University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

Whittier.

No other disturbance occurred in the course of the night.
With the dawn, le Bourdon was again stirring; and as he
left the palisades to repair to the run, in order to make his
ablutions, he saw Peter returning to Castle Meal. The
two met; but no allusion was made to the manner in which
the night had passed. The chief paid his salutations courteously;
and, instead of repairing to his skins, he joined le
Bourdon, seemingly as little inclined to seek for rest, as if
just arisen from his lair. When the bee-hunter left the
spring, this mysterious Indian, for the first time, spoke of
business.

“My brother wanted to-day to show Injin how to find
honey,” said Peter, as he and Bourdon walked towards the
palisades, within which the whole family was now moving.
“I nebber see honey find, myself, ole as I be.”

“I shall be very willing to teach your chiefs my craft,”
answered the bee-hunter, “and this so much the more
readily, because I do not expect to practyse it much longer,
myself; not in this part of the country, at least.”

“How dat happen?—expec' go away soon?” demanded
Peter, whose keen, restless eye would, at one instant, seem

to read his companion's soul, and then would glance off to
some distant object, as if conscious of its own startling
and fiery expression. “Now Brish got Detroit, where my
broder go? Bess stay here, I t'ink.”

“I shall not be in a hurry, Peter; but my season will
soon be up, and I must get ahead of the bad weather,
you know, or a bark canoe will have but a poor time of
it on Lake Huron. When am I to meet the chiefs, to give
them a lesson in finding bees?”

“Tell by-'em-by. No hurry for dat. Want to sleep
fuss. See so much better, when I open eye. So you t'ink
of makin' journey on long path. If can't go to Detroit,
where can go to?”

“My proper home is in Pennsylvany, on the other side
of Lake Erie. It is a long path, and I'm not certain of
getting safely over it in these troubled times. Perhaps it
would be best for me, however, to shape at once for Ohio;
if in that state I might find my way round the end of Erie,
and so go the whole distance by land.”

The bee-hunter said this, by way of throwing dust into
the Indian's eyes, for he had not the least intention of travelling
in the direction named. It is true, it was his most
direct course, and the one that prudence would point out
to him, under all the circumstances, had he been alone.
But le Bourdon was no longer alone, in heart and feelings,
at least. Margery now mingled with all his views for the
future; and he could no more think of abandoning her in
her present situation, than he could of offering his own
person to the savages for a sacrifice. It was idle to think
of attempting such a journey in company with the females,
and most of all to attempt it in defiance of the ingenuity,
perseverance, and hostility of the Indians. The trail could
not be concealed; and, as for speed, a party of the young
men of the wilderness would certainly travel two miles to
Margery's one.

Le Bourdon, notwithstanding Pigeonswing's remonstrances,
still had his eye on the Kalamazoo. He remembered
the saying, “That water leaves no trail,” and was
not without hopes of reaching the lake again, where he
felt he should be in comparative security; his own canoe,
as well as that of Gershom, being large, well fitted, and not

altogether unsuited to those waters, in the summer months
As it would be of the last importance, however, to get several
hours' start of the Indians, in the event of his having
recourse to such a mode of flight, it was of the utmost
importance also to conceal his intentions, and, if possible, to
induce Peter to imagine his eyes were turned in another
direction.

“Well, s'pose go dat way,” answered the chief, quietly,
as if suspecting no artifice. “Set 'bout him by-'em-by.
To-day muss teach Injin how to find honey. Dat make
him good friend; and maybe he help my pale-face broders
back to deir country. Been better for ebberybody, if none
come here, at all.”

Thus ended the discourse for that moment. Peter was
not fond of much talking, when he had not his great object
in view, but rather kept his mind occupied in observation.
For the next hour, every one in and about Castle Meal was
engaged in the usual morning avocations, that of breaking
their fasts included; and then it was understood that all
were to go forth to meet the chiefs, that le Bourdon might
give a specimen of his craft.

