CHAPTER VII.
We call them savage--oh, be just!
Their outraged feelings scan;
A voice comes forth, 'tis from the dust--
The savage was a man!
SPRAGUE.
As soon as le Bourdon reached the commencement of that which might
be called his path across the marsh, he stopped and looked backward.
He was now sufficiently removed from the low acclivity to see
objects on its summit, and had no difficulty in discerning all that
the waning fire illuminated. There stood the Chippewa erect against
the tree as if still bound with thongs, while the sentinel was
slowly approaching him. The dogs were on their feet, and gave two or
three sharp barks, which had the effect to cause five or six of the
savages to lift their heads in their lairs. One arose even and threw
an armful of dried branches on the fire, producing a bright blaze,
that brought everything around the hut, and which the light could
touch, into full view.
The bee-hunter was astonished at the immovable calmness with which
Pigeonswing still stood to his tree, awaiting the approach of the
sentinel. In a few moments the latter was at his side. At first the
Pottawattamie did not perceive that the prisoner was unbound. He
threw him into shadow by his own person, and it required a close
look to note the circumstance. Boden was too far from the spot to
see all the minor movements of the parties, but there was soon a
struggle that could not be mistaken. As the Pottawattamie was
examining the prisoner, an exclamation that escaped him betrayed the
sudden consciousness that the Chippewa was unbound. The sound was no
sooner uttered than Pigeonswing made a grasp at the sentinel's
knife, which however he did not obtain, when the two closed and
fell, rolling down the declivity into the darkness. When the
Pottawattamie seized the Chippewa, he uttered a yell, which
instantly brought every man of his party to his feet. As the savages
now united in the whoops, and the dogs began to bark wildly, an
infernal clamor was made.
At first, le Bourdon did not know how to act. He greatly feared the
dogs, and could not but think of Margery, and the probable
consequences, should those sagacious animals follow him across the
marsh. But he did not like the idea of abandoning Pigeonswing, when
a single blow of his arm, or a kick of his foot, might be the cause
of his escape. While deliberating in painful uncertainty, the sounds
of the struggle ceased, and he saw the sentinel rising again into
the light, limping like one who had suffered by a fall. Presently he
heard a footstep near him, and, calling in a low voice, he was
immediately joined by Pigeonswing. Before the bee-hunter was aware
of his intention, the Chippewa seized his rifle, and levelling at
the sentinel, who still stood on the brow of the hill, drawn in all
his savage outlines distinctly in the light of the flames, he fired.
The cry, the leap into the air, and the fall, announced the unerring
character of the aim. In coming to the earth, the wounded man fell
over the brow of the sharp acclivity, and was heard rolling toward
its base.
Le Bourdon felt the importance of now improving the precious
moments, and was in the act of urging his companion to follow, when
the latter passed an arm around his body, whipped his knife from the
girdle and sheath, and dropping the rifle into his friend's arms,
bounded away in the darkness, taking the direction of his fallen
enemy. There was no mistaking all this; Chippewa, led by his own
peculiar sense of honor, risking everything to obtain the usual
trophy of victory. By this time, a dozen of the savages stood on the
brow of the hill, seemingly at a loss to understand what had become
of the combatants. Perceiving this, the bee-hunter profited by the
delay and reloaded his rifle. As everything passed almost as swiftly
as the electric spark is known to travel, it was but a moment after
the Pottawattamie fell ere his conqueror was through with his bloody
task. Just as le Bourdon threw his rifle up into the hollow of his
arm, he was rejoined by his red friend, who bore the reeking scalp
of the sentinel at his belt; though fortunately the bee-hunter did
not see it on account of the obscurity, else might he not have been
so willing to continue to act with so ruthless an ally.
Further stay was out of the question; for the Indians were now
collected in a body on the brow of the hill, where the chief was
rapidly issuing his orders. In a minute the band dispersed, every
man bounding into the darkness, as if aware of the danger of
remaining within the influence of the bright light thrown from the
fire. Then came such a clamor from the dogs, as left no doubt in the
mind of the bee-hunter that they had scented and found the remains
of the fallen man. A fierce yell came from the same spot, the proof
that some of the savages had already discovered the body; and le
Bourdon told his companion to follow, taking his way across the
marsh as fast as he could overcome the difficulties of the path.
It has already been intimated that it was not easy, if indeed it
were possible, to cross that piece of low wet land in a direct line.
