University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

Midsummer-Night's Dream.

As le Bourdon kept moving across the prairie, while the
remarks were made that have been recorded in the preceding
chapter, he soon reached the new position where he
intended to again set up his stand. Here he renewed his
operations; Peter keeping nearest his person, in jealous
watchfulness of the least movement he made. Bees were
caught, and scarce a minute elapsed ere the bee-hunter had
two of them on the piece of comb, uncovered and at
liberty. The circumstance that the cap was momentarily
placed over the insects, struck the savages as a piece of
necromancy, in particular. The reader will understand
that this is done in order to darken the tumbler, and induce
the bee to settle down on the honey so much the sooner.
To one who understood the operation and its reason, the
whole was simple enough; but it was a very different
matter with men as little accustomed to prying into the
habits of creatures as insignificant as bees. Had deer, or
bisons, or bears, or any of the quadrupeds of those regions,
been the subject of the experiment, it is highly probable
that individuals could have been found in that attentive and
wondering crowd, who could have enlightened the ablest
naturalists on the subject of the animals under examination;
but, when the inquiry descended to the bee, it went
below the wants and usages of savage life.

“Where you t'ink dis bee go?” demanded Peter, in
English, as soon as le Bourdon raised the tumbler.

“One will go in this direction, the other in that,” answered
the bee-hunter, pointing first towards the corner of
the woods, then towards the island in the prairie; the two
points towards which two of the other bees had flown.

The predictions might or might not prove true. If they
did, the effect must be great; if they did not, the failure
would soon be forgotten in matters of more interest. Our
hero, therefore, risked but little, while he had the chance
of gaining a very great advantage. By a fortunate coincidence,
the result completely justified the prediction. A
bee rose, made its circles around the stand, and away it
went towards the island-like copse in the prairie; while its
companion soon imitated its example, but taking the other
prescribed direction. This time Peter watched the insects
so closely that he was a witness of their movements, and
with his own eyes he beheld the flight, as well as the direction
taken by each.

“You tell bee do dis?” demanded Peter, with a surprise
that was so sudden, as well as so great, that it overcame
in some slight degree his habitual self-command.

“To be sure I did,” replied le Bourdon, carelessly. “If
you wish to see another, you may.”

Here the young man coolly took another bee, and put it
on the comb. Indifferent as he appeared, however, he
used what was perhaps the highest degree of his art in selecting
this insect. It was taken from the bunch of flowers
whence one of his former captives had been taken, and
there was every chance of its belonging to the same hive
as its companion. Which direction it might take, should
it prove to be a bee from either of the two hives of which
the positions were now known, it altogether exceeded
Boden's art to tell, so he dexterously avoided committing
himself. It was enough that Peter gazed attentively, and
that he saw the insect dart away, disappearing in the direction
of the island. By this time more of the savages were
on the alert, and now knowing how and where to look for
the bee, they also saw its course.

“You tell him ag'in go dere?” asked Peter, whose interest

by this time was so manifest, as to defy all attempts at
concealment.

“To be sure I did. The bees obey me, as your young
men obey you. I am their chief, and they know me. I
will give you further proof of this. We will now go to
that little bit of wood, when you shall all see what it contains.
I have sent three of my bees there; and here, one
of them is already back, to let me know what he has seen.”

Sure enough, a bee was buzzing around the head of le
Bourdon, probably attracted by some fragment of comb, and
he cunningly converted it into a messenger from the copse!
All this was wonderful to the crowd, and it even greatly
troubled Peter. This man was much less liable to the influence
of superstition than most of his people; but he was
very far from being altogether above it. This is the fact
with very few civilized men; perhaps with no man whatever,
let his philosophy and knowledge be what they may; and
least of all, is it true with the ignorant. There is too
much of the uncertain, of the conjectural in our condition
as human beings, to raise us altogether above the distrusts,
doubts, wonder, and other weaknesses of our present condition.
To these simple savages, the manner in which the
bees flew, seemingly at le Bourdon's bidding, to this or that
thicket, was quite as much a matter of astonishment, as
any of our most elaborate deceptions are wonders to our
own ignorant and vulgar. Ignorant! And where is the
line to be drawn that is to place men beyond the pale of
ignorance? Each of us fails in some one, if not in very
many of the important branches of the knowledge that is
even reduced to rules among us. Here is seen the man
of books, so ignorant of the application of his own beloved
theories, as to be a mere child in practice; and, there
again, can be seen the expert in practice, who is totally
unacquainted with a single principle, of the many, that lie
at the root of his very handy-craft. Let us not, then, deride
these poor children of the forest, because that which
was so entirely new to them, should also appear inexplicable
and supernatural.

