"Bess get ready, now," rejoined Pigeonswing; who, having given this advice with point, as to manner, proceeded to the spring, where he knelt and slaked his thirst. The manner of the Chippewa was such as to attract the attention of the missionary, who, full of his theory, imagined that this desire to get rid of the whites was, in some way or other, connected with a reluctance in the Indians to confess themselves Jews.

He had been quite as much surprised as he was disappointed, with the backwardness of the chiefs in accepting this tradition, and was now in a state of mind that predisposed him to impute everything to this one cause.

"I hope, Pigeonswing," he said to the Chippewa, whom he had followed to the spring--"I hope, Pigeonswing, that no offence has been taken by the chiefs on account of what I told them yesterday, concerning their being Jews. It is what I think, and it is an honor to belong to G.o.d's chosen people, and in no sense a disgrace. I hope no offence has been taken on account of my telling the chief they are Jews."

"Don't care any t'ing 'bout it," answered the literal Indian, rising from his kneeling position, and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Don't care wedder Jew, or wedder Indian."

"For my own part, gladly would I have it to say that I am descended from Israel."

"Why don't say him, if he make you grad? Good to be grad. All Injin love to be grad."

"Because I cannot say it with truth. No; I come of the Gentiles, and not of the Hebrews, else would I glory in saying I am a Jew, in the sense of extraction, though not now in the sense of faith. I trust the chiefs will not take offence at my telling them just what I think."

"Tell you he don't care," returned Pigeonswing, a little crustily.

"Don't care if Jew--don't care if Injin. Know dat make no difference.

Hunting-ground just same--game just same--scalps just same. Make no difference, and don't care."

"I am glad of this--but why did you advise Dorothy to quit the Openings in the hasty manner you did, if all is right with the chiefs? It is not good to start on a journey without preparation and prayer. Why, then, did you give this advice to Dorothy to quit the Openings so soon?"

"Bess for squaw to go home, when Injin dig up hatchet. Openin' full of warrior--prairie full of warrior--wood full of warrior. When dat so, bess for squaw to go home."

"This would be true, were the Indians our enemies. Heaven be praised, they are our friends, and will not harm us. Peter is a great chief, and can make his young men do what he tells them; and Peter is our friend.

With Peter to stand by us, and a merciful Providence to direct us where, when, and how to go, we can have nothing to fear. I trust in Divine Providence."

"Who he be?" asked Pigeonswing, innocently, for his knowledge of English did not extend far enough to comprehend a phrase so complicated, though so familiar to ourselves. "He know all paths, eh?"

"Yes; and directs us on all paths--more especially such as are for our good."

"Bess get him to tell you path into Detroit. Dat good path, now, for all pale-faces."

On uttering this advice, which he did also somewhat pointedly, the Chippewa left the spring, and walked toward the kennel of Hive, where the bee-hunter was busy feeding his old companion.

"You're welcome back, Pigeonswing," the last cordially remarked, without pausing in his occupation, however. "I saw that you came in loaded, as usual. Have you left any dead game in the Openings, for me to go and back in with you?"

"You open ear, Bourdon--you know what Injin say," returned the Chippewa, earnestly. "When dog get 'nough come wid me. Got somet'ing to tell. Bess hear it, when he CAN hear it."

"You'll find me ready enough in a minute. There, Hive, my good fellow, that ought to satisfy any reasonable dog, and I've never found you unreasonable yet. Well, Chippewa, here I am, with my ears wide open--stop, I've a bit of news, first, for your ears. Do you know, Pigeonswing, my good fellow, that I am married?"

"Marry, eh? Got squaw, eh? Where you get him?"

"Here, to be sure--where else should I get her? There is but one girl in these Openings that I would ask to be my wife, and she has been asked, and answered, yes. Parson Amen married us, yesterday, on our way in from Prairie Round; so that puts me on a footing with yourself. When you boast of your squaw that you've left in your wigwam, I can boast of mine that I have here. Margery is a girl to boast of, too!"

