be in many places wet and swampy. There were a good many trees
on the knoll, and several thickets of alders and other bushes on the
lower ground; but on the whole, the swamps were nearly devoid of
what is termed "timber." Two sides of the knoll were abrupt; that on
which the casks had been rolled into the lake, and that opposite,
which was next to the tree where Boden had so long been watching the
proceedings of the savages. The distance between the hut and this
tree was somewhat less than a mile. The intervening ground was low,
and most of it was marshy; though it was possible to cross the marsh
by following a particular course. Fortunately this course, which was
visible to the eye by daylight, and had been taken by the fugitives
on quitting the hut, might be dimly traced at night, by one who
understood the ground, by means of certain trees and bushes, that
formed so many finger-posts for the traveller. Unless this
particular route were taken, however, a circuit of three or four
miles must be made, in order to pass from the chiente to the spot
where the family had taken refuge. As le Bourdon had crossed this
firm ground by daylight and had observed it well from his tree, he
thought himself enough of a guide to find his way through it in the
dark, aided by the marks just mentioned.

The bee-hunter had got as far as the edge of the marsh on his way
toward the hut, when, pausing an instant to examine the priming of
his rifle, he fancied that he heard a light footstep behind him.
Turning, quick as thought, he perceived that pretty Margery had
followed him thus far. Although time pressed, he could not part from
the girl without showing that he appreciated the interest she
manifested in his behalf. Taking her hand, therefore, he spoke with
a simplicity and truth, that imparted to his manner a natural grace
that one bred in courts might have envied. What was more, with a
delicacy that few in course would deem necessary under the
circumstances, he did not in his language so much impute to concern
on his own account this movement of Margery's, as to that she felt
for her brother and sister; though in his inmost heart a throbbing
hope prevailed that he had his share in it.

"Do not be troubled on account of Gershom and his wife, pretty
Margery," said the bee-hunter, "which, as I perceive, is the main
reason why you have come here; and as for myself, be certain that I
shall not forget who I have left behind, and how much her safety
depends on my prudence."

Margery was pleased, though a good deal confused. It was new to her
to hear allusions of this sort, but nature supplied the feeling to
appreciate them.

"Is it not risking too much, Bourdon?" she said. "Are you sure of
being able to find the crossing in the marsh, in a night so very
dark? I do not know but looking so long at the bright light in the
cabin may blind me, but it DOES seem as if I never saw a darker
night!"

"The darkness increases, for the star-light is gone; but I can see
where I go, and so long as I can do that there is not much fear of
losing my way. I do not like to expose you to danger, but--"

"Never mind me, Bourdon--set me to do anything in which you think I
can be of use!" exclaimed the girl, eagerly.

"Well then, Margery, you may do this: come with me to the large tree
in the centre of the marsh, and I will set you on a duty that may
possibly save my life. I will tell you my meaning when there."

Margery followed with a light, impatient step; and, as neither
stopped to speak or to look around, the two soon stood beneath the
tree in question. It was a large elm that completely overshadowed a
considerable extent of firm ground. Here a full and tolerably near
view could be had of the hut, which was still illuminated by the
blazing fire within. For a minute both stood silently gazing at the
strange scene; then le Bourdon explained to his companion the manner
in which she might assist him.

Once at the elm, it was not so difficult to find the way across the
marsh, as it was to reach that spot, coming FROM the chiente. As
there were several elms scattered about in the centre of the marsh,
the bee-hunter was fearful that he might not reach the right tree;
in which case he would be compelled to retrace his steps, and that
at the imminent hazard of being captured. He carried habitually a
small dark lantern, and had thought of so disposing of it in the
lower branches of this very elm, as to form a focus of it, but
hesitated about doing that which might prove a guide to his enemies
as well as to himself. If Margery would take charge of this lantern,
he could hope to reap its advantages without incurring the hazard of
having a light suspended in the tree for any length of time. Margery
understood the lessons she received, and promised to obey all the
injunctions by which they were accompanied.

"Now, God bless you, Margery," added the bee-hunter. "Providence has
brought me and your brother's family together in troublesome times;
should I get back safe from this adventure, I shall look upon it as
a duty to do all I can to help Gershom place his wife and sister
beyond the reach of harm."

"God bless you, Bourdon!" half whispered the agitated girl. "I know
it is worth some risk to save a human life, even though it be that
of an Injin, and I will not try to persuade you from this
undertaking; but do not attempt more than is necessary, and rely on
my using the lantern just as you have told me to use it."

Those young persons had not yet known each other a single day, yet
both felt that confidence which years alone, in the crowds of the
world, can ordinarily create in the human mind. The cause of the
sympathy which draws heart to heart, which generates friendships,
and love, and passionate attachments, is not obvious to all who
choose to talk of it. There is yet a profound mystery in our
organization, which has hitherto escaped the researches of both
classes of philosophers, and which it probably was the design of the
Creator should not be made known to us until we draw nearer to that
great end which, sooner or later, is to be accomplished in behalf of
our race, when "knowledge will abound," and we shall better
understand our being and its objects, than is permitted to us in
this our day of ignorance. But while we cannot trace the causes of a
thousand things, we know and feel their effects. Among the other
mysteries of our nature is this of sudden and strong sympathies,
which, as between men for men, and women for women, awaken
confidence and friendship; and as between those of different sexes,
excite passionate attachments that more or less color their future
lives. The great delineator of our common nature, in no one of the
many admirable pictures he has drawn of men, manifests a more
profound knowledge of his subject, than in that in which he portrays
the sudden and nearly ungovernable inclination which Romeo and
Juliet are made to display for each other; an inclination that sets
reason, habit, prejudice, and family enmities at defiance. That such
an attachment is to be commended, we do not say; that all can feel
it, we do not believe; that connections formed under its influence
can always be desirable, we are far from thinking: but that it may
exist we believe is just as certain as any of the incomprehensible
laws of our wayward and yet admirable nature. We have no Veronese
tale to relate here, however, but simply a homely legend, in which
human feeling may occasionally be made to bear an humble resemblance
to that world-renowned picture which had its scenes in the beautiful
capital of Venetian Lombardy.

When le Bourdon left his companion, now so intensely interested in
his success, to pick his way in the darkness across the remainder of
the marsh, Margery retired behind the tree, where the first thing
she did was to examine her lantern, and to see that its light was
ready to perform the very important office which might so speedily
be required of it. Satisfied on this point, she turned her eyes
anxiously in the direction of the hut. By this time every trace of
the bee-hunter was lost, the hillock in his front forming too dark a
background to admit of his being seen. But the fire still blazed in
the chiente, the savages not having yet finished their cooking,
though several had satisfied their appetites, and had already sought
places where they might stretch themselves for the night. Margery
was glad to see that these last individuals bestowed themselves
within the influence of the fire, warm as was the night. This was
done most probably to escape from the annoyance of the mosquitos,
more or less of which are usually found in the low lands of the new
countries, and near the margins of rivers.

Margery could distinctly see the Chippewa, erect and bound to his
tree. On him she principally kept her looks riveted, for near his
person did she expect first again to find the bee-hunter. Indeed,
there was no chance of seeing one who was placed beneath the light
of the fire, since the brow of the acclivity formed a complete
cover, throwing all below it into deep shade. This circumstance was
of the greatest importance to the adventurer, however, enabling him
to steal quite near to his friend, favored by a darkness that was
getting to be intense. Quitting Margery, we will now rejoin le
Bourdon, who by this time was approaching his goal.

The bee-hunter had some difficulty in finding his way across the
marsh; but floundering through the impediments, and on the whole
preserving the main direction, he got out on the firm ground quite
as soon as he had expected to do. It was necessary for him to use
extreme caution. The Indians according to their custom had dogs, two
of which had been in sight, lying about half-way between the
prisoner and the door of the hut. Boden had seen a savage feeding
these dogs; and it appeared to him at the time as if the Indian had
been telling them to be watchful of the Chippewa. He well knew the
services that the red men expected of these animals, which are kept
rather as sentinels than for any great use they put them to in the
hunts. An Indian dog is quick enough to give the alarm, and he will
keep on a trail for a long run and with considerable accuracy, but
it is seldom that he closes and has his share in the death, unless
in the case of very timid and powerless creatures.

Nevertheless, the presence of these dogs exacted extra caution in
the movements of the bee-hunter. He had ascended the hill a little
out of the stream of light which still issued from the open door of
the hut, and was soon high enough to get a good look at the state of
things on the bit of level land around the cabin. Fully one-half of
the savages were yet up and in motion; though the processes of
cooking and eating were by this time nearly ended. These men had
senses almost as acute as those of their dogs, and it was very
necessary to be on his guard against them also. By moving with the
utmost caution, le Bourdon reached the edge of the line of light,
where he was within ten yards of the captive. Here he placed his
rifle against a small tree, and drew his knife, in readiness to cut
the prisoner's thongs. Three several times, while the bee-hunter was
making these preparations, did the two dogs raise their heads and
scent the air; once, the oldest of the two gave a deep and most
ominous growl. Singular as it may seem, this last indication of
giving the alarm was of great service to le Bourdon and the
Chippewa. The latter heard the growl, and saw two of the movements
of the animals' heads, from all which he inferred that there was
some creature, or some danger behind him. This naturally enough
induced him to bestow a keen attention in that direction, and being
unable to turn body, limbs, or head, the sense of hearing was his
only means of watchfulness. It was while in this state of profound
listening that Pigeonswing fancied he heard his own name, in such a
whisper as one raises when he wishes to call from a short distance
with the least possible expenditure of voice. Presently the words
"Pigeonswing," and "Chippewa," were succeeded by those of "bee-
hunter," "Bourdon." This was enough: the quick-witted warrior made a
low ejaculation, such as might be mistaken for a half-suppressed
murmur that proceeded from pain, but which one keenly on the watch,
and who was striving to communicate with him, would be apt to
understand as a sign of attention. The whispering then ceased
altogether, and the prisoner waited the result with the stoic
patience of an American Indian. A minute later the Chippewa felt the
thongs giving way, and his arms were released at the elbows. An arm
was next passed round his body, and the fastenings at the wrist were
cut. At this instant a voice whispered in his ear--" Be of good
heart, Chippewa--your friend, Bourdon, is here. Can you stand?"

"No stand," answered the Indian in a low whisper--"too much tie."

At the next moment the feet of the Chippewa were released, as were
also his knees. Of all the fastenings none now remained but that
which bound the captive to the tree. In not cutting this, the bee-
hunter manifested his coolness and judgment; for were the stout rope
of bark severed, the Indian would have fallen like a log, from total
inability to stand. His thongs had impeded the circulation of the
blood, and the usual temporary paralysis had been the consequence.
Pigeonswing understood the reason of his friend's forbearance, and
managed to rub his hands and wrists together, while the bee-hunter
himself applied friction to his feet, by passing his own arms around
the bottom of the tree. The reader may imagine the intense anxiety
of Margery the while; for she witnessed the arrival of le Bourdon at
the tree, and could not account for the long delay which succeeded.

All this time, the dogs were far from being quiet or satisfied.
Their masters, accustomed to being surrounded at night by wolves and
foxes, or other beasts, took little heed, however, of the discontent
of these creatures, which were in the habit of growling in their
lairs. The bee-hunter, as he kept rubbing at his friend's legs, felt
now but little apprehension of the dogs, though a new source of
alarm presented itself by the time the Chippewa was barely able to
sustain his weight on his feet, and long before he could use them
with anything like his former agility. The manner in which the
savages came together in the hut, and the gestures made by their
chief, announced pretty plainly that a watch was about to be set for
the night. As it was probable that the sentinel would take his
station near the prisoner, the bee-hunter was at a loss to decide
whether it were better to commence the flight before or after the
rest of the savages were in their lairs. Placing his mouth as close
to the ear of Pigeonswing as could be done without bringing his head
into the light, the following dialogue passed between le Bourdon and
the captive.

"Do you see, Chippewa," the bee-hunter commenced, "the chief is
telling one of the young men to come and keep guard near you?"

"See him, well 'nough. Make too many sign, no to see."

"What think you--shall we wait till the warriors are asleep, or try
to be off before the sentinel comes?"

"Bess wait, if one t'ing. You got rifle--got tomahawk--got knife,
eh?"

"I have them all, though my rifle is a short distance behind me, and
a little down the hill."

"Dat bad--nebber let go rifle on war-path. Well, YOU tomahawk him--
_I_ scalp him--dat'll do."

"I shall kill no man, Chippewa, unless there is great occasion for
it. If there is no other mode of getting you off, I shall choose to
cut this last thong, and leave you to take care of yourself."

"Give him tomahawk, den--give him knife, too."

"Not for such a purpose. I do not like to shed blood without a good
reason for it."

"No call war good reason, eh? Bess reason in world Pottawattamie dig
up hatchet ag'in' Great Fadder at Wash'ton--dat no good reason why
take his scalp, eh?"

In whispering these last words the Chippewa used so much energy,
that the dogs again raised their heads from between their forepaws
and growled. Almost at that instant the chief and his few remaining
wakeful companions laid themselves down to sleep, and the young
warrior designated as the sentinel left the hut and came slowly
toward the prisoner. The circumstances admitted of no delay; le
Bourdon pressed the keen edge of his knife across the withe that
bound the Indian to the tree; first giving him notice, in order that
he might be prepared to sustain his own weight. This done, the bee-
hunter dropped on the ground, crawling away out of the light; though
the brow of the hill almost immediately formed a screen to conceal
his person from all near the hut. In another instant he had regained
his rifle, and was descending swiftly toward the crossing at the
marsh.




CHAPTER VII.

      We call them savage--oh, be just!
        Their outraged feelings scan;
      A voice comes forth, 'tis from the dust--
        The savage was a man!
                                 SPRAGUE.


As soon as le Bourdon reached the commencement of that which might
be called his path across the marsh, he stopped and looked backward.
He was now sufficiently removed from the low acclivity to see
objects on its summit, and had no difficulty in discerning all that
the waning fire illuminated. There stood the Chippewa erect against
the tree as if still bound with thongs, while the sentinel was
slowly approaching him. The dogs were on their feet, and gave two or
three sharp barks, which had the effect to cause five or six of the
savages to lift their heads in their lairs. One arose even and threw
an armful of dried branches on the fire, producing a bright blaze,
that brought everything around the hut, and which the light could
touch, into full view.

The bee-hunter was astonished at the immovable calmness with which
Pigeonswing still stood to his tree, awaiting the approach of the
sentinel. In a few moments the latter was at his side. At first the
Pottawattamie did not perceive that the prisoner was unbound. He
threw him into shadow by his own person, and it required a close
look to note the circumstance. Boden was too far from the spot to
see all the minor movements of the parties, but there was soon a
struggle that could not be mistaken. As the Pottawattamie was
examining the prisoner, an exclamation that escaped him betrayed the
sudden consciousness that the Chippewa was unbound. The sound was no
sooner uttered than Pigeonswing made a grasp at the sentinel's
knife, which however he did not obtain, when the two closed and
fell, rolling down the declivity into the darkness. When the
Pottawattamie seized the Chippewa, he uttered a yell, which
instantly brought every man of his party to his feet. As the savages
now united in the whoops, and the dogs began to bark wildly, an
infernal clamor was made.

At first, le Bourdon did not know how to act. He greatly feared the
dogs, and could not but think of Margery, and the probable
consequences, should those sagacious animals follow him across the
marsh. But he did not like the idea of abandoning Pigeonswing, when
a single blow of his arm, or a kick of his foot, might be the cause
of his escape. While deliberating in painful uncertainty, the sounds
of the struggle ceased, and he saw the sentinel rising again into
the light, limping like one who had suffered by a fall. Presently he
heard a footstep near him, and, calling in a low voice, he was
immediately joined by Pigeonswing. Before the bee-hunter was aware
of his intention, the Chippewa seized his rifle, and levelling at
the sentinel, who still stood on the brow of the hill, drawn in all
his savage outlines distinctly in the light of the flames, he fired.
The cry, the leap into the air, and the fall, announced the unerring
character of the aim. In coming to the earth, the wounded man fell
over the brow of the sharp acclivity, and was heard rolling toward
its base.

Le Bourdon felt the importance of now improving the precious
moments, and was in the act of urging his companion to follow, when
the latter passed an arm around his body, whipped his knife from the
girdle and sheath, and dropping the rifle into his friend's arms,
bounded away in the darkness, taking the direction of his fallen
enemy. There was no mistaking all this; Chippewa, led by his own
peculiar sense of honor, risking everything to obtain the usual
trophy of victory. By this time, a dozen of the savages stood on the
brow of the hill, seemingly at a loss to understand what had become
of the combatants. Perceiving this, the bee-hunter profited by the
delay and reloaded his rifle. As everything passed almost as swiftly
as the electric spark is known to travel, it was but a moment after
the Pottawattamie fell ere his conqueror was through with his bloody
task. Just as le Bourdon threw his rifle up into the hollow of his
arm, he was rejoined by his red friend, who bore the reeking scalp
of the sentinel at his belt; though fortunately the bee-hunter did
not see it on account of the obscurity, else might he not have been
so willing to continue to act with so ruthless an ally.

Further stay was out of the question; for the Indians were now
collected in a body on the brow of the hill, where the chief was
rapidly issuing his orders. In a minute the band dispersed, every
man bounding into the darkness, as if aware of the danger of
remaining within the influence of the bright light thrown from the
fire. Then came such a clamor from the dogs, as left no doubt in the
mind of the bee-hunter that they had scented and found the remains
of the fallen man. A fierce yell came from the same spot, the proof
that some of the savages had already discovered the body; and le
Bourdon told his companion to follow, taking his way across the
marsh as fast as he could overcome the difficulties of the path.

It has already been intimated that it was not easy, if indeed it
were possible, to cross that piece of low wet land in a direct line.
There was tolerably firm ground on it, but it lay in an irregular
form, its presence being generally to be noted by the growth of
trees. Le Bourdon had been very careful in taking his landmarks,
foreseeing the probability of a hasty retreat, and he had no
difficulty for some time in keeping in the right direction. But the
dogs soon left the dead body, and came bounding across the marsh,
disregarding its difficulties; though their plunges and yells soon
made it apparent that even they did not escape altogether with dry
feet. As for the savages, they poured down the declivity in a
stream, taking the dogs as their guides; and safe ones they might
well be accounted, so far as the SCENT was concerned, though they
did not happen to be particularly well acquainted with all the
difficulties of the path.

At length le Bourdon paused, causing his companion to stop also. In
the hurry and confusion of the flight, the former had lost his
landmarks, finding himself amidst a copse of small trees, or large
bushes, but not in the particular copse he sought. Every effort to
get out of this thicket, except by the way he had entered it, proved
abortive, and the dogs were barking at no great distance in his
rear. It is true that these animals no longer approached: for they
were floundering in the mud and water; but their throats answered
every purpose to lead the pursuers on, and the low calls that passed
from mouth to mouth, let the pursued understand that the
Pottawattamies were at their heels, if not absolutely on their
trail.

The crisis demanded both discretion and decision; qualities in which
the bee-hunter, with his forest training, was not likely to be
deficient. He looked out for the path by which he had reached the
unfortunate thicket, and having found it, commenced a retreat by the
way he had come. Nerve was needed to move almost in a line toward
the dogs and their masters; but the nerve was forthcoming, and the
two advanced like veterans expecting the fire of some concealed but
well-armed battery. Presently, le Bourdon stopped, and examined the
ground on which he stood.

"HERE we must turn, Chippewa," he said, in a guarded voice. "This is
the spot where I must have missed my way."

"Good place to turn 'bout," answered the Indian--"dog too near."

"We must shoot the dogs if they press us too hard," returned the
bee-hunter, leading off rapidly, now secure in the right direction.
"They seem to be in trouble, just at this time; but animals like
them will soon find their way across this marsh."

"Bess shoot Pottawattamie," coolly returned Pigeonswing.
"Pottawattamie got capital scalp--dog's ears no good for nutting any
more."

"Yonder, I believe, is the tree I am in search of!" exclaimed le
Bourdon. "If we can reach that tree, I think all will go well with
us."

The tree was reached, and the bee-hunter proceeded to make sure of
his course from that point. Removing from his pouch a small piece of
moistened powder that he had prepared ere he liberated the Chippewa,
he stuck it on a low branch of the tree he was under, and on the
side next the spot where he had stationed Margery. When this was
done, he made his companion stand aside, and lighting some spunk
with his flint and steel, he fired his powder. Of course, this
little preparation burned like the fireworks of a boy, making
sufficient light, however, to be seen in a dark night for a mile or
more. No sooner was the wetted powder hissing and throwing off its
sparks, than the bee-hunter gazed intently into the now seemingly
tangible obscurity of the marsh. A bright light appeared and
vanished. It was enough; the bee-hunter threw down his own signal
and extinguished it with his foot; and, as he wished, the lantern of
Margery appeared no more. Assured now of the accuracy of his
position, as well as of the course he was to pursue, le Bourdon bade
his companion follow, and pressed anew across the marsh. A tree was
soon visible, and toward that particular object the fugitives
steadily pressed, until it was reached. At the next instant Margery
was joined; and the bee-hunter could not refrain from kissing her,
in the excess of his pleasure.

"There is a dreadful howling of dogs," said Margery, feeling no
offence at the liberty taken, in a moment like that, "and it seems
to me that a whole tribe is following at their heels. For Heaven's
sake, Bourdon, let us hasten to the canoes; brother and sister must
think us lost!"

The circumstances pressed, and the bee-hunter took Margery's arm,
passing it through one of his own, with a decided and protecting
manner, that caused the girl's heart to beat with emotions not in
the least connected with fear, leaving an impression of pleasure
even at that perilous moment. As the distance was not great, the
three were soon on the beach and near to the canoes. Here they met
Dorothy, alone, and pacing to and fro like a person distressed. She
had doubtless heard the clamor, and was aware that the savages were
out looking for their party. As Margery met her sister, she saw that
something more than common had gone wrong, and in the eagerness of
her apprehensions she did not scruple about putting her questions.

"What has become of brother? Where is Gershom?" demanded the
sensitive girl, at once.

The answer was given in a low voice, and in that sort of manner with
which woman struggles to the last to conceal the delinquencies of
him she loves.

"Gershom is not himself, just now," half whispered the wife--"he has
fallen into one of his old ways, ag'in."

"Old ways?" slowly repeated the sister, dropping her own voice to
tones similar to those in which the unpleasant news had just been
communicated. "How is that possible, now that all the whiskey is
emptied?"

"It seems that Bourdon had a jug of brandy among his stores, and
Gershom found it out. I blame no one; for Bourdon, who never abuses
the gifts of Providence, had a right to his comforts at least; but
it IS a pity that there was anything of the sort in the canoes!"

The bee-hunter was greatly concerned at this unwelcome intelligence,
feeling all its importance far more vividly than either of his
companions. They regretted as women; but he foresaw the danger, as a
man accustomed to exertion in trying scenes. If Whiskey Centre had
really fallen into his old ways, so as to render himself an
incumbrance, instead of being an assistant at such a moment, the
fact was to be deplored, but it could only be remedied by time.
Luckily they had the Indian with them, and he could manage one of
the canoes, while he himself took charge of the other. As no time
was to be lost--the barking of the dogs and the cries of the savages
too plainly letting it be known that the enemy was getting through
the marsh by some means or other--he hurried the party down to the
canoes, entering that of Whiskey Centre at once.

Le Bourdon found Gershom asleep, but with the heavy slumbers of the
drunkard. Dolly had removed the jug and concealed it, as soon as the
state of her husband enabled her to do so without incurring his
violence. Else might the unfortunate man have destroyed himself, by
indulging in a liquor so much more palatable than that he was
accustomed to use, after so long and compelled an abstinence. The
jug was now produced, however, and le Bourdon emptied it in the
river, to the great joy of the two females, though not without a
sharp remonstrance from the Chippewa. The bee-hunter was steady, and
the last drop of the liquor of Gascony was soon mingling with the
waters of the Kalamazoo. This done, the bee-hunter desired the women
to embark, and called to the Chippewa to do the same. By quitting
the spot in the canoes, it was evident the pursuers would be balked,
temporarily at least, since they must recross the marsh in order to
get into their own boats, without which further pursuit would be
fruitless.

It might have been by means of a secret sympathy, or it was possibly
the result of accident, but certain it is, that the Chippewa was
placed in that of le Bourdon. As for Whiskey Centre, he lay like a
log in the bottom of his own light bark, cared for only by his
affectionate wife, who had made a pillow for his head; but,
fortunately, if no assistance just then, not any material hindrance
to the movements of his friends. By the time le Bourdon and the
Chippewa had got their stations, and the canoes were free of the
bottom, it was evident by the sounds, that not only the dogs, but
divers of their masters, had floundered through the swamp, and were
already on the firm ground east of it. As the dogs ran by scent,
little doubt remained of their soon leading the savages to the place
of embarkation. Aware of this, the bee-hunter directed the Chippewa
to follow, and urged his own canoe away from the shore, following
one of three of the natural channels that united just at that point.

The clamor now sensibly increased, and the approach of the pursuers
was much faster than it had previously been, in consequence of there
no longer being wet land beneath their feet. At the distance of
fifty yards from the shore, however, the channel, or open avenue
among the rice-plants that the canoes had taken, made a short turn
to the northward; for all the events we have just been recording
occurred on the northern, or leeward side of the river. Once around
this bend in the channel, the canoes would have been effectually
concealed from those on the beach, had it even been broad daylight,
and, of course, were so much more hidden from view under the
obscurity of a very dark night. Perceiving this, and fearful that
the dip of the paddles might be heard, le Bourdon ceased to urge his
canoe through the water, telling the Chippewa to imitate his
example, and let the boats drift. In consequence of this precaution
the fugitives were still quite near the shore when, first, the dogs,
then a party of their masters, came rushing down to the very spot
whence the canoes had departed scarcely two minutes before. As no
precautions were taken to conceal the advance of the pursuers, the
pursued, or the individuals among them who alone understood the
common language of the great Ojebway nation well, had an opportunity
of hearing and understanding all that was said. Le Bourdon had
brought the two canoes together; and the Chippewa, at his request,
now translated such parts of the discourse of their enemies as he
deemed worthy of communicating to the females.

"Say, now, nobody dere!" commenced the Indian, coolly. "T'ink he no
great way off--mean to look for him--t'ink dog uneasy--won'er why
dog so uneasy."

"Them dogs are very likely to scent us here in the canoes, we are so
near them," whispered le Bourdon.

"S'pose he do, can't catch us," coolly answered the Chippewa--
"beside, shoot him, don't take care--bad for dog to chase warrior
too much."

"There is one speaking now, who seems to have authority."

"Yes--he chief--know he voice--hear him too often--he mean to put
Pigeonswing to torture. Well, let him catch Pigeonswing fust--swift
bird do that, eh?"

"But what says he?--it may be of importance to learn what the chief
says, just now."

"Who care what he say--can't do nuttin'--if get good chance, take
HIS scalp, too."

"Aye, that I dare say--but he is speaking earnestly and in a low
voice; listen, and let us know what he says. I do not well
understand at this distance."

The Chippewa complied, and maintained an attentive silence until the
chief ceased to speak. Then he rendered what had been said into such
English as he could command, accompanying the translation by the
explanations that naturally suggested themselves to one like
himself.

"Chief talk to young men," said the Chippewa--"all chief talk to
young men--tell him dat Pigeonswing must get off in canoe--don't see
canoe, nudder--but, muss be canoe, else he swim. T'ink more than one
Injin here--don't know, dough--maybe, maybe not--can't tell, till
see trail, morrow morning--"

"Well, well; but what does he tell his young men to DO?" demanded
the bee-hunter, impatiently.

"Don't be squaw, Bourdon--tell all by'em bye. Tell young men s'pose
he get canoe, den he may get OUR canoe, and carry 'em off--s'pose he
swim; dat Chippewa devil swim down stream and get OUR canoe dat
fashion--bess go back, some of you, and see arter OUR canoe--dat
what he tell young men most."

"That is a lucky thought!" exclaimed le Bourdon--"let us paddle
down, at once, and seize all their canoes before they can get there.
The distance by water, owing to this bend in the river, is not half
as great as that by land, and the marsh will double the distance to
them."

"Dat good counsel," said Pigeonswing--"you go--I follow."

This was no sooner said, than the canoes again got in motion. The
darkness might now have been a sufficient protection had there been
no rice, but the plant would have concealed the movement, even at
noon-day. The fire in the hut served as a beacon, and enabled le
Bourdon to find the canoes. When he reached the landing, he could
still hear the dogs barking on the marsh, and the voices of those
with them, calling in loud tones to two of the savages who had
remained at the chiente, as a sort of camp-guard.

"What do them chaps say?" asked le Bourdon of the Chippewa. "They
yell as if striving to make the two men at the door of the hut hear
them. Can you make out what they are bawling so loud?"

"Tell two warrior to come down and take care of canoe--dat all--let
'em come--find two here to take care of DEM--got good scalp, them
two rascal Pottawattamie!"

"No--no--Pigeonswing--we must have no more of that work to-night,
but must set about towing these four canoes off the shore as fast as
we can. Have you got hitches on your two?"

"Fast 'nough--so fast, he follow," answered the Indian, who,
notwithstanding his preparations to help to remove the canoes, was
manifestly reluctant to depart without striking another blow at his
enemies. "Now good time for dem rascal to lose scalp!"

"Them rascals, as you call them, begin to understand their friends
in the marsh, and are looking to the priming of their rifles. We
must be moving, or they may see us, and give us a shot. Shove off,
Chippewa, and paddle at once for the middle of the bay."

As le Bourdon was much in earnest, Pigeonswing was fain to comply.
Had the last possessed a rifle of his own, or even a knife, it is
highly probable he would have leaped ashore, and found the means of
stealing on some of his enemies unawares, and thus secured another
trophy. But the bee-hunter was determined, and the Chippewa, however
reluctant, was compelled to obey; for not only had le Bourdon kept
his rifle at his side, but he had used the precaution of securing
his knife and tomahawk, both of which he carried habitually, the
same as a red man.

The canoes had now a somewhat difficult task. The wind still blew
fresh, and it was necessary for one of these light craft, pretty
well loaded with its proper freight, and paddled by only a single
person, to tow two other craft of equal size dead to the windward.
The weight in the towing craft, and the lightness of those that were
towed, rendered this task, however, easier than it might otherwise
have proved. In the course of a couple of minutes all the canoes
were far enough from the shore to be out of sight of the two
Indians, who, by that time, had got down to the beach to look after
their own craft. The yell these savages raised on finding themselves
too late, not only announced their disappointment, but communicated
the extent of the disaster to their friends, who were still
floundering through the marsh.

The great advantage that the party of the bee-hunter had now
obtained must be very apparent to all. In possession of ALL the
canoes, their enemies were, or would be for some time at least,
confined to the northern side of the river, which was so wide near
its mouth as to present an effectual barrier between them and those
who occupied the opposite bank. The canoes, also, enabled the weaker
party to change their position at will, carrying with them as many
effects as were on board, and which included the whole of the
property of le Bourdon; while their loss deprived their enemies of
all extra means of motion, and would be very likely to induce them
to proceed on their expedition by land. The objects of that
expedition could only be conjectured by the bee-hunter, until he had
questioned the Chippewa; a thing he did not fail to do, so soon as
he believed the party quite safe under the south shore. Here the
fugitives landed, proceeding up a natural channel in the wild rice
in order to do so, and selecting a bit of dry beach for their
purpose. Margery set about lighting a fire, in order to keep the
mosquitos at a distance, selecting a spot to kindle it, behind a
swell on the land, that concealed the light from all on the other
shore. In the morning, it would be necessary to extinguish that
fire, lest its smoke should betray their position. It was while
these things were in progress, and after le Bourdon had himself
procured the fuel necessary to feed pretty Margery's fire, that he
questioned the Chippewa touching his captivity.

"Yes, tell all 'bout him," answered the Indian, as soon as
interrogated--"no good to hide trail from friend. 'Member when say
good-by up in openin' to Bourdon?"

"Certainly--I remember the very instant when you left me. The
Pottawattamie went on one path, and you went on another. I was glad
of that, as you seemed to think he was not your friend."

"Yes; good not to travel on same path as inimy, 'cause he quarrel
sometime," coolly returned the Indian. "Dis time, path come
together, somehow; and Pottawattamie lose he scalp."

"I am aware of all that, Pigeonswing, and wish it had not been so. I
found the body of Elksfoot sitting up against a tree soon after you
left me, and knew by whose hands he had fallen."

"Didn't find scalp, eh?"

"No, the scalp had been taken; though I accounted that but for
little, since the man's life was gone. There is little gained by
carrying on war in this manner, making the woods, and the openings,
and the prairies, alike unsafe. You see, to what distress this
family is reduced by your Injin manner of making war."

"How you make him, den--want, to hear. Go kiss, and give venison to
inimy, or go get his scalp, eh? Which bess fashion to make him
afeard, and own you master?"