As for Peter, he was more confounded than convinced.
His mind was so much superior to those of the other chiefs,
as to render him far more difficult to mislead; though even

he was not exempt from the great weaknesses of ignorance—
superstition, and its concomitants, credulity, and a love of the
marvellous. His mind was troubled, as was quite apparent
to Ben, who watched him quite as narrowly as he was observed
himself, in all he did. Willing to deepen the impression,
our artist now determined to exhibit some of the
higher fruits of his skill. The production of a considerable
quantity of honey would of itself be a sort of peace-offering,
and he now prepared to turn the certainty of there
being a hive in the little wood to account—certainty, because
three bees had taken wing for it, and a very distinct
angle had been made with two of them.

“Does my brother wish any honey?” asked le Bourdon,
carelessly; “or shall I send a bee across Lake Michigan,
to tell the Injins further west that Detroit is taken?”

“Can Bourdon find honey, now?” demanded Peter.

“Easily. Several hives are within a mile of us. The
bees like this prairie, which is so well garnished with
flowers, and I am never at a loss for work, in this neighbourhood.
This is my favourite bee-ground; and I have
got all the little creatures so that they know me, and are
ready to do everything that I tell them. As I see that the
chiefs love honey, and wish to eat some, we will now go to
one of my hives.”

Thus saying, le Bourdon prepared for another march.
He moved with all his appliances, Margery keeping close
at his side, carrying the honey-comb and honey. As the
girl walked lightly, in advance of the Indians, some fifteen
or twenty bees, attracted by the flavour of what she carried,
kept circling around her head, and consequently around
that of Boden; and Peter did not fail to observe the circumstance.
To him it appeared as if these bees were so
many accompanying agents, who attended their master in
order to do his bidding. In a word, Peter was fast getting
into that frame of mind, when all that is seen is pressed
into the support of the theory we have adopted. The bee-hunter
had some mysterious connection with, and control
over the bees, and this was one, among the many other signs
of the existence of his power. All this, however, Boden
himself disregarded. His mind was bent on throwing dust
into the eyes of the Indians; and he was cogitating the

means of so doing, on a much larger scale than any yet
attempted.

“Why dem bee fly 'round young squaw?” demanded
Peter—“and fly round you, too?”

“They know us, and go with us to their hive; just as
Injins would come out of their villages to meet and honour
visitors.”

This was a ready reply, but it scarcely satisfied the wily
savage to whom it was given. Just then Crowsfeather led
Peter a little aside, and began talking earnestly to that
chief, both continuing on with the crowd. Le Bourdon
felt persuaded that the subject of this private conference
was some of his own former backslidings in the character
of a conjuror, and that the Pottawattamie would not deal
very tenderly with his character. Nevertheless, it was
too late to retrace his steps, and he saw the necessity of
going on.

“I wish you had not come out with us,” the bee-hunter
found an occasion to say to Margery. “I do not half like
the state of things, and this conjuration about the bees may
all fall through.”

“It is better that I should be here, Bourdon,” returned
the spirited girl. “My being here may make them less
unfriendly to you. When I am by, Peter always seems
more human, and less of a savage, they all tell me, than
when I am not by.”

“No one can be more willing to own your power, Margery,
than I; but Injins hold the squaws too cheap, to give
you much influence over this old fellow.”

“You do not know—he may have had a daughter of
about my age, or size, or appearance; or with my laugh,
or voice, or something else that reminds him of her, when
he sees me. One thing I am sure of — Peter is no enemy
of mine.”