One, ignorant of the state of political affairs on the
American continent, and who was not aware of the vicinity
of savages, would have seen nothing that morning, as the
party proceeded on its little excursion, in and around that
remote spot, but a picture of rural tranquillity and peace.
A brighter day never poured its glories on the face of the
earth; and the openings, and the glades, and even the dark
and denser forests, were all bathed in the sun-light, as that
orb is known to illuminate objects in the softer season of
the year, and in the forty-third degree of latitude. Even
the birds appeared to rejoice in the beauties of the time,
and sang and fluttered among the oaks, in numbers greater
than common. Nature usually observes a stern fitness in
her adaptation of means to ends. Birds are to be found
in the forests, on the prairies, and in the still untenanted
openings of the west — and often in countless numbers;
more especially those birds which fly in flocks, and love the
security of unoccupied regions — unoccupied by man is
meant—wherein to build their nests, obey the laws of their
instincts, and fulfil their destinies. Thus, myriads of

pigeons, and ducks, and geese, &c., are to be found in the
virgin woods, while the companionable and friendly robin,
the little melodious wren, the thrush, the lark, the swallow,
the marten, and all those pleasant little winged creatures,
that flit about our dwellings and grounds, and seem to be
sent by Providence, expressly to chant their morning and
evening hymns to God in our ears, most frequent the peopled
districts. It has been said by Europeans that the
American birds are mute, in comparison with those of the
Old World. This is true, to a certain extent, as respects
those which are properly called forest birds, which do, in
general, appear to partake of the sombre character that
marks the solemn stillness of their native haunts. It is not
true, however, with the birds which live in our fields, and
grounds, and orchards, each of which sings its song of
praise, and repeats its calls and its notes, as richly and as
pleasantly to the ear, as the birds of other lands. One large
class, indeed, possesses a faculty that enables it to repeat
every note it has ever heard, even to some of the sounds of
quadrupeds. Nor is this done in the discordant tones of
the parrot; but in octaves, and trills, and in rich contraaltos,
and all the other pleasing intonations known to the
most gifted of the feathered race. Thus it is, that one
American mocking-bird can outsing all the birds of Europe,
united.

It seemed that morning as if every bird that was accustomed
to glean its food from the neighbourhood of Castle
Meal, was on the wing, and ready to accompany the party
that now sallied forth to catch the bee. This party consisted
of le Bourdon, himself, as its chief and leader; of
Peter, the missionary, and the corporal. Margery, too,
went along; for, as yet, she had never seen an exhibition
of Boden's peculiar skill. As for Gershom and his wife,
they remained behind, to make ready the noon-tide meal;
while the Chippewa took his accoutrements, and again sallied
out on a hunt. The whole time of this Indian appeared
to be thus taken up; though, in truth, venison and bear's
meat both abounded, and there was much less necessity for
those constant efforts than he wished to make it appear.
In good sooth, more than half his time was spent in making
those observations, which had led to the advice he had

been urging on his friend, the bee-hunter, in order to induce
him to fly. Had Pigeonswing better understood Peter, and
had he possessed a clearer insight into the extent and magnitude
of his plans of retributive vengeance, it is not probable
his uneasiness, at the moment, would have been so
great, or the urgency for an immediate decision on the part
of le Bourdon, would have appeared as urgently pressing
as it now seemed to be.

The bee-hunter took his way to a spot that was at some
distance from his habitation, a small prairie of circular
form, that is now generally known in that region of the
country, by the name of Prairie Round. Three hours were
necessary to reach it, and this so much the more, because
Margery's shorter steps were to be considered. Margery,
however, was no laggard on a path. Young, active, light
of foot, and trained in exertions of this nature, her presence
did not probably retard the arrival many minutes.