"All that may be done without killing single travellers, or
murdering women and children. The peace will be made none the sooner
between England and America, because you have got the scalp of
Elksfoot."

"No haben't got him any longer; wish had--Pottawattamie take him
away, and say he bury him. Well, let him hide him in a hole deep as
white man's well, can't hide Pigeonswing honor dere, too. Dat is
safe as notch cut on stick can make him!"

This notch on a stick was the Indian mode of gazetting a warrior;
and a certain number of these notches was pretty certain to procure
for him a sort of savage brevet, which answered his purpose quite as
well as the modern mode of brevetting at Washington answers our
purpose. Neither brings any pay, we believe, nor any command, except
in such cases as rarely occur, and then only to the advantage of
government. There are varieties in honor, as in any other human
interest: so are there many moral degrees in warfare. Thus, the very
individual who admires the occupation of Algiers, or that of Tahiti,
or the attack on Canton, together with the long train of Indian
events which have dyed the peninsulas of the East in the blood of
their people, sees an alarming enormity in the knocking down of the
walls of Vera Cruz, though the breach opened a direct road into San
Juan de Ulloa. In the eyes of the same profound moralists, the
garitas of Mexico ought to have been respected, as so many doors
opening into the boudoirs of the beautiful dames of that fine
capital; it being a monstrous thing to fire a shot into the streets
of a town, no matter how many came out of them. We are happy,
therefore, to have it in our power to add these touches of
philosophy that came from Pigeonswing to those of the sages of the
old world, by way of completing a code of international morals on
this interesting subject, in which the student shall be at a loss to
say which he most admires--that which comes from the schools, or
that which comes direct from the wilderness.

"So best," answered the bee-hunter. "I wish I could persuade you to
throw away that disgusting thing at your belt. Remember, Chippewa,
you are now among Christians, and ought to do as Christians wish."

"What Christians DO, eh?" returned the Indian, with a sneer, "get
drunk like Whiskey Centre, dere? Cheat poor red man; den get down on
knee and look up at Manitou? DAT what Christian do, eh?"

"They who do such things are Christian but in name--you must think
better of such as are Christians in fact."

"Ebberybody call himself Christian, tell you--all pale-face
Christian, dey say. Now, listen to Chippewa. Once talk long talk
wit' missionary--tell all about Christian--what Christian do--what
Christian say--how he eat, how he sleep, HOW he drink!--all good--
wish Pigeonwing Christian--den 'member so'ger at garrison--no eat,
no sleep, no drink Christian fashion--do ebbery t'ing so'ger
fashion--swear, fight, cheat, get drunk--wuss dan Injin--dat
Christian, eh?"

"No, that is not acting like a Christian; and I fear very few of us
who call ourselves by that name, act as if we were Christians, in
truth," said le Bourdon, conscious of the justice of the Chippewa's
accusation.

"Just dat--now, I get him--ask missionary, one day, where all
Christian go to, so dat Injin can't find him--none in woods--none on
prairie--none in garrison--none in Mack'naw--none at Detroit--where
all go to, den, so Injin can't find him, on'y in missionary talk?"

"I am curious to know what answer your missionary made to that
question."

"Well, tell you--say, on'y one in ten t'ousant RAAL Christians 'mong
pale-face, dough all call himself Christian! DAT what Injin t'ink
queer, eh?"

"It is not easy to make a red man understand all the ways of the
pale-faces, Pigeonswing; but we will talk of these things another
time, when we are more at our ease. Just now, I wish to learn all I
can of the manner in which you fell into the hands of the
Pottawattamies."

"Dat plain 'nough--wish Christian talk half as plain. You see,
Bourdon, dat Elksfoot on scout, when we meet in openin', up river. I
know'd his ar'nd, and so took scalp. Dem Pottawattamie his friend--
when dey come to meet ole chief, no find him; but find Pigeonwing;
got me when tired and 'sleep; got Elkfoot scalp wid me--sorry for
dat--know scalp by scalp-lock, which had gray hair, and some mark.
So put me in canoe, and meant to take Chippewa to Chicago to torture
him--but too much wind. So, when meet friend in t'odder canoe, come
back here to wait little while."

This was the simple explanation of the manner in which Pigeonswing
had fallen into the hands of his enemies. It would seem that
Elksfoot had come in a canoe from the mouth of the St. Joseph's to a
point about half-way between that river and the mouth of the
Kalamazoo, and there landed. What the object of the party was, does
not exactly appear, though it is far from being certain that it was
not to seize the bee-hunter, and confiscate his effects. Although le
Bourdon was personally a stranger to Elksfoot, news flies through
the wilderness in an extraordinary manner; and it was not at all
unlikely that the fact of a white American's being in the openings
should soon spread, along with the tidings that the hatchet was dug
up, and that a party should go out in quest of his scalp and the
plunder. It would seem that the savage tact of the Chippewa detected
that in the manner of the Pottawattamie chief, which assured him the
intentions of the old warrior were not amicable; and that he took
the very summary process which has been related, not only to secure
HIS scalp, but effectually to put it out of his power to do any
mischief to one who was an ally, and by means of recent confidence,
now a friend. All this the Indian explained to his companion, in his
usual clipped English, but with a clearness sufficient to make it
perfectly intelligible to his listener. The bee-hunter listened with
the most profound attention, for he was fully aware of the
importance of comprehending all the hazards of his own situation.

While this dialogue was going on, Margery had succeeded in lighting
her fire, and was busy in preparing some warm compound, which she
knew would be required by her unhappy brother after his debauch,
Dorothy passed often between the fire and the canoe, feeling a
wife's anxiety in the fate of her husband. As for the Chippewa,
intoxication was a very venial offence in his eyes; though he had a
contempt for a man who would thus indulge while on a warpath. The
American Indian does possess this merit of adapting his deportment
to his circumstances. When engaged in war he usually prepares
himself, in the coolest and wisest manner, to meet its struggles,
indulging only in moments of leisure, and of comparative security.
It is true that the march of what is called civilization is fast
changing the red man's character, and he is very apt now to do that
which he sees done by the "Christians" around him.

Le Bourdon, when his dialogue with the Chippewa was over, and after
a few words of explanation with Margery, took his own canoe, and
paddled through the rice-plants into the open water of the river, to
reconnoitre. The breadth of the stream induced him to float down
before the wind, until he reached a point where he could again
command a view of the hut. What he there saw, and what he next did,
must be reserved for a succeeding chapter.




CHAPTER VIII.

     The elfin cast a glance around,
     As he lighted down from his courser toad,
     Then round his breast his wings he wound,
     And close to the river's brink he strode;
     He sprang on a rock, he breathed a prayer,
     Above his head his arm he threw,
     Then tossed a tiny curve in air,
     And headlong plunged in the water blue.
                                           DRAKE.


An hour had intervened between the time when le Bourdon had removed
the canoes of the Pottawattamies, and the time when he returned
alone to the northern side of the river. In the course of that hour
the chief of the savages had time to ascertain all the leading
circumstances that have just been related, and to collect his people
in and around the hut, for a passing council. The moment was one of
action, and not of ceremonies. No pipe was smoked, nor any of the
observances of the great councils of the tribe attended to; the
object was merely to glean facts and to collect opinions. In all the
tribes of this part of North America, something very like a
principle of democracy is the predominant feature of their politics.
It is not, however, that bastard democracy which is coming so much
in fashion among ourselves, and which looks into the gutters solely
for the "people," forgetting that the landlord has just as much
right to protection as the tenant, the master as the servant, the
rich as the poor, the gentleman as the blackguard. The Indians know
better than all this. They understand, fully, that the chiefs are
entitled to more respect than the loafers in their villages, and
listen to the former, while their ears are shut to the latter. They
appear to have a common sense, which teaches them to avoid equally
the exaggerations of those who believe in blood, and of those who
believe in blackguardism. With them the doctrines of "new men" would
sound as an absurdity, for they never submit to change for change's
sake. On the contrary, while there is no positive hereditary rank,
there is much hereditary consideration; and we doubt if a red man
could be found in all America, who is so much of a simpleton as to
cite among the qualifications of any man for a situation of trust
and responsibility, that he had never been TAUGHT how to perform its
duties. They are not guilty of the contradiction of elevating men
BECAUSE they are self-taught, while they expend millions on schools.
Doubtless they have, after a fashion of their own, demagogues and
Caesars, but they are usually kept within moderate limits; and in
rare instances, indeed, do either ever seriously trespass on the
rights of the tribe. As human nature is everywhere the same, it is
not to be supposed that pure justice prevails even among savages;
but one thing would seem to be certain, that, all over the world,
man in his simplest and wildest state is more apt to respect his own
ordinances, than when living in what is deemed a condition of high
civilization.

When le Bourdon reached the point whence he could get a good view of
the door of the hut, which was still illuminated by the fire within,
he ceased using the paddle beyond the slight effort necessary to
keep the canoe nearly stationary. He was quite within the range of a
rifle, but trusted to the darkness of the night for his protection.
That scouts were out, watching the approaches to the hut, he felt
satisfied; and he did not doubt that some were prowling along the
margin of the Kalamazoo, either looking for the lost boats, or for
those who had taken them away. This made him cautious, and he took
good care not to place his canoe in a position of danger.

It was very apparent that the savages were in great uncertainty as
to the number of their enemies. Had not the rifle been fired, and
their warrior killed and scalped, they might have supposed that
their prisoner had found the means of releasing his limbs himself,
and thus effected his escape; but they knew that the Chippewa had
neither gun nor knife, and as all their own arms, even to those of
the dead man, were still in their possession, it was clear that he
had been succored from without. Now, the Pottawattamies had heard of
both the bee-hunter and Whiskey Centre, and it was natural enough
for them to ascribe some of these unlooked-for feats to one or the
other of these agents. It is true, the hut was known to have been
built three or four years earlier, by an Indian trader, and no one
of the party had ever actually seen Gershom and his family in
possession; but the conjectures on this head were as near the fact,
as if the savages had passed and repassed daily. There was only one
point on which these close calculators of events were at fault. So
thoroughly had everything been removed from the chiente, and so
carefully the traces of its recent occupation concealed, that no one
among them suspected that the family had left the place only an hour
before their own arrival. The bee-hunter, moreover, was well assured
that the savages had not yet blundered on the hiding-place of the
furniture. Had this been discovered, its contents would have been
dragged to light, and seen around the fire; for there is usually
little self-restraint among the red men, when they make a prize of
this sort.

Nevertheless, there was one point about which even those keen-
scented children of the forest were much puzzled, and which the bee-
hunter perfectly comprehended, notwithstanding the distance at which
he was compelled to keep himself. The odor of the whiskey was so
strong, in and about the chiente, that the Pottawattamies did not
know what to make of it. That there should be the remains of this
peculiar smell--one so fragrant and tempting to those who are
accustomed to indulge in the liquor--in the hut itself, was natural
enough; but the savages were perplexed at finding it so strong on
the declivity down which the barrels had been rolled. On this
subject were they conversing, when le Bourdon first got near enough
to observe their proceedings. After discussing the matter for some
time, torches were lighted, and most of the party followed a grim
old warrior, who had an exceedingly true nose for the scent of
whiskey, and who led them to the very spot where the half-barrel had
been first stove by rolling off a rock, and where its contents had
been mainly spilled. Here the earth was yet wet in places, and the
scent was so strong as to leave no doubt of the recent nature of the
accident which had wasted so much of a liquor that was very precious
in Pottawattamie eyes; for accident they thought it must be, since
no sane man could think of destroying the liquor intentionally.

All the movements, gestures, and genuflections of the savages were
plainly seen by the bee-hunter. We say the genuflections, for nearly
all of the Indians got on their knees and applied their noses to the
earth, in order to scent the fragrance of the beloved whiskey; some
out of curiosity, but more because they loved even this tantalizing
indulgence, when no better could be had. But le Bourdon was right in
his conjectures, that the matter was not to end here. Although most
of the Indians scented the remains of the whiskey out of love for
the liquor, a few of their number reasoned on the whole transaction
with quite as much acuteness as could have been done by the
shrewdest natural philosopher living. To them it was very apparent
that no great length of time, a few hours at most, could have
elapsed since that whiskey was spilled; and human hands must have
brought it there, in the first place, and poured it on the ground,
in the second. There must have been a strong reason for such an act,
and that reason presented itself to their minds with unerring
accuracy. Their own approach must have been seen, and the liquor was
destroyed because it could not be removed in time to prevent its
falling into their hands. Even the precise manner in which the
whiskey had been disposed of was pretty nearly conjectured by a few
of the chiefs, acute and practised as they were; who, accustomed to
this species of exercise of their wits, had some such dexterity in
examining facts of this nature, and in arriving at just results, as
the men of the schools manifest in the inquiries that more
especially belong to their habits and training. But their
conclusions were confined to themselves; and they were also
sufficiently enveloped in doubts, to leave those who made them ready
enough to receive new impressions on the same subject.

All this, moreover, le Bourdon both saw and understood; or, if not
absolutely all, so much of it as to let him comprehend the main
conclusions of the savages, as well as the process by which they
were reached. To obtain light, the Indians made a fire near the
charmed spot, which brought themselves and their movements into
plain view from the canoe of the bee-hunter. Curiosity now became
strongly awakened in the latter, and he ventured in nearer to the
shore, in order to get the best possible view of what was going on.
In a manner, he was solving an enigma; and he experienced the sort
of pleasure we all feel at exercising our wits on difficulties of
that nature. The interest he felt rendered the young man careless as
respected the position of his canoe, which drifted down before the
strong breeze, until le Bourdon found himself in the very edge of
the wild rice, which at this point formed but a very narrow belt
along the beach. It was this plant, indeed, that contributed to make
the young man so regardless of his drift, for he looked upon the
belt of rice as a species of landmark to warn him when to turn. But,
at no other spot along that whole shore, where the plant was to be
found at all, was its belt so narrow as at this, immediately
opposite to the new fire of the savages, and almost within the
influence of its rays. To le Bourdon's surprise, and somewhat to his
consternation, just as his little craft touched the rice, the forms
of two stout warriors passed along the beach, between him and the
light, their feet almost dipping in the water. So near were these
two warriors to him, that, on listening intently, he heard not only
their voices, as they communicated their thoughts to each other in
low tones, but the tread of their moccasined feet on the ground.
Retreat, under the circumstances, would not be safe, for it must
have been made under the muzzles of the rifles; and but one resource
presented itself. By grasping in his hand two or three stalks of the
rice-plant, and holding them firmly, the drift of the canoe was
arrested.

After a moment's reflection, le Bourdon was better satisfied with
this new station than he had been on first gaining it. To have
ventured on such a near approach to his enemies, he would have
regarded as madness; but now he was there, well concealed among the
rice, he enjoyed the advantages of observation it gave him, and
looked upon the chance that brought him there as lucky. He found a
thong of buckskin, and fastened his canoe to the stalks of the
plant, thus anchoring or mooring his little bark, and leaving
himself at liberty to move about in it. The rice was high enough to
conceal him, even when erect, and he had some difficulty in finding
places favorable to making his observations through it. When the
bee-hunter made his way into the bow of his canoe, however, which he
did with a moccasined and noiseless foot, he was startled at
perceiving how small was his cover. In point of fact, he was now
within three feet of the inner edge of the rice-plant, which grew
within ten feet of the shore, where the two warriors already
mentioned were still standing, in close communication with each
other. Their faces were turned toward the fire, the bright light
from which, at times, streamed over the canoe itself, in a way to
illumine all it contained. The first impulse of le Bourdon, on
ascertaining how closely he had drifted to the shore, was to seize a
paddle and make off, but a second thought again told him it would be
far safer to remain where he was. Taking his seat, therefore, on a
bit of board laid athwart, from gunwale to gunwale, if such a craft
can be said to have gunwales at all, he patiently waited the course
of events.

By this time, all or nearly all of the Pottawattamies had collected
on this spot, on the side of the hill. The hut was deserted, its
fire got to be low, and darkness reigned around the place. On the
other hand, the Indians kept piling brush on their new fire, until
the whole of that hill-side, the stream at its foot, and the ravine
through which the latter ran, were fairly illuminated. Of course,
all within the influence of this light was to be distinctly seen,
and the bee-hunter was soon absorbed in gazing at the movements of
savage enemies, under circumstances so peculiar.

The savages seemed to be entranced by the singular, and to most of
them unaccountable circumstance of the earth's giving forth the
scent of fresh whiskey, in a place so retired and unknown. While two
or three of their number had certain inklings of the truth, as has
been stated, to much the greater portion of their body it appeared
to be a profound mystery; and one that, in some inexplicable manner,
was connected with the recent digging up of the hatchet. Ignorance
and superstition ever go hand in hand, and it was natural that many,
perhaps most of these uninstructed beings should thus consider so
unusual a fragrance, on such a spot. Whiskey has unfortunately
obtained a power over the red man of this continent that it would
require many Fathers Matthew to suppress, and which can only be
likened to that which is supposed to belong to the influence of
witchcraft. The Indian is quite as sensible as the white man of the
mischief that the "fire-water" produces; but, like the white man, he
finds how hard it is to get rid of a master passion, when we have
once submitted ourselves to its sway. The portion of the band that
could not account for the fact of the scent of their beloved
beverage's being found in such a place, and it was all but three of
their whole party, were quite animated in their discussions on the
subject, and many and crude were the suggestions that fell from
their lips. The two warriors on the beach were more deeply impressed
than any of their companions, with the notion that some "medicine
charm" was connected with this extraordinary affair.

The reader will not be surprised to hear that le Bourdon gazed on
the scene before him with the most profound attention. So near did
he seem to be, and so near was he, in fact, to the savages who were
grouped around the fire, that he fancied he could comprehend what
they were saying, by the expressions of their grim and swarthy
countenances. His conjectures were in part just, and occasionally
the bee-hunter was absolutely accurate in his notions of what was
said. The frequency with which different individuals knelt on the
ground, to scent an odor that is always so pleasant to the red man,
would of itself have given a clew to the general character of the
discourse; but the significant and expressive gestures, the rapid
enunciation, and the manner in which the eyes of the speakers
glanced from the faces near themselves to the spot consecrated by
whiskey, pretty plainly told the story. It was while thus intently
occupied in endeavoring to read the singular impression made on the
minds of most of those wild beings, by an incident so much out of
the usual track of their experience, that le Bourdon suddenly found
the bow of his canoe thrusting itself beyond the inner margin of the
rice, and issuing into open water, within ten feet of the very spot
where the two nearest of the savages were still conferring together,
apart. The buckskin thong which served as a fastening had got
loosened, and the light craft was again drifting down before the
strong southerly wind, which still continued to blow a little gale.

Had there been an opportunity for such a thing, the bee-hunter would
have made an effort to escape. But so sudden and unexpected was this
exposure, that he found himself almost within reach of a rifle,
before he was aware of his approaching the two warriors on the
shore, at all. His paddle was in the stern of the canoe, and had he
used the utmost activity, the boat would have grounded on the beach,
ere he could have obtained it. In this situation, therefore, he was
absolutely without any other means than his hands of stopping the
canoe, had there even been time.

Le Bourdon understood his real situation without stopping to
reflect; and, though his heart made one violent leap as soon as he
perceived he was out of cover, he immediately bethought him of the
course he ought to pursue. It would have been fatal to betray alarm,
or to attempt flight. As accident had thus brought him, as it might
be on a visit, to the spot, he at once determined to give his
arrival the character of a friendly call, and the better to support
the pretension, to blend with it, if possible, a little of the
oracular, or "medicine" manner, in order to impose on the
imaginations of the superstitious beings into whose power he had so
unwittingly fallen.

The instant the canoe touched the shore, and it was only a moment
after it broke through the cover, le Bourdon arose, and extending
his hand to the nearest Indian, saluted him with the mongrel term of
"Sago." A slight exclamation from this warrior communicated to his
companion an arrival that was quite as much a matter of surprise to
the Indians as to their guest, and through this second warrior to
the whole party on the hill-side. A little clamor succeeded, and
presently the bee-hunter was surrounded with savages.

The meeting was marked by the self-command and dignified quiet that
are so apt to distinguish the deportment of Indian warriors, when
they are on the war-path, and alive to the duties of manhood. The
bee-hunter shook hands with several, who received his salutations
with perfect calmness, if not with absolute confidence and amity.
This little ceremony gave our hero an opportunity to observe the
swarthy countenances by which he was surrounded, most of which were
fierce in their paint, as well as to reflect a little on his own
course. By a fortunate inspiration he now determined to assume the
character of a "medicine man," and to connect his prophecies and
juggleries with this lucky accident of the whiskey. Accordingly, he
inquired if any one spoke English, not wishing to trust his
explanations to his own imperfect knowledge of the Ojebway tongue,
which is spoken by all the numerous tribes of that widely-extended
nation. Several could render themselves intelligible in English, and
one was so expert as to render communication with him easy, if not
very agreeable. As the savages, however, soon insisted on examining
the canoe, and taking a look at its contents, previously to
listening to their visitor's explanations, le Bourdon was fain to
submit, and to let the young men satisfy their curiosity.

The bee-hunter had come on his hazardous expedition in his own
canoe. Previously to quitting the south shore, however, he had
lightened the little craft, by landing everything that was not
essential to his present purpose. As nearly half of his effects were
in the canoe of Whiskey Centre, the task was soon performed, and
lucky it was for our hero that he had bethought him of the prudence
of the measure. His sole object had been to render the canoe swifter
and lighter, in the event of a chase; but, as things turned out, he
saved no small portion of his property by using the precaution. The
Indians found nothing in the canoe, but one rifle, with a horn and
pouch, a few light articles belonging to the bee-hunter's domestic
economy, and which he had not thought it necessary to remove, and
the paddles. All the honey, and the skins and stores, and spare
powder, and lead, and, in short, everything else that belonged to le
Bourdon, was still safe on the other side of the river. The greatest
advantage gained by the Pottawattamies was in the possession of the
canoe itself, by means of which they would now be enabled to cross
the Kalamazoo, or make any other similar expedition, by water.

But, as yet, not a sign of hostility was betrayed by either party.
The bee-hunter seemed to pay no attention to his rifle and
ammunition, or even to his canoe, while the savages, after having
warily examined the last, together with its contents, returned to
their visitor, to re-examine him, with a curiosity as lively as it
was full of distrust. At this stage in the proceeding, something
like a connected and intelligible conversation commenced between the
chief who spoke English, and who was known in most of the north-
western garrisons of the Americans by the name of Thundercloud, or
Cloud, by way of abbreviation, on account of his sinister looks,
though the man actually sustained a tolerably fair reputation for
one of those who, having been wronged, was so certain to be
calumniated. No man was ever yet injured, that he has not been
slandered.

"Who kill and scalp my young man?" asked Cloud, a little abruptly.

"Has my brother lost a warrior?" was the calm reply. "Yes, I see
that he has. A medicine-man can see that, though it is dark."

"Who kill him, if can see?-who scalp him, too?"

"An enemy did both," answered le Bourdon, oracularly. "Yes; 'twas an
enemy that killed him; and an enemy that took his scalp."

"Why do it, eh? Why come here to take Pottawattamia scalp, when no
war-path open, eh?"

"Pottawattamie, the truth must always be said to a medicine-man.
There is no use in trying to hide truth from HIM. There IS a war-
path open; and a long and a tangled path it is. My Great Father at
Washington has dug up the hatchet against my Great Father at Quebec.
Enemies always take scalps when they can get them."

"Dat true--dat right, too--nobody grumble at DAT--but who enemy?
pale-face or red-skin?"

"This time it was a red-skin--a Chippewa--one of your own nation,
though not of your own tribe. A warrior called Pigeonswing, whom you
had in thongs, intending to torture him in the morning. He cut his
thongs, and shot your young man--after which he took his scalp."

"How know dat?" demanded the Cloud, a little fiercely. "You 'long,
and help kill Pottawattamie, eh?"

"I know it," answered le Bourdon, coolly, "because medicine-men know
most of what happens. Do not be so hasty, chief, for this is a
medicine spot--whiskey GROWS here."

A common exclamation escaped all of the red men, who comprehended
the clear, distinct, and oracular-like language and manner of the
bee-hunter. He intended to make an impression on his listeners, and
he succeeded admirably; perhaps as much by means of manner as of
matter. As has been said, all who understood his words--some four or
five of the party--grunted forth their surprise at this evidence of
their guest's acquaintance with the secrets of the place, in which
they were joined by the rest of their companions, as soon as the
words of the pale-face had been translated. Even the experienced and
wary old chiefs, who had more than half conjectured the truth, in
connection with this mysterious odor of whiskey, were much unsettled
in their opinions concerning the wonder, and got to be in that
condition of mind when a man does not know what to think of any
particular event. The bee-hunter, quick-witted, and managing for his
life, was not slow to perceive the advantage he had gained, and he
proceeded at once to clinch the nail he had so skilfully driven.
Turning from Cloud to the head-chief of the party, a warrior whom he
had no difficulty in recognizing, after having so long watched his
movements in the earlier part of the night, he pushed the same
subject a little further.

"Yes; this place is called by the whites Whiskey Centre," he added--
"which means that it is the centre of all the whiskey of the country
round about."

"Dat true," said Cloud, quickly--"I hear so'ger at Fort Dearborn
call him Whiskey Centre!"

This little circumstance greatly complicated the mystery, and le
Bourdon perceived that he had hit on a lucky explanation.

"Soldiers far and near--soldiers drunk or sober--soldiers with
scalps, and soldiers without scalps--all know the place by that
name. But you need not believe with your eyes shut and noses
stopped, chief, since you have the means of learning for yourselves
the truth of what I tell you. Come with me, and I will tell you
where to dig in the morning for a whiskey spring."

This communication excited a tremendous feeling among the savages,
when its purport came to be explained to the whole party. Apart from
the extraordinary, miraculous nature of such a spring, which in
itself was sufficient to keep alive expectation and gratify
curiosity, it was so comfortable to have an inexhaustible supply of
the liquor running out of the bowels of the earth, that it is no
wonder the news spread infinite delight among the listeners. Even
the two or three of the chiefs who had so shrewdly divined the
manner in which the liquor had been spilled, were staggered by the
solemnity and steadiness of the bee-hunter's manner, and perhaps a
little carried away by sympathy with those around them. This
yielding of the human mind to the influence of numbers is so common
an occurrence as scarcely to require explanation, and is the source
of half the evils that popular associations inflict on themselves.
It is not that men capable of SEEING the truth are ever wanting; but
men capable of MAINTAINING it, in the face of clamor and collected
power.

It will be readily conceived that a medicine-man who is supposed to
possess the means of discovering a spring that should overflow with
pure whiskey, would not be left without urgent demands for a speedy
exercise of this art. This was now the case with le Bourdon, who was
called on from all sides to point out the precise spot where the
young men were to commence digging in order to open on the treasure.
Our hero knew that his only hope of escape was connected with his
steadily maintaining his assumed character; or of maintaining this
assumed character, with his going on, at once, to do something that
might have the effect, temporarily at least, of satisfying the
impatience of his now attentive listeners. Accordingly, when the
demand was made on him to give some evidence of his power, he set
about the task, not only with composure, but with a good deal of
ingenuity.

Le Bourdon, it will be remembered, had, with his own hands, rolled
the two barrels of whiskey down the declivity. Feeling the great
importance of effectually destroying them, he had watched their
descent, from the top to the bottom of the hill, and the final
disappearance of the staves, etc., into the torrent which brawled at
its foot. It had so happened that the half-filled cask broke and let
out its liquor at a point much more remote from the stream, than the
filled. The latter had held together until it went over the low
rocky precipice, already mentioned, and was stove at its base,
within two yards of the torrent, which received all its fragments
and swept them away, including most of the liquor itself; but not
until the last had been spilled. Now, the odorous spot which had
attracted the noses of the savages, and near which they had built
their fire, was that where the smallest quantity of the whiskey had
fallen. Le Bourdon reasoned on these circumstances in this wise:--if
half a barrel of the liquor can produce so strong a scent, a barrel
filled ought to produce one still stronger; and I will manifest my
medicine-character, by disregarding for the present moment the spot
on the hill-side, and proceed at once to that at the foot of the
rocks. To this latter point, therefore, did he direct all the
ceremony, as well as his own footsteps, when he yielded to the
solicitations of the Pottawattamies, and undertook to point out the
position of the whiskey spring.

The bee-hunter understood the Indian character too well to forget to
embellish his work with a proper amount of jugglery and acting.
Luckily, he had left in the canoe a sort of frock of mottled colors
that he had made himself, to wear in the woods in the autumn as a
hunting-dress, under the notion that such a covering would conceal
his approach from his game, by blending its hues with those of the
autumn leaf. This dress he now assumed, extorting a good deal of
half-suppressed admiration from the younger warriors, by the gay
appearance he made. Then he drew out his spy-glass to its greatest
length, making various mysterious signs and gestures as he did so.
This glass proved to be a great auxiliary, and possibly alone kept
the doubters in awe. Le Bourdon saw at once that it was entirely
new, even to the oldest chief, and he felt how much it might be made
to assist him. Beckoning to Cloud, and adjusting the focus, he
directed the small end of his glass to the fire, and placed the
large end to that Indian's eye. A solitary savage, who loved the
scent of whiskey too much to tear himself away from the spot, was
lingering within the influence of the rays, and of course was seen
by the chief, with his person diminished to that of a dwarf, and his
form thrown to a seeming distance.

An eloquent exclamation followed this exhibition of the medicine-
man's power; and each of the chiefs, and most of the other warriors,
were gratified with looks through the glass.

"What dat mean?" demanded Cloud, earnestly. "See Wolfeye well
'nough--why he so little?--why he so far off, he?"

"That is to show you what a medicine-man of the pale-faces can do,
when he is so minded. That Indian is named Wolfseye, and he loves
whiskey too well. That I know, as well as I know his name."

Each of these exhibitions of intelligence extorted exclamations of
wonder. It is true, that one or two of the higher chiefs understood
that the name might possibly have been obtained from Cloud; but how
was the medicine-man to know that Wolfseye was a drunkard? This last
had not been said in terms; but enough had been said, to let those
who were aware of the propensity feel that more was meant than had
been expressed. Before there was time, however, to deliberate on, or
to dissect this specimen of mysterious knowledge, le Bourdon
reversed the glass, and applied the small end to the eye of Cloud,
after having given it its former direction. The Indian fairly
yelled, partly with dread, and partly with delight, when he saw
Wolfseye, large as life, brought so near him that he fancied he
might be touched with his own hand.

"What dat mean?" exclaimed Cloud, as soon as surprise and awe
enabled him to find his voice. "Fuss he little, den he big--fuss he
great way, den he close by--what dat mean, eh?"

"It means that I am a medicine-man, and this is a medicine-glass,
and that I can see with it into the earth, deeper than the wells, or
higher than the mountains!"

These words were translated, and explained to all three. They
extorted many ejaculations of wonder, and divers grunts of
admiration and contentment. Cloud conferred a moment with the two
principal chiefs; then he turned eagerly to the bee-hunter, saying--

"All good, but want to hear more--want to l'arn more--want to SEE
more."

"Name your wants freely, Pottawattamie," answered le Bourdon, with
dignity, "they shall be satisfied."

"Want to see--want to TASTE whiskey spring--see won't do--want to
TASTE"

"Good--you shall smell first; then you shall see; after that you
shall taste. Give me room, and be silent; a great medicine is near."

Thus delivering himself, le Bourdon proceeded with his necromancy.




CHAPTER IX.

He turned him round, and fled amain With hurry and dash to the beach
again; He twisted over from side to side, And laid his cheek to the
cleaving tide; The strokes of his plunging arms are fleet, And with
all his might he flings his feet, But the water-sprites are round
him still, To cross his path and work him ill.
                                      --The Culprit Fay.


The first step in the conjuration of the bee-hunter was, to produce
an impression on the minds of his untutored observers, by resorting
to a proper amount of mummery and mystical action. This he was
enabled to do with some effect, in consequence of having practised
as a lad in similar mimicry, by way of pastime. The Germans, and the
descendants of Germans in America, are not of a very high class, as
respects education, taken as a body, and they retain many of the
most inveterate of the superstitions of their Teutonic ancestors.
Although the bee-hunter himself was of purely English descent, he
came from a State that was in part peopled by these Germans and
their descendants; and, by intercourse with them, he had acquired a
certain knowledge of their notions on the subject of necromancy,
that he now found was of use. So far as gravity of mien, solemn
grimaces, and unintelligible mutterings were concerned, le Bourdon
played his part to admiration; and by the time he had led the party
half the distance he intended to go, our necromancer, or "medicine-
man," had complete possession of the imaginations of all the
savages, the two or three chiefs already mentioned alone excepted.
At this stage of the proceedings occurred a little incident, which
goes to prove the disposition of the common mind to contribute in
deceiving itself, and which was of considerable assistance to le
Bourdon, in maintaining his assumed character.