“I hope this may prove to be true! I do not see, after
all, why an Injin should not have the feelin's you name.
He is a man, and must feel for his wife and children, the
same as other—”

“Bourdon, what ails the dog? Look at the manner in
which Hive is behaving!”

Sure enough, the appearance of Hive was sufficiently

obvious to attract his master's attention. By this time the
crowd had got within twenty rods of the little island-like
copse of wood, the mastiff being nearly half that distance
in advance. Instead of preceding the party, however,
Hive had raised his form in a menacing manner, and
moved cautiously from side to side, like one of his kind
that scents a foe. There was no mistaking these movements;
and all the principal chiefs soon had their attention
also drawn to the behaviour of the dog.

“Why he do so?” asked Peter. “He 'fraid of bee, eh?”

“He waits for me to come up,” answered le Bourdon.
“Let my brother and two other chiefs come with me, and
let the rest stay here. Bees do not like crowds. Corporal,
I put Margery in your keeping, and Parson Amen will be
near you. I now go to show these chiefs what a bee can
tell a man.”

Thus saying, le Bourdon advanced, followed by Peter,
Bear's Meat, and Crowsfeather. Our hero had made up
his mind that something more than bees were to be found
in the thicket; for, the place being a little marshy, bushes
as well as trees were growing on it, and he fully expected
a rencontre with bears, the creatures most disposed to prey
upon the labours of the bee—man excepted. Being well
armed, and accompanied by men accustomed to such struggles,
he had no apprehensions, and led the way boldly,
feeling the necessity of manifesting perfect confidence in
all his own acts, in order to command the respect of the
observers. As soon as the bee-hunter passed the dog, the
latter growled, showed his teeth fiercely, and followed,
keeping closely at his side. The confidence and alacrity
with which le Bourdon moved into the thicket, compelled
his companions to be on the alert; though the first broke
through the belt of hazles which enclosed the more open
area within, a few instants before the Indians reached the
place. Then it was that there arose such a yell, such
screechings and cries, as reached far over the prairie, and
might have appalled the stoutest heart. The picture that was
soon offered to the eye was not less terrific than the sounds
which assailed the ear. Hundreds of savages, in their war-paint,
armed, and in a crowded maze, arose as it might be
by one effort, seemingly out of the earth, and began to leap

and play their antics amid the trees. The sudden spectacle
of a crowd of such beings, nearly naked, frightfully painted,
and tossing their arms here and there, while each yelled
like a demon, was enough to overcome the nerves of a very
resolute man. But le Bourdon was prepared for a conflict,
and even felt relieved, rather than alarmed, when he saw
the savages. His ready mind at once conceived the truth.
This band belonged to the chiefs, and composed the whole,
or a principal part of the force which he knew they must
have outlying somewhere on the prairies, or in the openings.
He had sufficiently understood the hints of Pigeonswing
to be prepared for such a meeting, and at no time, of
late, had he approached a cover, without remembering the
possibility of its containing Indians.

Instead of betraying alarm, therefore, when this cloud
of phantom-like beings rose before his eyes, le Bourdon
stood firm, merely turning towards the chiefs behind him,
to ascertain if they were taken by surprise, as well as himself.
It was apparent that they were; for, understanding
that a medicine-ceremony was to take place on the prairie,
these “young men” had preceded the party from the hut,
and had, unknown to all their chiefs, got possession of
this copse, as the best available cover, whence to make
their observations on what was going on.

“My brother sees his young men,” said le Bourdon,
quietly, the instant a dead calm had succeeded to the out-cries
with which he had been greeted. “I thought he might
wish to say something to them, and my bees told me where
to find them. Does my brother wish to know anything
else?”

Great was the wonder of the three chiefs, at this exhibition
of medicine power! So far from suspecting the
truth, or of detecting the lucky coincidence by which le
Bourdon had been led to the cover of their warriors, it all
appeared to them to be pure necromancy. Such an art
must be of great service; and how useful it would be to the
warrior on his path, to be accompanied by one who could
thus command the vigilance of the bees!