The extraordinary part of the proceedings was the circumstance,
that the bee-hunter did not tell any one whither
he was going, and that Peter did not appear to care about
putting the question to him. Notwithstanding this reserve
on one side, and seeming indifference on the other, when
the party reached Prairie Round, every one of the chiefs
who had been present at the council of the previous night,
was there before it. The Indians were straggling about,
but remained sufficiently near the point where the bee-hunter
and his followers reached the prairie, to assemble
around the group in a very few minutes after it made its
appearance. All this struck le Bourdon as fearfully singular,
since it proved how many secret means of communication
existed between these savages. That the inmates of
the habitations were closely observed, and all their proceedings
noted, he could not but suspect, even before receiving
this proof of Peter's power; but he was not aware until
now, how completely he and all with him were at the mercy
of these formidable foes. What hope could there be for
escape, when hundreds of eyes were thus watching their
movements, and every thicket had its vigilant and sagacious
sentinel? Yet, must flight be attempted, in some
way or other, or Margery and her sister would be hopelessly
lost; to say nothing of himself and the three other men.

But the appearance of the remarkable little prairie that
he had just reached, and the collection of chiefs, now occupied
all the present thoughts of le Bourdon. As for the
first, it is held in repute, even at the present hour, as a
place that the traveller should see, though covered with
farms, and the buildings that belong to husbandry. It is
still visited as a picture of ancient civilization, placed in
the setting of a new country. It is true that very little of
this part of Michigan wears much, if any, of that aspect
of a rough beginning, including stubs, stumps, and circled
trees, that it has so often fallen to our share to describe.
There are dense forests, and those of considerable extent;
and wherever the axe is put into them, the progress of improvement
is marked by the same steps as elsewhere; but
the lovely Openings form so many exceptions, as almost to
compose the rule.

On Prairie Round there was even a higher stamp of
seeming civilization—seeming, since it was nature, after all,
that had mainly drawn the picture. In the first place, the
spot had been burnt so recently, as to leave the entire
expanse covered with young grasses and flowers, the same
as if it were a well-kept park. This feature, at that advanced
period of the summer, was in some degree accidental,
the burning of the prairies depending more or less
on contingencies of that sort. We have now less to do
with the cause, than with its consequences. These were
most agreeable to the eye, as well as comfortable to the
foot, the grass nowhere being of a height to impede movement,
or, what was of still more importance to le Bourdon's
present pursuit, to overshadow the flowers. Aware
of this fact, he had led his companions all that distance, to
reach this scene of remarkable rural beauty, in order that
he might make a grand display of his art, in presence of
the assembled chiefs of that region. The bee-hunter had
pride in his craft, the same as any other skilful workman
who had gained a reputation by his cunning, and he now
trode the prairie with a firmer step, and a more kindling
eye, than was his wont, in the commoner haunts of his calling.
Men were there whom it might be an honour to surprise,
and pretty Margery was there also, she who had so
long desired to see this very exhibition.

But, to revert once more to the prairie, ere we commence
the narrative of what occurred on it! This well-known
area is of no great extent, possessing a surface about equal
to that of one of the larger parks of Europe. Its name
was derived from its form, which, without being absolutely
regular, had so near an approach to a circle as to justify
the use of the appellation. The face of this charming
field was neither waving, or what is called “rolling,” nor
a dead flat, as often occurs with river bottoms. It had just
enough of undulation to prevent too much moisture, and
to impart an agreeable variety to its plain. As a whole, it
was clear of the forest; quite as much so as if the axe had
done its work there a thousand years before, though wood
was not wanting. On the contrary, enough of the last was
to be seen, in addition to that which formed the frame of
this charming landscape, to relieve the view from all appearance
of monotony, and to break it up into copses,
thickets, trees in small clusters, and in most of the varieties
that embellish native scenery. One who had been unexpectedly
transferred to the spot, might well have imagined
that he was looking on the site of some old and long-established
settlement, from which every appliance of human
industry had been suddenly and simultaneously abstracted.
Of houses, out-buildings, fences, stacks, and husbandry,
there were no signs; unless the even and verdant sward,
that was spread like a vast carpet, sprinkled with flowers,
could have been deemed a sign of the last. There were
the glades, vistas, irregular lawns, and woods, shaped with
the pleasing outlines of the free hand of nature, as if consummate
art had been endeavouring to imitate our great
mistress in one of her most graceful moods.