It will be remembered that the place where the Indians had found
their strongest scent was on the hill-side, or the spot where the
half-filled barrel had let out most of its contents. Near this spot
their new fire was still brightly blazing, and there Wolfseye
remained, regaling one of his senses, at least, with an odor that he
found so agreeable. But the bee-hunter knew that he should greatly
increase the wonder of the savages by leading them to a NEW scent-
spot, one to which there was no visible clew, and where the odor was
probably much stronger than on the hill-side. Accordingly he did not
approach the fire, but kept around the base of the hill, just enough
within the influence of the light to pick his way readily, and yet
so distant from it as to render his countenance indistinct and
mysterious. No sooner, however, had he got abreast of the scent-spot
known to the savages, than the crowd endeavored to lead him toward
it, by gestures and hints, and, finally, by direct intimations that
he was going astray. All this our "medicine-man" disregarded; he
held his way steadily and solemnly toward that place at the foot of
the hill where he knew that the filled barrel had let out its
contents, and where he, reasonably enough, expected to find
sufficient traces of the whiskey to answer his purposes. At first,
this pertinacity provoked the crowd, which believed he was going
wrong; but a few words from Crowsfeather, the principal chief,
caused the commotion to cease. In a few more minutes le Bourdon
stopped, near the place of his destination. As a fresh scent of
whiskey was very perceptible here, a murmur of admiration, not
unmixed with delight, passed among the attendants.

"Now, let the young men build a fire for ME" said the bee-hunter,
solemnly--"not such a fire as that which is burning on the hill, but
a medicine-fire. I SMELL the whiskey spring, and want a medicine-
light to SEE it."

A dozen young men began to collect the brush; in a minute a pile of
some size had been accumulated on a flat rock, within twenty feet of
the spot where le Bourdon knew that the cask had been dashed to
pieces. When he thought the pile sufficiently large, he told
Crowsfeather that it might be lighted by bringing a brand from the
other fire.

"This will not be a medicine-light, for that can come only from
'medicine-matches,'" he added; "but I want a fire to see the shape
of the ground. Put in the brand, brothers; let us have a flame."

The desire of the bee-hunter was gratified, and the whole of the
base of the hill around the spot where the filled cask had broken,
was illuminated.

"Now, let all the Pottawattamies stand back," added le Bourdon,
earnestly. "It might cost a warrior his life to come forward too
soon--or, if not his life, it might give a rheumatism that can never
be cured, which is worse. When it is time for my red brothers to
advance, they will be called."

As the bee-hunter accompanied this announcement by suitable
gestures, he succeeded in ranging all of the silent, but excited
savages on three sides of his fire, leaving that next his mysterious
spring to himself, alone. When all was arranged, le Bourdon moved
slowly, but unaccompanied, to the precise spot where the cask had
broken. Here he found the odor of the whiskey so strong, as to
convince him that some of the liquor must yet remain. On examining
more closely, he ascertained that several shallow cavities of the
flat rock, on which the cask had been dashed, still contained a good
deal of the liquor; enough to prove of great assistance to his
medicine character.

All this while the bee-hunter kept one portion of his faculties on
the alert, in order to effect his escape. That he might deceive for
a time, aided as he was by so many favorable circumstances, he did
not doubt; but he dreaded the morning and the results of a night of
reflection and rest. Crowsfeather, in particular, troubled him; and
he foresaw that his fate would be terrible, did the savages once get
an inkling of the deception he was practising. As he stood there,
bending over the little pools of whiskey, he glanced his eyes toward
the gloom which pervaded the northern side of the hill, and
calculated the chances of escape by trusting to his speed. All of
the Pottawattamies were on the opposite side, and there was a
thicket favorably placed for a cover, so near that the rifle would
scarce have time to perform its fatal office, ere he might hope to
bury himself within its leaves. So tempting did the occasion appear,
that, for a single instant, le Bourdon forgot his caution, and his
mummeries, and had actually advanced a step or two in the direction
toward which he contemplated flight, when, on glancing an uneasy
look behind him, he perceived Crowsfeather and his two intimate
counsellors stealthily preparing their rifles, as if they distrusted
his intentions. This at once induced a change of plan, and brought
the bee-hunter back to a sense of his critical position, and of the
indispensable necessity of caution to a man in his situation.

Le Bourdon now seemingly gave all his attention to the rocks where
he stood, and out of which the much-coveted liquor was expected to
flow; though his thoughts were still busily employed in considering
the means of escape, the whole time. While stooping over the
different pools, and laying his plans for continuing his medicine-
charms, the bee-hunter saw how near he had been to committing a
great mistake. It was almost as indispensable to carry off the
canoe, as it was to carry off himself; since, with the canoe, not
only would all his own property, but pretty Margery, and Gershom and
his wife, be at the mercy of the Pottawattamies; whereas, by
securing the boat, the wide Kalamazoo would serve as a nearly
impassable barrier, until time was given to the whites to escape.
His whole plan was changed by this suggestion, and he no longer
thought of the thicket and of flight inland. At the same time that
the bee hunter was laying up in his mind ideas so important to his
future movements, he did not neglect the necessary examination of
the means that might be required to extend and prolong his influence
over the minds of the superstitious children of the forest on whom
he was required to practise his arts. His thoughts reverted to the
canoe, and he concocted a plan by which he believed it possible to
get possession of his little craft again. Once on board it, by one
vigorous shove he fancied he might push it within the cover of the
rice-plants, where he would be in reasonable safety against the
bullets of the savages. Could he only get the canoe on the outer
side of the narrow belt of the plant, he should deem himself safe!

Having arranged his course in his own mind, le Bourdon now beckoned
to Crowsfeather to draw near, at the same time inviting the whole
party to approach within a few feet of the spot where he himself
stood. The bee-hunter had brought with him from the boat a fragment
of the larger end of a cane fishing-rod, which he used as a sort of
wand. Its size was respectable, and its length about eight feet.
With this wand he pointed out the different objects he named, and it
answered the very important purpose of enabling him to make certain
small changes in the formation of the ground, that were of the
greatest service to him, without permitting curious eyes to come so
near as to detect his artifices.

"Now open your ears, Crowsfeather; and you, Cloud; and all of you,
young braves," commenced the bee-hunter, solemnly, and with a
steadiness that was admirable; "yes, open wide your ears. The Great
Spirit has given the red man a nose that he might smell--does the
Cloud smell more than common?"

"Sartain--smell whiskey--this Whiskey Centre dey say--nat'ral dat
such smell be here."

"Do all the chiefs and warriors of the Pottawattamies who are
present, also smell the same?"

"S'pose so--why he don't, eh? Got nose--can smell whiskey good way,
tell you."

"It is right they should smell the liquor here, for out of this rock
a whiskey spring will soon begin to run. It will begin with a very
small stream, but soon will there be enough to satisfy everybody.
The Great Manitou knows that his red children are dry; he has sent a
'medicine-man' of the pale-faces to find a spring for them. Now,
look at this piece of rock--it is dry--not even the dew has yet
moistened it. See--it is made like a wooden bowl, that it may hold
the liquor of the spring. Let Crowsfeather smell it--smell it,
Cloud--let all my young men smell it, too, that they may be certain
that there is nothing there."

On this invitation, accompanied as it was by divers flourishes of
the wand, and uttered in a deep, solemn tone of voice, the whole
party of the Indians gathered around the small hollow basin-like
cavity pointed out by the bee-hunter, in order both to see and to
smell. Most knelt, and each and all applied their noses to the rock,
as near the bowl as they could thrust them. Even the dignified and
distrustful Crowsfeather could not refrain from bending in the
crowd. This was the moment for which le Bourdon wished, and he
instantly prepared to carry out his design.

Previously, however, to completing the project originally conceived,
a momentary impulse prevailed which urged him to adopt a new mode of
effecting his escape. Now, that most of the savages were on their
hands and knees, struggling to get their noses as near as possible
to the bowl, and all were intent on the same object, it occurred to
the bee-hunter, who was almost as active as the panther of the
American forest, that he might dash on toward the canoe, and make
his escape without further mummery. Had it been only a question of
human speed perhaps such would have been the wisest thing he could
do; but a moment's reflection told him how much swifter than any
foot of man was the bullet of a rifle. The distance exceeded a
hundred yards, and it was altogether in bright light, by means of
the two fires, Wolfseye continuing to pile brush on that near which
he still maintained his post, as if afraid the precious liquor would
start out of the scent-spot, and be wasted should he abandon his
ward. Happily, therefore, le Bourdon relinquished his dangerous
project almost as soon as it was entertained, turning his attention
immediately to the completion of the plan originally laid.

It has been said that the bee-hunter made sundry flourishes with his
wand. While the savages were most eager in endeavoring to smell the
rock, he lightly touched the earth that confined the whiskey in the
largest pool, and opened a passage by which the liquor could trickle
down the side of the rock, selecting a path for itself, until it
actually came into the bowl, by a sinuous but certain channel.

Here was a wonder! Liquor could not only be smelled, but it could be
actually seen! As for Cloud, not satisfied with gratifying the two
senses connected with the discoveries named, he began to lap with
his tongue, like a dog, to try the effect of taste.

"The Manitou does not hide his face from the Pottawattamie!"
exclaimed this savage, rising to his feet in astonishment; "this is
the fire-water, and such as the pale-faces bring us for skins!"

Others imitated his example, and the exclamations of wonder and
delight flew from mouth to mouth, in a torrent of vehement
assertions and ejaculations. So great a "medicine" charm had never
before been witnessed in that tribe, or in that region, and a
hundred more might succeed, before another should equal this in its
welcome character. There was whiskey, of a certainty, not much in
quantity, to be sure, but of excellent quality, as several affirmed,
and coming in a current that was slowly increasing! This last sign
was owing to the circumstance that le Bourdon had deepened the
outlet of the pool, permitting a larger quantity to flow down the
little channel.

The moment had now come for a decisive step. The bee-hunter knew
that his precious rivulet would soon cease to run, and that he must
carry out his design under the first impressions of his charm, or
that he probably would not be permitted to carry it out, at all. At
this moment even Crowsfeather appeared to be awed by what he had
seen; but a chief so sagacious might detect the truth, and
disappointment would then be certain to increase the penalties he
would incur.

Making many sweeps of his wand, and touching various points of the
rock, both to occupy the attention of the savages, and to divert it
from his pool, the bee-hunter next felt in his pocket and drew out a
small piece of resin that he knew was there; the remains of a store
with which he resined the bow of his fiddle; for our hero had a
violin among his effects, and often used it in his solitary abodes
in the openings. Breaking this resin on a coal, he made it flash and
blaze; but the quantity was too small to produce the "medicine-fire"
he wanted.

"I have more in my canoe," he said, addressing himself to the
interpreter; "while I go for it, the red men must not stir, lest
they destroy a pale-face's doings. Least of all they must go near
the spring. It would be better for the chiefs to lead away their
young men, and make them stand under the oak, where nothing can be
done to hurt the 'medicine-charm.'"

The bee-hunter pointed to a tree that stood in the direction of the
canoe, in order to prevent distrust, though he had taken care to
select a spot whence the little craft could not be seen, on account
of an intervening swell in the land, Crowsfeather led his warriors
to the indicated place, where they took their stations, in silent
and grave attention.

In the mean while, le Bourdon continued his incantations aloud;
walking toward his canoe, waving his hand, and uttering a great deal
of gibberish as he slowly proceeded. In passing the tree, our hero,
though he did not turn his head, was sensible that he was followed
by the chiefs, a movement against which he did not dare to
remonstrate, though it sadly disappointed him. Neither hastening nor
retarding his steps, however, in consequence of this unpleasant
circumstance, the young man continued on; once or twice sweeping the
wand behind him, in order to ascertain if he could reach his
followers. But Crowsfeather and his companions stopped when they
reached the swell of land which concealed the canoe, suffering the
"medicine-man" to move on alone. Of this fact le Bourdon became
aware, by turning three times in a circle, and pointing upward at
the heavens with his wand, as he did so.

It was a nervous moment when the bee-hunter reached the canoe. He
did not like to look behind him again, lest the chiefs should
suspect his motive, and, in shoving off from the shore, he might do
so within a few yards of the muzzle of a hostile rifle. There was no
time to lose, however, for any protracted delay on his part would
certainly cause the savages to approach, through curiosity, if not
through distrust of his motives. He stepped into his light craft,
therefore, without any delay, still flourishing his wand, and
muttering his incantations. The first thing was to walk to the stern
of the canoe, that his weight might raise the bow from the shore,
and also that he might have an excuse for turning round, and thus
get another look at the Indians. So critical was his situation, and
so nervous did it make our young hero, that he took no heed of the
state of matters in the canoe, until the last moment. When he had
turned, however, he ascertained that the two principal chiefs had
drawn so near as to be within twenty yards of him, though neither
held his rifle at "ready," but each leaned on it in a careless
manner, as if in no anticipation of any necessity to make a speedy
use of the weapon. This state of things could not last, and le
Bourdon braced his nerves for the final trial. On looking for his
paddle, however, he found that of three which the canoe had
contained when he left it, not even one was to be seen! These wily
savages had, out of all question, taken their opportunity to remove
and secrete these simple, but almost indispensable, means of motion.

At the instant when first apprised of the loss just mentioned, the
bee-hunter's heart sunk within him, and he fell into the seat in the
stern of the canoe, nearly with the weight of so much lead. Then a
species of desperation came over him, and putting an end of his cane
wand upon the bottom, with a vigorous shove he forced the canoe
swiftly astern and to windward. Sudden as was this attempt, and
rapid as was the movement, the jealous eyes and ready hands of the
chiefs seemed to anticipate it. Two shots were fired within a few
seconds after the canoe had quitted the shore. The reports of the
rifles were a declaration of hostilities, and a general yell,
accompanied by a common rush toward the river, announced that the
whole band now understood that some deception had been practised at
their expense.

Although the two chiefs in advance had been so very prompt, they
were not quick enough for the rapid movement of the canoe. The
distance between the stern of the boat and the rice-plants was so
small, that the single desperate shove given by the bee-hunter
sufficed to bury his person in the cover, before the leaden
messengers reached him. Anticipating this very attempt, and knowing
that the savages might get their range from the part of the canoe
that was still in sight, le Bourdon bent his body far over the
gunwale, grasping the rice-plants at the same time, and hauling his
little craft through them, in the way that sailors call "hand over
hand." This expedient most probably saved his life. While bending
over the gunwale, he heard the crack of the rifles, and the whizzing
of two bullets that appeared to pass just behind him. By this time
the whole of the canoe was within the cover.

In a moment like that we are describing, incidents pass so rapidly
as almost to defy description. It was not twenty seconds from the
instant when le Bourdon first put his wand down to push the canoe
from the land, ere he found his person emerging from the cover, on
its weather side. Here he was effectually concealed from his
enemies, not only on account of the cover made by the rice-plants,
but by reason of the darkness; the light not extending far enough
from the fire to illumine objects on the river. Nevertheless, new
difficulties presented themselves. When clear of the rice, the wind,
which still blew strong, pressed upon his canoe to such a degree as
not only to stop its further movement from the shore, but so as to
turn it broadside to, to its power. Trying with his wand, the bee-
hunter ascertained that it would no longer reach the bottom. Then he
attempted to use the cane as a paddle, but soon found it had not
sufficient hold of the water to answer for such an implement. The
most he could effect with it, in that way, was to keep the canoe for
a short distance along the outer edge of the rice, until it reached
a spot where the plant extended a considerable distance farther
toward the middle of the river. Once within this little forest of
the wild rice, he was enabled to drag the canoe farther and farther
from the north shore, though his progress was both slow and
laborious, on account of the resistance met.

All this time, the savages were not idle. Until the canoe got within
its new cover, it was at no instant fifty yards from the beach, and
the yells, and orders, and whoopings sounded as if uttered directly
in le Bourdon's ear. A splashing in the water soon announced that
our fugitive was pursued by swimmers. As the savages knew that the
beehunter was without a paddle, and that the wind blew fresh, the
expectation of overtaking their late captive, in this manner, was by
no means chimerical. Half a dozen active young men would prove very
formidable to one in such a situation, more especially while
entangled in the mazes of the rice-plant. The bee-hunter was so well
convinced of this circumstance, that no sooner did he hear the
splashes of the swimmers, than he redoubled his exertions to pull
his canoe farther from the spot. But his progress was slow, and he
was soon convinced that his impunity was more owing to the fact that
his pursuers did not know where to find him, than to the rapidity of
his flight.

Notwithstanding his exertions, and the start obtained, le Bourdon
soon felt assured that the swimmers were within a hundred feet of
him, their voices coming from the outer margin of the cover in which
he now lay, stationary. He had ceased dragging the canoe ahead, from
an apprehension of being heard, though the rushing of the wind and
the rustling of the rice might have assured him that the slight
noises made by his own movements would not be very likely to rise
above those sounds. The splashing of the swimmers, and their voices,
gradually drew nearer, until the bee-hunter took up his rifle,
determined to sacrifice the first savage who approached; hoping,
thereby, to intimidate the others. For the first time, it now
occurred to him that the breech of his rifle might be used as a
paddle, and he was resolved to apply it to that service, could he
once succeed in extricating himself from the enemies by whom he was
nearly environed, and from the rice.

Just as le Bourdon fancied that the crisis had arrived, and that he
should soon be called on to kill his man, a shout was given by a
savage at some distance in the river, and presently calls passed
from mouth to mouth, among the swimmers. Our hero now listened to a
degree that kept his faculty of hearing at a point of painful
attention. The voices and plashes on the water receded, and what was
startling, a sound was heard resembling that which as produced by a
paddle when struck incautiously against the side of a canoe. Was it
then possible that the Chippewa was out, or had the Pottawattamies
one boat that had escaped his attention? The last was not very
probable, as he had several times counted their little fleet, and
was pretty sure of having taken it all to the other side of the
river. The sound of the paddle was repeated, however; then it
occurred to the bee-hunter, that Pigeonswing might be on the scent
for another scalp.

Although the conjecture just mentioned was exceedingly unpleasant to
le Bourdon, the chase of the strange canoe gave him an opportunity
to drag his own light craft ahead, penetrating deeper and deeper
among the wild rice, which now spread itself to a considerable
distance from the shore, and grew so thick as to make it impossible
to get through the waving mass. At length, wearied with his
exertions, and a little uncertain as to his actual position, our
hero paused, listening intently, in order to catch any sounds that
might direct his future movements.

By this time the savages ceased to call to each other; most probably
conscious of the advantage it gave the fugitive. The bee-hunter
perfectly understood that his pursuers must be aware of its being
entirely out of his power to get to windward, and that they would
keep along the shore of the river, as he did himself, expecting to
see his canoe sooner or later driven by the wind on the beach. This
had made him anxious to drag his boat as much toward the outer edge
of the rice as he could get it, and by the puffs of wind that he
occasionally felt, he hoped he had, in a great measure, effected his
purpose. Still he had his apprehensions of the savages; as some
would be very apt to swim quite out into the stream, not only to
look for him, but to avoid being entangled among the plants. It was
only in the natural channels of the rice, of which there were a good
many, that a swimmer could very readily make his way, or be in much
safety. By waiting long enough, moreover, the bee-hunter was sure he
should tire out his pursuers, and thus get rid of them.

Just as le Bourdon began to think this last-mentioned purpose had
been accomplished, he heard low voices directly to windward, and the
splashing of water, as if more than one man was coming down upon
him, forcing the stalks of the plants aside. He grasped the rifle,
and let the canoe drift, which it did slowly, under the power of the
wind, notwithstanding the protection of the cover. The swimmers
forced their way through the stalks; but it was evident, just then,
that they were more occupied by their present pursuit than in
looking for him. Presently a canoe came brushing through the rice,
forced by the wind, and dragged by two savages, one of whom swam on
each bow. The last did not see the bee-hunter, or his canoe, the one
nearest having his face turned in the opposite direction; but they
were distinctly seen by the former. Surprised that a seizure should
be made with so little fracas, le Bourdon bent forward to look the
better, and, as the stern of the strange canoe came almost under his
eyes, he saw the form of Margery lying in its bottom. His blood
curdled at this sight; for his first impression was, that the
charming young creature had been killed and scalped; but there being
no time to lose, he sprang lightly from one canoe to the other,
carrying the rifle in his hand. As he struck in the bottom of the
boat of Gershom, he heard his name uttered in a sweet female voice,
and knew that Margery was living. Without stopping, however, to
inquire more, he moved to the head of the canoe, and, with a sharp
blow on the fingers, made each of the savages release his grasp.
Then, seizing the rice-plants, he dragged the little craft swiftly
to windward again. All this was done, as it might be, in an instant;
the savages and the canoe being separated some twenty feet, in much
less time than is required to relate the occurrence.

"Bourdon, are you injured?" asked Margery, her voice trembling with
anxiety.

"Not in the least, dear Margery--and you, my excellent girl?"

"They caught my canoe, and I almost died of fright; but they have
only dragged it toward the shore."

"God be praised! Is there any paddle in the canoe?"

"There are several--one is at your feet, Bourdon--and here, I have
another."

"Then, let us search for my canoe, and get out of the rice. If we
can but find my canoe, we shall be safe enough, for the savages have
nothing in which to cross the river. Keep your eyes about you,
Margery, and look among the rice for the other boat"

The search was not long, but it was intently anxious. At length
Margery saw the lost canoe just as it was drifting past them, and it
was secured immediately. In a few minutes, le Bourdon succeeded in
forcing the two craft into open water, when it was easy for him to
paddle both to windward. The reader can readily imagine that our
hero did not permit many minutes to elapse, ere he questioned his
companion on the subject of her adventures. Nor was Margery
reluctant to tell them. She had become alarmed at le Bourdon's
protracted absence, and taking advantage of Pigeonswing lying down,
she unloaded her brother's canoe, and went out into the river to
look for the absent one. As a matter of course--though so feminine
and far removed from all appearance of coarseness, a true American
girl in this respect--Margery knew perfectly well how to manage a
bark canoe. The habits of her life for the last few years, made her
acquainted with this simple art; and strength being much less needed
than skill, she had no difficulty in going whither she wished. The
fires served as beacons, and Margery had been a distant witness of
the bee-hunter's necromancy as well as of his escape. The instant
the latter was effected, she endeavored to join him; and it was
while incautiously paddling along the outer edge of the rice, with
this intention, that her canoe was seized by two of the swimmers. As
soon as these last ascertained that they had captured a "squaw,"
they did not give themselves the trouble to get into the canoe--a
very difficult operation with one made of bark, and which is not
loaded--but they set about towing the captured craft to the shore,
swimming each with a single hand and holding on by the other.

"I shall not soon forget this kindness of yours, Margery," said le
Bourdon, with warmth, when the girl had ended her simple tale, which
had been related in the most artless and ingenuous manner. "No man
could forget so generous a risk on the part of a young woman in his
behalf."

"I hope you do not think it wrong, Bourdon--I should be sorry to
have you think ill of me!"

"Wrong, dear Margery!--but no matter. Let us get ourselves out of
present difficulties, and into a place of safety; then I will tell
you honestly what I think of it, and of you, too. Was your brother
awake, dear Margery, when you left the family?"

"I believe not--he sleeps long and heavily after drinking. But he
can now drink no more, until he reaches the settlements."

"Not unless he finds the whiskey spring," returned the bee-hunter,
laughing.

The young man then related to his wondering companion the history of
the mummery and incantations of which she had been a distant
spectator. Le Bourdon's heart was light, after his hazards and
escape, and his spirits rose as his narrative proceeded. Nor was
pretty Margery in a mood to balk his humor. As the bee-hunter
recounted his contrivances to elude the savages, and most especially
when he gave the particulars of the manner in which he managed to
draw whiskey out of the living rock, the girl joined in his
merriment, and filled the boat with that melody of the laugh of her
years and sex, which is so beautifully described by Halleck.




CHAPTER X.

     The things that once she loved are still the same;
     Yet now there needs another name
     To give the feeling which they claim,
       While she the feeling gives;
     She cannot call it gladness or delight;
     And yet there seems to be a richer, lovelier light
     On e'en the humblest thing that lives.
                                --WASHINGTON ALLSTON.


The history given by le Bourdon lasted until the canoes reached the
south shore. Glad enough was Dorothy to see them both safe back, for
neither of her companions had yet awoke. It was then midnight, and
all now retired to seek the rest which might be so needful to
prepare them for the exertions of the next day. The bee-hunter slept
in his canoe, while Margery shared the buffalo-skin of her sister.

As perfect security, for the moment at least, was felt by the
sleepers, their slumbers were sound, and reached into the morning.
Then le Bourdon arose, and withdrawing to a proper distance, he
threw off his clothes and plunged into the stream, in conformity
with a daily practice of his at that genial season of the year.
After bathing, the young man ascended a hill, whence he might get a
good view of the opposite shore, and possibly obtain some notion of
what the Pottawattamies were about. In all his movements, however,
the bee-hunter had an eye to the concealment of his person, it being
of the last importance that the savages should not learn his
position. With the intention of concealment, the fire had been
suffered to go down, a smoke being a sign that no Indian would be
likely to overlook. As for the canoe and the bivouac of the party,
the wild rice and an intermediate hill formed a perfect cover, so
long as nothing was shown above them.

From the height to which he ascended, the bee-hunter, aided by his
glass, got a very clear view of Whiskey Centre and the parts
adjacent. The savages were already stirring, and were busy in the
various avocations of the red man on a war-path. One party was
disposing of the body of their dead companion. Several were cooking,
or cleaning the wild-fowl shot in the bay, while a group was
collected near the spot of the wished-for spring, reluctant to
abandon the hopes to which it had given birth, at the very moment
they were plotting to obtain the scalp of the "medicine-man." The
beloved "fire-water," that seduces so many to their destruction, who
have enjoyed the advantages of moral teaching, and which has been a
withering curse on the red man of this continent, still had its
influence; and the craving appetites of several of the drunkards of
the party brought them to the spot, as soon as their eyes opened on
the new day. The bee-hunter could see some of this cluster kneeling
on the rocks, lapping like hounds at the scattered little pools of
the liquor, while others scented around, in the hope of yet
discovering the bird that laid the golden egg. Le Bourdon had now
little expectation that his assumed character could be maintained
among these savages any longer, did accident again throw him in
their way. The chiefs, he saw, had distrusted him all along, but had
given him an opportunity to prove what he could do, in order to
satisfy the more vulgar curiosity of their young men. He wisely
determined, therefore, to keep out of the hands of his enemies.

Although le Bourdon could hold a conversation in the tongue of the
Ojebways, he was not fond of so doing. He comprehended without
difficulty nearly all of what was said by them, and had observed the
previous night that the warriors made many allusions to a chief whom
they styled Onoah, but who he himself knew was usually called
Scalping Peter among the whites of that frontier. This savage had a
fearful reputation at all the garrisons, though he never showed
himself in them; and he was now spoken of by the Pottawattamies
present, as if they expected to meet him soon, and to be governed by
his commands or his advice. The bee-hunter had paid great attention
whenever this dreaded name was mentioned, for he was fully aware of
the importance of keeping clear of an enemy who bore so bad a
reputation that it was not considered prudent for a white man to
remain long in his company even in a time of peace. His English
sobriquet had been obtained from the circumstances of its being
reputed that this chief, who seemed to belong to no tribe in
particular, while he had great influence with all, had on divers
occasions murdered the palefaces who fell in his way, and then
scalped them. It was added, that he had already forty notches on his
pole, to note that number of scalps taken from the hated whites. In
short, this Indian, a sort of chief by birth, though of what tribe
no one exactly knew, appeared to live only to revenge the wrongs
done his color by the intruders, who had come from toward the rising
sun to drive his people into the great salt lake on the other side
of the Rocky Mountains. Of course there was a good deal that was
questionable in these reports; a rumor in the "openings" and on the
prairies, having this general resemblance to those that circulate in
town, and in drawing-rooms, and at feasts, that no one of them all
can be relied on as rigidly exact. But le Bourdon was still young,
and had yet to learn how little of that which we all hear is true,
and how very much is false. Nevertheless, as an Indian tradition is
usually more accurate than a white man's written history, so is a
rumor of the forest generally entitled to more respect than the
ceaseless gossipings of the beings who would be affronted were they
not accounted civilized.

The bee-hunter was still on the elevated bit of ground, making his
observations, when he was joined by Margery. The girl appeared fresh
and handsome, after a night of sleep, and coming from her dressing-
room in a thicket, and over a stream of sweet running water; but she
was sad and thoughtful. No sooner had le Bourdon shaken her hand,
and repeated his thanks for the succor of the past night, than the
full heart of Margery poured out its feelings, as the swollen stream
overflows its banks, and began to weep.

"Brother is awake," she said, as soon as her sobs were quieted by a
powerful effect; "but, as is usual with him after hard drinking, so
stupid, that Dolly cannot make him understand our danger. He tells
her he has seen too many Injins to be afraid of these, and that they
will never harm a family that has brought so much liquor into their
country."

"His senses must be at a low ebb, truly, if he counts on Injin
friendship because he has sold fire-water to the young men!"
answered le Bourdon, with a nice understanding of not only Indian
nature, but of human nature. "We may like the sin, Margery, while we
detest the tempter. I have never yet met with the man, pale-face or
red-skin, who did not curse, in his sober moments, the hand that fed
his appetite while intoxicated."

"I dare say that may be very true," returned the girl, in a low
voice; "but one has need of his reason to understand it. What will
become of us now, it is hard to say." "Why, now, Margery, more than
yesterday, or the day before?" "Yesterday there were no savages near
us, and Gershorn had all along told us he intended to start for the
garrison at the head of the lake, as soon as he got back from his
visit to the openings. He is back; but not in a state to protect his
wife and sister from the red man, who will be looking for us as soon
as they can build a canoe, or anything that will do to cross the
river with."

"Had they even a canoe," returned le Bourdon, coolly, "they would
not know where to look for us. Thank Heaven! that will be a job that
would take some time; nor is a bark canoe built in a minute. But,
Margery, if your brother be a little dull and heavy, after his
debauch, _I_ am sober, and as much awake as ever I was in my life."

"Oh! you have no weakness like that of poor brother's, to make you
otherwise; but, Bourdon, you will naturally wish to take care of
yourself and your property, and will quit us the first good
opportunity. I'm sure that we have no right to expect you will stay
a minute longer than it is your interest to do so, and I do not know
that I wish it."

"Not wish it, Margery!" exclaimed the bee-hunter, in the manner of a
disappointed man. "I had supposed you would have wished my company.
But, now I know the contrary, I shall not much care how soon I go,
or into whose hands I fall."

It is strange how apt are those who ought to understand one another
so readily, to misinterpret each other's thoughts. Margery had never
seen the bee-hunter twenty-four hours before, though she had often
heard of him, and of his success in his art; for the fame of a man
of good reputation and active qualities spreads far on a frontier.
The very individual whose existence would be nearly overlooked in a
crowded region, shall be spoken of, and known by his qualities, a
hundred leagues from his place of residence, when settlements are
few and far apart. In this way, Margery had heard of Boden, or of
"Bourdon," as she called him, in common with hundreds who,
confounding his real name with his sobriquet, made the mistake of
using the last under the impression that it was the true
appellation. Margery had no other knowledge of French than the few
words gleaned in her slow progress among a frontier on which, it is
true, more of that language than of any other was heard, but heard
under circumstances that were not particularly favorable to the
acquisition of a foreign tongue. Had she understood the real meaning
of "Bourdon," she would have bitten off her tongue before she would
have once called Boden by such an appellation; though the bee-hunter
himself was so accustomed to his Canadian nickname as to care
nothing at all about it. But Margery did not like to give pain to
any one; and, least of all, would she desire to inflict it on the
bee-hunter, though he were only an acquaintance of a day. Still,
Margery could not muster sufficient courage to tell her new friend
how much he was mistaken, and that of all the youths she had ever
met she would most prefer to keep him near her brother and sister in
their distress; while the young man, inspired by a pure and infant
passion, was just in the frame of mind to believe the worst of
himself, and of his claims to the attention of her who had begun to
occupy so many of his thoughts.

No explanation occurring, our young people descended from the hill,
misconceiving each other's meaning and wishes, and unhappy under the
influence of an ideal source of misery, when actual circumstances
created so many that were substantial and real. Gershom was found
awake, but, as his sister had described him, stupid and lethargic.
The bee-hunter at once saw that, in his present condition, Whiskey
Centre would still be an incumbrance rather than of any service, in
the event of an occasion for extraordinary exertion. Margery had
hinted that it usually took twenty-four hours to bring her brother
entirely round, after one of his serious debauches; and within that
time it was more than probable that the fate of the family would be
decided.

Le Bourdon thought intently, during breakfast, of the condition of
his party, and of the best mode of proceeding, while the pallid and
anxious young creature at his side believed he was deliberating
solely on the best means of extricating himself and his store of
honey, from the savages on the other shore. Had the acquaintance
between these young people been of longer date than it actually was,
Margery could not have entertained a notion so injurious to the bee-
hunter, for a single moment; but there was nothing either violent,
or depreciating, in supposing that one so near being a total
stranger would think first of himself and his own interests, in the
situation in which this young man was now placed.