“You find enemy all same as friend?” demanded Peter,
letting out the thought that was uppermost, in the question.

“To be sure. It makes no difference with a bee; he
can find an enemy as easily as he can find a friend.”

“No whiskey-spring dis time?” put in Crowsfeather, a
little inopportunely, and with a distrust painted in his
swarthy face that le Bourdon did not like.

“Pottawattamie, you do not understand medicine-men.
Ought I to have shown your young men where whiskey
was to be had for nothing? Ask yourself that question.
Did you wish to see your young men wallowing like hogs
in such a spring? What would the great medicine-priest
of the pale-faces, who is out yonder, have said to that?”

This was a coup de maitre on the part of the bee-hunter.
Until that moment, the affair of the whiskey-spring had
weighed heavily in the balance against him; but, now, it
was suddenly changed over in the scales, and told as strongly
in his favour. Even a savage can understand the morality
which teaches men to preserve their reason, and not to
lower themselves to the level of brutes, by swallowing
“fire-water;” and Crowsfeather suddenly saw a motive for
regarding our hero with the eyes of favour, instead of those
of distrust and dislike.

“What the pale-face says is true,” observed Peter to his
companion. “Had he opened his spring, your warriors
would have been weaker than women. He is a wonderful
medicine-man, and we must not provoke him to anger.
How could he know, but through his bees, that our young
men were here?”

This question could not be answered; and when the
chiefs, followed by the whole band of warriors, some three
or four hundred in number, came out upon the open prairie,
all that had passed was communicated to those who awaited
their return, in a few brief, but clear explanations. Le
Bourdon found a moment to let Margery comprehend his
position and views, while Parson Amen and the corporal
were put sufficiently on their guard, not to make any unfortunate
blunder. The last was much more easily managed
than the first. So exceedingly sensitive was the conscience
of the priest, that had he clearly understood the game le
Bourdon was playing, he might have revolted at the idea of
necromancy, as touching on the province of evil spirits;
but he was so well mystified, as to suppose all that passed

was regularly connected with the art of taking bees. In
this respect, he and the Indians equally resembled one of
those familiar pictures, in which we daily see men, in
masses, contributing to their own deception and subjection,
while they fondly but blindly imagine that they are not only
inventors, but masters. This trade of mastery, after all, is
the property of a very few minds; and no precaution of
the prudent, no forethought of the wary, nor any expedient
of charters, constitutions, or restrictions, will prevent the
few from placing their feet on the neck of the many. We
may revive the fable of King Log and King Stork, as often,
and in as many forms as we will; it will ever be the fable
of King Log and King Stork. We are no admirers of political
aristocracies, as a thousand paragraphs from our pen
will prove; and, as for monarchs, we have long thought
they best enact their parts, when most responsible to opinion;
but we cannot deceive ourselves on the subject of
the atrocities that are daily committed by those who are
ever ready to assume the places of both, making their fellow-creatures
in masses their dupes, and using those that
they affect to serve.

Ben Boden was now a sort of “gouvernement provisoire”
among the wondering savages who surrounded him. He
had got them to believe in necromancy, a very considerable
step towards the exercise of despotic power. It is true, he
hardly knew, himself, what was to be done next; but he
saw quite distinctly that he was in a dilemma, and must
manage to get out of it by some means or other. If he
could only succeed in this instance, as well as he had succeeded
in his former essay in the black art, all might be
well, and Margery be carried in triumph into the settlements.
Margery, pro hæc vice, was his goddess of liberty,
and he asked for no higher reward, than to be permitted to
live the remainder of his days in the sunshine of her smiles.
Liberty! a word that is, just now, in all men's mouths, but
in how few hearts in its purity and truth! What a melancholy
mistake, moreover, to suppose that, could it be enjoyed
in that perfection with which the imaginations of
men love to cheat their judgments, it is the great good of
life! One hour spent in humble veneration for the Being
that gave it, in common with all of earth, its vacillating

and uncertain existence, is of more account than ages
passed in its service; and he who fancies that in worshiping
liberty, he answers the great end of his existence, hugs
a delusion quite as weak, and infinitely more dangerous,
than that which now came over the minds of Peter and his
countrymen, in reference to the intelligence of the bees.
It is a good thing to possess the defective and qualified
freedom, which we term “liberty;” but it is a grave error
to set it up as an idol to be worshipped.