"Yes; good squaw, dat. Like dat squaw pretty well. Nebber see better.

Bess keep squaw alway in his own wigwam."

"Well, mine is in my own wigwam. Castle Meal is my property, and she does it honor."

"Dat an't what Injin mean. Mean dis. Bess have wigwam at home, dere, where pale-face lives, and bess keep squaw in DAT wigwam. Where my squaw, eh? She home, in my wigwam--take care of pappoose, hoe corn, and keep ground good. So bess wid white squaw--bess home, at work."

"I believe I understand what you mean, Pigeon. Well, home we mean to go, before the winter sets in, and when matters have a little settled down between the English and Yankees. It isn't safe travelling, just now, in Michigan--you must own that, yourself, my good fellow."

The Indian appeared at a loss, now, how to express himself further.

On one side was his faith to his color, and his dread of Peter and the great chiefs; on the other, his strong regard for the bee-hunter. He pondered a moment, and then took his own manner of communicating that which he wished to say. The fact that his friend was married made no great difference in his advice, for the Indian was much too shrewd an observer not to have detected the bee-hunter's attachment. He had not supposed it possible to separate his friend from the family of Gershom, though he did suppose there would be less difficulty in getting him to go on a path different from that which the missionary and corporal might take. His own great purpose was to serve le Bourdon, and how many or how few might incidentally profit by it he did not care. The truth compels us to own, that even Margery's charms, and nature, and warm-hearted interest in all around her, had failed to make any impression on his marble-like feelings; while the bee-hunter's habits, skill in his craft, and close connection with himself at the mouth of the river, and more especially in liberating him from his enemies, had united him in a comrade's friendship with her husband. It was a little singular that this Chippewa did not fall into Peter's superst.i.tious dread of the bee-hunter's necromancy, though he was aware of all that had pa.s.sed the previous day on the prairie. Either on account of his greater familiarity with le Bourdon's habits, or because he was in the secret of the trick of the whiskey-spring, or from a closer knowledge of white men and their ways, this young Indian was freer from apprehensions of this nature, perhaps, than any one of the same color and origin within many miles of the spot. In a word, Pigeons-wing regarded the bee-hunter as his friend, while he looked upon the other pale-faces as so many persons thrown by accident in his company. Now that Margery had actually become his friend's squaw, his interest in her was somewhat increased; though she had never obtained that interest in his feelings that she had awakened in the breast of Peter, by her attentions to him, her gentleness, light-hearted gayety, and womanly care, and all without the least design on her own part.

"No," answered the Chippewa, after a moment's reflection, "no very safe for Yankee, or Yankee Injin. Don't t'ink my scalp very safe, if chief know'd I'm Yankee runner. Bess alway to keep scalp safe. Dem Pottawattamie I take care not to see. Know all about 'em, too. Know what he SAY--know what he DO--b'lieve I know what he T'INK."

"I did not see you, Pigeon, among the red young men, yesterday, out on Prairie Round."

"Know too much to go dere. Crowsfeather and Pottawattamie out dere. Bess not go near dem when dey have eye open. Take 'em asleep. Dat bess way wid sich Injin. Catch 'em some time! But your ear open, Bourdon?"

"Wide open, my good friend--what have you to whisper in it?"

"You look hard at Peter when he come in. If he t'ink good deal, and don't say much, when he DO speak, mind what he say. If he smile, and very much friend, must hab his scalp."

"Chippewa, Peter is my friend, lives in my cabin, and eats of my bread!

The hand that touches him, touches me."

"Which bess, eh--HIS scalp, or your'n? If he VERY much friend when he comes in, his scalp muss come off, or your'n. Yes, juss so. Dat de way.