There was tolerably firm ground on it, but it lay in an irregular
form, its presence being generally to be noted by the growth of
trees. Le Bourdon had been very careful in taking his landmarks,
foreseeing the probability of a hasty retreat, and he had no
difficulty for some time in keeping in the right direction. But the
dogs soon left the dead body, and came bounding across the marsh,
disregarding its difficulties; though their plunges and yells soon
made it apparent that even they did not escape altogether with dry
feet. As for the savages, they poured down the declivity in a
stream, taking the dogs as their guides; and safe ones they might
well be accounted, so far as the SCENT was concerned, though they
did not happen to be particularly well acquainted with all the
difficulties of the path.
At length le Bourdon paused, causing his companion to stop also. In
the hurry and confusion of the flight, the former had lost his
landmarks, finding himself amidst a copse of small trees, or large
bushes, but not in the particular copse he sought. Every effort to
get out of this thicket, except by the way he had entered it, proved
abortive, and the dogs were barking at no great distance in his
rear. It is true that these animals no longer approached: for they
were floundering in the mud and water; but their throats answered
every purpose to lead the pursuers on, and the low calls that passed
from mouth to mouth, let the pursued understand that the
Pottawattamies were at their heels, if not absolutely on their
trail.
The crisis demanded both discretion and decision; qualities in which
the bee-hunter, with his forest training, was not likely to be
deficient. He looked out for the path by which he had reached the
unfortunate thicket, and having found it, commenced a retreat by the
way he had come. Nerve was needed to move almost in a line toward
the dogs and their masters; but the nerve was forthcoming, and the
two advanced like veterans expecting the fire of some concealed but
well-armed battery. Presently, le Bourdon stopped, and examined the
ground on which he stood.
"HERE we must turn, Chippewa," he said, in a guarded voice. "This is
the spot where I must have missed my way."
"Good place to turn 'bout," answered the Indian--"dog too near."
"We must shoot the dogs if they press us too hard," returned the
bee-hunter, leading off rapidly, now secure in the right direction.
"They seem to be in trouble, just at this time; but animals like
them will soon find their way across this marsh."
"Bess shoot Pottawattamie," coolly returned Pigeonswing.
"Pottawattamie got capital scalp--dog's ears no good for nutting any
more."
"Yonder, I believe, is the tree I am in search of!" exclaimed le
Bourdon. "If we can reach that tree, I think all will go well with
us."
The tree was reached, and the bee-hunter proceeded to make sure of
his course from that point. Removing from his pouch a small piece of
moistened powder that he had prepared ere he liberated the Chippewa,
he stuck it on a low branch of the tree he was under, and on the
side next the spot where he had stationed Margery. When this was
done, he made his companion stand aside, and lighting some spunk
with his flint and steel, he fired his powder. Of course, this
little preparation burned like the fireworks of a boy, making
sufficient light, however, to be seen in a dark night for a mile or
more. No sooner was the wetted powder hissing and throwing off its
sparks, than the bee-hunter gazed intently into the now seemingly
tangible obscurity of the marsh. A bright light appeared and
vanished. It was enough; the bee-hunter threw down his own signal
and extinguished it with his foot; and, as he wished, the lantern of
Margery appeared no more. Assured now of the accuracy of his
position, as well as of the course he was to pursue, le Bourdon bade
his companion follow, and pressed anew across the marsh. A tree was
soon visible, and toward that particular object the fugitives
steadily pressed, until it was reached. At the next instant Margery
was joined; and the bee-hunter could not refrain from kissing her,
in the excess of his pleasure.
"There is a dreadful howling of dogs," said Margery, feeling no
offence at the liberty taken, in a moment like that, "and it seems
to me that a whole tribe is following at their heels. For Heaven's
sake, Bourdon, let us hasten to the canoes; brother and sister must
think us lost!"
The circumstances pressed, and the bee-hunter took Margery's arm,
passing it through one of his own, with a decided and protecting
manner, that caused the girl's heart to beat with emotions not in
the least connected with fear, leaving an impression of pleasure
even at that perilous moment. As the distance was not great, the
three were soon on the beach and near to the canoes. Here they met
Dorothy, alone, and pacing to and fro like a person distressed. She
had doubtless heard the clamor, and was aware that the savages were
out looking for their party. As Margery met her sister, she saw that
something more than common had gone wrong, and in the eagerness of
her apprehensions she did not scruple about putting her questions.
"What has become of brother? Where is Gershom?" demanded the
sensitive girl, at once.