“What my brother do next?” demanded Bear's Meat,
who, being a somewhat vulgar-minded savage, was all for
striking and wonder-working exhibitions of necromancy.
“P'raps he find some honey, now?”

“If you wish it, chief. What says Peter?—shall I ask
my bees to tell where there is a hive?”

As Peter very readily assented, le Bourdon next set about
achieving this new feat in his art. The reader will recollect
that the positions of two hives were already known to
the bee-hunter, by means of that very simple and everyday
process by which he earned his bread. One of these
hives was in the point of wood already mentioned, that lay
along the margin of the prairie; while the other was in
this very copse, where the savages had secreted themselves.
Boden had now no thought of giving any further disturbance
to this last-named colony of insects; for an insight
into their existence might disturb the influence obtained
by the jugglery of the late discovery, and he at once turned
his attention towards the other hive indicated by his bees.

Nor did le Bourdon now deem it necessary to resort to
his usual means of carrying on his trade. These were not
necessary to one who knew already where the hive was to
be found, while it opened the way to certain mummeries
that might be made to tell well in support of his assumed
character. Catching a bee, then, and keeping it confined
within his tumbler, Ben held the last to his ear, as if listening
to what the fluttering insect had to say. Having seemingly
satisfied himself on this point, he desired the chiefs
once more to follow him, having first let the bee go, with a
good deal of ceremony. This set all in motion again; the
party being now increased by the whole band of savages
who had been “put up” from their cover.

By this time, Margery began to tremble for the consequences.
She had held several short conferences with le
Bourdon, as they walked together, and had penetrated far
enough into his purposes to see that he was playing a
ticklish game. It might succeed for a time, but she feared
it must fail in the end; and there was always the risk of
incurring the summary vengeance of savages. Perhaps
she did not fully appreciate the power of superstition, and
the sluggishness of the mind that once submits to its influence;
while her woman's heart made her keenly alive
to all those frightful consequences that must attend an exposure.
Nevertheless, nothing could now be done to avert
the consequences. It was too late to recede, and things
must take their course, even at all the hazards of the case.
That she might not be wholly usoless, when her lover was
risking so much for herself, Margery well understanding
that her escape was the only serious difficulty the bee-hunter
apprehended, the girl turned all her attention to Peter, in
whose favour she felt that she had been daily growing, and
on whose pleasure so much must depend. Changing her
position a little, she now came closer to the chief than she
had hitherto done.

“Squaw like medicine-man?” asked Peter, with a significance
of expression that raised a blush in Margery's
cheek.

“You mean to ask me if I like to see medicine-men perform,”
answered Margery, with the readiness of her sex.

“White women are always curious, they say—how is it
with the women of the red men?”

“Juss so—full of cur'osity. Squaw is squaw—no matter
what colour.”

“I am sorry, Peter, you do not think better of squaws.
Perhaps you never had a squaw—no wife, or daughter?”

A gleam of powerful feeling shot athwart the dark countenance
of the Indian, resembling the glare of the electric
fluid flashing on a cloud at midnight; but it passed away
as quickly as it appeared, leaving in its stead the hard,
condensed expression, which the intensity of a purpose so
long entertained and cultivated, had imprinted there, as
indelibly as if cut in stone.

“All chief have squaw—all chief have pappoose—” was
the answer that came at last. “What he good for, eh?”

“It is always good to have children, Peter; especially
when the children themselves are good.”

“Good for pale-face, maybe—no good for Injin. Pale-face
glad when pappoose born—red-skin sorry.”

“I hope this is not so. Why should an Injin be sorry
to see the laugh of his little son?”