The Indians present served largely to embellish this scene.
Of late years, horses have become so common among the
western tribes, the vast natural meadows of those regions
furnishing the means necessary to keep them, that one can
now hardly form a picture of those savages, without representing
them mounted, and wielding the spear; but such
was not the fact with the time of which we are writing,
nor was it ever the general practice to go mounted, among
the Indians in the immediate vicinity of the great lakes.
Not a hoof of any sort was now visible, with the exception

of those which belonged to a herd of deer, that were grazing
on a favourite spot, less than a league distant from the
place where le Bourdon and his companions reached the
prairie. All the chiefs were on foot, and very few were
equipped with more than the knife and tomahawk, the sidearms
of a chief; the rifles having been secreted, as it might
be, in deference to the festivities and peaceful character of
the occasion. As le Bourdon's party was duly provided
with rifles, the missionary and Margery excepted, this was
a sign that no violence was contemplated on that occasion
at least. “Contemplated,” however, is a word very expressive,
when used in connection with the outbreakings
of human passions, as they are wont to exhibit themselves
among the ignorant and excited. It matters not whether
the scene be the capital of some ancient European monarchy,
or the wilds of America, the workings of such impulses
are much the same. Now, a throne is overturned,
perhaps, before they who do it are yet fully aware of what
they ought to set up in its place; and now the deadly rifle,
or the murderous tomahawk is used, more in obedience to
the incentives of demons, than in furtherance of justly recognised
rules of conduct. Le Bourdon was aware of all
this, and did not so far confide in appearances, as to overlook
the watchfulness that he deemed indispensable.

The bee-hunter was not long in selecting a place to set
up his apparatus. In this particular, he was mainly governed
by a lovely expanse of sweet-scented flowers, among
which bees in thousands were humming, sipping of their
precious gifts at will. Le Bourdon had a care, also, not to
go far from the forests which encircled the prairies, for
among its trees he knew he had to seek the habitations of
the insects. Instead of a stump, or a fallen tree, he had
prepared a light frame-work of lath, which the corporal
bore to the field for him, and on which he placed his different
implements, as soon as he had selected the scene of
operations.

It will not be necessary for us to repeat the process,
which has already been described in our opening chapters;
but we shall only touch such parts of it as have a direct
connection with the events of the legend. As le Bourdon
commenced his preparations, however, the circle of chiefs

closed around him, in mute but close attention to everything
that passed. Although every one of them had heard
of the bee-hunters of the pale-faces, and most of them had
heard of this particular individual of their number, not an
Indian present had ever seen one of these men practise his
craft. This may seem strange, as respects those who so
much roamed the woods; but we have already remarked
that it exceeded the knowledge of the red man to make the
calculations that are necessary to take the bee by the process
described. Usually, when he obtains honey, it is the
result of some chance-meeting in the forest, and not the
fruits of that far-sighted and persevering industry, which
enables the white man to lay in a store large enough to
supply a neighbourhood, in the course of a few weeks'
hunting.

Never was a juggler watched with closer attention, than
was le Bourdon, while setting up his stand, and spreading
his implements. Every grave, dark countenance was
turned towards him, and each keen, glistening eye was
riveted on his movements. As the vessel with the comb
was set down, the chiefs nearest recognizing the substance,
murmured their admiration; for to them it seemed as if the
operator were about to make honey with honey. Then the
glass was a subject of surprise; for half of those present
had never seen such an utensil before. Though many of
the chiefs present had visited the “garrisons” of the north-west,
both American and English, many had not; and, of
those who had, not one in ten had got any clear idea of the
commonest appliances of civilized life. Thus it was, then,
that almost every article used by the bee-hunter, though so
simple and homely, was the subject of a secret, but well-suppressed
admiration.