The answer was given in a low voice, and in that sort of manner with
which woman struggles to the last to conceal the delinquencies of
him she loves.
"Gershom is not himself, just now," half whispered the wife--"he has
fallen into one of his old ways, ag'in."
"Old ways?" slowly repeated the sister, dropping her own voice to
tones similar to those in which the unpleasant news had just been
communicated. "How is that possible, now that all the whiskey is
emptied?"
"It seems that Bourdon had a jug of brandy among his stores, and
Gershom found it out. I blame no one; for Bourdon, who never abuses
the gifts of Providence, had a right to his comforts at least; but
it IS a pity that there was anything of the sort in the canoes!"
The bee-hunter was greatly concerned at this unwelcome intelligence,
feeling all its importance far more vividly than either of his
companions. They regretted as women; but he foresaw the danger, as a
man accustomed to exertion in trying scenes. If Whiskey Centre had
really fallen into his old ways, so as to render himself an
incumbrance, instead of being an assistant at such a moment, the
fact was to be deplored, but it could only be remedied by time.
Luckily they had the Indian with them, and he could manage one of
the canoes, while he himself took charge of the other. As no time
was to be lost--the barking of the dogs and the cries of the savages
too plainly letting it be known that the enemy was getting through
the marsh by some means or other--he hurried the party down to the
canoes, entering that of Whiskey Centre at once.
Le Bourdon found Gershom asleep, but with the heavy slumbers of the
drunkard. Dolly had removed the jug and concealed it, as soon as the
state of her husband enabled her to do so without incurring his
violence. Else might the unfortunate man have destroyed himself, by
indulging in a liquor so much more palatable than that he was
accustomed to use, after so long and compelled an abstinence. The
jug was now produced, however, and le Bourdon emptied it in the
river, to the great joy of the two females, though not without a
sharp remonstrance from the Chippewa. The bee-hunter was steady, and
the last drop of the liquor of Gascony was soon mingling with the
waters of the Kalamazoo. This done, the bee-hunter desired the women
to embark, and called to the Chippewa to do the same. By quitting
the spot in the canoes, it was evident the pursuers would be balked,
temporarily at least, since they must recross the marsh in order to
get into their own boats, without which further pursuit would be
fruitless.
It might have been by means of a secret sympathy, or it was possibly
the result of accident, but certain it is, that the Chippewa was
placed in that of le Bourdon. As for Whiskey Centre, he lay like a
log in the bottom of his own light bark, cared for only by his
affectionate wife, who had made a pillow for his head; but,
fortunately, if no assistance just then, not any material hindrance
to the movements of his friends. By the time le Bourdon and the
Chippewa had got their stations, and the canoes were free of the
bottom, it was evident by the sounds, that not only the dogs, but
divers of their masters, had floundered through the swamp, and were
already on the firm ground east of it. As the dogs ran by scent,
little doubt remained of their soon leading the savages to the place
of embarkation. Aware of this, the bee-hunter directed the Chippewa
to follow, and urged his own canoe away from the shore, following
one of three of the natural channels that united just at that point.
The clamor now sensibly increased, and the approach of the pursuers
was much faster than it had previously been, in consequence of there
no longer being wet land beneath their feet. At the distance of
fifty yards from the shore, however, the channel, or open avenue
among the rice-plants that the canoes had taken, made a short turn
to the northward; for all the events we have just been recording
occurred on the northern, or leeward side of the river. Once around
this bend in the channel, the canoes would have been effectually
concealed from those on the beach, had it even been broad daylight,
and, of course, were so much more hidden from view under the
obscurity of a very dark night. Perceiving this, and fearful that
the dip of the paddles might be heard, le Bourdon ceased to urge his
canoe through the water, telling the Chippewa to imitate his
example, and let the boats drift. In consequence of this precaution
the fugitives were still quite near the shore when, first, the dogs,
then a party of their masters, came rushing down to the very spot
whence the canoes had departed scarcely two minutes before. As no
precautions were taken to conceal the advance of the pursuers, the
pursued, or the individuals among them who alone understood the
common language of the great Ojebway nation well, had an opportunity
of hearing and understanding all that was said. Le Bourdon had
brought the two canoes together; and the Chippewa, at his request,
now translated such parts of the discourse of their enemies as he
deemed worthy of communicating to the females.
"Say, now, nobody dere!" commenced the Indian, coolly. "T'ink he no
great way off--mean to look for him--t'ink dog uneasy--won'er why
dog so uneasy."