“Laugh when he little—p'raps so; he little, and don't
know what happen. But Injin don't laugh any more when
he grow up. Game gone; land gone; corn-field gone.
No more room for Injin — pale-face want all. Pale-face
young man laugh—red-skin young man cry. Dat how it
is.”

“Oh! I hope not, Peter! I should be sorry to think it
was so. The red man has as good a right—nay, he has a
better right to this country than we whites; and God forbid
that he should not always have his full share of the land!”

Margery probably owed her life to that honest, natural
burst of feeling, which was uttered with a warmth and sincerity
that could leave no doubt that the sentiment expressed
came from the heart. Thus singularly are we constructed!
A minute before, and no exemption was made in the mind
of Peter, in behalf of this girl, in the plan he had formed
for cutting off the whites; on the contrary, he had often
bethought him of the number of young pale-faces that
might be, as it were, strangled in their cradles, by including
the bee-hunter and his intended squaw in the contemplated
sacrifice. All this was changed, as in the twinkling
of an eye, by Margery's honest and fervent expression of
her sense of right, on the great subject that occupied all
of Peter's thoughts. These sudden impulses in the direction
of love for our species, the second of the high lessons
left by the Redeemer to his disciples, are so many proofs
of the creation of man in the image of his maker. They
exert their power often when least expected, and are ever
stamped by the same indelible impression of their divine
origin. Without these occasional glimpses at those qualities
which are so apt to lie dormant, we might indeed despair
of the destinies of our race. We are, however, in
safe and merciful hands; and all the wonderful events that

are at this moment developing themselves around us, are
no other than the steps taken by Providence in the progress
it is steadily making towards the great and glorious end!
Some of the agencies will be corrupt; others deluded; and
no one of them all, perhaps, will pursue with unerring
wisdom the precise path that ought to be taken; but even
the crimes, errors, and delusions, will be made instrumental
in achieving that which was designed before the foundations
of this world were laid!

“Does my daughter wish this?” returned Peter, when
Margery had thus frankly and sincerely given vent to her
feelings. “Can a pale-face squaw wish to leave an Injin
any of his hunting-grounds?”

“Thousands of us wish it, Peter, and I for one. Often
and often have we talked of this around our family fire,
and even Gershom, when his head has not been affected by
fire-water, has thought as we all have thought. I know
that Bourdon thinks so, too; and I have heard him say
that he thought Congress ought to pass a law to prevent
white men from getting any more of the Injin's lands.”

The face of Peter would have been a remarkable study,
during the few moments that his fierce will was in the process
of being brought in subjugation to the influence of his
better feelings. At first he appeared bewildered; then
compunction had its shade; and human sympathy came
last, asserting its long dormant, but inextinguishable power.
Margery saw some of this, though it far exceeded her penetration
to read all the workings of that stern and savage
mind; yet she felt encouraged by what she did see and
understand.

While an almighty and divine Providence was thus carrying
out its own gracious designs in its own way, the bee-hunter
continued bent on reaching a similar end by means
of his own. Little did he imagine how much had been
done for him within the last few moments, and how greatly
all he had in view was jeoparded and put at risk by his own
contrivances—contrivances which seemed to him so clever,
but which were wanting in the unerring simplicity and
truth, that render those that come from above infallible.
Still, the expedients of le Bourdon may have had their agency
in bringing about events, and may have been intended to

be a part of that moral machinery, which was now at work
in the breast of Peter, for good.

It will be remembered that the bee-hunter habitually
carried a small spy-glass, as a part of the implements of
his calling. It enabled him to watch the bees, as they went
in and came out of the hives, on the highest trees, and
often saved him hours of fruitless search. This glass was
now in his hand; for, an object on a dead tree, that rose a
little apart from those around it, and which stood quite
near the extreme point in the forest, towards which they
were all proceeding, had caught his attention. The distance
was still too great to ascertain by the naked eye what
that object was; but a single look with the glass showed
that it was a bear. This was an old enemy of the bee-hunter,
who often encountered the animal, endeavouring
to get at the honey, and he had on divers occasions been
obliged to deal with these plunderers, before he could succeed
in his own plans of pilfering. The bear now seen
continued in sight but an instant; the height to which he
had clambered being so great, most probably, as to weary
him with the effort, and to compel him to fall back again.
All this was favourable to le Bourdon's wishes, who immediately
called a halt.

