University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.

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 towards 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 villian.”

“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 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[1] 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
labour 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,
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 Nation, 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 scalp. 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 was 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 câche; 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 first 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, after
wards, 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 different 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 towards 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?[2] 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 of 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 together
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
honourable 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 themselves
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 `ist,' 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 labouring 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 inmost soul, a fiery hatred of each would have
been found to be its predominate feeling. But Corporal

Flint fondly fancied he was making a concealed march
with an ally, while he thus accompanied one of the fiercest
enomies 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 Tecumthe
and his brother, though his consummate art kept him behind
a veil, while the others were known and recognised
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 seem 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 an 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 towards the chief
attentions and feelings such as a daughter is apt to exhibit
towards 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 savoury
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 gaiety 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 favour 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 chienté. 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, store-house, &c., 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.