"Them dogs are very likely to scent us here in the canoes, we are so
near them," whispered le Bourdon.
"S'pose he do, can't catch us," coolly answered the Chippewa--
"beside, shoot him, don't take care--bad for dog to chase warrior
too much."
"There is one speaking now, who seems to have authority."
"Yes--he chief--know he voice--hear him too often--he mean to put
Pigeonswing to torture. Well, let him catch Pigeonswing fust--swift
bird do that, eh?"
"But what says he?--it may be of importance to learn what the chief
says, just now."
"Who care what he say--can't do nuttin'--if get good chance, take
HIS scalp, too."
"Aye, that I dare say--but he is speaking earnestly and in a low
voice; listen, and let us know what he says. I do not well
understand at this distance."
The Chippewa complied, and maintained an attentive silence until the
chief ceased to speak. Then he rendered what had been said into such
English as he could command, accompanying the translation by the
explanations that naturally suggested themselves to one like
himself.
"Chief talk to young men," said the Chippewa--"all chief talk to
young men--tell him dat Pigeonswing must get off in canoe--don't see
canoe, nudder--but, muss be canoe, else he swim. T'ink more than one
Injin here--don't know, dough--maybe, maybe not--can't tell, till
see trail, morrow morning--"
"Well, well; but what does he tell his young men to DO?" demanded
the bee-hunter, impatiently.
"Don't be squaw, Bourdon--tell all by'em bye. Tell young men s'pose
he get canoe, den he may get OUR canoe, and carry 'em off--s'pose he
swim; dat Chippewa devil swim down stream and get OUR canoe dat
fashion--bess go back, some of you, and see arter OUR canoe--dat
what he tell young men most."
"That is a lucky thought!" exclaimed le Bourdon--"let us paddle
down, at once, and seize all their canoes before they can get there.
The distance by water, owing to this bend in the river, is not half
as great as that by land, and the marsh will double the distance to
them."
"Dat good counsel," said Pigeonswing--"you go--I follow."
This was no sooner said, than the canoes again got in motion. The
darkness might now have been a sufficient protection had there been
no rice, but the plant would have concealed the movement, even at
noon-day. The fire in the hut served as a beacon, and enabled le
Bourdon to find the canoes. When he reached the landing, he could
still hear the dogs barking on the marsh, and the voices of those
with them, calling in loud tones to two of the savages who had
remained at the chiente, as a sort of camp-guard.
"What do them chaps say?" asked le Bourdon of the Chippewa. "They
yell as if striving to make the two men at the door of the hut hear
them. Can you make out what they are bawling so loud?"
"Tell two warrior to come down and take care of canoe--dat all--let
'em come--find two here to take care of DEM--got good scalp, them
two rascal Pottawattamie!"
"No--no--Pigeonswing--we must have no more of that work to-night,
but must set about towing these four canoes off the shore as fast as
we can. Have you got hitches on your two?"
"Fast 'nough--so fast, he follow," answered the Indian, who,
notwithstanding his preparations to help to remove the canoes, was
manifestly reluctant to depart without striking another blow at his
enemies. "Now good time for dem rascal to lose scalp!"
"Them rascals, as you call them, begin to understand their friends
in the marsh, and are looking to the priming of their rifles. We
must be moving, or they may see us, and give us a shot. Shove off,
Chippewa, and paddle at once for the middle of the bay."
As le Bourdon was much in earnest, Pigeonswing was fain to comply.
Had the last possessed a rifle of his own, or even a knife, it is
highly probable he would have leaped ashore, and found the means of
stealing on some of his enemies unawares, and thus secured another
trophy. But the bee-hunter was determined, and the Chippewa, however
reluctant, was compelled to obey; for not only had le Bourdon kept
his rifle at his side, but he had used the precaution of securing
his knife and tomahawk, both of which he carried habitually, the
same as a red man.
The canoes had now a somewhat difficult task. The wind still blew
fresh, and it was necessary for one of these light craft, pretty
well loaded with its proper freight, and paddled by only a single
person, to tow two other craft of equal size dead to the windward.
The weight in the towing craft, and the lightness of those that were
towed, rendered this task, however, easier than it might otherwise
have proved. In the course of a couple of minutes all the canoes
were far enough from the shore to be out of sight of the two
Indians, who, by that time, had got down to the beach to look after
their own craft. The yell these savages raised on finding themselves
too late, not only announced their disappointment, but communicated
the extent of the disaster to their friends, who were still
floundering through the marsh.