Little was said during the meal. Dorothy was habitually silent; the
result of grief and care. As for her husband, he was too stupid to
talk, though usually somewhat garrulous; while the Indian seldom did
two things at the same time. This was the hour for acting; when that
for talking should arrive, he would be found equal to its duties.
Pigeonswing could either abstain from food, or could indulge in it
without measure, just as occasion offered. He had often gone for
days without tasting a mouthful, with the exception of a few
berries, perhaps; and he had lain about the camp-fire, a week at a
time, gorging himself with venison, like an anaconda. It is perhaps
fortunate for the American Indian, that this particular quality of
food is so very easy of digestion, since his excesses on it are
notorious, and so common to his habits as almost to belong to his
nature. Death might otherwise often be the consequence.

When the breakfast was ended, it was time to consult about the
future course. As yet, the Pottawattamies had made no new discovery;
but the sagacity of the red man was ever to be feared, when it came
to be merely a question of finding his foe in a forest.

"We have obtained one advantage over the enemy," said le Bourdon,
"by crossing the river. Water leaves no trail; even had Crowsfeather
a canoe, he might not know where to go in it, in order to find us."

"Dat not so," put in the Chippewa, a little dogmatically; "know we
hab canoe--know cross river in him."

"Why should they know this, Pigeonswing? We may have gone out upon
the lake, or we may have gone up in the oak openings again, for
anything the Pottawattamies can know to the contrary."

"Tell you, not so. Know don't go on lake, cause wind blow. Know
don't go up river, cause dat hard work; know come here, cause dat
easy. Injin like to do what easy, and pale-face do just what Injin
do. Crowsfeather make raft, pretty soon; den he come look arter
scalp."

"Yes," said Margery, gently; "you had better load your canoe at
once, and go on the lake, while the savages cannot reach you. The
wind is fair for them that are to go north; and I have heard you say
that you are bound to Mackinaw."

"I shall load my canoe, and I shall load yours, too, Margery; but I
shall not go away from this family, so long as any in it stand in
need of my services."

"Brother will be able to help us by afternoon. He manages a canoe
well, when himself; so go, Bourdon, while you can. I dare say you
have a mother at home; or a sister perhaps a wife--"

"Neither," interrupted the bee-hunter, with emphasis. "No one
expects me; no one has a right to expect me."

The color stole into pretty Margery's cheeks as she heard these
words, and a ray of comfort gleamed on an imagination that, for the
last hour, had been portraying the worst. Still, her generous temper
did not like the idea of the bee-hunter's sacrificing himself for
those who had so few claims on him, and she could not but again
admonish him of the necessity of losing no time.

"You will think better of this, Bourdon," the girl resumed. "We are
going south, and cannot quit the river with this wind, but you could
not have a better time to go north, unless the wind blows harder
than I think it does."

"The lake is a bad water for a canoe, when there is much wind," put
in Gershom, yawning after he had spoken, as if the effort fatigued
him, "I wonder what we're all doing over on this side of the river!
Whiskey Centre is a good enough country for me; I'm going back to
look arter my casks, now I've breakfasted. Come, Doll; let's load
up, and be off."

"You are not yourself yet, Gershom," returned the sorrowful wife,
"or you would not talk in this way. You had better listen to the
advice of Bourdon, who has done so much for us already, and who will
tell you the way to keep out of Injin clutches. We owe our lives to
Bourdon, Gershom, and you should thank him for it."

Whiskey Centre muttered a few half intelligible words of thanks, and
relapsed into his state of drowsy indifference. The bee-hunter saw,
however, that the effects of the brandy were leaving him, and he
managed to get him on one side, where he persuaded the fellow to
strip and go into the water. The bath did wonders for the poor
creature, who soon got to be so far himself again, as to be of use,
instead of being an incumbrance. When sober, and more especially
when sober for several consecutive days, Gershom was a man of
sufficient energy, possessing originally great personal strength and
activity, which had been essentially lessened, however, by his
excesses in liquor. It has already been stated what a different
being he became, in a moral point of view, after having been sober
for any length of time.

On his return from the bathing, le Bourdon again joined the females.
Margery had been weeping; but she smiled in a friendly way, on
meeting his eye, and appeared less anxious for his departure than
she had been an hour before. As the day advanced, and no signs of
the savages were seen, a sense of greater security began to steal
over the females, and Margery saw less necessity for the departure
of their new friend. It was true, he was losing a wind; but the lake
was rough, and after all it might be better to wait. In short, now
that no immediate danger was apparent, Margery began to reason in
conformity with her wishes, as is so apt to be the case with the
young and inexperienced. The bee-hunter perceived this change in the
deportment of his fair friend, and was well enough disposed to hope
it would admit of a favorable construction.

All this time, the Chippewa had taken little visible interest in the
state of the party to which he had now attached himself. The
previous evening had been fertile in excitement and in
gratification, and he had since slept and ate to his entire content.
He was ready to meet events as they might arise, and began to plot
the means of obtaining more Pottawattamie scalps. Let not the
refined reader feel disdisgust at this exhibition of the
propensities of an American savage. Civilized life has had, and
still has, very many customs, little less excusable than that of
scalping. Without dragging into the account the thousand and one
sins that disgrace and deform society, it will be sufficient to look
into the single interest of civilized warfare, in order to make out
our case. In the first place, the noblest strategy of the art is, to
put the greatest possible force on the least of the enemy, and to
slay the weaker party by the mere power of numbers. Then, every
engine that ingenuity can invent, is drawn into the conflict; and
rockets, revolvers, shells, and all other infernal devices, are
resorted to, in order to get the better of an enemy who is not
provided with such available means of destruction. And after the
battle is over, each side commonly claims the victory; sometimes,
because a partial success has been obtained in a small portion of
the field; sometimes, because half a dozen horses have run away with
a gun, carrying it into the hostile ranks; and, again, because a bit
of rag has fallen from the hands of a dead man, and been picked up
by one of the opposing side. How often has it happened that a
belligerent, well practised in his art, has kept his own colors out
of the affair, and then boasted that they were not lost! Now, an
Indian practises no such shameless expedients. His point of honor is
not a bit of rag, but a bit of his skin. He shaves his head because
the hair encumbers him; but he chivalrously leaves a scalp-lock, by
the aid of which his conquerors can the more easily carry away the
coveted trophy. The thought of cheating in such a matter never
occurs to his unsophisticated mind; and as for leaving his "colors"
in barracks, while he goes in the field himself, he would disdain
it--nay, cannot practise it; for the obvious reason that his head
would have to be left with them.

Thus it was with Pigeonswing. He had made his toilet for the war-
path, and was fierce in his paint, but honest and fair-dealing in
other particulars. If he could terrify his enemies by looking like a
skeleton, or a demon, it was well; his enemy would terrify him, if
possible, by similar means. But neither would dream, or did dream,
of curtailing, by a single hair, that which might be termed the
flag-staff of his scalp. If the enemy could seize it, he was welcome
to the prize; but if he could seize that of the enemy, no scruples
on the score of refinement, or delicacy, would be apt to interfere
with his movements. It was in this spirit, then, that Pigeonswing
came to the canoe, where le Bourdon was holding a little private
discourse with Margery, and gave utterance to what was passing in
his mind.

"Good time, now, get more scalps, Bourdon," said the Chippewa, in
his clipping, sententious English.

"It is a good time, too, to keep our own, Chippewa," was the answer.
"Your scalp-lock is too long, to be put before Pottawattamie eyes
without good looking after it."

"Nebber mind him--if go, go; if stay, stay. Always good for warrior
to bring home scalp."

"Yes; I know your customs in this respect, Pigeonswing, but ours are
different. We are satisfied if we can keep out of harm's way, when
we have our squaws and pappooses with us."

"No pappooses here," returned the Indian, looking around him--"dat
your squaw, eh?"

The reader can readily imagine that this abrupt question brought
blushes into the cheeks of pretty Margery, making her appear ten
times more handsome than before; while even le Bourdon did not take
the interrogatory wholly undisturbed. Still, the latter answered
manfully, as became his sex.

"I am not so fortunate as to have a squaw, and least of all to have
this" said le Bourdon.

"Why no hab her--she good squaw," returned the literalminded Indian-
-han'some 'nough for chief. You ask; she hab--now squaw well--always
like warrior to ask him fuss; den say, yes."

"Aye, that may do with your red-skin squaws," le Bourdon hastily
replied; for he saw that Margery was not only distressed, but a
little displeased--"but not with the young women of the pale-faces.
I never saw Margery before last evening; and it takes time for a
pale-face girl to know a youth."

"Just so wid red-skin--sometime don't know, till too late! See
plenty dat, in wigwam."

"Then it is very much in the wigwams as it is in the houses. I have
heard this before."

"Why not same?--skin make no difference--pale-face spile squaw, too-
-make too much of her."

"That can never be!" exclaimed le Bourdon, earnestly. "When a
pretty, modest, warm-hearted young woman accepts a youth for a
husband, he can never make enough of her!"

On hearing sentiments so agreeable to a woman's ears, Margery looked
down, but she looked pleased. Pigeonswing viewed the matter very
differently; and being somewhat of a partisan in matters relating to
domestic economy, he had no thought of leaving a point of so much
importance in so bad a way. Accordingly, it is not surprising that,
in pursuing the subject, he expressed opinions in several essentials
diametrically the reverse of those of the bee-hunter.

'"Easy 'nough spile squaw," rejoined the Chippewa. "What she good
for, don't make her work? Can't go on the warpath--can't take scalp-
-can't shoot deer--can't hunt--can't kill warrior--so muss work. Dat
what squaw good for."

"That may do among red men, but we pale-faces find squaws good for
something else--we love them and take care of them--keep them from
the cold in winter, and from the heat in summer; and try to make
them as comfortable and happy as we can."

"Dat good talk for young squaw's ears," returned the Chippewa, a
little contemptuously as to manner; though his real respect for the
bee-hunter, of whose prowess he had so lately been a witness, kept
him a little within bounds "but it bess not take nobody in. What
Injin say to squaw, he do--what pale-face say, he no do."

"Is that true, Bourdon?" demanded Margery, laughing at the Indian's
earnestness.

"I shall be honest, and own that there may be some truth in it--for
the Injin promises nothing, or next to nothing, and it is easy to
square accounts, in such cases. That white men undertake more than
they always perform, is quite likely to be the fact The Injin gets
his advantage in this matter, by not even thinking of treating his
wife as a woman should be treated."

"How should treat woman?" put in Pigeonswing with warmth. "When
warrior eat venison, gib her rest, eh? Dat no good--what you call
good, den? If good hunter husband, she get 'nough--if an't good
hunter, she don't get 'nough. Just so wid Injin--sometime hungry,
sometime full. Dat way to live!"

"Aye, that may be your red man's ways, but it is not the manner in
which we wish to treat our wives. Ask pretty Margery, here, if she
would be satisfied to wait until her husband had eaten his dinner,
and then come in for the scraps. No-no-Pigeonswing; we feed our
women and children first^ and come in last, ourselves."

"Dat good for pappoose--he little; want venison--squaw tough; use to
wait. Do her good."

Margery now laughed outright, at these specimens of Indian
gallantry, which only too well embody the code of the red man's
habits. Doubtless the heart has its influence among even the most
savage people, for nature has not put into our breasts feelings and
passions to be discarded by one's own expedients, or wants. But no
advocate of the American Indian has ever yet been able to maintain
that woman fills her proper place in his estimate of claims. As for
Margery, though so long subject to the whims, passions. and
waywardness of a drunkard, she had reaped many of the advantages of
having been born in that woman's paradise, New England. We are no
great admirers of the legacy left by the Puritan to his descendants,
taken as an inheritance in morals, manners, and customs, and as a
whole; though there are parts, in the way of codicils, that there is
no portion of the Christian world which might not desire to emulate.
In particular, do we allude to the estimate put upon, and the
treatment received by their women. Our allusion is not to the
refinements and gracefulness of polished intercourse; for of THEM,
the Blarney Rock of Plymouth has transmitted but a meagre account in
the inventory, and perhaps the less that is said about this portion
of the family property the better; but, dropping a few degrees in
the social scale, and coming down to the level where we are
accustomed to regard people merely as men and women, we greatly
question if any other portion of the world can furnish a parallel to
the manly, considerate, rational, and wisely discriminating care,
that the New England husband, as the rule, bestows on his wife; the
father on his daughter; or the brother on his sister. Gershom was a
living, and, all things considered, a remarkable instance of these
creditable traits. When sober, he was uniformly kind to Dorothy; and
for Margery he would at any time risk his life. The latter, indeed,
had more power over him than his own wife possessed, and it was her
will and her remonstrances that most frequently led him back from
the verge of that precipice over which he was so often disposed to
cast himself. By some secret link she bound him closest to the
family dwelling, and served most to recall the days of youth and
comparative innocence, when they dwelt together beneath the paternal
roof, and were equally the objects of the affection and solicitude
of the same kind mother. His attachment to Dorothy was sincere, and,
for one so often brutalized by drink, steady; but Dorothy could not
carry him as far back, in recollections, as the one only sister who
had passed the morning of life with him, in the same homely but
comfortable abode.

We have no disposition to exaggerate the character of those whom it
is the fashion to term the American yeomen, though why such an
appellation should be applied to any in a state of society to which
legal distinctions are unknown, is what we could never understand.
There are no more of esquires and yeomen in this country than there
are of knights and nobles, though the quiet manner in which the
transition from the old to the new state of things has been made,
has not rendered the public mind very sensible to the changes. But,
recurring to the class, which is a positive thing and consequently
ought to have a name of some sort or other, we do not belong to
those that can sound its praises without some large reservations on
the score of both principles and manners. Least of all, are we
disposed to set up these yeomen as a privileged class, like certain
of the titular statesmen of the country, and fall down and worship a
calf--not a golden one by the way--of our own setting up. We can see
citizens in these yeomen, but not princes, who are to be especially
favored by laws made to take from others to bestow on them. But
making allowances for human infirmities, the American freeholder
belongs to a class that may justly hold up its head among the
tillers of the earth. He improves daily, under the influence of
beneficent laws, and if he don't get spoiled, of which there is some
danger, in the eagerness of factions to secure his favor, and
through that favor his VOTE--if he escape this danger, he will ere
long make a reasonably near approach to that being, which the tongue
of the flatterer would long since have persuaded him he had already
more than got to be.

To one accustomed to be treated kindly, as was the case with
Margery, the Chippewa's theory for the management of squaws
contained much to excite her mirth, as well as her resentment, as
she now made apparent by her remarks.

"You do not deserve to HAVE a wife, Pigeonswing," she cried, half-
laughing, yet evidently alive to the feelings of her sex--"can have
no gratitude for a wife's tenderness and care. I wonder that a
Chippewa girl can be found to have you?"

"Don't want him," coolly returned the Indian, making his
preparations to light his pipe--"got Winnebagoe squaw, already; good
'nough for me. Shoot her t'other husband and take his scalp--den she
come into my wigwam."

"The wretch!" exclaimed Margery.

But this was a word the savage did not understand, and he continued
to puff at the newly lighted tobacco, with all of a smoker's zeal.
When the fire was secured, he found time to continue the subject.

"Yes, dat good war-path--got rifle; got wife; got TWO scalp! Don't
do so well, ebbery day."

"And that woman hoes your corn, and cooks your venison?" demanded
the bee-hunter.

"Sartain--capital good to hoe--no good to cook--make deer meat too
dry. Want to be made to mind business. Bye'm by teach him. No l'arn
all at once, like pale-face pappoose in school."

"Pigeonswing, have you never observed the manner in which the white
man treats his squaw?"

"Sartain--see him make much of her--put her in warm corner--wrap
blanket round her--give her venison 'fore he eat himself--see all
dat, often--what den? DAT don't make it right."

"I give you up, Chippewa, and agree with Margery in thinking you
ought not to have a squaw, at all."

"T'ink alike, den--why no get marry?" asked the Indian, without
circumlocution.

Margery's face became red as fire; then her cheeks settled into the
color of roses, and she looked down, embarrassed. The bee-hunter's
admiration was very apparent to the Indian, though the girl did not
dare to raise her eyes from the ground, and so did not take heed of
it. But this gossiping was suddenly brought to an end by a most
unexpected cause of interruption; the manner and form of which it
shall be our office to relate, in the succeeding chapter.




CHAPTER XI.

   So should it be--for no heart beats
      Within his cold and silent breast;
    To him no gentle voice repeats
      The soothing words that make us blest.
                                    --PEABODY.


The interruption came from Dorothy, who, on ascending the little
height, had discovered a canoe coming into the mouth of the river,
and who was running, breathless with haste, to announce the
circumstance to the bee-hunter. The latter immediately repaired to
the eminence, and saw for himself the object that so justly had
alarmed the woman. The canoe was coming in from the lake, after
running before the wind, which now began to abate a little in its
strength, and it evidently had been endeavoring to proceed to the
northward. The reason for its entering the river, was probably
connected with the cookery or food of the party, since the lake was
each minute getting to be safer, and more navigable for so light a
craft. To le Bourdon's great apprehension, he saw the savages on the
north shore making signal to this strange canoe, by means of smoke,
and he foresaw the probability of his enemies obtaining the means of
crossing the stream, should the strangers proceed in the desired
direction. To counteract this design, he ran down to a spot on the
beach where there was no rice-plant, and showing himself to the
strangers, invited them to land on the south side, which was much
the nearest, and in other visible respects quite as convenient as
the opposite bank of the river. One of the strangers soon made a
gesture with an arm, implying assent, and the bows of this strange
canoe were immediately turned toward the spot where the bee-hunter
stood.

As the canoe drew near, the whole party, including Pigeonswing, came
to the margin of the water to receive the strangers. Of the last,
there were three; one paddling at each end of the light bark, and a
third seated in its centre, doing nothing. As the bee-hunter had his
glass, with which he examined these visitors, he was soon questioned
by his companions concerning their character and apparent purposes.

"Who are they, Bourdon?" demanded the impatient Margery--"and why do
they come here?"

"The last is a question they must answer for themselves, but the
person paddling in the bows of the canoe seems to be a white man,
and a soldier--or a half-soldier, if one may judge from his dress.
The man in the middle of the canoe is white, also. This last fellow
seems to be a parson--yes, he is a clergyman, though pretty well
used up in the wilderness, as to dress. The third man is a red-skin,
beyond all doubt."

"A clergyman!" repeated Margery, in surprise. "What should a
clergyman be doing here?"

"There are missionaries scattered about among the savages, I suppose
you know, and this is probably one of them. A body can tell one of
these parsons by his outside, as far as he can see him. The poor man
has heard of the war, most likely, and is trying to get back into
the settlements, while his scalp is safe on his head."

"Don't hurt HIM" put in the Chippewa, pointedly. "Know MEAN well--
talk about Great Spirit--Injin don't scalp sich medicine-men--if
don't mind what he say, no good to take his scalp."

"I'm glad to hear this, Pigeonswing, for I had begun to think NO
man's scalp was safe under YOUR fingers. But what can the so'ger be
doing down this-away? A body would think there was business enough
for all the so'gers up at the garrison, at the head of the lake. By
the way, Pigeonswing, what has become of your letter to the captain
at Fort Dearborn, to let him know of the war?"

"Chaw him up, like so much 'baccy," answered the Chippewa--"yes,
chaw him up, lest Pottawattamie get hold on him, and ask one of King
George's men to read him. No good to hab letter in sich times."

"The general who employed you to carry that letter, will scarce
thank you for your care."

"Yes, he do--t'ank all same--pay all same--letter no use now."

"How can you know that? The letter might be the means of preventing
the garrison from falling into the enemy's hands."

"Got dere, already. Garrison all kill, scalp, or prisoner.
Pottawattamie talk tell me DAT"

"Is this possible! Mackinaw and Chicago both gone, already! John
Bull must have been at work among the savages a long time, to get
them into this state of readiness!"

"Sartain--work long as can 'member. ALWAY somebody talkin' for great
Montreal Fadder among red men."

"It must be as you say, Chippewa--but, here are our visitors--let us
see what we can make of THEM"

By this time, the canoe was so near as to render it easy to
distinguish countenances and dress, without the aid of the glass--so
near, indeed, that a swift-moving boat, like the canoe, might be
expected soon to reach the shore. The truth of the observation of
the bee-hunter was confirmed, as the strangers approached. The
individual in the bows of the canoe was clearly a soldier, in a
fatigue-dress, and the musket between his legs was one of those
pieces that government furnishes to the troops of the line. The man
in the middle of the boat could no more be mistaken than he in its
bows. Each might be said to be in uniform--the well-worn, nay,
almost threadbare black coat of the "minister," as much denoting him
to be a man of peace, as the fatigue-jacket into "batteries"; to all
of which innovations, bad as they may be, and useless and uncalled
for, and wanton as they are, we are much more willing to submit,
than to the new-fangled and lubberly abomination of saying "ON a
steamboat," or "ON a ship."

While le Bourdon was so much astounded at hearing the terrible name
of Onoah, which was familiar enough to him, neither of his white
companions betrayed any emotion. Had the Indian been termed
"Scalping Peter," it is probable that both Dorothy and Margery would
have screamed, if not actually fled; but they knew nothing of the
appellation that was given to this mysterious chief, in the language
of the red men. To this circumstance, therefore, was it owing that
the utterance of his name did not produce a general commotion. The
bee-hunter observed, nevertheless, a great change in the demeanor of
the Chippewa, the instant the missionary had uttered the ominous
word, though he did not seem to be alarmed. On the contrary, Boden
fancied that his friend Pigeonswing was pleased, rather than
terrified, at ascertaining the character of their visitor, though he
no longer put himself forward, as had been the case previously; and
from that moment the young warrior appeared to carry himself in a
more subdued and less confident manner than was his wont. This
unexpected demeanor on the part of his friend, somewhat confounded
le Bourdon, though it in a degree relieved his apprehensions of any
immediate danger. All this time, the conversation between the
missionary and the corporal went on in as quiet and composed a
manner, as if each saw no ground for any other uneasiness than that
connected with the fall of Mackinaw.

"Yes, sir," returned the soldier, "Onoah is a good guide, and a
great hand at a council-fire; but these is war-times, and we must
stand to our arms, each accordin' to his edication and temper--you,
sir, with preachin' and prayin', and I with gun and baggonet."

"Ah! corporal, the preaching and praying would be of quite as much
account with you men of war, as your arms and ammunition, if you
could only be made to think so. Look at Fort Dearborn! It was
defended by human means, having its armed band, and its guns and
swords, and captains and corporals; yet you have seen their pride
lowered, their means of defence destroyed, and a large part of your
comrades massacred. All this has been done to armed men, while the
Lord has brought ME, an unarmed and humble teacher of his word,
safely out of the hands of the Philistines, and placed me here in
safety, on the shores of the Kalamazoo."

"For that matter, Mr. Amen, the Lord has done the same by ME, with a
musket on my shoulder and a baggonet by my side," returned the
literal corporal. "Preachin' may be good on some marches; but arms
and ammunition answers well enough on others. Hearken to the Hebrew,
who knows all the ways of the wilderness, and see if he don't give
you the same opinion."  "The Hebrew is one of the discarded of the
Lord, as he is one chosen of the Lord!" returned the missionary. "I
agree with you, however, that he is as safe an adviser, for a human
adviser, as can be easily found; therefore will I consult him. Child
of the seed of Abraham," he added, turning to Onoah, "thou hast
heard the tidings from Mackinaw; we cannot think, any longer, of
pursuing our journey in that direction; whither, then, wouldst thou
advise that we shall direct our steps? I ask this question of THEE
first, as an experienced and sagacious dweller in the wilderness: at
a more fitting time, I intend to turn to the Lord, and seek divine
aid for the direction of our footsteps."

"Aye," observed the corporal, who entertained a good deal of respect
for the zealous, but slightly fanatical missionary, though he
believed an Indian was always safe to consult in matters of this
sort, "try BOTH--if one staff should fail, it may be well to have
another to lean on. A good soldier always keeps a part of his troops
for a reserve. I motto of his coat of arms; the "gare a qui la
touchc," or "noli me tangere," of his device."

The head was shaved, as is usual with a warrior, carrying only the
chivalrous scalp-lock, but the chief was not in his paint. The
outline of this celebrated savage's features was bold and eagle-
like; a comparison that his steady, calm, piercing eye well
sustained. The chin was full and expanded, the lips compressed and
firm, the teeth were short, but even and sound, his smile courteous,
and, at times, winning.

In the way of attire, Onoah was simply dressed, consulting the
season and his journey. He had a single eagle's feather attached to
the scalp-lock, and wore a belt of wampum of more than usual value,
beneath which he had thrust his knife and tomahawk; a light, figured
and fringed hunting-shirt of cotton covered his body, while leggings
of deerskin, with a plain moccasin of similar material, rose to his
knee. The latter, with the lower part of a stout sinewy thigh, was
bare. He also carried a horn and pouch, and a rifle of the American
rather than of the military fashion that is, one long, true, and
sighted to the deviation of a hair.

On landing, Peter (for so he was generally called by the whites,
when in courtesy they omitted the prefix of "Scalping") courteously
saluted the party assembled around the bow of the canoe. This he did
with a grave countenance, like a true American, but in simple
sincerity, so far as human eye could penetrate his secret feelings.
To each man he offered his hand, glancing merely at the two females;
though it may be questioned if he ever before had looked upon so
perfect a picture of female loveliness as Margery at that precise
instant presented, with her face flushed with excitement, her
spirited blue eye wandering with curiosity, and her beautiful mouth
slightly parted in admiration.

"Sago, sago!" said Peter, in his deep, guttural enunciation,
speaking reasonably good English. "Sago, sago all, ole and young,
friend come to see you, and eat in your wigwam--which head--chief,
eh?"

"We have neither wigwam nor chief here," answered le Bourdon, though
he almost shrunk from taking the hand of one of whom he had heard
the tales of which this savage had been the hero; "we are common
people, and have no one among us who holds the States' commission. I
live by taking honey, of which you are welcome to all you can want,
and this man is a helper of the sutlers at the garrisons. He was
travelling south to join the troops at the head of the lake, and I
was going north to Mackinaw, on my way in, toward the settlements."

"Why is my brother in such haste?" demanded Peter, mildly. "Bees get
tired of making honey?"

"The times are troubled, and the red men have dug up the hatchet; a
pale-face cannot tell when his wigwam is safe."

"Where my brodder wigwam?" asked Peter, looking warily around him.
"See he an't here; where is he?"

"Over in the openings, far up the Kalamazoo. We left it last week,
and had got to the hut on the other shore, when a party of
Pottawattamies came in from the lake, and drove us over here for
safety."

On hearing this, Peter turned slowly to the missionary, raising a
finger as one makes a gesture to give emphasis to his words.

"Tole you so," said the Indian. "Know dere was Pottawattamie dere.
Can tell 'em great way off."

"We fear them, having women in our party," added the bee-hunter,
"and think they might fancy our scalps."

"Dat like enough; all Injin love scalp in war-time. You Yankee, dey
Br'ish; can't travel on same path now, and not quarrel. Must not let
Pottawattamie catch you."

"How are we to help it, now you have come in? We had all the canoes
on this side of the river, and were pretty safe, but should you
cross and place your canoe in their hands, there is nothing to
prevent them from doing what they please with us. If you will
promise not to cross the river till we can get out well on the lake,
we may shift our ground, however, and leave no trail."

"Muss cross over--yes, muss cross over, else Pottawattamie t'ink it
strange--yes, muss cross over. Shan't touch canoe, dough."

"How can you help it, if they be so minded? You are but a single
man, and they are twenty."

On hearing this, Corporal Flint pricked up his ears, and stood if
possible more erect than ever, for he considered himself a part of a
man at least, and one moreover who had served in all the wars of the
west, from the great battle of St. Glair to that of Mad Anthony. He
was spared the necessity of a reply, however, for Peter made a
significant gesture which as much as told him that he would take
that office on himself.

"No need be afeard," said Peter, quietly. "Know Pottawattamie--know
all chief. Nobody touch canoe of Onoah when he say don't touch him."

"Yet they are Injins of the British, and I see you here in company
with a soldier of Uncle Sam."

"No matter; Onoah go just where he please. Sometime to
Pottawattamie; sometime to Iroquois. All Ojebways know Onoah. All
Six Nation know him well. All Injin know him. Even Cherokee know him
now, and open ears when he speak. Muss cross river, and shake hand
with Crowsfeather."

There was nothing boastful, or vaunting, in Peter's manner while he
thus announced his immunity or power, but he alluded to it in a
quiet, natural way, like one accustomed to being considered a
personage of consequence. Mankind, in general, make few allowances
for the influence of habit; the sensibilities of the vainglorious
themselves being quite as often wounded by the most natural and
direct allusions of those who enjoy advantages superior to their
own, as by those that are intended to provoke comparisons. In the
present instance, however, no such feeling could exist, the Indian
asserting no more than his extended reputation would fully maintain.

When Peter had thus expressed himself, the missionary thought it
meet to add a few words in explanation. This he did, however, aside,
walking a little apart with the bee-hunter, in order so to do. As
for Gershom, no one seemed to think him of sufficient importance to
throw away any interest or care on him.

"You can trust to Peter, friend bee-hunter," the missionary
observed, "for what he promises he will perform. I know him well,
and have put myself altogether in his hands. If he says that the
Pottawattamies are not to have his canoe, the Pottawattamies will
not get it. He is a man to be depended on."

"Is not this, then, Scalping Peter, who bears so terrible a name on
all this frontier?" demanded le Bourdon.

"The same; but do not disturb yourself with names: they hurt no one,
and will soon be forgotten. A descendant of Abraham, and of Isaac,
and of Jacob, is not placed in the wilderness by the hand of divine
power for no purpose; since he is here, rely on it, it is for good."

"A descendant of Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob! Is not Peter, then,
a red-skin and an Injin?"

"Certainly; though no one knows his tribe but himself. I know it,
friend bee-hunter, and shortly shall proclaim it throughout the
length and breadth of the land. Yes, it has been given to me to make
this important discovery, though I sometimes think that Peter
himself is really as ignorant as all around him of the tribe to
which he properly belongs."

"Do you wish to keep it a secret from me, too? I own that, in my
eyes, the tribe of a red-skin goes a good way in making up my
opinions of the man. Is he a Winnebagoe?"

"No, my friend, the Winnebagoes have no claims on him at all."

"Nor a Pottawattamie, Ottawa, or Ojebway of any sort?"

"He is none of these. Peter cometh of a nobler tribe than any that
beareth such names."

"Perhaps he is an Injin of the Six Nations? They tell me that many
such have found their way hither since the war of the revolution."

"All that may be true, but Peter cometh not of Pottawattamie,
Ottawa, nor Ojebway."

"He can hardly be of the Sacs or the Foxes; he has not the
appearance of an Injin from a region so far west"

"Neither, neither, neither," answered Parson Amen, now so full of
his secret as fairly to let it overflow. "Peter is a son of Israel;
one of the lost children of the land of Judea, in common with many
of his red brethren-mind, I do not say ALL, but with MANY of his red
brethren--though he may not know exactly of what tribe himself. This
last point has exercised me greatly, and days and nights have I
pondered over the facts. Turn to Genesis XLIX and 14th, and there
will you find all the authorities recorded. 'Zebulon shall dwell at
the haven of the sea.' That refers to some other red brother, nearer
to the coast, most clearly. 'Issachar is a strong ass, crouching
down between two burdens'; 'and bowed his shoulder to bear, and
became a servant unto tribute.' That refers, most manifestly, to the
black man of the Southern States, and cannot mean Peter. 'Dan shall
be a serpent by the way, an adder in the path.' There is the red man
for you, drawn with the pencil of truth! 'Gad, a troop shall
overcome him.' Here, corporal, come this way and tell our new friend
how Mad Anthony with his troopers finally routed the red-skins. You
were there, and know all about it. No language can be plainer: until
the 'long-knives and leather-stockings' came into the woods, the red
man had his way. Against THEM he COULD not prevail."

"Yes," returned Corporal Flint, who delighted in talking of the
wars, "it was very much as Parson Amen says. The savages, by their
nimbleness and artifices, would first ambush us, and then break away
from our charges, until the gin'ral bethought him of bringing
cavalry into the wilderness. Nobody ever thought of such a plan,
until old Anthony invented it. As soon as we got the fire of the
savages, at the Mawmee, we charged with the baggonet, and put 'em
up; and no sooner was they up, than away went the horse into them,
flourishing the 'long knife' and pressing the heel of the 'leather-
stocking' into the flanks of their beasts. Mr. Amen has found a
varse in Scriptur's that does come near to the p'int, and almost
foretells our victory, and that, too, as plain as it stood in
dispatches, arterward, from headquarters."

"'Gad, a TROOP shall overcome him,'" put in the missionary,
triumphantly.

"That's it--that's it; there was just one troop on 'em, and not a
man more! Mad Anthony said a troop would answer, arter we had put
the red-skins up out of their ambushes, or any other bushes; and so
it did. I must acknowledge that I think more of the Scriptur's than
ever, since Parson Amen read to me that varse."