It was not long ere le Bourdon was ready to look for his
bee. The insects were numerous on the flowers, particularly
on the white clover, which is indigenous in America,
springing up spontaneously wherever grasses are permitted
to grow. The great abundance of the bees, however, had
its usual effect, and our hero was a little difficult to please.
At length, a fine, and already half-loaded little animal was
covered by the glass, and captured. This was done so near
the group of Indians, that each and all noted the process.

It was curious, and it was inexplicable! Could the pale-faces
compel bees to reveal the secret of their hives, and
was that encroaching race about to drive all the insects
from the woods and seize their honey, as they drove the
Indians before them and seized their lands? Such was
the character of the thoughts that passed through the minds
of more than one chief, that morning, though all looked on
in profound stillness.

When the imprisoned bee was put over the comb, and
le Bourdon's cap was placed above all, these simple-minded
children of the woods and the prairies gazed, as if expecting
a hive to appear beneath the covering, whenever the
latter should be removed. It was not long before the bee
“settled,” and not only the cap, but the tumbler was taken
away. For the first time since the exhibition commenced,
le Bourdon spoke, addressing himself to Peter.

“If the tribeless chief will look sharply,” be said, “he
will soon see the bee take flight. It is filling itself with
honey, and the moment it is loaded — look — look—it is about to rise—there, it is up—see it circling around the
stand, as if to take a look that it may know it again—there
it goes!”

There it did go, of a truth, and in a regular bee-line, or
as straight as an arrow. Of all that crowd, the bee-hunter
and Margery alone saw the insect in its flight. Most of
those present lost sight of it, while circling around the
stand; but the instant it darted away, to the remainder it
seemed to vanish into air. Not so with le Bourdon and
Margery, however. The former saw it from habit; the
latter from a quick eye, intense attention, and the wish not
to miss anything that le Bourdon saw fit to do, for her information
or amusement. The animal flew in an air-line
towards a point of wood distant fully half-a-mile, and on
the margin of the prairie.

Many low exelamations arose among the savages. The
bee was gone, but whither they knew not, or on what
errand. Could it have been sent on a message by the pale-face,
or had it flown off to give the alarm to its companions,
in order to adopt the means of disappointing the bee-hunter?
As for the last, he went coolly to work to choose another
insect; and he soon had three at work on the comb—all in

company, and all uncovered. Had the number anything to
do with the charm, or were these three to be sent to bring
back the one that had already gone away? Such was the
sort of reasoning, and such the queries put to themselves,
by several of the stern children of nature who were drawn
up around the stand.

In the mean time le Bourdon proceeded with his operations
in the utmost simplicity. He now called Peter and
Bear's Meat and Crowsfeather nearer to his person, where
they might share with Margery the advantage of more
closely seeing all that passed. As soon as these three chiefs
were near enough, Ben pointed to one bee in particular,
saying in the Indian dialect—

“My brothers see that bee in the centre—he is about to
go away. If he go after the one that went before him, I
shall soon know where to look for honey.”

“How can my brother tell which bee will first fly away?”
demanded Bear's Meat.

The bee-hunter was able to foresee this, by knowing
which insect had been longest on the comb; but so practised
had his eye become, that he knew with tolerable accuracy,
by the movements of the creatures, those that had
filled themselves with honey from those that had not. As
it did not suit his purposes, however, to let all the minutiæ
of his craft be known, his answer was evasive. Just at
that moment a thought occurred to him, which it might be
well to carry out in full. He had once saved his life by
necromancy, or what seemed to the simple children of the
woods to be necromancy, and why might he not turn the
cunning of his regular art to account, and render it the
means of rescuing the females, as well as himself, from the
hands of their captors? This sudden impulse from that
moment controlled his conduct; and his mind was constantly
casting about for the means of effecting what was
now his one great purpose—escape. Instead of uttering, in
reply to Bear's Meat's-question, the simple truth, therefore,
he rather sought for such an answer as might make the
process in which he was engaged appear imposing and
mystical.