The great advantage that the party of the bee-hunter had now
obtained must be very apparent to all. In possession of ALL the
canoes, their enemies were, or would be for some time at least,
confined to the northern side of the river, which was so wide near
its mouth as to present an effectual barrier between them and those
who occupied the opposite bank. The canoes, also, enabled the weaker
party to change their position at will, carrying with them as many
effects as were on board, and which included the whole of the
property of le Bourdon; while their loss deprived their enemies of
all extra means of motion, and would be very likely to induce them
to proceed on their expedition by land. The objects of that
expedition could only be conjectured by the bee-hunter, until he had
questioned the Chippewa; a thing he did not fail to do, so soon as
he believed the party quite safe under the south shore. Here the
fugitives landed, proceeding up a natural channel in the wild rice
in order to do so, and selecting a bit of dry beach for their
purpose. Margery set about lighting a fire, in order to keep the
mosquitos at a distance, selecting a spot to kindle it, behind a
swell on the land, that concealed the light from all on the other
shore. In the morning, it would be necessary to extinguish that
fire, lest its smoke should betray their position. It was while
these things were in progress, and after le Bourdon had himself
procured the fuel necessary to feed pretty Margery's fire, that he
questioned the Chippewa touching his captivity.
"Yes, tell all 'bout him," answered the Indian, as soon as
interrogated--"no good to hide trail from friend. 'Member when say
good-by up in openin' to Bourdon?"
"Certainly--I remember the very instant when you left me. The
Pottawattamie went on one path, and you went on another. I was glad
of that, as you seemed to think he was not your friend."
"Yes; good not to travel on same path as inimy, 'cause he quarrel
sometime," coolly returned the Indian. "Dis time, path come
together, somehow; and Pottawattamie lose he scalp."
"I am aware of all that, Pigeonswing, and wish it had not been so. I
found the body of Elksfoot sitting up against a tree soon after you
left me, and knew by whose hands he had fallen."
"Didn't find scalp, eh?"
"No, the scalp had been taken; though I accounted that but for
little, since the man's life was gone. There is little gained by
carrying on war in this manner, making the woods, and the openings,
and the prairies, alike unsafe. You see, to what distress this
family is reduced by your Injin manner of making war."
"How you make him, den--want, to hear. Go kiss, and give venison to
inimy, or go get his scalp, eh? Which bess fashion to make him
afeard, and own you master?"
"All that may be done without killing single travellers, or
murdering women and children. The peace will be made none the sooner
between England and America, because you have got the scalp of
Elksfoot."
"No haben't got him any longer; wish had--Pottawattamie take him
away, and say he bury him. Well, let him hide him in a hole deep as
white man's well, can't hide Pigeonswing honor dere, too. Dat is
safe as notch cut on stick can make him!"
This notch on a stick was the Indian mode of gazetting a warrior;
and a certain number of these notches was pretty certain to procure
for him a sort of savage brevet, which answered his purpose quite as
well as the modern mode of brevetting at Washington answers our
purpose. Neither brings any pay, we believe, nor any command, except
in such cases as rarely occur, and then only to the advantage of
government. There are varieties in honor, as in any other human
interest: so are there many moral degrees in warfare. Thus, the very
individual who admires the occupation of Algiers, or that of Tahiti,
or the attack on Canton, together with the long train of Indian
events which have dyed the peninsulas of the East in the blood of
their people, sees an alarming enormity in the knocking down of the
walls of Vera Cruz, though the breach opened a direct road into San
Juan de Ulloa. In the eyes of the same profound moralists, the
garitas of Mexico ought to have been respected, as so many doors
opening into the boudoirs of the beautiful dames of that fine
capital; it being a monstrous thing to fire a shot into the streets
of a town, no matter how many came out of them. We are happy,
therefore, to have it in our power to add these touches of
philosophy that came from Pigeonswing to those of the sages of the
old world, by way of completing a code of international morals on
this interesting subject, in which the student shall be at a loss to
say which he most admires--that which comes from the schools, or
that which comes direct from the wilderness.
"So best," answered the bee-hunter. "I wish I could persuade you to
throw away that disgusting thing at your belt. Remember, Chippewa,
you are now among Christians, and ought to do as Christians wish."
"What Christians DO, eh?" returned the Indian, with a sneer, "get
drunk like Whiskey Centre, dere? Cheat poor red man; den get down on
knee and look up at Manitou? DAT what Christian do, eh?"