"Hearken unto this, friend bee-hunter," added the missionary, who by
this time had fairly mounted his hobby, and fancied he saw a true
Israelite in every other Indian of the west, "and tell me if words
were ever more prophetic--'Benjamin shall ravin as a wolf; in the
morning he shall devour his prey, and at night he shall divide the
spoil.' The art of man could not draw a more faithful picture of
these Indians."

Boden was not much skilled in sacred lore, and scarce knew what to
make of all this. The idea that the American Indians were the
descendants of the lost tribes of Israel was entirely new to him;
nor did he know anything to boast of, touching those tribes, even in
their palmiest days, and while in possession of the promised land;
still he had some confused recollection of that which he had read
when a child--what American has not?--and was enabled to put a
question or two, in return for the information now received. "What,
do you take the savages of America for Jews?" he asked,
understanding the general drift of the missionary's meaning.

"As sure as you are there, friend bee-hunter, though you are not to
suppose that I think Peter Onoah of the tribe of Benjamin. No, I
turn to the 21st verse for the tribe of Peter Naphthali--Naphthalis,
the root of his stock. 'Naphthali is a hind, let loose: he giveth
goodly words.' Now, what can be plainer than this? A hind let loose
is a deer running at large, and, by a metaphor, that deer includes
the man that hunts him. Now, Peter has been--nay, is still--a
renowned hunter, and is intended to be enumerated among the hinds
let loose; 'he giveth goodly words,' would set that point at rest,
if anything were wanting to put it beyond controversy, for Onoah is
the most eloquent speaker ear ever listened to! No one, that has
ever heard him speak, can doubt that he is the one who 'giveth
goodly words.'"

To what other circumstance the well-intentioned missionary would
next have alluded, in the course of this demonstration of a theory
that had got to be a favorite with him, is more than can now be
related, since the Indian himself drew near, and put an end to the
conversation. Peter had made up his mind to cross the river at once;
and came to say as much to his companions, both of whom he intended
to leave behind him. Le Bourdon could not arrest this movement,
short of an appeal to force; and force he did not like to use,
doubting equally its justice and its prudence.




CHAPTER XII.

There is no other land like thee, No dearer shore; Thou art the
shelter of the free; The home, the port of liberty Thou hast been,
and shall ever be Till time is o'er. Ere I forget to think upon My
land, shall mother curse the son She bore.
                                                  --Percival.


The independent, not to say controlling, manner of Peter, would seem
to put all remonstrances and arguments at defiance, Le Bourdon soon
had occasion to see that both the missionary and the corporal
submitted to his wishes, and that there was no use in gainsaying
anything he proposed. In all matters he did as he pleased; his two
companions submitting to his will as completely as if one of them
had seen in this supposed child of Israel, Joshua, the son of Nun,
and the other even Aaron, the high-priest, himself.

Peter's preparations were soon made. Everything belonging to the
missionary and the corporal was removed from the canoe, which then
contained only the extra clothing and the special property of the
Indian himself. As soon as ready, the latter quietly and fearlessly
paddled away, his canoe going easily and swiftly down before the
wind. He had no sooner got clear of the rice, than the bee-hunter
and Margery ran away to the eminence, to watch his movements, and to
note his reception among the Pottawattamies. Leaving them there, we
shall accompany the canoe, in its progress toward the northern
shore.

At first, Peter paddled quietly on, as if he had no other object
before him than the passage of the river. When quite clear of the
rice, however, he ceased, and undid his bundle of clothes, which
were carefully put away in the knapsack of a soldier. From this
repository of his effects, the chief carefully drew forth a small
bundle, on opening which, no less than seven fresh human scalps
appeared. These he arranged in order on a wand-like pole, when,
satisfied with the arrangement, he resumed the paddle. It was
apparent, from the first, that the Pottawattamies on the north shore
had seen the strange canoe when it entered the river, and they now
collected in a group, at the ordinary landing beneath the chiente,
to await its approach. Peter ceased his own exertion, as soon as he
had got within a hundred yards of the beach, took the scalp-pole in
his hand, arose, and permitted the canoe to drift down before the
wind, certain it would take the desired direction, from the
circumstance of his having placed it precisely to windward of the
landing. Once or twice he slowly waved the pole in a way to draw
attention to the scalps, which were suspended from its end, each
obvious and distinct from its companions.

Napoleon, when he returned from the campaign of Austerlitz; or
Wellington, when he entered the House of Commons to receive the
thanks of its speaker, on his return from Spain; or the chief of all
the battles of the Rio Bravo del Norte; or him of the valley of
Mexico, whose exploits fairly rival those of Cortes himself, could
scarcely be a subject of greater interest to a body of spectators,
assembled to do him honor, than was this well-known Indian, as he
drew near to the Pottawattamies, waving his scalps, in significant
triumph! Glory, as the homage paid by man to military renown is
termed, was the common impulse with them all. It is true, that,
measured by the standards of reason and right, the wise and just
might find motives for appreciating the victories of those named
differently from the manner in which they are usually regarded
through the atmosphere of success; but in the common mind it was all
glory, alike. The name of "Onoah" passed in murmurs of admiration,
from mouth to mouth; for, as it appeared, the person of this
renowned Indian was recognized by many on the shore, some time ere
he reached it himself.

Crowsfeather, and the other chiefs, advanced to meet the visitor;
the young men standing in the background, in respectful admiration.
Peter now stepped from the canoe, and greeted each of the principal
men with the courteous gravity of a savage. He shook hands with
each, calling one or two by name, a proof of the parties having met
before; then the following dialogue occurred. All spoke in the
tongue of the Pottawattamies, but, as we have had occasion to remark
on previous occasions, it is to be presumed that the reader would
scarcely be able to understand what was said, were we to record it,
word for word, in the language in which it was uttered. In
consequence of this difficulty, and for other reasons to which it
may not be necessary to allude, we shall endeavor to translate that
which passed, as closely as the English idioms will permit us so to
do.

"My father is very welcome!" exclaimed Crowsfeather, who, by many
degrees, exceeded all his companions in consideration and rank. "I
see he has taken many scalps as is his practice, and that the pale-
faces are daily getting to be fewer. Will the sun ever rise on that
day when their wigwams will look like the branches of the oak in
winter? Can my father give us any hope of seeing that hour?"

"It is a long path from the salt-lake out of which the sun rises, to
that other salt-lake in which it hides itself at night. The sun
sleeps each night beneath water, but it is so hot that it is soon
dried when it comes out of its bed in the morning. This is the Great
Spirit's doings, and not ours. The sun is his sun; the Indians can
warm themselves by it, but they cannot shorten its journey a single
tomahawk handle's length. The same is true of time; it belongs to
the Manitou, who will lengthen or shorten it, as he may see fit. We
are his children, and it is our duty to submit. He has not forgotten
us. He made us with his own hand, and will no more turn us out of
the land than a father will turn his child from the wigwam."

"We hope this is so; but it does not seem thus to out poor weak
eyes, Onoah. We count the pale-faces, and every summer they grow
fast as the grass on the prairies. We can see more when the leaf
falls than when the tree is in bud; and, then, more when the leaf is
in bud than when it falls. A few moons will put a town where the
pine stood, and wigwams drive the wolves from their homes. In a few
years we shall have nothing but dogs to eat, if the pale-face dogs
do not eat us."

"Squaws are impatient, but men know how to wait. This land was given
to the red man by the Great Spirit, as I have often told you, my
children; if he has let in the pale-faces for a few winters, it is
to punish us for having done wrong. Now that we are sorry for what
we have done, he will help us to drive away the strangers, and give
us the woods again to hunt in by ourselves. Have not messengers from
our Great Father in Montreal been among the Pottawattamies to
strengthen their hearts?"

"They are always whispering in the ears of our tribes. I cannot
remember the time when whispers from Montreal have not been among
us. Their blankets are warm, their fire-water is strong, their
powder is good, and their rifles shoot well; but all this does not
stop the children of Uncle Sam from being more at night than they
were in the morning. The red men get tired of counting them. They
have become plentier than the pigeons in the spring. My father has
taken many of their scalps, but the hair must grow after his knife,
their scalps are so many."

"See!" rejoined Peter, lowering his pole so that all might examine
his revolting trophies, "these come from the soldiers at the head of
the lake. Blackbird was there with his young men; no one of them all
got as many scalps! This is the way to stop the white pigeon from
flying over us in such flocks as to hide and darken the sun."

Another murmur of admiration passed through the crowd, as each young
warrior bent forward to count the number of the scalps, and to note,
by signs familiar to themselves, the ages, sex, and condition of the
different victims. Here was another instance among a hundred others
of which they had heard, of the prowess of the mysterious Onoah, as
well as of his inextinguishable hatred of the race, that was slowly,
but unerringly, supplanting the ancient stock, causing the places
that once knew the people of their tribes "to know them no more." As
soon as this little burst of feeling had subsided, the conversation
went on.

"We have had a pale-face medicine-man among us, Onoah," continued
Crowsfeather, "and he has so far blinded us that we know not what to
think."

The chief then recounted the leading events of the visit of the bee-
hunter to the place, stating each occurrence fairly, as he
understood it, and as fairly confessing that even the chiefs were at
a loss to know what to make of the affair. In addition to this
account, he gave the mysterious Onoah the history of the prisoner
they had taken, the death of Elks-foot, their intention to torture
that very morning the Chippewa they had captured, and his flight,
together with the loss of their young man, and the subsequent escape
of their unknown enemies, who had taken away all of their own
canoes. How far the medicine-man had anything to do with the other
events of his narrative, Crowsfeather very candidly admitted he
could not even conjecture. He was still at a loss whether to set
down the conjurer for a pretender, or as a real oracle. Peter,
however, was less credulous even than the chiefs. He had his
superstitious notions, like all uneducated men, but a clear head and
quick intellect placed him far above the weaknesses of the red man
in general. On receiving a description of the person of the unknown
"medicine-man," he at once recognized the bee-hunter. With an Indian
to describe, and an Indian to interpret or apply, escape from
discovery was next to impossible.

Although Onoah, or the "Tribeless," as he was also frequently called
by the red men, from the circumstance of no one's knowing to what
particular section of the great Indian family he belonged, perfectly
understood that the bee-hunter he had seen on the other shore was
the individual who had been playing the part of a conjurer among
these Pottawattamies, he was very careful not to reveal the fact to
Crowsfeather. He had his own policy, and was fully aware of all the
virtue there is in mystery and reserve. With an Indian, these
qualities go farther even than with a white man; and we of the
Caucasian race are not entirely exempt from the folly of being
deceived by appearances. On the present occasion Peter kept his
knowledge to himself, still leaving his red brethren in doubt and
uncertainty; but he took care to be right in his own opinions by
putting as many questions as were necessary for that purpose. Once
assured of this fact, he turned to other subjects of even greater
interest to himself and his companions.

The conference which now took place between the "Tribeless" and
Crowsfeather was held apart, both being chiefs of too much
importance to be intruded on at a moment like that. The two chiefs
exhibited a very characteristic picture while engaged in this
conference. They seated themselves on a bank, and drawing their legs
partially under them, sat face to face, with their heads less than
two feet asunder, occasionally gesticulating with dignity, but each
speaking in his turn with studied decorum. Crowsfeather was highly
painted, and looked fierce and warlike, but Onoah had nothing
extraordinary about him, with the exception of the decorations and
dress already described, unless it might be his remarkable
countenance. The face of this Indian ordinarily wore a thoughtful
cast, an expression which it is not unusual to meet with in a
savage; though at times it lighted up, as it might be with the heat
of inward fires, like the crater giving out its occasional flames
beneath the hues of a saddened atmosphere. One accustomed to study
the human face, and to analyze its expressions, would possibly have
discovered in that countenance lines of deep artifice, together with
the traces of a profound and constitutional enthusiasm. He was bent,
at that very moment, on a scheme worthy of the loftiest spirit
living; the regeneration and union of the people of his race, with a
view to recover the possessions they had yielded to the pale-faces;
but it was a project blended with the ferocity and revenge of a
savage-noble while ferocious.

Not idly had the whites, scattered along that frontier, given the
sobriquet of "Scalping" to Peter, As his pole now showed, it had
been earned in a hundred scenes of bloody vengeance; and so great
had been his success, that the warrior, prophet, and councillor, for
all these characters were united in his single person, began to
think the attainment of his wishes possible. As a matter of course,
much ignorance of the power of the Anglo-Saxon race on this
continent. was blended with these opinions and hopes; but it was
scarcely an ignorance exceeding that of certain persons of far
higher pretensions in knowledge, who live in another hemisphere, and
who often set themselves up as infallible judges of all things
connected with man and his attributes. Peter, the "Tribeless," was
not more in fault than those who fancied they saw the power of this
great republic in the gallant little band collected at Corpus
Christi, under its indomitable chief, and who, march by march, nay,
foot by foot, as it might be, have perseveringly predicted the halt,
the defeat, the disasters, and final discomfiture, which it has not
yet pleased Divine Providence to inflict on this slight effort of
the young Hercules, as he merely moves in his cradle. Alas, the
enemy that most menaces the overthrow of this new and otherwise
invincible exhibition of human force, is within; seated in the
citadel itself; and must be narrowly watched, or he will act his
malignant purpose, and destroy the fairest hopes that ever yet
dawned on the fortunes of the human race!

The conference between the chiefs lasted fully an hour. Crowsfeather
possessed much of the confidence of Peter, and, as for Onoah,
neither Tecumseh, nor his brother the Prophet, commanded as much of
the respect of Crowsfeather as he did himself. Some even whispered
that the "Tribeless" was the individual who lay behind all, and that
the others named merely acted as he suggested, or advised. The
reader will obtain all the insight into the future that it is
necessary now to give him, by getting a few of the remarks made by
the two colloquists, just before they joined the rest of the party.

"My father, then, intends to lead his pale-faces on a crooked path,
and take their scalps when he has done with them," said
Crowsfeather, who had been gravely listening to Peter's plans of
future proceeding; "but who is to get the scalp of the Chippewa?"

"One of my Pottawattamie young men; but not until I have made use of
him. I have a medicine-priest of the pale-faces and a warrior with
me, but shall not put their scalps on my pole until they have
paddled me further. The council is to be first held in the Oak
Openings"--we translate this term freely, that used by Peter meaning
rather "the open woods of the prairies"--"and I wish to show my
prisoners to the chiefs, that they may see how easy it is to cut off
all the Yankees. I have now four men of that people, and two squaws,
in my power; let every red man destroy as many, and the land will
soon be clear of them all!"

This was uttered with gleamings of ferocity in the speaker's face,
that rendered his countenance terrible. Even Crowsfeather quailed a
little before that fierce aspect; but the whole passed away almost
as soon as betrayed, and was succeeded by a friendly and deceptive
smile, that was characteristic of the wily Asiatic rather than of
the aboriginal American.

"They cannot be counted," returned the Pottawattamie chief, as soon
as his restraint was a little removed by this less terrific aspect
of his companion, "if all I hear is true. Blackbird says that even
the squaws of the pale-faces are numerous enough to overcome all the
red men that remain."

"There will be two less, when I fasten to my pole the scalps of
those on the other side of the river," answered Peter, with another
of his transient, but startling gleams of intense revenge. "But no
matter, now: my brother knows all I wish him to do. Not a hair of
the head of any of these pale-faces must be touched by any hand but
mine. When the time comes, the knife of Onoah is sure. The
Pottawattamies shall have their canoes, arid can follow us up the
river. They will find us in the Openings, and near the Prairie
Round. They know the spot; for the red men love to hunt the deer in
that region. Now, go and tell this to your young men; and tell them
that corn will not grow, nor the deer wait to be killed by any of
your people, if they forget to do as I have said. Vengeance shall
come, when it is time."

Crowsfeather communicated all this to his warriors, who received it
as the ancients received the words of their oracles. Each member of
the party endeavored to get an accurate notion of his duty, in order
that he might comply to the very letter with the injunctions
received. So profound was the impression made among all the red men
of the north-west by the previous labors of the "Tribeless" to
awaken a national spirit, and so great was their dread of the
consequences of disobedience, that every warrior present felt as if
his life were the threatened penalty of neglect or disinclination to
obey.

No sooner, however, had Crowsfeather got through with his
communication, than a general request was made that the problem of
the whiskey-spring might be referred to Onoah for solution. The
young men had strong hopes, not-withstanding all that had passed,
that this spring might yet turn out to be a reality. The scent was
still there, strong and fragrant, and they could not get rid of the
notion that "fire-water" grew on that spot. It is true, their faith
had been somewhat disturbed by the manner in which the medicine-man
had left them, and by his failure to draw forth the gushing stream
which he had impliedly promised, and in a small degree performed;
nevertheless little pools of whiskey had been found on the rock, and
several had tasted and satisfied themselves of the quality of the
liquor. As is usual, that taste had created a desire for more, a
desire that seldom slumbered on an Indian palate when strong drinks
were connected with its gratification.

Peter heard the request with gravity, and consented to look into the
matter with a due regard to his popularity and influence. He had his
own superstitious views, but among them there did not happen to be
one which admitted the possibility of whiskey's running in a stream
from the living rock. Still he was willing to examine the charmed
spot, scent the fragrant odor, and make up his own estimate of the
artifices by which the bee-hunter had been practising on the
untutored beings into whose hand chance had thrown him.

While the young men eagerly pointed out the precise spots where the
scent was the strongest, Peter maintained the most unmoved gravity.
He did not kneel to smell the rocks, like the other chiefs, for this
an innate sense of propriety told him would be undignified; but he
made his observations closely, and with a keen Indian-like attention
to every little circumstance that might aid him in arriving at the
truth. All this time, great was the awe and deep the admiration of
the lookers-on. Onoah had succeeded in creating a moral power for
himself among the Indians of the northwest which much exceeded that
of any other red man of that region. The whites scarcely heard of
him, knew but little of his career, and less of his true character,
for both were shrouded in mystery. There is nothing remarkable in
this ignorance of the pale-faces of the time. They did not
understand their own leaders; much less the leaders of the children
of the openings, the prairies, and the forest. At this hour, what is
really known by the mass of the American people of the true
characters of their public men? No nation that has any claim to
civilization and publicity knows less, and for several very obvious
reasons. The want of a capital in which the intelligence of the
nation periodically assembles and whence a corrected public opinion
on all such matters ought constantly to flow, as truth emanates from
the collisions of minds, is one of these reasons. The extent of the
country, which separates men by distances that no fact can travel
over without incurring the dangers of being perverted on the road,
is another. But the most fatal of al he influences that tend to
mislead the judgment of the American citizen, is to be found in the
abuse of a machinery that was intended to produce an exactly
contrary effect. If the tongue was given to man to communicate ideas
to his fellows, so has philosophy described it as "a gift to conceal
his thoughts." If the press was devised to circulate truth, so has
it been changed into a means of circulating lies. One is easily,
nay, more easily, sent abroad on the four winds of the heavens than
the other. Truth requires candor, impartiality, honesty, research,
and industry; but a falsehood, whether designed or not, stands in
need of neither. Of that which is the most easily produced, the
country gets the most; and it were idle to imagine that a people who
blindly and unresistingly submit to be put, as it might be, under
the feet of falsehood, as respects all their own public men, can
ever get very accurate notions of those of other nations.

Thus was it with Onoah. His name was unknown to the whites, except
as a terrible and much-dreaded avenger of the wrongs of his race.
With the red men it was very different. They had no "forked tongues"
to make falsehood take the place of truth; or if such existed they
were not believed. The Pottawattamies now present knew all about
Tecumseh, [Footnote: A "tiger stooping for his prey."] of whom the
whites had also various and ample accounts. This Shawanee chief had
long been active among them, and his influence was extended far and
near. He was a bold, restless, and ingenious warrior; one, perhaps,
who better understood the art of war, as it was practised among red
men, than any Indian then living. They knew the name and person,
also, of his brother Elkswatawa, [Footnote: "A door opened."] or the
Prophet, whose name has also become incorporated with the histories
of the times. These two chiefs were very powerful, though scarce
dwelling regularly in any tribe; but their origin, their careers,
and their characters were known to all, as were those of their
common father, Pukeesheno, [Footnote: "I light from fly--"] and their
mother, Meethetaske.[Footnote: "A turtle laying her eggs in the
sand."] But with Onoah it was very different. With him the past was
as much of a mystery as the future. No Indian could say even of what
tribe he was born. The totem that he bore on his person belonged to
no people then existing on the continent, and all connected with
him, his history, nation, and family, was conjecture and fancy.

It is said that the Indians have traditions which are communicated
only to a favored few, and which by them have been transmitted from
generation to generation. An enlightened and educated red man has
quite recently told us in person, that he had been made the
repository of some of these traditions, and that he had thus
obtained enough of the history of his race to be satisfied that they
were not derived from the lost tribes of Israel, though he declined
communicating any more. It is so natural to resort to secrecy in
order to extend influence, that we can have no difficulty In
believing the existence of the practice; there probably being no
other reason why Free Masonry or Odd Fellowship should have recourse
to such an expedient, but to rule through the imagination in
preference to the judgment. Now Peter enjoyed all the advantages of
mystery. It was said that even his real name was unknown, that of
Onoah having been given in token of the many scalps he took, and
that of Wa-wa-nosh, which he also sometimes bore, having been
bestowed on him by adoption in consequence of an act of favor
extended to him from an Ojebway of some note, while that of Peter
was clearly derived from the whites. Some of his greatest admirers
whispered that when the true name of the "Tribeless" should get to
be known, his origin, early career, and all relating to him would at
once become familiar to every red man. At present, the Indians must
rest content with what they saw and understood. The wisdom of Wa-wa-
nosh made itself felt in the councils; his eloquence no speaker has
equalled for ages; as for his vengeance on the enemies of his race,
that was to be estimated by the scalps he had taken. More than this
no Indian was to be permitted to know, until the mission of this
oracle and chief was completed.

Had one enlightened by the education of a civilized man been there,
to watch the movements and countenance of Peter as he scented the
whiskey, and looked in vain for the cause of the odor, and for a
clew to the mystery which so much perplexed the Pottawattamies, he
would probably have discovered some reason to distrust the sincerity
of this remarkable savage's doubts. If ever Peter was an actor, it
was on that occasion. He did not, in the least, fall into any of the
errors of his companions; but the scent a good deal confounded him
at first. At length he came to the natural conclusion, that this
unusual odor was in some way connected with the family he had left
on the other shore; and from that moment his mind was at ease.

It did not suit the views of Peter, however, to explain to the
Pottawattamies that which was now getting to be so obvious to
himself. On the contrary, he rather threw dust into the eyes of the
chiefs, with a view to bring them also under the influence of
superstition. After making his observations with unmoved gravity, he
promised a solution of the whole affair when they should again meet
in the Openings, and proposed to recross the river. Before quitting
the shore Peter and Crowsfeather had a clear understanding on the
subject of their respective movements; and, as soon as the former
began to paddle up against the wind, the latter called his young men
together, made a short address, and led them into the woods, as if
about to proceed on a march of length. The party, notwithstanding,
did not proceed more than a mile and a half, when it came to a halt,
and lighted a fire in order to cook some venison taken on the way.

When Peter reached the south shore, he found the whole group
assembled to receive him. His tale was soon told. He had talked with
the Pottawattamies, and they were gone. The canoes, however, must be
carried to the other shore and left there, in order that their
owners might recover their property when they returned. This much
had Peter promised, and his pale-face friends must help him to keep
his word. Then he pointed to the Openings as to their place of
present safety. There they would be removed from all immediate
danger, and he would accompany them and give them the countenance
and protection of his name and presence. As for going south on the
lake, that was impossible, so long as the wind lasted, and it was
useless even could it be done. The troops had all left Chicago, and
the fort was destroyed.

Parson Amen and Corporal Flint, both of whom were completely deluded
by Peter, fancying him a secret friend of the whites, in consequence
of his own protestations to that effect and the service he had
already rendered them, in appearance at least, instantly acquiesced
in this wily savage's proposal. It was the best, the wisest, nay,
the only thing that now could be done. Mackinaw was gone, as well as
Chicago, and Detroit must be reached by crossing the peninsula,
instead of taking the easier but far more circuitous route of the
lakes. Gershom was easily enough persuaded into the belief of the
feasibility, as well as of the necessity, of this deviation from his
original road, and he soon agreed to accompany the party.

With le Bourdon the case was different. He understood himself and
the wilderness. For him the wind was fair, and there was no
necessity for his touching at Mackinaw at all. It is true, he
usually passed several days on that pleasant and salubrious island,
and frequently disposed of lots of honey there; but he could
dispense with the visit and the sales. There was certainly danger
now to be apprehended from the Ottawas, who would be very apt to be
out on the lake after this maritime excursion against the fort; but
it was possible even to elude their vigilance. In a word, the bee-
hunter did not believe in the prudence of returning to the Openings,
but thought it by far the wisest for the whole party to make the
best of its way by water to the settlements. All this he urged
warmly on his white companions, taking them aside for that purpose,
and leaving Peter and Pigeonswing together while he did so.

But Parson Amen would as soon have believed that his old
congregation in Connecticut was composed of Philistines, as not to
believe that the red men were the lost tribes, and that Peter, in
particular, was not especially and elaborately described in the Old
Testament. He had become so thoroughly possessed by this crotchet as
to pervert everything that he saw, read, or heard, into evidence, of
some sort or other, of the truth of his notions. In this respect
there was nothing peculiar in the good missionary's weakness, it
being a failing common to partisans of a theory, to discover proofs
of its truths in a thousand things in which indifferent persons can
find even no connection with the subject at all. In this frame of
mind the missionary would as soon think of letting go his hold on
the Bible itself, as think of separating from an Indian who might
turn out any day to be a direct representative of Abraham, and
Isaac, and Jacob. Not to speak irreverently, but to use language
that must be familiar to all, the well-meaning missionary wished to
be in at the death.

Corporal Flint, too, had great faith in Peter. It was a part of the
scheme of the savage to make this straight for-ward soldier an
instrument in placing many scalps in hit power; and though he had
designed from the first to execute his bloody office on the corporal
himself, he did not intend to do so until he had made the most of
him as a stool-pigeon. Here were four more pale-faces thrown in his
power, principally by means of the confidence he had awakened in the
minds of the missionary and the soldier; and that same confidence
might be made instrumental in adding still more to the number. Peter
was a sagacious, even a far-seeing savage, but he labored under the
curse of ignorance. Had his information been of a more extended
nature, he would have seen the utter fallacy of his project to
destroy the pale-faces altogether, and most probably would have
abandoned it.

It is a singular fact that, while such men as Tecumseh, his brother
the Prophet, and Peter, were looking forward to the downfall of the
republic on the side of the forest, so many, who ought to have been
better informed on such a subject, were anxiously expecting, nay
confidently predicting it, from beyond the Atlantic. Notwithstanding
these sinister soothsayers, the progress of the nation has, by a
beneficent Providence, been onward and onward, until it is scarcely
presumptuous to suppose that even England has abandoned the
expectation of classing this country again among her dependencies.
The fortunes of America, under God, depend only on herself. America
may destroy America; of that there is danger; but it is pretty
certain that Europe united could make no serious impression on her.
Favored by position, and filled with a population that we have ever
maintained was one of the most military in existence, a truth that
recent events are hourly proving to be true, it much exceeds the
power of all the enemies of her institutions to make any serious
impression on her. There is an enemy who may prove too much for her;
it exists in her bosom; and God alone can keep him in subjection,
and repress his desolation.

These were facts, however, of which Wa-wa-nosh, or Onoah, was as
ignorant as if he were an English or French minister of state, and
had got his notions of the country from English or French
travellers, who wished for what they predicted. He had heard of the
towns and population of the republic; but one gets a very imperfect
notion of any fact of this sort by report, unless previous
experience has prepared the mind to make the necessary comparisons,
and fitted it to receive the images intended to be conveyed. No
wonder, then, that Peter fell into a mistake common to those who had
so many better opportunities of forming just opinions, and of
arriving at truths that were sufficiently obvious to all who did not
wilfully shut their eyes to their existence.




CHAPTER XIII.

     Hearest thou voices on the shore
      That our ears perceive no more,
      Deafened by the cataract's roar?

     Bear, through sorrow, wrong, and ruth,
      In thy heart the dew of youth,
      On thy lips the smile of truth.
                            --LONGFELLOW.


From all that has been stated, the reader will, probably, be
prepared to learn that Boden did not succeed in his effort to
persuade Gershom, and the other Christians, to accompany him on his
voyage round by Lake Huron. Corporal Flint was obdurate, and Parson
Amen confiding. As for Gershom, he did not like the thought of
retracing his steps so soon, and the females were obliged to remain
with the husband and brother.

"You had better get out of the river while all the canoes are on
this side," said Margery, as she and le Bourdon walked toward the
boats in company, the council having ended, and everything beginning
to assume the appearance of action. "Remember you will be quite
alone, and have a long, long road to travel!"

"I do remember all this, Margery, and see the necessity for all of
us getting back to the settlements as fast as we can. I don't half
like this Peter; his name is a bad one in the garrisons, and it
makes me miserable to think that you may be in his power."

"The missionary and the corporal, as well as my brother, seem
willing to trust him--what can two females do, when their male
protector has made up his mind in such a matter?"

"One who would very gladly be your protector, pretty Margery, has
not made up his mind to the prudence of trusting Peter at all. Put
yourself under my care, and my life shall be lost, or I will carry
you safe to your friends in Detroit."

This might be deemed tolerably explicit; yet was it not sufficiently
so to satisfy female scruples, or female rights. Margery blushed,
and she looked down, while she did not look absolutely displeased.
But her answer was given firmly, and with a promptitude that showed
she was quite in earnest.

"I cannot quit Dorothy, placed as she is--and it is my duty to die
with brother," she said.

"Have you thought enough of this, Margery? may not reflection change
your mind?"

"This is a duty on which a girl is not called to reflect; she must
FEEL, in a matter of conscience."

The bee-hunter fairly sighed, and from a very resolute he became a
very irresolute sort of person. As was natural to one in his
situation, he let out the secret current his thoughts had taken, in
the remarks which followed.

"I do not like the manner in which Peter and Pigeonswing are now
talking together," he said. "When an Injin is so earnest, there is
generally mischief brewing. Do you see Peter's manner?"

"He seems to be telling the young warrior something that makes both
forget themselves. I never saw two men who seem so completely to
forget all the rest of the world as them two savages! What can be
the meaning, Bourdon, of so much fierce earnestness?"

"I would give the world to know-possibly the Chippewa may tell me.
We understand each other tolerably well, and, just as you spoke, he
gave me a secret sign that I have a right to think means confidence
and friendship. That savage is either a fast friend, or a thorough
villain."

"Is it safe to trust any of them, Bourdon? No--no--your best way
will be to go down the lakes, and get back to Detroit as soon as you
can. Not only your property, but your LIFE, is at risk."

"Go, and leave you here, Margery--here, with a brother whose failing
you know as well as I do, and who may, at any moment, fall back into
his old ways! I should not be a man to do it!"

"But brother can get no liquor, now, for it is all emptied. When
himself for a few days, Gershom is a good protector, as well as a
good provider. You must not judge brother too harshly, from what you
have seen of him, Bourdon."

"I do not wish to judge him at all, Margery. We all have our
failin's, and whiskey is his. I dare say mine are quite as bad, in
some other way. It's enough for me, Margery, that Gershom is your
brother, to cause me to try to think well of him. We must not trust
to there being no more liquor among us; for, if that so'ger is
altogether without his rations, he's the first so'ger I ever met
with who was!"

"But this corporal is a friend of the minister, and ministers ought
not to drink!"

"Ministers are like other men, as them that live much among 'em will
soon find out. Hows'ever, if you WILL stay, Margery, there is no
more to be said. I must cache [Footnote: A Western term, obviously
derived from cacher, to conceal. Cache is much used by the Western
adventurers.] my honey, and get the canoe ready to go up stream
again. Where you go, Margery, I go too, unless you tell me that you
do not wish my company."

This was said quietly, but in the manner of one whose mind was made
up. Margery scarce knew how to take it. That she was secretly
delighted, cannot be denied; while, at the same time, that she felt
a generous and lively concern for the fortunes of le Bourdon, is
quite as certain. As Gershom just then called to her to lend her
assistance in preparing to embark, she had no leisure for
expostulation, nor do we know that she now seriously wished to
divert the bee-hunter from his purpose.

It was soon understood by every one that the river was to be
crossed, in order that Gershom might get his household effects,
previously to ascending the Kalamazoo. This set all at--work but the
Chippewa, who appeared to le Bourdon to be watchful and full of
distrust. As the latter had a job before him, that would be likely
to consume a couple of hours, the others were ready for a start long
before he had his hole dug. It was therefore arranged that the bee-
hunter should complete his task, while the others crossed the
stream, and went in quest of Gershom's scanty stock of household
goods. Pigeonswing, however, was not to be found, when the canoes
were ready, and Peter proceeded without him. Nor did le Bourdon see
anything of his friend until the adventurers were fairly on the
north shore, when he rejoined le Bourdon, sitting on a log, a
curious spectator of the latter's devices to conceal his property,
but not offering to aid him in a single movement. The bee-hunter too
well understood an Indian warrior's aversion to labor of all sorts,
unless it be connected with his military achievements, to be
surprised at his companion's indifference to his own toil. As the
work went on, a friendly dialogue was kept up between the parties.