“How do the Injins know the path of the deer?” he
asked, by way of reply. “They look at the deer, get to

know him, and understand his ways. This middle bee will
soon fly.”

“Which way will be go?” asked Peter. “Can my brother
tell us that?”

“To his hive,” returned le Bourdon, carelessly, as if he
did not fully understand the question. “All of them go
to their hives, unless I tell them to go in another direction.
See, the bee is up!”

The chiefs now looked with all their eyes. They saw,
indeed, that the bee was making its circles above the stand.
Presently they lost sight of the insect, which to them
seemed to-vanish; though le Bourdon distinctly traced its
flight for a hundred yards. It look a direction at right
angles to that of the first bee, flying off into the prairie,
and shaping its course towards an island of wood, which
might have been of three or four acres in extent, and distant
rather less than a mile.

While le Bourdon was noting this flight, another bee
arose. This creature flew towards the point of forest, already
mentioned as the destination of the insect that had
first risen. No sooner was this third little animal out of
sight, than the fourth was up, humming around the stand.
Bon pointed it out to the chiefs; and this time they succeeded
in tracing the flight for, perhaps, a hundred feet
from the spot where they stood. Instead of following either
of its companions, this fourth bee took a course which led
it off the prairie altogether, and towards the habitations.

The suddenly-conceived purpose of le Bourdon, to attempt
to mystify the savages, and thus get a hold upon their
minds which he might turn to advantage, was much aided
by the different directions taken by these several bees.
Had they all gone the same way, the conclusion that all
went home would be so very natural and obvious, as to deprive
the discovery of a hive of any supernatural merit, at
least; and to establish this was just now the great object
the bee-hunter had in view. As it was, the Indians were
no wiser, now all the bees were gone, than they had been
before one of them had flown. On the contrary, they could
not understand how the flights of so many insects, in so
many different directions, should tell the bee-hunter where
honey was to be found. Le Bourdon saw that the prairie

was covered with bees, and well knew that, such being the
fact, the inmates of perhaps a hundred different hives must
be present. All this, however, was too novel and too complicated
for the calculations of savages; and not one of
those who crowded near, as observers, could account for
so many of the bees going different ways.

Le Bourdon now intimated a wish to change his ground.
He had noted two of the bees, and the only question that
remained to be decided, as it respected them, was whether
they belonged to the precise points towards which they had
flown, or to points beyond them. The reader will easily
understand that this is the nature of the fact determined by
taking an angle, the point of intersection between any two
of the lines of flight, being necessarily the spot where the
hive is to be found. So far from explaining this to those
around him, however, Boden kept it a secret in his own
breast. Margery knew the whole process, for to her he had
often gone over it in description, finding a pleasure in instructing
one so apt, and whose tender, liquid blue eyes
seemed to reflect every movement of his own soul and feelings.
Margery he could have taught for ever, or fancied
for the moment he could; which is as near the truth as
men under the influence of love often get. But, as for the
Indians, so far from letting them into any of his secrets,
his strong desire was now to throw dust into their eyes, in
all possible ways, and to make their well-established character
for superstition subservient to his own projects.