"They who do such things are Christian but in name--you must think
better of such as are Christians in fact."
"Ebberybody call himself Christian, tell you--all pale-face
Christian, dey say. Now, listen to Chippewa. Once talk long talk
wit' missionary--tell all about Christian--what Christian do--what
Christian say--how he eat, how he sleep, HOW he drink!--all good--
wish Pigeonwing Christian--den 'member so'ger at garrison--no eat,
no sleep, no drink Christian fashion--do ebbery t'ing so'ger
fashion--swear, fight, cheat, get drunk--wuss dan Injin--dat
Christian, eh?"
"No, that is not acting like a Christian; and I fear very few of us
who call ourselves by that name, act as if we were Christians, in
truth," said le Bourdon, conscious of the justice of the Chippewa's
accusation.
"Just dat--now, I get him--ask missionary, one day, where all
Christian go to, so dat Injin can't find him--none in woods--none on
prairie--none in garrison--none in Mack'naw--none at Detroit--where
all go to, den, so Injin can't find him, on'y in missionary talk?"
"I am curious to know what answer your missionary made to that
question."
"Well, tell you--say, on'y one in ten t'ousant RAAL Christians 'mong
pale-face, dough all call himself Christian! DAT what Injin t'ink
queer, eh?"
"It is not easy to make a red man understand all the ways of the
pale-faces, Pigeonswing; but we will talk of these things another
time, when we are more at our ease. Just now, I wish to learn all I
can of the manner in which you fell into the hands of the
Pottawattamies."
"Dat plain 'nough--wish Christian talk half as plain. You see,
Bourdon, dat Elksfoot on scout, when we meet in openin', up river. I
know'd his ar'nd, and so took scalp. Dem Pottawattamie his friend--
when dey come to meet ole chief, no find him; but find Pigeonwing;
got me when tired and 'sleep; got Elkfoot scalp wid me--sorry for
dat--know scalp by scalp-lock, which had gray hair, and some mark.
So put me in canoe, and meant to take Chippewa to Chicago to torture
him--but too much wind. So, when meet friend in t'odder canoe, come
back here to wait little while."
This was the simple explanation of the manner in which Pigeonswing
had fallen into the hands of his enemies. It would seem that
Elksfoot had come in a canoe from the mouth of the St. Joseph's to a
point about half-way between that river and the mouth of the
Kalamazoo, and there landed. What the object of the party was, does
not exactly appear, though it is far from being certain that it was
not to seize the bee-hunter, and confiscate his effects. Although le
Bourdon was personally a stranger to Elksfoot, news flies through
the wilderness in an extraordinary manner; and it was not at all
unlikely that the fact of a white American's being in the openings
should soon spread, along with the tidings that the hatchet was dug
up, and that a party should go out in quest of his scalp and the
plunder. It would seem that the savage tact of the Chippewa detected
that in the manner of the Pottawattamie chief, which assured him the
intentions of the old warrior were not amicable; and that he took
the very summary process which has been related, not only to secure
HIS scalp, but effectually to put it out of his power to do any
mischief to one who was an ally, and by means of recent confidence,
now a friend. All this the Indian explained to his companion, in his
usual clipped English, but with a clearness sufficient to make it
perfectly intelligible to his listener. The bee-hunter listened with
the most profound attention, for he was fully aware of the
importance of comprehending all the hazards of his own situation.
While this dialogue was going on, Margery had succeeded in lighting
her fire, and was busy in preparing some warm compound, which she
knew would be required by her unhappy brother after his debauch,
Dorothy passed often between the fire and the canoe, feeling a
wife's anxiety in the fate of her husband. As for the Chippewa,
intoxication was a very venial offence in his eyes; though he had a
contempt for a man who would thus indulge while on a warpath. The
American Indian does possess this merit of adapting his deportment
to his circumstances. When engaged in war he usually prepares
himself, in the coolest and wisest manner, to meet its struggles,
indulging only in moments of leisure, and of comparative security.
It is true that the march of what is called civilization is fast
changing the red man's character, and he is very apt now to do that
which he sees done by the "Christians" around him.
Le Bourdon, when his dialogue with the Chippewa was over, and after
a few words of explanation with Margery, took his own canoe, and
paddled through the rice-plants into the open water of the river, to
reconnoitre. The breadth of the stream induced him to float down
before the wind, until he reached a point where he could again
command a view of the hut. What he there saw, and what he next did,
must be reserved for a succeeding chapter.