"I didn't know, Pigeonswing, but you had started for the openings,
before us," observed le Bourdon. "That tribeless old Injin made
something of a fuss about your being out of the way; I dare say he
wanted you to help back the furniture down to the canoes."

"Got squaw--what he want--better to do dat?"

"So you would put that pretty piece of work on such persons as
Margery and Dolly!"

"Why not, no? Bot' squaw-bot know how. Dere business to work for
warrior."

"Did you keep out of the way, then, lest old Peter should get you at
a job that is onsuitable to your manhood?"

"Keep out of way of Pottawattamie," returned the Chippewa; "no want
to lose scalp-radder take his'n."

"But Peter says the Pottawattamies are all gone, and that we have no
longer any reason to fear them; and this medicine-priest tells us,
that what Peter says we can depend on for truth."

"Dat good medicine-man, eh? T'ink he know a great deal, eh?"

"That is more than I can tell you, Pigeonswing; for though I've been
a medicine-man myself, so lately, it is in a different line
altogether from that of Parson Amen's."

As the bee-hunter uttered this answer, he was putting the last of
his honey-kegs into the cache, and as he rose from completing the
operation, he laughed heartily, like one who saw images in the
occurrences of the past night, that tended to divert himself, if
they had not the same effect on the other spectators.

"If you medicine-man, can tell who Peter be? Winnebagoe, Sioux, Fox,
Ojebway, Six Nations all say don't know him. Medicine-man ought to
know--who he be, eh?"

"I am not enough of a medicine-man to answer your question,
Pigeonswing. Set me at finding a whiskey-spring, or any little job
of that sort, and I'll turn my back to no other whiskey-spring
finder on the whole frontier; but, as for Peter, he goes beyond my
calculations, quite. Why is he called Scalping Peter in the
garrisons, if he be so good an Injin, Chippewa?"

"You ask question--you answer. Don't know, 'less he take a good many
scalps. Hear he do take all he can find--den hear he don't."

"But you take all you can find, Pigeonswing; and that which is good
in you, cannot be so bad in Peter."

"Don't take scalp from friend. When you hear Pigeonswing scalp
FRIEND, eh?"

"I never did hear it; and hope I never shall. But when did you hear
that Peter is so wicked?"

"S'pose he don't, 'cause he got no friend among pale-face. Bes' take
care of dat man?"

"I'm of your way of thinking, myself, Chippewa; though the corporal
and the priest think him all in all. When I asked Parson Amen how he
came to be the associate of one who went by a scalping name, even he
told me it was all name; that Peter hadn't touched a hair of a human
head, in the way of scalping, since his youth, and that most of his
notions and ways were quite Jewish, The parson has almost as much
faith in Peter, as he has in his religion; I'm not quite sure he has
not even more."

"No matter. Bes' always for pale-face to trust pale-face, and Injin
to trust Injin. Dat most likely to be right."

"Nevertheless, I trust YOU Pigeonswing; and, hitherto, you have not
deceived me!"

The Chippewa cast a glance of so much meaning on the bee-hunter,
that the last was troubled by it. For many a day did le Bourdon
remember that look; and painful were the apprehensions to which it
gave birth. Until that morning, the intercourse between the two had
been of the most confidential character; but something like a fierce
hatred was blended in that look. Could it be that the feelings of
the Chippewa were changed? and was it possible that Peter was in any
way connected with this alteration in looks and sentiments? All
these suspicions passed through le Bourdon's mind, as he finished
his cache; and sufficiently disagreeable did he find it to entertain
them. The circumstances, however, did not admit of any change of
plan; and, in a few minutes, the two were in the canoe, and on their
way to join their companions.

Peter had dealt fairly enough with those who accompanied him. The
Pottawattamies were nowhere to be seen, and Gershom led the corporal
to the place where his household goods had been secreted, in so much
confidence, that both the men left their arms behind them. Such was
the state of things when le Bourdon reached the north shore. The
young man was startled, when his eyes fell on the rifles; but, on
looking around, there did not really appear to be any sufficient
reason why they might not be laid aside for a few minutes.

The bee-hunter, having disposed of all his honey, had now a nearly
empty canoe; accordingly, he received a portion of Gershom's
effects; all of which were safely transported from their place of
concealment to the water side. Their owner was slowly recovering the
use of his body and mind, though still a little dull, from his
recent debauch. The females supplied his place, however, in many
respects; and two hours after the party had landed, it was ready
again to proceed on its journey into the interior. The last article
was stowed in one of the canoes, and Gershom announced his
willingness to depart.

At this moment, Peter led the bee-hunter aside, telling his friends
that he would speedily rejoin them. Our hero followed his savage
leader along the foot of the declivity, in the rear of the hut,
until the former stopped at the place where the first, and principal
fire of the past night, had been lighted. Here Peter made a sweeping
gesture of his hand, as if to invite his companion to survey the
different objects around. As this characteristic gesture was made,
the Indian spoke.

"My brother is a medicine-man," he said. "He knows where whiskey
grows--let him tell Peter where to find the spring."

The recollection of the scene of the previous night came so fresh
and vividly over the imagination of the bee-hunter, that, instead of
answering the question of the chief, he burst into a hearty fit of
laughter. Then, fearful of giving offence, he was about to apologize
for a mirth so ill-timed, when the Indian smiled, with a gleam of
intelligence on his swarthy face, that seemed to say, "I understand
it all," and continued--

"Good--the chief with three eyes"--in allusion to the spy--glass
that le Bourdon always carried suspended from his neck--"is a very
great medicine-man; he knows when to laugh, and when to look sad.
The Pottawattamies were dry, and he wanted to find them some whiskey
to drink, but could not--our brother, in the canoe, had drunk it
all. Good."

Again the bee-hunter laughed; and though Peter did not join in his
mirth, it was quite plain that he understood its cause. With this
good-natured sort of intelligence between them, the two returned to
the canoes; the bee-hunter always supposing that the Indian had
obtained his object, in receiving his indirect admission, that the
scene of the previous night had been merely a piece of ingenious
jugglery. So much of a courtier, however, was Peter, and so entire
his self-command, that on no occasion, afterward, did he ever make
any further allusion to the subject.

The ascent of the river was now commenced. It was not a difficult
matter for le Bourdon to persuade Margery, that her brother's canoe
would be too heavily loaded for such a passage, unless she consented
to quit it for his own. Pigeonswing took the girl's place, and was
of material assistance in forcing the light, but steady craft, up
stream. The three others continued in the canoe in which they had
entered the river. With this arrangement, therefore, our adventurers
commenced this new journey.

Every reader will easily understand, that ascending such a stream as
the Kalamazoo was a very difficult thing from descending it. The
progress was slow, and at many points laborious. At several of the
"rifts," it became necessary to "track" the canoes up; and places
occurred at which the only safe way of proceeding was to unload them
altogether, and transport boats, cargoes, and all, on the shoulders
of the men, across what are called, in the language of the country,
"portages," or "carrying-places." In such toil as this, the corporal
was found to be very serviceable; but neither of the Indians
declined to lend their assistance, in work of this manly character.
By this time, moreover, Gershom had come round, and was an able-
bodied, vigorous assistant, once more. If the corporal was the
master of any alcohol, he judiciously kept it a secret; for not a
drop passed any one's lips during the whole of that toilsome
journey.

Although the difficult places in the river were sufficiently
numerous, most of the reaches were places having steady, but not
swift currents toward the lake. In these reaches the paddles, and
those not very vigorously applied, enabled the travellers to advance
as fast as was desirable; and such tranquil waters were a sort of
resting-places to those who managed the canoes. It was while
ascending these easy channels, that conversation most occurred; each
speaker yielding, as was natural, to the impulses of the thoughts
uppermost in his mind. The missionary talked much of the Jews; and,
as the canoes came near each other, he entered at large, with their
different occupants, into the reasons he had for believing that the
red men of America were the lost tribes of Israel. "The very use of
the word 'tribes,'" would this simple-minded, and not very profound
expounder of the word of God, say, "is one proof of the truth of
what I tell you. Now, no one thinks of dividing the white men of
America into 'tribes.' Who ever heard of the 'tribe' of New England,
or of the 'tribe' of Virginia, or of the 'tribe' of the Middle
States? [Footnote: The reader is not to infer any exaggeration in
this picture. There is no end to the ignorance and folly of sects
and parties, when religious or political zeal runs high. The writer
well remembers to have heard a Universalist, of more zeal than
learning, adduce, as an argument in favor of his doctrine, the
twenty-fifth chapter and forty-sixth verse of St. Matthew, where we
are told that the wicked "shall go away into ever-lasting
punishment; but the righteous into Vis eternal"; by drawing a
distinction between the adjectives, and this so much the more,
because the Old Testament speaks of "everlasting hills," and
"everlasting valleys "; thus proving, from the Bible, a substantial
difference between "everlasting" and "eternal." Now, every Sophomore
knows that the word used in Matthew is the same in both cases, being
"aionion," or "existing forever."] Even among the blacks, there are
no tribes. There is a very remarkable passage in the sixty-eighth
Psalm, that has greatly struck me, since my mind has turned to this
subject; 'God shall wound the head his enemies.' saith the Psalmist,
'and the hairy scalp of such a one as goeth on still in his
wickedness.' Here is a very obvious allusion to a well-known, and
what we think, a barbarous practice of the red men; but, rely on it,
friends, nothing that is permitted on earth is permitted in vain.
The attentive reader of the inspired book, by gleaning here and
there, can collect much authority for this new opinion about the
lost tribes; and the day will come, I do not doubt, when men will
marvel that the truth hath been so long hidden from them. I can
scarcely open a chapter, in the Old Testament, that some passage
does not strike me as going to prove this identity, between the red
men and the Hebrews; and, were they all collected together, and
published in a book, mankind would be astonished at their lucidity
and weight. As for scalping, it is a horrid thing in our eyes, but
it is honorable with the red men; and I have quoted to you the words
of the Psalmist, in order to show the manner in which divine wisdom
inflicts penalties on sin. Here is plain justification of the
practice, provided always that the sufferer be in the bondage of
transgression, and obnoxious to divine censure. Let no man,
therefore, in the pride of his learning, and, perhaps, of his
prosperity, disdain to believe things that are so manifestly taught
and foretold; but let us all bow in humble submission to the will of
a Being who, to our finite understanding, is so perfectly
incomprehensible."

We trust that no one of our readers will be disposed to deride
Parson Amen's speculations on this interesting subject, although
this may happen to be the first occasion on which he has ever heard
the practice of taking scalps justified by Scripture. Viewed in a
proper spirit, they ought merely to convey a lesson of humility, by
rendering apparent the wisdom, nay the necessity, of men's keeping
them-selves within the limits of the sphere of knowledge they were
designed to fill, and convey, when rightly considered, as much of a
lesson to the Puseyite, with abstractions that are quite as
unintelligible to himself as they are to others; to the high-wrought
and dogmatical Calvinist, who in the midst of his fiery zeal,
forgets that love is the very essence of the relation between God
and man; to the Quaker, who seems to think the cut of a coat
essential to salvation; to the descendant of the Puritan, who
whether he be Socinian, Calvinist, Universalist, or any other "1st,"
appears to believe that the "rock" on which Christ declared he would
found his church was the "Rock of Plymouth"; and to the unbeliever,
who, in deriding all creeds, does not know where to turn to find one
to substitute in their stead. Humility, in matters of this sort, is
the great lesson that all should teach and learn; for it opens the
way to charity, and eventually to faith, and through both of these
to hope; finally, through all of these, to heaven.

The journey up the Kalamazoo lasted many days, the ascent being
often so painful, and no one seeming in a hurry. Peter waited for
the time set for his council to approach, and was as well content to
remain in his canoe, as to "camp out" in the openings. Gershom never
was in haste, while the bee-hunter would have been satisfied to pass
the summer in so pleasant a manner, Margery being seated most of the
time in his canoe. In his ordinary excursions, le Bourdon carried
the mastiff as a companion; but, now that his place was so much
better filled, Hive was suffered to roam the woods that lined most
of the river-banks, joining his master from time to time at the
portages or landings. As for the missionary and the corporal,
impatience formed no part of their present disposition. The first
had been led, by the artful Peter, to expect great results to his
theory from the assembly of chiefs which was to meet in the
"openings"; and the credulous parson was, in one sense, going as
blindly on the path of destruction, as any sinner it had ever been
his duty to warn of his fate, was proceeding in the same direction
in another. The corporal, too, was the dupe of Peter's artifices.
This man had heard so many stories to the Indian's prejudice, at the
different posts where he had been stationed, as at first to render
him exceedingly averse to making the present journey in his company.
The necessity of the case, as connected with the preservation of his
own life after the massacre of Fort Dearborn, and the influence of
the missionary, had induced him to overlook his ancient prejudices,
and to forget opinions that, it now occurred to him, had been
founded in error. Once fairly within the influence of Peter's wiles,
a simple-minded soldier like the corporal, was soon completely made
the Indian's dupe. By the time the canoe reached the mouth of the
Kalamazoo, as has been related, each of these men placed the most
implicit reliance on the good faith and friendly feelings of the
very being whose entire life, both sleeping and waking thoughts,
were devoted, not only to his destruction, but to that of the whole
white race on the American continent. So bland was the manner of
this terrible savage, when it comported with his views to conceal
his ruthless designs, that persons more practised and observant than
either of his two companions might have been its dupes, not to say
its victims. While the missionary was completely mystified by his
own headlong desire to establish a theory, and to announce to the
religious world where the lost tribes were to be found, the corporal
had aided in deceiving himself, also, by another process. With him,
Peter had privately conversed of war, and had insinuated that he was
secretly laboring in behalf of his great father at Washington, and
against the other great father down at Montreal. As between the two,
Peter professed to lean to the interests of the first; though, had
he laid bare his in-most soul, a fiery hatred of each would have
been found to be its predominant feeling. But Corporal Flint fondly
fancied he was making a concealed march with an ally, while he thus
accompanied one of the fiercest enemies of his race.

Peter is not to be judged too harshly. It is always respectable to
defend the fireside, and the land of one's nativity, although the
cause connected with it may be sometimes wrong. This Indian knew
nothing of the principles of colonization, and had no conception
that any other than its original owners--original so far as his
traditions reached--could have a right to his own hunting-grounds.
Of the slow but certain steps by which an overruling Providence is
extending a knowledge of the true God, and of the great atonement
through the death of his blessed Son, Peter had no conception; nor
would it probably have seemed right to his contracted mind, had he
even seen and understood this general tendency of things. To him,
the pale-face appeared only as a rapacious invader, and not a
creature obeying the great law of his destiny, the end of which is
doubtless to help knowledge to abound, until it shall "cover the
whole earth as the waters cover the sea." Hatred, inextinguishable
and active hatred, appeared to be the law of this man's being; and
he devoted all the means, aided by all the intelligence he
possessed, to the furtherance of his narrow and short-sighted means
of vengeance and redress. In all this, he acted in common with
Tecumseh and his brother, though his consummate art kept him behind
a veil, while the others were known and recognized as open and
active foes. No publication speaks of this Peter, nor does any
orator enumerate his qualities, while the other two chiefs have been
the subjects of every species of descriptive talent, from that of
the poet to that of the painter.

As day passed after day, the feeling of distrust in the bosom of the
bee-hunter grew weaker and weaker, and Peter succeeded in gradually
worming himself into his confidence also. This was done, moreover,
without any apparent effort. The Indian made no professions of
friendship, laid himself out for no particular attention, nor ever
seemed to care how his companions regarded his deportment. His
secret purposes he kept carefully smothered in his own breast, it is
true; but, beyond that, no other sign of duplicity could have been
discovered even by one who knew his objects and schemes. So profound
was his art, that it had the aspect of nature. Pigeonswing alone was
alive to the danger of this man's company; and he knew it only by
means of certain semi-confidential communications received in his
character of a red man. It was no part of Peter's true policy to
become an ally to either of the great belligerents of the day. On
the contrary, his ardent wish was to see them destroy each other,
and it was the sudden occurrence of the present war that had given a
new impulse to his hopes, and a new stimulus to his efforts, as a
time most propitious to his purposes. He was perfectly aware of the
state of the Chippewa's feelings, and he knew that this man was
hostile to the Pottawattamies, as well as to most of the tribes of
Michigan; but this made no difference with him. If Pigeonswing took
the scalp of a white man, he cared not whether it grew on an English
or an American head; in either case it was the destruction of his
enemy. With such a policy constantly in view, it cannot be matter of
surprise that Peter continued on just as good terms with Pigeonswing
as with Crowsfeather. But one precaution was observed in his
intercourse with the first. To Crowsfeather, then on the war-path in
quest of Yankee scalps, he had freely communicated his designs on
his own white companions, while he did not dare to confide to the
Chippewa this particular secret, since that Indian's relations with
the bee-hunter were so amicable as to be visible to every observer.
Peter felt the necessity of especial caution in his communication
with this savage, therefore; and this was the reason why the
Chippewa was in so much painful uncertainty as to the other's
intentions. He had learned enough to be distrustful, but not enough
to act with decision.

Once, and once only, during their slow passage up the Kalamazoo, did
the bee-hunter observe something about Peter to awaken his original
apprehensions. The fourth day after leaving the mouth of the river,
and when the whole party were resting after the toil of passing a
"carrying-place," our hero had observed the eyes of that tribeless
savage roaming from one white face to another, with an expression in
them so very fiendish, as actually to cause his heart to beat
quicker than common. The look was such a one as le Bourdon could not
remember to have ever before beheld in a human countenance. In point
of fact, he had seen Peter in one of those moments when the pent
fires of the volcano, that ceaselessly raged within his bosom, were
becoming difficult to suppress; and when memory was busiest in
recalling to his imagination scenes of oppression and wrong, that
the white man is only too apt to forget amid the ease of his
civilization, and the security of his power. But the look, and the
impression produced by it on le Bourdon, soon passed away, and were
forgotten by him to whom it might otherwise have proved to be a most
useful warning.

It was a little remarkable that Margery actually grew to be attached
to Peter, often manifesting toward the chief attentions and feelings
such as a daughter is apt to exhibit toward a father. This arose
from the high and courteous bearing of this extraordinary savage. At
all times, an Indian warrior is apt to maintain the dignified and
courteous bearing that has so often been remarked in the race, but
it is very seldom that he goes out of his way to manifest attention
to the squaws. Doubtless these men have the feelings of humanity,
and love their wives and offspring like others; but it is so
essential a part of their training to suppress the exhibition of
such emotions, that it is seldom the mere looker-on has occasion to
note them. Peter, however, had neither wife nor child; or if they
existed, no one knew where either was to be found. The same mystery
shrouded this part of his history as veiled all the rest. In his
hunts, various opportunities occurred for exhibiting to the females
manly attentions, by offering to them the choicest pieces of his
game, and pointing out the most approved Indian modes of cooking the
meats, so as to preserve their savory properties. This he did
sparingly at first, and as a part of a system of profound deception;
but day by day, and hour after hour, most especially with Margery,
did his manner become sensibly less distant, and more natural. The
artlessness, the gentle qualities, blended with feminine spirit as
they were, and the innocent gayety of the girl, appeared to win on
this nearly remorseless savage, in spite of his efforts to resist
her influence. Perhaps the beauty of Margery contributed its share
in exciting these novel emotions in the breast of one so stern. We
do not mean that Peter yielded to feelings akin-to love; of this, he
was in a manner incapable; but a man can submit to a gentle regard
for woman that shall be totally free from passion. This sort of
regard Peter certainly began to entertain for Margery; and like
begetting like, as money produces money, it is not surprising that
the confidence of the girl herself, as well as her sympathies,
should continue to increase in the favor of this terrible Indian.

But the changes of feeling, and the various little incidents to
which we have alluded, did not occur in a single moment of time. Day
passed after day, and still the canoes were working their way up the
winding channels of the Kalamazoo, placing at each setting sun
longer and longer reaches of its sinuous stream between the
travellers and the broad sheet of Michigan. As le Bourdon had been
up and down the river often, in his various excursions, he acted as
the pilot of the navigation; though all worked, even to the
missionary and the Chippewa. On such an expedition, toil was not
deemed to be discreditable to a warrior, and Pigeonswing used the
paddle and the pole as willingly, and with as much dexterity, as any
of the party.

It was only on the eleventh day after quitting the mouth of the
river, that the canoes came to in the little bay where le Bourdon
was in the habit of securing his light bark, when in the openings.
Castle Meal was in full view, standing peacefully in its sweet
solitude; and Hive, who, as he came within the range of his old
hunts, had started off, and got to the spot the previous evening,
now stood on the bank of the river to welcome his master and his
friends to the chiente. It wanted a few minutes of sunset as the
travellers landed, and the parting rays of the great luminary of our
system were glancing through the various glades of the openings,
imparting a mellow softness to the herbage and flowers. So far as
the bee-hunter could perceive, not even a bear had visited the place
in his absence. On ascending to his abode and examining the
fastenings, and on entering the hut, storehouse, etc., le Bourdon
became satisfied that all the property he had left behind was safe,
and that the foot of man--he almost thought of beast too--had not
visited the spot at all during the last fortnight.




CHAPTER XIV.

      Hope in your mountains, and hope in your streams,
        Bow down in their worship, and loudly pray;
      Trust in your strength, and believe in your dreams,
        But the wind shall carry them all away.
                                        --BRAINARD.


The week which succeeded the arrival of our party at Chateau au
Miel, or Castle Meal, as le Bourdon used to call his abode, was one
of very active labor. It was necessary to house the adventurers, and
the little habitation already built was quite insufficient for such
a purpose. It was given to the females, who used it as a private
apartment for themselves, while the cooking, eating, and even
sleeping, so far as the males were concerned, were all done beneath
the trees of the openings. But a new chiente was soon constructed,
which, though wanting in the completeness and strength of Castle
Meal, was sufficient for the wants of these sojourners in the
wilderness. It is surprising with how little of those comforts which
civilization induces us to regard as necessaries we can get along,
when cast into the midst of the western wilds. The female whose foot
has trodden, from infancy upward, on nothing harder than a good
carpet-who has been reared amid all the appliances of abundance and
art, seems at once to change her nature, along with her habits, and
often proves a heroine, and an active assistant, when there was so
much reason to apprehend she might turn out to be merely an
encumbrance. In the course of a life that is now getting to be well
stored with experience of this sort, as well as of many other
varieties, we can recall a hundred cases of women, who were born and
nurtured in affluence and abundance, who have cheerfully quitted the
scenes of youth, their silks and satins, their china and plate,
their mahogany and Brussels, to follow husbands and fathers into the
wilderness, there to compete with the savage, often for food, and
always for the final possession of the soil!

But in the case of Dorothy and Blossom, the change had never been of
this very broad character, and habit had long been preparing them
for scenes even more savage than that into which they were now cast.
Both were accustomed to work, as, blessed be God! the American woman
usually works; that is to say, within doors, and to render home
neat, comfortable, and welcome. As housewives, they were expert and
willing, considering the meagreness of their means; and le Bourdon
told the half-delighted, half-blushing Margery, ere the latter had
been twenty-four hours in his chiente, that nothing but the presence
of such a one as herself was wanting to render it an abode fit for a
prince! Then, the cooking was so much improved! Apart from
cleanliness, the venison was found to be more savory; the cakes were
lighter; and the pork less greasy. On this subject of grease,
however, we could wish that a sense of right would enable us to
announce its utter extinction in the American kitchen; or, if not
absolutely its extinction, such a subjection of the unctuous
properties, as to bring them within the limits of a reasonably
accurate and healthful taste. To be frank, Dorothy carried a
somewhat heavy hand, in this respect; but pretty Margery was much
her superior. How this difference in domestic discipline occurred,
is more than we can say; but of its existence there can be no doubt
There are two very respectable sections of the civilized world to
which we should imagine no rational being would ever think of
resorting in order to acquire the art of cookery, and these are
Germany and the land of the Pilgrims. One hears, and reads in those
elegant specimens of the polite literature of the day, the letters
from Washington, and from various travellers, who go up and down
this river in steamboats, or along that railway, gratis, much in
honor of the good things left behind the several writers, in the
"region of the kock"; but, woe betide the wight who is silly enough
to believe in all this poetical imagery, and who travels in that
direction, in the expectation of finding a good table! It is
extraordinary that such a marked difference does exist, on an
interest of this magnitude, among such near neighbors; but, of the
fact, we should think no intelligent and experienced man can doubt.
Believing as we do, that no small portion of the elements of
national character can be, and are, formed in the kitchen, the
circumstance may appear to us of more moment than to some of our
readers. The vacuum left in cookery, between Boston and Baltimore
for instance, is something like that which exists between Le
Verrier's new planet and the sun.

But Margery could even fry pork without causing it to swim in
grease, and at a venison steak, a professed cook was not her
superior. She also understood various little mysteries, in the way
of converting their berries and fruits of the wilderness into
pleasant dishes; and Corporal Flint soon affirmed that it was a
thousand pities she did not live in a garrison, which, agreeably to
his view of things, was something like placing her at the comptoir
of the Cafe de Paris, or of marrying her to some second Vatel.

With the eating and drinking, the building advanced pari passu.
Pigeonswing brought in his venison, his ducks, his pigeons, and his
game of different varieties, daily, keeping the larder quite as well
supplied as comported with the warmth of the weather; while the
others worked on the new chiente. In order to obtain materials for
this building, one so much larger than his old abode, Ben went up
the Kalamazoo about half a mile, where he felled a sufficient number
of young pines, with trunks of about a foot in diameter, cutting
them into lengths of twenty and thirty feet, respectively. These
lengths, or trunks, were rolled into the river, down which they
slowly floated, until they arrived abreast of Castle Meal, where
they were met by Peter, in a canoe, who towed each stick, as it
arrived, to the place of landing. In this way, at the end of two
days' work, a sufficient quantity of materials was collected to
commence directly on the building itself.

Log-houses are of so common occurrence, as to require no particular
description of the one now put up, from us. It was rather less than
thirty feet in length, and one-third narrower than it was long. The
logs were notched, and the interstices were filled by pieces of the
pine, split to a convenient size. The roof was of bark, and of the
simplest construction, while there was neither door nor window;
though one aperture was left for the first, and two for the last.
Corporal Flint, however, was resolved that not only a door should be
made, as well as shutters for the windows, but that the house
should, in time, be picketed. When le Bourdon remonstrated with him
on the folly of taking so much unnecessary pains, it led to a
discussion, in which the missionary even felt constrained to join.

"What's the use--what's the use?" exclaimed le Bourdon a little
impatiently, when he found the corporal getting to be in earnest in
his proposal. "Here have I lived, safely, two seasons in Castle
Meal, without any pickets or palisades; and yet you want to turn
this new house into a regular garrison!"

"Aye, Bourdon, that was in peaceable times; but these is war times.
I've seen the fall of Fort Dearborn, and I don't want to see the
fall of another post this war. The Pottawattamies is hostile, even
Peter owns; and the Pottawattamies has been here once, as you say
yourself, and may come ag'in."

"The only Pottawattamie who has ever been at this spot, to my
knowledge, is dead, and his bones are bleaching up yonder in the
openings. No fear of him, then."

"His body is gone," answered the corporal; "and what is more the
rifle is gone with it. I heard that his rifle had been forgotten,
and went to collect the arms left on the field of battle, but found
nothing. No doubt his friends have burned, or buried, the chief, and
they will be apt to take another look in this quarter of the
country, having l'arnt the road."

Boden was struck with this intelligence, as well as with the
reasoning, and after a moment's pause, he answered in a way that
showed a wavering purpose.

"It will take a week's work, to picket or palisade the house," he
answered, "and I wish to be busy among the bees, once more."

"Go to your bees, Bourdon, and leave me to fortify and garrison, as
becomes my trade. Parson Amen, here, will tell you that the children
of Israel are often bloody-minded and are not to be forgotten."

"The corporal is right," put in the missionary; "the corporal is
quite right. The whole history of the ancient Jews gives us this
character of them; and even Saul of Tarsus was bent on persecution
and slaughter, until his hand was stayed by the direct manifestation
of the power of God. I can see glimmerings of this spirit in Peter,
and this at a moment when he is almost ready to admit that he's a
descendant of Israel."

"Is Peter ready to allow that?" asked the bee-hunter, with more
interest in the answer than he would have been willing to allow.

"As good as that-yes, quite as good as that. I can see, plainly,
that Peter has some heavy mystery on his mind; sooner, or later, we
shall learn it. When it does come out, the world may be prepared to
learn the whole history of the Ten Tribes!"

"In my judgment," observed the corporal, "that chief could give the
history of twenty, if he was so minded,"

"There were but ten of them, brother Flint--but ten; and of those
ten he could give us a full and highly interesting account. One of
these days, we shall hear it all; in the mean time, it may be well
enough to turn one of these houses into some sort of a garrison."

"Let it, then, be Castle Meal," said le Bourdon; "surely, if any one
is to be defended and fortified in this way, it ought to be the
women. You may easily palisade that hut, which is so much stronger
than this, and so much smaller."

With this compromise, the work went on. The corporal dug a trench
four feet deep, encircling the "castle," as happy as a lord the
whole time; for this was not the first time he had been at such
work, which he considered to be altogether in character, and
suitable to his profession. No youthful engineer, fresh from the
Point, that seat of military learning to which the republic is even
more indebted for its signal successes in Mexico, than to the high
military character of this population-no young aspirant for glory,
fresh from this useful school, could have greater delight in laying
out his first bastion, or counter-scarp, or glacis, than Corporal
Flint enjoyed in fortifying Castle Meal. It will be remembered that
this was the first occasion he was ever actually at the head of the
engineering department Hitherto, it had been his fortune to follow;
but now it had become his duty to lead. As no one else, of that
party, had ever been employed in such a work on any previous
occasion, the corporal did not affect to conceal the superior
knowledge with which he was overflowing. Gershom he found a ready
and active assistant; for, by this time, the whiskey was well out of
him; and he toiled with the greater willingness, as he felt that the
palisades would add to the security of his wife and sister. Neither
did Parson Amen disdain to use the pick and shovel; for, while the
missionary had the fullest reliance in the fact that the red men of
that region were the descendants of the children of Israel, he
regarded them as a portion of the chosen people who were living
under the ban of the divine displeasure, and as more than usually
influenced by those evil spirits, whom St. Paul mentions as the
powers of the air. In a word, while the good missionary had all
faith in the final conversion and restoration of these children of
the forests, he did not overlook the facts of their present
barbarity, and great propensity to scalp. He was not quite as
efficient as Gershom, at this novel employment, but a certain inborn
zeal rendered him both active and useful. As for the Indians,
neither of them deigned to touch a tool. Pigeonswing had little
opportunity for so doing, indeed, being usually, from the rising to
the setting sun, out hunting for the support of the party; while
Peter passed most of his time in ruminations and solitary walks.
This last paid little attention to the work about the castle, either
knowing it would, at any moment, by an act of treachery, be in his
power to render all these precautions of no avail; or, relying on
the amount of savage force that he knew was about to collect in the
openings. Whenever he cast a glance on the progress of the work, it
was with an eye of great indifference; once he even carried his
duplicity so far, as to make a suggestion to the corporal, by means
of which, as he himself expressed it, in his imperfect English--
"Injin no get inside, to use knife and tomahawk." This seeming
indifference, on the part of Peter, did not escape the observation
of the bee-hunter, who became still less distrustful of that
mysterious savage, as he noted his conduct in connection with the
dispositions making for defence.

Le Bourdon would not allow a tree of any sort to be felled anywhere
near his abode. While the corporal and his associates were busy in
digging the trench, he had gone to a considerable distance, quite
out of sight from Castle Meal, and near his great highway, the
river, where he cut and trimmed the necessary number of burr-oaks
for the palisades. Boden labored the more cheerfully at this work,
for two especial reasons. One was the fact that the defences might
be useful to himself, hereafter, as much against bears as against
Indians; and the other, because Margery daily brought her sewing or
knitting, and sat on the fallen trees, laughing and chatting, as the
axe performed its duties. On three several occasions Peter was
present, also, accompanying Blossom, with a kindness of manner, and
an attention to her pretty little tastes in culling flowers, that
would have done credit to a man of a higher school of civilization.

The reader is not to suppose, however, because the Indian pays but
little outward attention to the squaws, that he is without natural
feeling, or manliness of character. In some respects his chivalrous
devotion to the sex is, perhaps, in no degree inferior to that of
the class which makes a parade of such sentiments, and this quite as
much from convention and ostentation, as from any other motive. The
red man is still a savage beyond all question, but he is a savage
with so many nobler and more manly qualities, when uncorrupted by
communion with the worst class of whites, and not degraded by
extreme poverty, as justly to render him a subject of our
admiration, in self-respect, in dignity, and in simplicity of
deportment. The Indian chief is usually a gentleman; and this,
though he may have never heard of Revelation, and has not the
smallest notion of the Atonement, and of the deep obligations it has
laid on the human race.

