 | CHAPTER IX. The oak openings, or, The bee-hunter |  |
9. CHAPTER IX.
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 fings 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
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 odour 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 clue, and where the
odour 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 endeavoured to lead him
towards 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
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 odour 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
favourable 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 towards 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 favourably
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
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-plant, 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
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 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
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 towards 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, Wolfeye 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 this 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 endeavouring 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 Pottawattamies!”
exclaimed this savage, rising to his feet in
astonishment; “this is 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
“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-free” 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 must they go near the spring. It would be better for
the chiefs to lead away their young men, and make them
stand under that 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
attention.
In the meanwhile, le Bourdon continued his incantations
aloud; walking towards his canoe, waving his wand, 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 upwards
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 Bourbon braced
his nerves for the final trial. On looking for his paddle,
when he left it, not 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 towards 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.
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
towards the middle of the river. Once within this
little forest of the wild rice, he was enabled to drag the
canoe further and further 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
bee-hunter 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
plashes 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 Bourbon soon felt assured that the swimmers were within
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 is 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
that might direct his future movements.
By this time, the savages had 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 towards
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 plashing 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,
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 towards 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
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 endeavoured
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 find 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 humour. As the bee-hunter
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 IX. The oak openings, or, The bee-hunter | |