The first thing that Bourdon did, when all the dark eyes
were gleaming on him in fierce curiosity, was to catch a
bee and hold it to his ear, as it buzzed about in the tumbler.

“You t'ink dat bee talk?” Peter asked of Margery, in
a tone of confidence, as if a newly-awakened principle now
existed between them.

“Bourdon must think so, Peter,” the girl evasively answered,
“or he would hardly listen to hear what it says.”

“It strange, bee should talk! Almos' as strange as pale-face
wish to leave Injin any land! Sartain, bee talk, eh?”

“I have never heard one talk, Peter, unless it might be
in its buzzing. That may be the tongue of a bee, for anything
I know to the contrary.”

By this time le Bourdon seemed to be satisfied, and let
the bee go; the savages murmuring their wonder and admiration.

“Do my brothers wish to hunt?” asked the bee-hunter,

in a voice so loud, that all near might hear what he had to
say.

This question produced a movement at once. Skill in
hunting, next to success on the war-path, constitutes the
great merit of an Indian; and it is ever his delight to show
that he possesses it. No sooner did le Bourdon throw out
his feeler, therefore, than a general exclamation proclaimed
the readiness of all the young men, in particular, to join
in the chase.

“Let my brothers come closer,” said Ben, in an authoritative
manner; “I have something to put into their ears.
They see that point of wood, where the dead bass-wood has
fallen on the prairie. Near that bass-wood is honey, and
near the honey are bears. This, my bees have told me.
Now, let my brothers divide, and some go into the woods,
and some stay on the prairie; then they will have plenty of
sweet food.”

As all this was very simple, and easily to be comprehended,
not a moment was lost in the execution. With
surprising order and aptitude, the chiefs led off their parties;
one line of dark warriors penetrating the forest on
the eastern side of the bass-wood, and another on its western;
while a goodly number scattered themselves on the
prairie itself, in its front. In less than a quarter of an
hour, signals came from the forest that the battue was
ready, and Peter gave the answering sign to proceed.

Down to this moment, doubts existed among the savages
concerning the accuracy of le Bourdon's statement. How
was it possible that his bees should tell him where he could
find bears? To be sure, bears were the great enemies of
bees—this every Indian knew—but could the bees have
a faculty of thus arming one enemy against another?
These doubts, however, were soon allayed by the sudden
appearance of a drove of bears, eight or ten in number,
that came waddling out of the woods, driven before the
circle of shouting hunters that had been formed within.

Now commenced a scene of wild tumult and of fierce
delight. The warriors on the prairie retired before their
enemies, until all of their associates were clear of the forest,
when the circle swiftly closed again, until it had brought
the bears to something like close quarters. Bear's Meat,

as became his appellation, led off the dance, letting fly an
arrow at the nearest animal. Astounded by the great
number of their enemies, and not a little appalled by their
yells, the poor quadrupeds did not know which way to turn.
Occasionally, attempts were made to break through the
circle, but the flight of arrows, aimed directly at their faces,
invariably drove the creatures back. Fire-arms were not
resorted to at all in this hunt, spears and arrows being the
weapons depended on. Several ludicrous incidents occurred,
but none that were tragical. One or two of the
more reckless of the hunters, ambitious of shining before
the representatives of so many tribes, ran rather greater
risks than were required, but they escaped with a few smart
scratches. In one instance, however, a young Indian had
a still narrower squeeze for his life. Literally a squeeze it
was; for, suffering himself to get within the grasp of a
bear, he came near being pressed to death, ere his companions
could despatch the creature. As for the prisoner,
the only means he had to prevent his being bitten, was to
thrust the head of his spear into the bear's mouth, where
he succeeded in holding it, spite of the animal's efforts to
squeeze him into submission. By the time this combat
was terminated, the field was strewed with the slain; every
one of the bears having been killed by hunters so much
practised in the art of destroying game.