Amid the numberless exaggerations of the day, one of particular
capacity has arisen connected with the supposed character of a
gentleman. Those who regard all things through the medium of
religious feeling, are apt to insist that he who is a Christian, is
necessarily a gentleman; while he can be no thorough gentleman, who
has not most of the qualities of the Christian character. This
confusion in thought and language, can lead to no really useful
result, while it embarrasses the minds of many, and renders the
expression of our ideas less exact and comprehensive than they would
otherwise be.

We conceive that a man may be very much of a Christian, and very
little of a gentleman; or very much of a gentleman, and very little
of a Christian. There is, in short, not much in common between the
two characters, though it is possible for them to become united in
the same individual. That the finished courtesies of polished life
may wear some of the aspects of that benevolence which causes the
Christian "to love his neighbor as himself," is certainly true,
though the motives of the parties are so very different as to
destroy all real identity between them. While the moving principle
of a gentleman is self-respect, that of a Christian is humility. The
first is ready to lay down his life in order to wipe away an
imaginary dishonor, or to take the life of another; the last is
taught to turn the other cheek, when smitten. In a word, the first
keeps the world, its opinions and its estimation, ever uppermost in
his thoughts; the last lives only to reverence God, and to conform
to his will, in obedience to his revealed mandates. Certainly, there
is that which is both grateful and useful in the refined deportment
of one whose mind and manners have been polished even in the schools
of the world; but it is degrading to the profoundly beautiful
submission of the truly Christian temper, to imagine that anything
like a moral parallel can justly be run between them.

Of course, Peter had none of the qualities of him who sees and feels
his own defects, and relies only on the merits of the atonement for
his place among the children of light, while he had so many of those
qualities which depend on the estimate which man is so apt to place
on his own merits. In this last sense, this Indian had a great many
of the essentials of a gentleman; a lofty courtesy presiding over
all his intercourse with others, when passion or policy did not
thrust in new and sudden principles of action. Even the missionary
was so much struck with the gentleness of this mysterious savage's
deportment in connection with Margery, as at first to impute it to a
growing desire to make a wife of that flower of the wilderness. But
closer observation induced greater justice to the Indian in this
respect Nothing like the uneasiness, impatience, or distrust of
passion could be discerned in his demeanor; and when Parson Amen
perceived that the bee-hunter's marked devotion to the beautiful
Blossom rather excited a benevolent and kind interest in the
feelings of Peter, so far at least as one could judge of the heart
by external appearances, than anything that bore the fierce and
uneasy impulses of jealousy, he was satisfied that his original
impression was a mistake.

As le Bourdon flourished his axe, and Margery plied her needles,
making a wholesome provision for the coming winter, the mysterious
Indian would stand, a quarter of an hour at a time, immovable as a
statue, his eyes riveted first on one, and then on the other. What
passed at such moments in that stern breast, it exceeds the
penetration of man to say: but that the emotions thus pent within
barriers that none could pass or destroy, were not always ferocious
and revengeful, a carefully observant spectator might possibly have
suspected, had such a person been there to note all the signs of
what was uppermost in the chiefs thoughts. Still, gleamings of
sudden, but intense ferocity did occasionally occur; and, at such
instants, the countenance of this extraordinary being was truly
terrific. Fortunately, such bursts of uncontrollable feeling were
transient, being of rare occurrence, and of very short duration.

By the time the corporal had his trenches dug, le Bourdon was
prepared with his palisades, which were just one hundred in number,
being intended to enclose a space of forty feet square. The men all
united in the transportation of the timber, which was floated down
the river on a raft of white pine, the burr-oak being of a specific
gravity that fresh water would not sustain. A couple of days,
however, sufficed for the transportation by water, and as many more
for that by land, between the place of landing and Castle Meal. This
much accomplished, the whole party rested from their labors, the day
which succeeded being the Sabbath.

Those who dwell habitually amid the haunts of men, alone thoroughly
realize the vast importance that ought to be attached to the great
day of rest. Men on the ocean, and men in the forest, are only too
apt to overlook the returns of the Sabbath; thus slowly, but
inevitably alienating themselves more and more from the dread Being
who established the festival, as much in his own honor as for the
good of man. When we are told that the Almighty is jealous of his
rights, and desires to be worshipped, we are not to estimate this
wish by any known human standard, but are ever to bear in mind that
it is exactly in proportion as we do reverence the Creator and Ruler
of heaven and earth that we are nearest, or farthest, from the
condition of the blessed. It is probably for his own good, that the
adoration of man is pleasing in the eyes of God.

The missionary, though a visionary and an enthusiast, as respected
the children of Israel, was a zealous observer of his duties. On
Sundays, he never neglected to set up his tabernacle, even though it
were in a howling wilderness, and went regularly through the worship
of God, according to the form of the sect to which he belonged. His
influence, on the present occasion, was sufficient to cause a
suspension of all labor, though not without some remonstrances on
the part of the corporal. The latter contended that, in military
affairs, there was no Sunday known, unless it might be in peaceable
times, and that he had never heard of intrenchments "resting from
their labors," on the part of either the besieger or the besieged.
Work of that sort, he thought, ought to go on, day and night, by
means of reliefs; and, instead of pausing to hold church, he had
actually contemplated detailing fatigue parties to labor through,
not only that day, but the whole of the succeeding night.

As for Peter, he never offered the slightest objection to any of
Parson Amen's sermons or prayers. He listened to both with unmoved
gravity, though no apparent impression was ever made on his
feelings. The Chippewa hunted on the Sabbaths as much as on any
other day; and it was in reference to this fact that the following
little conversation took place between Margery and the missionary,
as the party sat beneath the oaks, passing a tranquil eventide at
midsummer.

"How happens it, Mr. Amen," said Margery, who had insensibly adopted
the missionary's sobriquet, "that no red man keeps the Sabbath-day,
if they are all descended from the Jews? This is one of the most
respected of all the commandments, and it does not seem natural"--
Margery's use of terms was necessarily influenced by association and
education-"that any of that people should wholly forget the day of
rest."

"Perhaps you are not aware, Margery, that the Jews, even in
civilized countries, do not keep the same Sabbath as the
Christians," returned the missionary. "They have public worship on a
Saturday, as we do on a Sunday. Now, I did think I saw some signs of
Peter's privately worshipping yesterday, while we were all so busy
at our garrison. You may have observed how thoughtful and silent the
chief was in the middle of the afternoon."

"I DID observe it," said the bee-hunter, "but must own I did not
suspect him of holding meeting for any purposes within himself. That
was one of the times when I like the manners and behavior of this
Injin the least."

"We do not know--we do not know--perhaps his spirit struggled with
the temptations of the Evil One. To me he appeared to be
worshipping, and I set the fact down as a proof that the red men
keep the Jewish Sabbath."

"I did not know that the Jews keep a Sabbath different from our own,
else I might have thought the same. But I never saw a Jew, to my
knowledge. Did you, Margery?"

"Not to know him for one," answered the girl; and true enough was
the remark of each. Five-and-thirty years ago, America was
singularly not only a Christian but a Protestant nation. Jews
certainly did exist in the towns, but they were so blended with the
rest of the population, and were so few in number, as scarcely to
attract attention to them as a sect. As for the Romanists, they too
had their churches and their dioceses; but what untravelled American
had then ever seen a nun? From monks, Heaven be praised, we are yet
spared; and this is said without any prejudice against the
denomination to which they usually belong. He who has lived much in
a country where that sect prevails, if a man of a particle of
liberality, soon learns that piety and reverence for God, and a deep
sense of all the Christian obligations, can just as well, nay
better, exist in a state of society where a profound submission to
well-established dogmas is to be found, than in a state of society
where there is so much political freedom as to induce the veriest
pretenders to learning to imagine that each man is a church and a
hierarchy in his own person! All this is rapidly changing. Romanists
abound, and spots that half a century since, appeared to be the most
improbable place in the world to admit of the rites of the priests
of Rome, now hear the chants and prayers of the mass-books. All this
shows a tendency toward that great commingling of believers, which
is doubtless to precede the final fusion of sects, and the predicted
end.

On the Monday that succeeded the Sabbath mentioned, the corporal had
all his men at work, early, pinning together his palisades, making
them up into manageable bents, and then setting them up on their
legs. As the materials were all there, and quite ready to be put
together, the work advanced rapidly; and by the time the sun drew
near the western horizon once more, Castle Meal was surrounded by
its bristling defences. The whole was erect and stay-lathed, waiting
only for the earth to be shovelled back into the trench, and to be
pounded well down. As it was, the palisades offered a great increase
of security to those in the chiente, and both the females expressed
their obligations to their friends for having taken this important
step toward protecting them from the enemy. When they retired for
the night, everything was arranged, so that the different members of
the party might know where to assemble within the works. Among the
effects of Gershom, were a conch and a horn; the latter being one of
those common instruments of tin, which are so much used in and about
American farm-houses, to call the laborers from the field. The conch
was given to the men, that, in case of need, they might sound the
alarm from without, while the horn, or trumpet of tin, was suspended
by the door of the chiente, in order that the females might have
recourse to it, at need.

About midnight, long after the whole party had retired to rest, and
when the stillness of the hours of deepest repose reigned over the
openings, the bee-hunter was awoke from his sleep by an unwonted
call. At first, he could scarce believe his senses, so plaintive,
and yet so wild, was the blast. But there could be no mistake: it
was the horn from the chiente, and, in a moment, he was on his feet.
By this time, the corporal was afoot, and presently all the men were
in motion. On this occasion, Gershom manifested a readiness and
spirit that spoke equally well for his heart and his courage. He was
foremost in rushing to the assistance of his wife and sister, though
le Bourdon was very close on his heels.

On reaching the gate of the palisade, it was found closed, and
barred within; nor did any one appear, until Dorothy was summoned,
by repeated calls, in the well-known voice of her husband. When the
two females came out of the chiente, great was their wonder and
alarm! No horn had been blown by either of them, and there the
instrument itself hung, on its peg, as quiet and mute as if a blast
had never been blown into it The bee-hunter, on learning this
extraordinary fact, looked around him anxiously, in order to
ascertain who might be absent. Every man was present, and each
person stood by his arms, no one betraying the slightest
consciousness of knowing whence the unaccountable summons had
proceeded!

"This has been done by you, corporal, in order to bring us together,
under arms, by way of practice," le Bourdon at length exclaimed.

"False alarms is useful, if not overdone; especially among raw
troops," answered Flint, coolly; "but I have given none to-night. I
will own I did intend to have you all out in a day or two by way of
practice, but I have thought it useless to attempt too much at once.
When the garrison is finished, it will be time enough to drill the
men to the alarm-posts."

"What is your opinion, Peter?" continued le Bourdon. "You understand
the wilderness, and its ways. To what is this extr'or'nary call
owing? Why have we been brought here, at this hour?"

"Somebody blow horn, most likely," answered Peter, in his unmoved,
philosophical manner. "'Spose don't know; den can't tell. Warrior
often hear 'larm on war-path."

"This is an onaccountable thing! If I ever heard a horn, I heard one
to-night; yet this is the only horn we have, and no one has touched
it! It was not the conch I heard; there is no mistaking the
difference in sound between a shell and a horn; and there is the
conch, hanging at Gershom's neck, just where it has been the whole
night."

"No one has touched the conch--I will answer for THAT," returned
Gershom, laying a hand on the shell, as if to make certain all was
right.

"This is most extr'or'nary! I heard the horn, if ears of mine ever
heard such an instrument!"

Each of the white men added as much, for every one of them had
distinctly heard the blast. Still neither could suggest any probable
clue to the mystery. The Indians said nothing; but it was so much in
conformity with their habits for red men to maintain silence,
whenever any unusual events awakened feelings in others, that no one
thought their deportment out of rule. As for Peter, a statue of
stone could scarcely have been colder in aspect than was this chief,
who seemed to be altogether raised above every exhibition of human
feeling. Even the corporal gaped, though much excited, for he had
been suddenly aroused from a deep sleep; but Peter was as much
superior to physical, as to moral impressions, on this occasion. He
made no suggestion, manifested no concern, exhibited no curiosity;
and when the men withdrew, again, to their proper habitation, he
walked back with them, in the same silence and calm, as those with
which he had advanced. Gershom, however, entered within the
palisade, and passed the remainder of the night with his family.

The bee-hunter and the Chippewa accidentally came together, as the
men moved slowly toward their own hut, when the following short
dialogue occurred between them.

Is that you, Pigeonswing?" exclaimed le Bourdon, when he found his
friend touching an elbow, as if by chance.

"Yes, dis me--want better friend, eh?"

"No, I'm well satisfied to have you near me, in an alarm, Chippewa.
We've stood by each other once, in troublesome times; and I think we
can do as much, ag'in."

"Yes; stand by friend--dat honor. Nebber turn back on friend; dat my
way."

"Chippewa, who blew the blast on the horn?--can you tell me THAT?"

"Why don't you ask Peter? He wise chief--know eb-beryt'ing. Young
Injin ask ole Injin when don't know--why not young pale-face ask ole
man, too, eh?"

"Pigeonswing, if truth was said, I believe it would be found that
you suspect Peter of having a hand in this business?"

This speech was rather too idiomatic for the comprehension of the
Indian, who answered according to his own particular view of the
matter.

"Don't blow horn wid hand," he said--"Injin blow wid mout', just
like pale-face."

The bee-hunter did not reply; but his companion's remark had a
tendency to revive in his breast certain unpleasant and distrustful
feelings toward the mysterious savage, which the incidents and
communications of the last two weeks had had a strong tendency to
put to sleep.




CHAPTER XV.

      None knows his lineage, age, or name;
      His looks are like the snows of Caucasus; his eyes
      Beam with the wisdom of collected ages
      In green, unbroken years he sees, 'tis said,
      The generations pass like autumn fruits,
      Garner'd, consumed, and springing fresh to life,
      Again to perish--
                                      --HILLHOUSE


No further disturbance took place that night, and the men set about
filling up the trenches in the morning steadily, as if nothing had
happened. They talked a little of the extraordinary occurrence, but
more was THOUGHT than SAID. Le Bourdon observed, however, that
Pigeonswing went earlier than usual to the hunt, and that he made
his preparations as if he expected to be absent more than the
customary time.

As there were just one hundred feet of ditch to fill with dirt, the
task was completed, and that quite thoroughly, long ere the close of
the day. The pounding down of the earth consumed more time, and was
much more laborious than the mere tumbling of the earth back into
its former bed; but even this portion of the work was sufficiently
attended to. When all was done, the corporal himself, a very
critical sort of person in what he called "garrisons," was fain to
allow that it was as "pretty a piece of palisading" as he had ever
laid eyes on. The "garrison" wanted only one thing, now, to render
it a formidable post--and that was water--no spring or well existing
within its narrow limit; however, he procured two or three empty
barrels, portions of le Bourdon's effects, placed them within the
works, and had them filled with sweet water. By emptying this water
two or three times a week, and refilling the barrels, it was thought
that a sufficient provision of that great necessary would be made
and kept up. Luckily the corporal's "garrison" did not drink, and
the want was so much the more easily supplied for the moment.

In truth, the chiente was now converted into a place of some
strength, when it is considered that artillery had never yet
penetrated to those wilds. More than half the savages of the west
fought with arrows and spears in that day, as most still do when the
great prairies are reached. A rifleman so posted as to have his body
in a great measure covered by the trunk of a burr-oak tree, would be
reasonably secure against the missives of an Indian, and, using his
own fatal instrument of death, under a sense of personal security,
he would become a formidable opponent to dislodge. Nor was the
smallness of the work any objection to its security. A single well-
armed man might suffice to defend twenty-five feet of palisades,
when he would have been insufficient to make good his position with
twice the extent. Then le Bourdon had cut loops on three sides of
the hut itself, in order to fire at the bears, and sometimes at the
deer, which had often approached the building in its days of
solitude and quiet, using the window on the fourth side for the same
purpose. In a word, a sense of increased security was felt by the
whole party when this work was completed, though one arrangement was
still wanting to render it perfect. By separating the real garrison
from the nominal garrison during the night, there always existed the
danger of surprise; and the corporal, now that his fortifications
were finished, soon devised a plan to obviate this last-named
difficulty. His expedient was very simple, and had somewhat of
barrack-life about it.

Corporal Flint raised a low platform along one side of the chiente,
by placing there logs of pine that were squared on one of their
sides. Above, at the height of a man's head, a roof of bark was
reared on poles, and prairie grass, aided by skins, formed very
comfortable barrack-beds beneath. As the men were expected to lie
with their heads to the wall of the hut, and their feet outward,
there was ample space for twice their number. Thither, then, were
all the homely provisions for the night transported; and when
Margery closed the door of the chiente, after returning the bee-
hunter's cordial good night, it was with no further apprehension for
the winding of the mysterious horn.

The first night that succeeded the new arrangement passed without
any disturbance. Pigeonswing did not return, as usual, at sunset,
and a little uneasiness was felt on his account; but, as he made his
appearance quite early in the morning, this source of concern
ceased. Nor did the Chippewa come in empty-handed; he had killed not
only a buck, but he had knocked over a bear in his rambles, besides
taking a mess of famously fine trout from a brawling stream at no
great distance. The fish were eaten for breakfast, and immediately
after that meal was ended, a party.

"I know no more than he has himself told me. By his account there is
to be a great council of red men on the prairie, a few miles from
this spot; he is waiting for the appointed day to come, in order to
go and make one of the chiefs that will be there. Is not this true,
Chippewa?"

"Yes, dat true--what dat council smoke round fire for, eh? You
know?"

"No, I do not, and would be right glad to have you tell me,
Pigeonswing. Perhaps the tribe mean to have a meetin' to determine
in their own minds which side they ought to take in this war."

"Not dat nudder. Know well 'nough which side take. Got message and
wampum from Canada fadder, and most all Injin up this-a way look for
Yankee scalp. Not dat nudder."

"Then I have no notion what is at the bottom of this council. Peter
seems to expect great things from it; that I can see by his way of
talking and looking whenever he speaks of it."

"Peter want to see him very much. Smoke at great many sich council
fire."

"Do you intend to be present at this council on Prairie Round?"
asked the bee-hunter, innocently enough. Pigeonswing turned to look
at his companion, in a way that seemed to inquire how far he was
really the dupe of the mysterious Indian's wiles. Then, suddenly
aware of the importance of not betraying all he himself knew, until
the proper moment had arrived, he bent his eyes forward again,
continuing onward and answering somewhat evasively.

"Don't know," he replied. "Hunter nebber tell. Chief want venison,
and he must hunt. Just like squaw in pale-face wigwam--work, work--
sweep, sweep--cook, cook--never know when work done. So hunter hunt-
-hunt--hunt."

"And for that matter, Chippewa, just like squaw in the red man's
village, too. Hoe, hoe--dig, dig--carry, carry--so that she never
knows when she may sit down to rest."

"Yes," returned Pigeonswing, coolly nodding his assent as he moved
steadily forward. "Dat do right way wid squaw--juss what he good
for--juss what he MADE for--work for warrior and cook his dinner.
Pale-face make too much of squaw."

"Not accordin' to your account of their manner of getting along,
Injin. If the work of our squaws is never done, we can hardly make
too much of them. Where does Peter keep HIS squaw?"

"Don't know," answered the Chippewa. "Nobody know. Don't know where
his tribe even."

"This is very extraor'nary, considering the influence the man seems
to enjoy. How is it that he has so completely got the ears of all
the red men, far and near?"

To this question Pigeonswing gave no answer. His own mind was so far
under Peter's control that he did not choose to tell more than might
be prudent. He was fully aware of the mysterious chief's principal
design, that of destroying the white race altogether, and of
restoring the red men to their ancient rights, but several reasons
prevented his entering into the plot heart and hand. In the first
place, he was friendly to the "Yankees," from whom he, personally,
had received many favors and no wrongs; then, the tribe, or half-
tribe, to which he belonged had been employed, more or less, by the
agents of the American government as runners, and in other
capacities, ever since the peace of '83; and, lastly, he himself had
been left much in different garrisons, where he had not only
acquired his English, but a habit of thinking of the Americans as
his friends. It might also be added that Pigeonswing, though far
less gifted by nature than the mysterious Peter, had formed a truer
estimate of the power of the "Yankees," and did not believe they
were to be annihilated so easily. How it happened that this Indian
had come to a conclusion so much safer than that of Peter's, a man
of twice his capacity, is more than we can explain; though it was
probably owing to the accidental circumstances of his more intimate
associations with the whites.

The bee-hunter was by nature a man of observation, a faculty that
his habits had both increased and stimulated. Had it not been for
the manner in which he was submitting to the influence of Margery,
he would long before have seen that in the deportment of the
Chippewa which would have awakened his distrust; not that Margery in
any way endeavored to blind him to what was passing before his face,
but that he was fast getting to have eyes only for her. By this time
she filled not only his waking, but many of his sleeping thoughts;
and when she was not actually before him, charming him with her
beauty, enlivening him with her artless gayety, and inspiring him
with her innocent humor, he fancied she was there, imagination,
perhaps, heightening all those advantages which we have enumerated.
When a man is thoroughly in love, he is quite apt to be fit for very
little else but to urge his suit. Such, in a certain way, proved to
be the case with le Bourdon, who allowed things to pass unheeded
directly before his eyes that previously to his acquaintance with
Margery would not only have been observed, but which would have most
probably led to some practical results. The conduct of Pigeonswing
was among the circumstances that were thus over-looked by our hero.
In point of fact, Peter was slowly but surely working on the mind of
the Chippewa, changing all his opinions radically, and teaching him
to regard every pale-face as an enemy. The task, in this instance,
was not easy; for Pigeonswing, in addition to his general
propensities in favor of the "Yankees," the result of mere accident,
had conceived a real personal regard for le Bourdon, and was very
slow to admit any views that tended to his injury. The struggle in
the mind of the young warrior was severe; and twenty times was he on
the point of warning his friend of the danger which impended over
the whole party, when a sense of good faith toward Peter, who held
his word to the contrary, prevented his so doing. This conflict of
feeling was now constantly active in the breast of the young savage.

Pigeonswing had another source of uneasiness, to which his
companions were entirely strangers. While hunting, his keen eyes had
detected the presence of warriors in the openings. It is true he had
not seen even one, but he knew that the signs he had discovered
could not deceive him. Not only were warriors at hand, but warriors
in considerable numbers. He had found one deserted lair, from which
its late occupants could not have departed many hours when it came
under his own notice. By means of that attentive sagacity which
forms no small portion of the education of an American Indian,
Pigeonswing was enabled to ascertain that this party, of itself,
numbered seventeen, all of whom were men and warriors. The first
fact was easily enough to be seen, perhaps, there being just
seventeen different impressions left in the grass; but that all
these persons were armed men, was learned by Pigeonswing through
evidence that would have been overlooked by most persons. By the
length of the lairs he was satisfied none but men of full stature
had been there; and he even examined sufficiently close to make out
the proofs that all but four of these men carried firearms. Strange
as it may seem to those who do not know how keen the senses become
when whetted by the apprehensions and wants of savage life,
Pigeonswing was enabled to discover signs which showed that the
excepted were provided with bows and arrows, and spears.

When the bee-hunter and his companion came in sight of the carcase
of the bear, which they did shortly after the last remark which we
have given in the dialogue recorded, the former exclaimed with a
little surprise:

"How's this, Chippewa! You have killed this beast with your bow! Did
you not hunt with the rifle yesterday?"

"Bad fire rifle off now-a-day," answered Pigeonswing, sententiously.
"Make noise--noise no good."

"Noise!" repeated the perfectly unsuspecting bee-hunter. "Little
good or little harm can noise do in these openings, where there is
neither mountain to give back an echo, or ear to be startled. The
crack of my rifle has rung through these groves a hundred times and
no harm come of it."

"Forget war-time now. Bess nebber fire, less can't help him.
Pottawattamie hear great way off."

"Oh! That's it, is it! You're afraid our old friends the
Pottawattamies may find us out, and come to thank us for all that
happened down at the river's mouth. Well," continued le Bourdon,
laughing, "if they wish another whiskey-spring, I have a small jug
left, safely hid against a wet day; a very few drops will answer to
make a tolerable spring. You redskins don't know everything,
Pigeonswing, though you are so keen and quick-witted on a trail."

"Bess not tell Pottawattamie any more 'bout springs," answered the
Chippewa, gravely; for by this time he regarded the state of things
in the openings to be so serious as to feel little disposition to
mirth. "Why you don't go home, eh? Why don't med'cine-man go home,
too? Bess for pale-face to be wid pale-face when red man go on war-
path. Color bess keep wid color."

"I see you want to be rid of us, Pigeonswing; but the parson has no
thought of quitting this part of the world until he has convinced
all the red-skins that they are Jews."

"What he mean, eh?" demanded the Chippewa, with more curiosity than
it was usual for an Indian warrior to betray. "What sort of a man
Jew, eh? Why call red man Jew?"

"I know very little more about it than you do yourself, Pigeonswing;
but such as my poor knowledge is, you're welcome to it. You've heard
of the Bible, I dare say?"

"Sartain--med'cine-man read him Sunday. Good book to read, some
t'ink."

"Yes, it's all that, and a great companion have I found my Bible,
when I've been alone with the bees out here in the openings. It
tells us of our God, Chippewa; and teaches us how we are to please
him, and how we may offend. It's a great loss to you red-skins not
to have such a book among you."

"Med'cine-man bring him--don't do much good, yet; some day, p'r'aps,
do better. How dat make red man Jew?"

"Why, this is a new idea to me, though Parson Amen seems fully
possessed with it. I suppose you know what a Jew is?"

"Don't know anything 'bout him. Sort o' nigger, eh?"

"No, no, Pigeonswing, you're wide of the mark this time. But, that
we may understand each other, we'll begin at the beginning like,
which will let you into the whole history of the pale-face religion.
As we've had a smart walk, however, and here is the bear's meat safe
and sound, just as you left it, let us sit down a bit on this trunk
of a tree, while I give you our tradition from beginning to end, as
it might be. In the first place, Chippewa, the earth was made
without creatures of any sort to live on it--not so much as a
squirrel or a woodchuck."

"Poor country to hunt in, dat," observed the Chippewa quietly, while
le Bourdon was wiping his forehead after removing his cap. "Ojebways
stay in it very little time."

"This, according to our belief, was before any Ojebway lived. At
length, God made a man, out of clay, and fashioned him, as we see
men fashioned and living all around us."

"Yes," answered the Chippewa, nodding his head in assent. "Den
Manitou put plenty blood in him--dat make red warrior. Bible good
book, if tell dat tradition."

"The Bible says nothing about any colors; but we suppose the man
first made to have been a pale-face. At any rate, the pale-faces
have got possession of the best parts of the earth, as it might be,
and I think they mean to keep them. First come, first served, you
know. The pale-faces are many, and are strong."

"Stop!" exclaimed Pigeonswing, in a way that was very unusual for an
Indian to interrupt another when speaking; "want to ask question--
how many pale-face you t'ink is dere? Ebber count him?"

"Count him!--Why, Chippewa, you might as well count the bees, as
they buzz around a fallen tree. You saw me cut down the tree I last
discovered, and saw the movement of the little animals, and may
judge what success tongue or eye would have in counting THEM; now,
just as true would it be to suppose that any man could count the
pale-faces on this earth."

"Don't want count ALL," answered Pigeonswing. "Want to know how many
dis side of great salt lake."

"That's another matter, and more easily come at. I understand you
now, Chippewa; you wish to know how many of us there are in the
country we call America?"

"Juss so," returned Pigeonswing, nodding in assent. "Dat juss it--
juss what Injin want to know."

"Well, we do have a count of our own people, from time to time, and
I suppose come about as near to the truth as men can come in such a
matter. There must be about eight millions of us altogether; that
is, old and young, big and little, male and female."

"How many warrior you got?--don't want hear about squaw and
pappoose."

"No, I see you're warlike this morning, and want to see how we are
likely to come out of this struggle with your great Canada father.
Counting all round, I think we might muster hard on upon a million
of fighting men--good, bad, and indifferent; that is to say, there
must be a million of us of proper age to go into the wars."

Pigeonswing made no answer for near a minute. Both he and the bee-
hunter had come to a halt alongside of the bear's meat, and the
latter was beginning to prepare his own portion of the load for
transportation, while his companion stood thus motionless, lost in
thought. Suddenly, Pigeonswing recovered his recollection, and
resumed the conversation, by saying:

"What million mean, Bourdon? How many time so'ger at Detroit, and
so'ger on lakes?"

"A million is more than the leaves on all the trees in these
openings"--le Bourdon's notions were a little exaggerated, perhaps,
but this was what he SAID--"yes, more than the leaves on all these
oaks, far and near. A million is a countless number, and I suppose
would make a row of men as long as from this spot to the shores of
the great salt lake, if not farther."

It is probable that the bee-hunter himself had no very clear notion
of the distance of which he spoke, or of the number of men it would
actually require to fill the space he mentioned; but his answer
sufficed deeply to impress the imagination of the Indian, who now
helped le Bourdon to secure his load to his back, in silence,
receiving the same service in return. When the meat of the bear was
securely bestowed, each resumed his rifle, and the friends commenced
their march in, toward the chiente; conversing, as they went, on the
matter which still occupied their minds. When the bee-hunter again
took up the history of the creation, it was to speak of our common
mother.

"You will remember, Chippewa," he said, "that I told you nothing on
the subject of any woman. What I have told you, as yet, consarned
only the first MAN, who was made out of clay, into whom God breathed
the breath of life."

"Dat good--make warrior fuss. Juss right. When breat' in him, fit to
take scalp, eh?"

"Why, as to that, it is not easy to see whom he was to scalp, seeing
that he was quite alone in the world, until it pleased his Creator
to give him a woman for a companion."

"Tell 'bout dat," returned Pigeonswing, with interest--"tell how he
got squaw."

"Accordin' to the Bible, God caused this man to fall into a deep
sleep, when he took one of his ribs, and out of that he made a squaw
for him. Then he put them both to live together, in a most beautiful
garden, in which all things excellent and pleasant was to be found--
some such place as these openings, I reckon."

"Any bee dere?" asked the Indian, quite innocently. "Plenty honey,
eh?"

"That will I answer for! It could hardly be otherwise, when it was
the intention to make the first man and first woman perfectly happy.
I dare say, Chippewa, if the truth was known, it would be found that
bees was a sipping at every flower in that most delightful garden!"

"Why pale-face quit dat garden, eh? Why come here to drive poor
Injin 'way from game? Tell me dat, Bourdon, if he can? Why pale-face
ever leave DAT garden, when he so han'some, eh?"

"God turned him out of it, Chippewa--yes, he was turned OUT of it,
with shame on his face, for having disobeyed the commandments of his
Creator. Having left the garden, his children have scattered over
the face of the earth."

"So come here to drive off Injin! Well, dat 'e way wid pale-face I
Did ever hear of red man comin' to drive off pale-face?"

"I have heard of your red warriors often coming to take our scalps,
Chippewa. More or less of this has been done every year, since our
people have landed in America. More than that they have not done,
for we are too many to be driven very far in, by a few scattering
tribes of Injins."

"T'ink, den, more pale-face dan Injin, eh?" asked the Chippewa, with
an interest so manifest that he actually stopped in his semi-trot,
in order to put the question. "More pale-face warrior dan red men?"

"More! Aye, a thousand times more, Chippewa. Where you could show
one warrior, we could show a thousand!"

Now, this was not strictly true, perhaps, but it answered the
purpose of deeply impressing the Chippewa with the uselessness of
Peter's plans, and sustained as it was by his early predilections,
it served to keep him on the right side, in the crisis which was
approaching. The discourse continued, much in the same strain, until
the men got in with their bear's meat, having been preceded some
time by the others, with the venison.

It is a little singular that neither the questions, nor the manner
of Pigeonswing, awakened any distrust in the bee-hunter. So far from
this, the latter regarded all that had passed as perfectly natural,
and as likely to arise in conversation, in the way of pure
speculation, as in any other manner. Pigeonswing intended to be
guarded in what he said and did, for, as yet, he had not made up his
mind which side he would really espouse, in the event of the great
project coming to a head. He had the desire, natural to a red man,
to avenge the wrongs committed against his race; but this desire
existed in a form a good deal mitigated by his intercourse with the
"Yankees," and his regard for individuals. It had, nevertheless,
strangely occurred to the savage reasoning of this young warrior
that possibly some arrangement might be effected, by means of which
he should take scalps from the Canadians, while Peter and his other
followers were working their will on the Americans. In this confused
condition was the mind of the Chippewa, when he and his companion
threw down their loads, near the place where the provision of game
was usually kept. This was beneath the tree, near the spring and the
cook-house, in order that no inconvenience should arise from its
proximity to the place where the party dwelt and slept. For a siege,
should there be occasion to shut themselves up within the
"garrison," the men depended on the pickled pork, and a quantity of
dried meat; of the latter of which the missionary had brought a
considerable supply in his own canoe. Among these stores were a few
dozen of buffaloes' or bisons' tongues, a delicacy that would honor
the best table in the civilized world, though then so common among
the western hunters, as scarce to be deemed food as good as the
common salted pork and beef of the settlements.