Boden was far from being a scholar, even for one in his
class in life. Down to this hour, the neglect of the means
of public instruction is somewhat of a just ground of reproach
against the venerable and respectable commonwealth
of which he was properly a member, though her people
have escaped a knowledge of a great deal of small philosophy
and low intriguing, which it is fair to presume that evil
spirits thrust in among the leaves of a more legitimate information,
when the book of knowledge is opened for the
instruction of those who, by circumstances, are prevented
from doing more than bestowing a few hurried glances at
its contents. Still, Ben had read everything about bees,
on which he could lay his hands. He had studied their
habits personally, and he had pondered over the various

accounts of their communities—a sort of limited monarchy,
in which the prince is deposed occasionally, or when matters
go very wrong—some written by really very observant
and intelligent persons, and others again not a little fanciful.
Among other books that had thus fallen in le Bourdon's
way, was one which somewhat minutely described
the uses that were made of bees by the ancient soothsayers
in their divinations. Our hero had no notion of reviving
those rites, or of attempting to imitate the particular practices
of which he had read and heard; but the recollection
of them occurred most opportunely to strengthen and encourage
the design, so suddenly entertained, of making his
present operations aid in opening the way to the one great
thing of the hour—an escape into Lake Michigan.

“A bee knows a great deal,” said le Bourdon to his
nearest companions, while the whole party was moving
some distance to take up new ground. “A bee often knows
more than a man.”

“More than pale-face?” demanded Bear's Meat, a chief
who had attained his authority more by means of physical
than of intellectual qualities.

“Sometimes. Pale-faces have gone to bees to ask what
will happen. Let me ask our medicine-man this question.
Parson Amen, have you any knowledge of the soothsayers
of old using bees when they wished to know what was
about to happen?”

Now, the missionary was not a learned man, any more
than the bee-hunter; but many an unlearned man has heard
of this, and he happened to be one of the number. Of
Virgil, for instance, Parson Amen knew but little; though
in the progress of a very loose, but industrious course of
reading, he had learned that the soothsayers put great faith
in bees. His answer was given in conformity with this
fact, and in the most perfect good faith, for he had not the
smallest suspicion of what Boden wished to establish.

“Certainly—most certainly,” answered the well-meaning
missionary—“the fortune-tellers of old times often went to
their bees when they wished to look into the future. It
has been a subject much talked of among Christians, to
account for the soothsaying, and witchcraft, and other
supernatural dealings of those who lived in the times of

the prophets; and most of them have held the opinion that
evil spirits have been—nay, still are permitted to work their
will on certain men in the flesh. But bees were in much
favour with the soothsayers of old.”

This answer was given in English, and little of it was
comprehended by Peter, and the others who had more or
less knowledge of that language, beyond the part which
asserted the agency of bees in witchcraft. Luckily, this
was all le Bourdon desired, and he was well satisfied at
seeing that the idea passed from one chief to another;
those who did not know the English at all, being told by
those who had some knowledge of the tongue, that “bees
were thought to be `medicine' among the pale-faces.”

Le Bourdon gained a great deal of ground by this fortunate
corroboration of his own still more fortunate thought.
Matters were pretty nearly desperate with him, and with
all his friends, should Peter really meditate evil; and as
desperate diseases notoriously require remedies of the same
character, he was ready to attempt anything that promised
even the smallest chance of success.

“Yes, yes—” the bee-hunter pursued the discourse by
saying—“bees know a great deal. I have sometimes
thought that bees know more than bears, and my brother
must be able to tell something of them?”

“Yes; my name is Bear's Meat,” answered that chief,
complacently. “Injin always give name that mean somet'ing.
Kill so many bear one winter, got dat name.”

“A good name it is! To kill a bear is the most honourable
thing a hunter can do, as we all know. If my brother
wishes to hear it, I will ask my bees when he is to kill
another.”

The savage to whom this was addressed fairly started
with delight. He was eagerly signifying his cheerful assent
to the proposal, when Peter quietly interposed, and
changed the discourse to himself, in a way that he had,
and which would not easily admit of denial. It was apparent
to le Bourdon that this mysterious Indian was not
content that one so direct and impetuous in his feelings as
Bear's Meat, and who was at the same time so little qualified
to manage his portion of an intellectual conversation,
should be foremost any longer. For that reason he brought

himself more into the fore-ground, leaving to his friend the
capacity of listener and observer, rather than that of a
speaker and actor. What took place under this new
arrangement, will appear as the narrative proceeds.