University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.

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 labour. 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 chienté was
soon constructed, which, though wanting in the completeness
and strength of Castle Meal, was sufficient for the
wants of these sojourners in a 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 chienté, that nothing but the presence of such an 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 savoury; 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 rail-way,
gratis, much in honour of the good things left behind the
several writers, in the “Region of the Rock;” 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 neighbours; 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 preparing a venison steak, a professed
cook was not her superior. She also understood
various little mysteries, in the way of converting the 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 Café 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 insterstices 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 unncessary 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
reg'lar garrison!”

“Ay, 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 laboured 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 of the 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 neighbour 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
dishonour, 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 demeanour; 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 chief's
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 labours, 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 this Sabbath; thus slowly, but inevitably, alienating
themselves more and more from the dread Being who
established the festival, as much in his own honour 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 labour, 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 entrenchments “resting from their labours,”
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
labour 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 behaviour 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 countries 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
places 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 towards 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 staylathed,
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
chienté, and both the females expressed their obligations to
their friends for having taken this important step towards
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 labourers 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 chienté,
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 chienté, and, in a moment, he was on his feet.

By this time, the corporal was a-foot, 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
chienté, 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 towards 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 honour. Nebber turn back
on friend; dat my way.”

“Chippewa, who blew the blast on the horn?—can you
tell me that?”

“Why you don't ask Peter? He wise chief — know
ebberyt'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 towards the mysterious
savage, which the incidents and communications of the
last two weeks had had a strong tendency to put to sleep.