The evening that followed proved to be one of singular softness and
sweetness. The sun went down in a cloudless sky, and gentle airs
from the southwest fanned the warm cheeks of Margery, as she sat,
resting from the labors of the day, with le Bourdon at her side,
speaking of the pleasures of a residence in such a spot. The youth
was eloquent, for he felt all that he said, and the maiden was
pleased. The young man could expatiate on bees in a way to arrest
any one's attention; and Margery delighted to hear him relate his
adventures with these little creatures; his successes, losses, and
journeys.

"But are you not often lonely, Bourdon, living here in the openings,
whole summers at a time, without a living soul to speak to?"
demanded Margery, coloring to the eyes, the instant the question was
asked, lest it should subject her to an imputation against which her
modesty revolted, that of wishing to draw the discourse to a
discussion on the means of preventing this solitude in future.

"I have not been, hitherto," answered le Bourdon, so frankly as at
once to quiet his companion's sensitiveness, "though I will not
answer for the future. Now that I have so many with me, we may make
some of them necessary. Mind--I say SOME, not all of my present
guests. If I could have my pick, pretty Margery, the present company
would give me ALL I can desire, and more too. I should not think of
going to Detroit for that companion, since she is to be found so
much nearer."

Margery blushed, and looked down--then she raised her eyes, smiled,
and seemed grateful as well as pleased. By this time she had become
accustomed to such remarks, and she had no difficulty in discovering
her lover's wishes, though he had never been more explicit. The
reflections natural to her situation threw a shade of gentle
seriousness over her countenance, rendering her more charming than
ever, and causing the youth to plunge deeper and deeper into the
meshes that female influence had cast around him, In all this,
however, one of the parties was governed by a manly sincerity, and
the other by girlish artlessness. Diffidence, one of the most
certain attendants of a pure passion, alone kept le Bourdon from
asking Margery to become his wife; while Margery herself sometimes
doubted whether it were possible that any reputable man could wish
to connect himself and his fortunes with a family that had sunk as
low as persons could well sink, in this country, and not lose their
characters altogether. With these doubts and distrusts, so naturally
affecting the mind of each, these young people were rapidly becoming
more and more enamored; the bee-hunter betraying his passion in the
close, absorbed attentions that more properly belong to his sex,
while that of Margery was to be seen in sudden blushes, the
thoughtful brow, the timid glance, and a cast of tenderness that
came over her whole manner, and, as it might be, her whole being.

While our young folk were thus employed, now conversing cheerfully,
now appearing abstracted and lost in thought, though seated side by
side, le Bourdon happened to look behind him, and saw that Peter was
regarding them with one of those intense, but mysterious expressions
of the countenance, that had, now, more than once attracted his
attention; giving reason, each time, for a feeling in which doubt,
curiosity, and apprehension were singularly mingled, even in
himself.

At the customary hour, which was always early, in that party of
simple habits, the whole family sought its rest; the females
withdrew within the chiente, while the males arranged their skins
without. Ever since the erection of the palisades, le Bourdon had
been in the habit of calling Hive within the defences, leaving him
at liberty to roam about inside, at pleasure. Previously to this new
arrangement, the dog had been shut up in his kennel, in order to
prevent his getting on the track of a deer, or in close combat with
some bear, when his master was not present to profit by his efforts.
As the palisades were too high for his leap, this putting him at
liberty within them answered the double purpose of giving the
mastiff room for healthful exercise, and of possessing a most
vigilant sentinel against dangers of all sorts. On the present
occasion, however, the dog was missing, and after calling and
whistling for him some time, the bee-hunter was fain to bar the
gate, and leave him on the outside. This done, he sought his skin,
and was soon asleep.

It was midnight, when the bee-hunter felt a hand laid on his own
arm. It was the corporal, making this movement, in order to awake
him. In an instant the young man was on his feet, with his rifle in
his hand.

"Did you not hear it, Bourdon?" demanded the corporal, in a tone so
low as scarce to exceed a whisper.

"Hear what! I've been sleeping, sound as a bee in winter."

"The horn!--The horn has been blown twice, and, I think, we shall
soon hear it again."

"The horn was hanging at the door of the chiente, and the conch,
too. It will be easy to see if they are in their places."

It was only necessary to walk around the walls of the hut, to its
opposite side, in order to ascertain this fact. Le Bourdon did so,
accompanied by the corporal, and just as each laid a hand on the
instruments, which were suspended in their proper places, a heavy
rush was made against the gate, as if to try its fastenings. These
pushes were repeated several times, with a violence that menaced the
bars. Of course, the two men stepped to the spot, a distance of only
a few paces, the gateway of the palisades and the door of the
chiente being contiguous to each other, and immediately ascertained
that it was the mastiff, endeavoring to force his way in. The bee-
hunter admitted the dog, which had been trained to suppress his
bark, though this animal was too brave and large to throw away his
breath when he had better rely on his force. Powerful animals, of
this race, are seldom noisy, it being the province of the cur, both
among dogs and men, to be blustering and spitting out their venom,
at all hours and seasons. Hive, however, in addition to his natural
disposition, had been taught, from the time he was a pup, not to
betray his presence unnecessarily by a bark; and it was seldom that
his deep throat opened beneath the arches of the oaks. When it did,
it told like the roaring of the lion in the desert.

Hive was no sooner admitted to the "garrison," than he manifested
just as strong a desire to get out, as a moment before he had
manifested to get in. This, le Bourdon well knew, indicated the
presence of some thing, or creature, that did not properly belong to
the vicinity. After consulting with the corporal, Pigeonswing was
called; and leaving him as a sentinel at the gate, the two others
made a sortie. The corporal was as brave as a lion, and loved all
such movements, though he fully anticipated encountering savages,
while his companion expected an interview with bears.

As this movement was made at the invitation of the dog, it was
judiciously determined to let him act as pioneer, on the advance.
Previously to quitting the defences, however, the two adventurers
looked closely to their arms. Each examined the priming, saw that
his horn and pouch were accessible, and loosened his knife in its
sheath. The corporal, moreover, fixed his "baggonet," as he called
the formidable, glittering instrument that usually embellished the
end of his musket--a MUSKET being the weapon he chose to carry,
while the bee-hunter himself was armed with a long western RIFLE.




CHAPTER XVI.

     The raptures of a conqueror's mood
     Rushed burning through his frame;
     The depths of that green solitude
     Its torrents could not tame,
     Though stillness lay, with eve's last smile,
     Round those far fountains of the Nile
                               --MRS HEMANS.


When the bee-hunter and Corporal Flint thus went forth in midnight,
from the "garrison" of Castle Meal (Chateau au Miel), as the latter
would have expressed it, it was with no great apprehension of
meeting any other than a four-footed enemy, notwithstanding the
blast of the horn the worthy corporal supposed he had heard. The
movements of the dog seemed to announce such a result rather than
any other, for Hive was taken along as a sort of guide. Le Bourdon,
however, did not permit his mastiff to run off wide, but, having the
animal at perfect command, it was kept close to his own person.

The two men first moved toward the grove of the Kitchen, much to
Hive's discontent. The dog several times halted, and he whined, and
growled, and otherwise manifested his great dislike to proceed in
that direction. At length so decided did his resistance become, that
his master said to his companion:

"It seems to me best, corporal, to let the mastiff lead us. I have
never yet seen him so set on not going in one way, and on going in
another. Hive has a capital nose, and we may trust him."

"Forward," returned the corporal, wheeling short in the direction of
the dog; "one thing should be understood, however, Bourdon, which is
this--you must act as light troops in this sortie, and I as the main
body. If we come on the inimy, it will be your duty to skrimmage in
front as long as you can, and then fall back on your resarves. I
shall depend chiefly on the baggonet, which is the best tool to put
an Injin up with; and as he falls back, before my charge, we must
keep him under as warm a fire as possible. Having no cavalry, the
dog might be made useful in movements to the front and on our
flanks."

"Pooh, pooh, corporal, you're almost as much set in the notions of
your trade as Parson Amen is set in his idees about the lost tribes.
In my opinion there'll be more tribes FOUND in these openings before
the summer is over than we shall wish to meet. Let us follow the
dog, and see what will turn up." Hive WAS followed, and he took a
direction that led to a distant point in the openings, where not
only the trees were much thicker than common, but where a small
tributary of the Kalamazoo ran through a ravine, from the higher
lands adjacent into the main artery of all the neighboring
watercourses. The bee-hunter knew the spot well, having often drank
at the rivulet, and cooled his brow in the close shades of the
ravine, when heated by exertions in the more open grounds. In short,
the spot was one of the most eligible for concealment, coolness, and
pure water, within several miles of Castle Meal. The trees formed a
spacious grove around it, and, by means of the banks, their summits
and leaves answered the purpose of a perfect screen to those who
might descend into the ravine, or, it would be better to say, to the
bottom. Le Bourdon was no sooner satisfied that his mastiff was
proceeding toward the great spring which formed the rivulet at the
head of the ravine mentioned, than he suspected Indians might be
there. He had seen signs about the spot, which wore an appearance of
its having been used as a place of encampment--or for "camping out,"
as it is termed in the language of the west--and, coupling the sound
of the horn with the dog's movements, his quick apprehension seized
on the facts as affording reasonable grounds of distrust.
Consequently he resorted to great caution, as he and the corporal
entered the wood which surrounded the spring, and the small oval bit
of bottom that lay spread before it, like a little lawn. Hive was
kept close at his master's side, though he manifested a marked
impatience to advance. "Now, corporal," said the bee-hunter in a low
tone, "I think we have lined some savages to their holes. We will go
round the basin and descend to the bottom, in a close wood which
grows there. Did you see that?"

"I suppose I did," answered the corporal, who was as firm as a rock.
"You meant to ask me if I saw fire?"

"I did. The red men have lighted their council fire in this spot,
and have met to talk around it. Well, let 'em hearken to each
other's thoughts, if they will; we shall be neither the better nor
the worse for it."

"I don't know that. When the commander-in-chief calls together his
principal officers, something usually comes of it. Who knows but
this very council is called in order to take opinions on the subject
of besieging or of storming our new garrison? Prudent soldiers
should always be ready for the worst."

"I have no fear, so long as Peter is with us. That chief is listened
to by every red-skin; and while we have him among us there will be
little to care for. But we are getting near to the bottom and must
work our way through these bushes with as little noise as possible.
I will keep the dog quiet."

The manner in which that sagacious animal now behaved was truly
wonderful. Hive appeared to be quite as much aware of the necessity
of extreme caution as either of the men, and did not once attempt to
precede his master his own length. On one or two occasions he
actually discovered the best passages, and led his companions
through them with something like the intelligence of a human being.
Neither growl nor bark escaped him; on the contrary, even the
hacking breathing of an impatient dog was suppressed, precisely as
if the animal knew how near he was getting to the most watchful ears
in the world.

After using the greatest care, the bee-hunter and the corporal got
just such a station as they desired. It was within a very few feet
of the edge of the cover, but perfectly concealed, while small
openings enabled them to see all that was passing in their front. A
fallen tree, a relic of somewhat rare occurrence in the openings of
Michigan, even furnished them with a seat, while it rendered their
position less exposed. Hive placed himself at his master's side,
apparently trusting to other senses than that of sight for his
information, since he could see nothing of what was going on in
front.

As soon as the two men had taken their stations, and began to look
about them, a feeling of awe mingled with their curiosity. Truly,
the scene was one so very remarkable and imposing that it might have
filled more intellectual and better fortified minds with some such
sensation. The fire was by no means large, nor was it particularly
bright; but sufficient to cast a dim light on the objects within
reach of its rays. It was in the precise centre of a bit of bottom
land of about half an acre in extent, which was so formed and
surrounded, as to have something of the appearance of the arena of a
large amphitheatre. There was one break in the encircling rise of
ground, it is true, and that was at a spot directly opposite the
station of le Bourdon and his companion, where the rill which flowed
from the spring found a passage out toward the more open ground.
Branches shaded most of the mound, but the arena itself was totally
free from all vegetation but that which covered the dense and
beautiful sward with which it was carpeted. Such is a brief
description of the natural accessories of this remarkable scene.

But it was from the human actors, and their aspects, occupations,
movements, dress, and appearance generally, that the awe which came
over both the bee-hunter and the corporal had its origin. Of these,
near fifty were present, offering a startling force by their numbers
alone. Each man was a warrior, and each warrior was in his paint.
These were facts that the familiarity of the two white men with
Indian customs rendered only too certain. What was still more
striking was the fact that all present appeared to be chiefs; a
circumstance which went to show that an imposing body of red men was
most likely somewhere in the openings, and that too at no great
distance. It was while observing and reflecting on all these things,
a suspicion first crossed the mind of le Bourdon that this great
council was about to be held, at that midnight hour, and so near his
own abode, for the purpose of accommodating Peter, whose appearance
in the dark crowd, from that instant, he began to expect.

The Indians already present were not seated. They stood in groups
conversing, or stalked across the arena, resembling so many dark and
stately spectres. No sound was heard among them, a circumstance that
added largely to the wild and supernatural aspect of the scene. If
any spoke, it was in a tone so low and gentle, as to carry the sound
no farther than to the ears that were listening; two never spoke at
the same time and in the same group, while the moccasin permitted no
footfall to be audible. Nothing could have been more unearthly than
the picture presented in that little, wood-circled arena, of velvet-
like grass and rural beauty. The erect, stalking forms, half naked,
if not even more; the swarthy skins; the faces fierce in the savage
conceits which were intended to strike terror into the bosoms of
enemies, and the glittering eyes that fairly sparkled in their
midst, all contributed to the character of the scene, which le
Bourdon rightly enough imagined was altogether much the most
remarkable of any he had ever been in the way of witnessing.

Our two spectators might have been seated on the fallen tree half an
hour, all of which time they had been gazing at what was passing
before their eyes; with positively not a human sound to relieve the
unearthly nature of the picture. No one spoke, coughed, laughed, or
exclaimed, in all that period. Suddenly, every chief stood still,
and all the faces turned in the same direction. It was toward the
little gateway of the rill, which being the side of the arena most
remote from the bee-hunter and the corporal, lay nearly in darkness
as respected them. With the red men it must have been different, for
THEY all appeared to be in intent expectation of some one from that
quarter. Nor did they have to wait long; for, in half a minute, two
forms came out of the obscurity, advancing with a dignified and
deliberate tread to the centre of the arena. As these newcomers got
more within the influence of the flickering light, le Bourdon saw
that they were Peter and Parson Amen. The first led, with a slow,
imposing manner, while the other followed, not a little bewildered
with what he saw. It may be as well to explain here, that the Indian
was coming alone to this place of meeting, when he encountered the
missionary wandering among the oaks, looking for le Bourdon and the
corporal, and, instead of endeavoring to throw off this unexpected
companion, he quietly invited him to be of his own party.

It was evident to le Bourdon, at a glance, that Peter was expected,
though it was not quite so clear that such was the fact as regarded
his companion. Still, respect for the great chief prevented any
manifestations of surprise or discontent, and the medicine-man of
the pale-faces was received with as grave a courtesy as if he had
been an invited guest. Just as the two had entered the dark circle
that formed around them, a young chief threw some dry sticks on the
fire, which blazing upward, cast a stronger light on a row of as
terrifically looking countenances as ever gleamed on human forms.
This sudden illumination, with its accompanying accessories, had the
effect to startle all the white spectators, though Peter looked on
the whole with a calm like that of the leafless tree, when the cold
is at its height, and the currents of the wintry air are death-like
still Nothing appeared to move HIM, whether expected or not; though
use had probably accustomed his eye to all the aspects in which
savage ingenuity could offer savage forms. He even smiled, as he
made a gesture of recognition, which seemed to salute the whole
group. It was just then, when the fire burned brightest, and when
the chiefs pressed most within its influence, that le Bourdon
perceived that his old acquaintances, the head-men of the
Pottawattamies, were present, among the other chiefs so strangely
and portentously assembled in these grounds, which he had so long
possessed almost entirely to himself.

A few of the oldest of the chiefs now approached Peter, and a low
conversation took place between them. What was said did not reach le
Bourdon, of course; for it was not even heard in the dark circle of
savages who surrounded the fire. The effect of this secret dialogue,
however, was to cause all the chiefs to be seated, each taking his
place on the grass; the whole preserving the original circle around
the fire. Fortunately, for the wishes of le Bourdon, Peter and his
companions took their stations directly opposite to his own seat,
thus enabling him to watch every lineament of that remarkable
chief's still more remarkable countenance. Unlike each and all of
the red men around him, the face of Peter was not painted, except by
the tints imparted by nature; which, in his case, was that of copper
a little tarnished, or rendered dull by the action of the
atmosphere. The bee-hunter could distinctly trace every lineament;
nor was the dark roving eye beyond the reach of his own vision. Some
attention was given to the fire, too, one of the younger chiefs
occasionally throwing on it a few dried sticks, more to keep alive
the flame, and to renew the light, than from any need of warmth. One
other purpose, however, this fire DID answer; that of enabling the
young chiefs to light the pipes that were now prepared; it seldom
occurring that the chiefs thus assembled without SMOKING around
their council-fire.

As this smoking was just then more a matter of ceremony than for any
other purpose, a whiff or two suffices for each chief; the smoker
passing the pipe to his neighbor as soon as he had inhaled a few
puffs. The Indians are models of propriety, in their happiest moods,
and every one in that dark and menacing circle was permitted to have
his turn with the pipe, before any other step was taken. There were
but two pipes lighted, and mouths being numerous, some time was
necessary in order to complete this ceremony. Still, no sign of
impatience was seen, the lowest chief having as much respect paid to
his feelings, as related to his attention, as the highest. At length
the pipes completed their circuit, even Parson Amen getting, and
using, his turn, when a dead pause succeeded. The silence resembled
that of a Quaker meeting, and was broken only by the rising of one
of the principal chiefs, evidently about to speak. The language of
the great Ojebway nation was used on this occasion, most of the
chiefs present belonging to some one of the tribes of that stock,
though several spoke other tongues, English and French included. Of
the three whites present, Parson Amen alone fully comprehended all
that was said, he having qualified himself in this respect, to
preach to the tribes of that people; though le Bourdon understood
nearly all, and even the corporal comprehended a good deal. The name
of the chief who first spoke at this secret meeting, which was
afterward known among the Ojebways by the name of the "Council of
the Bottom Land, near to the spring of gushing water," was Bear's
Meat, an appellation that might denote a distinguished hunter,
rather than an orator of much renown.

"Brothers of the many tribes of the Ojebways," commenced this
personage, "the Great Spirit has permitted us to meet in council.
The Manitou of our fathers is now among these oaks, listening to our
words, and looking in at our hearts. Wise Indians will be careful
what they say in such a presence, and careful of what they think.
All should be said and thought for the best. We are a scattered
nation, and the time is come when we must stop in our tracks, or
travel beyond the sound of each other's cries. If we travel beyond
the hearing of our people, soon will our children learn tongues that
Ojebway ears cannot understand. The mother talks to her child, and
the child learns her words. But no child can hear across a great
lake. Once we lived near the rising sun. Where are we now? Some of
our young men say they have seen the sun go down in the lakes of
sweet water. There can be no hunting-grounds beyond THAT spot; and
if we would live, we must stand still in our tracks. How to do this,
we have met to consider.

"Brothers, many wise chiefs and braves are seated at this council-
fire. It is pleasant to my eyes to look upon them. Ottawas,
Chippeways, Pottawattamies, Menominees, Hurons, and all. Our father
at Quebec has dug up the hatchet against the Yankees. The war-path
is open between Detroit and all the villages of the red men. The
prophets are speaking to our people, and we listen. One is here; he
is about to speak. The council will have but a single sense, which
will be that of hearing."

Thus concluding, Bear's Meat took his seat, in the same composed and
dignified manner as that in which he had risen, and deep silence
succeeded. So profound was the stillness, that, taken in connection
with the dark lineaments, the lustrous eyeballs that threw back the
light of the fire, the terrific paint and the armed hands of every
warrior present, the picture might be described as imposing to a
degree that is seldom seen in the assemblies of the civilized. In
the midst of this general but portentous calm, Peter arose. The
breathing of the circle grew deeper, so much so as to be audible,
the only manner in which the intensity of the common expectation
betrayed itself. Peter was an experienced orator, and knew how to
turn every minutiae of his art to good account. His every movement
was deliberate, his attitude highly dignified--even his eye seemed
eloquent.

Oratory! what a power art thou, wielded, as is so often the case, as
much for evil as for good. The very reasoning that might appear to
be obtuse, or which would be over looked entirely when written and
published, issuing from the mouth, aided by the feelings of sympathy
and the impulses of the masses, seems to partake of the wisdom of
divinity. Thus is it, also, with the passions, the sense of wrong,
the appeals to vengeance, and all the other avenues of human
emotion. Let them be addressed to the cold eye of reason and
judgment, in the form of written statements, and the mind pauses to
weigh the force of arguments, the justice of the appeals, the truth
of facts: but let them come upon the ear aided by thy art, with a
power concentrated by sympathy, and the torrent is often less
destructive in its course, than that of the whirlwind that thou
canst awaken!

"Chiefs of the great Ojebway nation, I wish you well," said Peter,
stretching out his arms toward the circle, as if desirous of
embracing all present. "The Manitou has been good to me. He has
cleared a path to this spring, and to this council-fire. I see
around it the faces of many friends. Why should we not all be
friendly? Why should a red man ever strike a blow against a red man?
The Great Spirit made us of the same color, and placed us on the
same hunting-grounds. He meant that we should hunt in company; not
take each other's scalps. How many warriors have fallen in our
family wars? Who has counted them? Who can say? Perhaps enough, had
they not been killed, to drive the pale-faces into the sea!"

Here Peter, who as yet had spoken only in a low and barely audible
voice, suddenly paused, in order to allow the idea he had just
thrown out to work on the minds of his listeners. That it was
producing its effect was apparent by the manner in which one stern
face turned toward another, and eye seemed to search in eye some
response to a query that the mind suggested, though no utterance was
given to it with the tongue. As soon, however, as the orator thought
time sufficient to impress that thought on the memories of the
listeners had elapsed, he resumed, suffering his voice gradually to
increase in volume, as he warmed with his subject.

"Yes," he continued, "the Manitou has been very kind. Who is the
Manitou? Has any Indian ever seen him? Every Indian has seen him. No
one can look on the hunting-grounds, on the lakes, on the prairies,
on the trees, on the game, without seeing his hand. His face is to
be seen in the sun at noonday; his eyes in the stars at night. Has
any Indian ever heard the Manitou? When it thunders, he speaks. When
the crash is loudest, then he scolds. Some Indian has done wrong.
Perhaps one red man has taken another red man's scalp!"

Another pause succeeded, briefer, and less imposing than the first,
but one that sufficed to impress on the listeners anew, the great
evil of an Indian's raising his hand against an Indian.

"Yes, there is no one so deaf as not to hear the voice of the Great
Spirit when he is angry," resumed Peter. "Ten thousands of buffalo
bulls, roaring together, do not make as much noise as his whisper.
Spread the prairies, and the openings, and the lakes, before him,
and he can be heard in all, and on all, at the same time.

"Here is a medicine-priest of the pale-faces; he tells me that the
voice of the Manitou reaches into the largest villages of his
people, beneath the rising sun, when it is heard by the red man
across the great lakes, and near the rocks of the setting sun. It is
a loud voice; woe to him who does not remember it. It speaks to all
colors, and to every people, and tribe, and nation.

"Brothers, that is a lying tradition which says, there is one
Manitou for a Sac, and another for the Ojebway--one Manitou for the
red man, and another for the pale-face. In this, we are alike. One
Great Spirit made all; governs all; rewards all; punishes all. He
may keep the happy hunting-grounds of an Indian separate from the
white man's heaven, for he knows that their customs are different,
and what would please a warrior would displease a trader; and what
would please a trader would displease a warrior. He has thought of
these things, and has made several places for the spirits of the
good, let their colors be what they may. Is it the same with the
places of the spirits of the bad? I think not. To me it would seem
best to let THEM go together, that they may torment one another. A
wicked Indian and a wicked pale-face would make a bad neighborhood.
I think the Manitou will let THEM go together.

"Brothers, if the Manitou keeps the good Indian and the good pale-
face apart in another world, what has brought them together in this?
If he brings the bad spirits of all colors together in another
world, why should they come together here, before their time? A
place for wicked spirits should not be found on earth. This is
wrong; it must be looked into.

"Brothers, I have now done; this pale-face wishes to speak, and I
have said that you would hear his words. When he has spoken his
mind, I may have more to tell you. Now, listen to the stranger. He
is a medicine-priest of the white men, and says he has a great
secret to tell our people--when he has told it, I have another for
their ears too. Mine must be spoken when there is no one near but
the children of red clay."

Having thus opened the way for the missionary, Peter courteously
took his seat, producing a little disappointment among his own
admirers, though he awakened a lively curiosity to know what this
medicine-priest might have to say on an occasion so portentous. The
Indians in the regions of the great lakes had long been accustomed
to missionaries, and it is probable that even some of their own
traditions, so far as they related to religious topics, had been
insensibly colored by, if not absolutely derived from, men of this
character; for the first whites who are known to have penetrated
into that portion of the continent were Jesuits, who carried the
cross as their standard and emblem of peace. Blessed emblem! that
any should so confound their own names and denunciatory practices
with the revealed truth, as to imagine that a standard so
appropriate should ever be out of season and place, when it is
proper for man to use aught, at all, that is addressed to his
senses, in the way of symbols, rites, and ceremonies! To the Jesuits
succeeded the less ceremonious and less imposing priesthood of
America, as America peculiarly was in the first years that followed
the Revolution. There is reason to believe that the spirit of God,
in a greater or less degree, accompanied all; for all were self-
denying and zealous, though the fruits of near two centuries of
labor have, as yet, amounted to little more than the promise of the
harvest at some distant day. Enough, however, was known of the
missionaries, and their views in general, to prepare the council, in
some small degree, for the forthcoming exhibition.

Parson Amen had caught some of the habits of the Indians, in the
course of years of communication and intercourse. Like them he had
learned to be deliberate, calm, and dignified in his exterior; and,
like them, he had acquired a sententious mode of speaking.

"My children," he said, for he deemed it best to assume the parental
character, in a scene of so great moment, "as Peter has told you,
the spirit of God is among you! Christians know that such has he
promised to be always with his people, and I see faces in this
circle that I am ready to claim as belonging to those who have
prayed with me, in days that are long past. If your souls are not
touched by divine love, it does not kill the hope I entertain of
your yet taking up the cross, and calling upon the Redeemer's name.
But, not for this have I come with Peter, this night. I am now here
to lay before you an all-important fact, that Providence has
revealed to me, as the fruit of long labor in the vineyard of study
and biblical inquiry. It is a tradition--and red men love
traditions--it is a tradition that touches your own history, and
which it will gladden your hearts to hear, for it will teach you how
much your nation and tribes have been the subject of the especial
care and love of the Great Spirit. When my children say, speak, I
shall be ready to speak."

Here the missionary took his seat, wisely awaiting a demonstration
on the part of the council, ere he ventured to proceed any further.
This was the first occasion on which he had ever attempted to
broach, in a direct form, his favorite theory of the "lost tribes."
Let a man get once fairly possessed of any peculiar notion, whether
it be on religion, political economy, morals, politics, arts, or
anything else, and he sees little beside his beloved principle,
which he is at all times ready to advance, defend, demonstrate, or
expatiate on. Nothing can be simpler than the two great dogmas of
Christianity, which are so plain that all can both comprehend them
and feel their truth. They teach us to love God, the surest way to
obey him, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. Any one can
understand this; all can see how just it is, and how much of moral
sublimity it contains. It is Godlike, and brings us near the very
essence of the Divinity, which is love, mercy, and truth. Yet how
few are content to accept the teachings of the Saviour in this
respect, without embarrassing them with theories that have so much
of their origin in human fancies. We do not mean by this, however,
that Parson Amen was so very wrong in bestowing a part of his
attention on that wonderful people, who, so early set apart by the
Creator as the creatures of his own especial ends, have already
played so great a part in the history of nations, and who are
designed, so far as we can penetrate revelation, yet to enact their
share in the sublime drama of human events.

As for the council, its members were moved by more than ordinary
curiosity to hear what further the missionary might have to say,
though all present succeeded admirably in suppressing the
exhibition of any interest that might seem weak and womanly. After a
decent delay, therefore, Bear's Meat intimated to the parson that it
would be agreeable to the chiefs present to listen to him further.

"My children, I have a great tradition to tell you," the missionary
resumed, as soon as on his feet again; "a very great and divine
tradition; not a tradition of man's, but one that came direct from
the Manitou himself. Peter has spoken truth; there is but one Great
Spirit; he is the Great Spirit of all colors, and tribes, and
nations. He made all men of the same clay." Here a slight sensation
was perceptible among the audience, most of whom were very decidedly
of a different opinion, on this point of natural history. But the
missionary was now so far warmed with his subject as to disregard
any slight interruption, and proceeded as if his listeners had
betrayed no feeling. "And he divided them afterward into nations and
tribes. It was then he caused the color of his creatures to change.
Some he kept white, as he had made them. Some he put behind a dark
cloud, and they became altogether black. Our wise men think that
this was done in punishment for their sins. Some he painted red,
like the nations on this continent." Here Peter raised a finger, in
sign that he would ask a question; for, without permission granted,
no Indian would interrupt the speaker. Indeed, no one of less claims
than Peter would hardly have presumed to take the step he now did,
and that because he saw a burning curiosity gleaming in the bright
eyes of so many in the dark circle.

"Say on, Peter," answered the missionary to this sign; "I will
reply."

"Let my brother say WHY the Great Spirit turned the Indian to a red
color. Was he angry with him? or did he paint him so out of love?"

"This is more than I can tell you, friends. There are many colors
among men, in different parts of the world, and many shades among
people of the same color. There are pale-faces fair as the lily, and
there are pale-faces so dark, as scarcely to be distinguished from
blacks. The sun does much of this; but no sun, nor want of sun, will
ever make a pale-face a red-skin, or a red skin a pale-face."

"Good--that is what we Indians say. The Manitou has made us
different; he did not mean that we should live on the same hunting-
grounds," rejoined Peter, who rarely failed to improve every
opportunity in order to impress on the minds of his followers the
necessity of now crushing the serpent in its shell.

"No man can say that," answered Parson Amen. "Unless my people had
come to this continent, the word of God could not have been preached
by me, along the shores of these lakes. But I will now speak of our
great tradition. The Great Spirit divided mankind into nations and
tribes. When this was done, he picked out one for his chosen people.
The pale-faces call that favorite, and for a long time much-favored
people, Jews. The Manitou led them through a wilderness, and even
through a salt lake, until they reached a promised land, where he
permitted them to live for many hundred winters. A great triumph was
to come out of that people--the triumphs of truth and of the law,
over sin and death. In the course of time--"

Here a young chief rose, made a sign of caution, and crossing the
circle rapidly, disappeared by the passage through which the rill
flowed. In about a minute he returned, showing the way into the
centre of the council to one whom all present immediately recognized
as a runner, by his dress and equipments. Important news was at
hand; yet not a man of all that crowd either rose or spoke, in
impatience to learn what it was!




CHAPTER XVII.

   Who will believe that, with a smile whose blessing
     Would, like the patriarch's, soothe a dying hour;
   With voice as low, as gentle, and caressing
     As e'er won maiden's lips in moonlight bower;

   With look like patient Job's, eschewing evil;
     With motions graceful as the birds in air;
   Thou art, in sober truth, the veriest devil
     That e'er clinched fingers in a captive's hair?
                                        --HALLECK'S Red-Jacket.


Although the arrival of the runner was so totally unexpected, it
scarcely disturbed the quiet of that grave assembly. His approaching
step had been heard, and he was introduced in the manner mentioned,
when the young chief resumed his seat, leaving the messenger
standing near the centre of the circle, and altogether within the
influence of the light. He was an Ottawa, and had evidently
travelled far and fast. At length he spoke; no one having put a
single question to him, or betrayed the least sign of impatient
curiosity.

"I come to tell the chiefs what has happened," said the runner. "Our
Great Father from Quebec has sent his young men against the Yankees.
Red warriors, too, were there in hundreds--" here a murmur of
interest was slightly apparent among the chiefs--"their path led
them to Detroit; it is taken."

A low murmur, expressive of satisfaction, passed round the circle,
for Detroit was then the most important of all the posts held by the
Americans, along the whole line of the great lakes. Eye met eye in
surprise and admiration; then one of the older chiefs yielded to his
interest in the subject, and inquired:

"Have our young men taken many pale-face scalps?"

"So few that they are not worth co