Know Injin better dan you know him, Bourdon. You good bee-hunter, but poor Injin. Ebbery body hab his way--Injin got his. Peter laugh and very much friend, when he come home, den he mean to hab YOUR scalp. If don't smile, and don't seem very much friend, but look down, and t'ink, t'ink, t'ink, den he no mean to hurt you, but try to get you out of hand of chiefs. Dat all."

As Pigeonswing concluded, he walked coolly away, leaving his friend to ruminate on the alternative of scalp or no scalp! The bee-hunter now understood the Chippewa perfectly. He was aware that this man had means of his own to ascertain what was pa.s.sing around him in the Openings, and he had the utmost confidence in his integrity and good wishes. If a red man is slow to forget an injury, he never forgets a favor. In this he was as unlike as possible to most of the pale-faces who were supplanting his race, for these last had, and have, as extraordinary a tenacity in losing sight of benefits, as they have in remembering wrongs.

By some means or other, it was now clear that Pigeonswing foresaw that a crisis was at hand. Had le Bourdon been as disconnected and solitary as he was when he first met the Chippewa, it is not probable that either the words or the manner of his friend would have produced much impression on him, so little accustomed was he to dwell on the hazards of his frontier position. But the case was now altogether changed.

Margery and her claims stood foremost in his mind; and through Margery came Dolly and her husband. There was no mistaking Pigeonswing's intention. It was to give warning of some immediate danger, and a danger that, in some way, was connected with the deportment of Peter. It was easy enough to comprehend the allusions to the mysterious chief's smiles and melancholy; and the bee-hunter understood that he was to watch that Indian's manner, and take the alarm or bestow his confidence accordingly.

Le Bourdon was not left long in doubt. Peter arrived about half-an-hour after Pigeonswing had gone to seek his rest; and from the instant he came in sight, our hero discerned the thoughtful eye and melancholy manner. These signs were still more obvious when the tribeless Indian came nearer; so obvious, indeed, as to strike more than one of those who were interested observers of all that this extraordinary being said and did. Among others, Margery was the first to see this change, and the first to let it influence her own manner. This she did, notwithstanding le Bourdon had said nothing to her on the subject, and in defiance of the bashful feelings of a bride; which, under circ.u.mstances less marked, might have induced her to keep more in the background. As Peter stopped at the spring to quench his thirst, Margery was, in truth, the first to approach and to speak to him.

"You seem weary, Peter," said the young wife, somewhat timidly as to voice and air, but with a decided and honest manifestation of interest in what she was about. Nor had Margery gone empty-handed. She took with her a savory dish, one of those that the men of the woods love--meat cooked in its own juices, and garnished with several little additions, that her skill in the arts of civilized life enabled her to supply.

"You seem tired, Peter, and if I did not fear to say it, I should tell you that you also seem sad," said Margery, as she placed her dish on a rude table that was kept at the spot, for the convenience of those who seldom respected hours, or regularity of any sort in their meals. "Here is food that you like, which I have cooked with my own hands."

The Indian looked intently at the timid and charming young creature, who came forward thus to contribute to his comforts, and the saddened expression of his countenance deepened. He was fatigued and hungry, and he ate for some time without speaking, beyond uttering a brief expression of his thanks. When his appet.i.te was appeased, however, and she who had so sedulously attended to his wants was about to remove the remains of the dish, he signed with his finger for her to draw nearer, intimating that he had something to say. Margery obeyed without hesitation, though the color flitted in her face like the changes in an evening sky. But so much good will and confidence had been awakened between these two, that a daughter would not have drawn near to a father with more confidence than Margery stood before Peter.

"Medicine-man do what I tell him, young squaw, eh?" demanded Peter, smiling slightly, and for the first time since they had met.

"By medicine-man do you mean Mr. Amen, or Bourdon?" the bride asked in her turn, her whole face reflecting the confusion she felt, scarcely knowing why.

"Bot'. One medicine-man say his prayer; t'odder medicine-man take young squaw's hand, and lead her into his wigwam. Dat what I mean."

"I am married to Bourdon," returned Margery, dropping her eyes to the ground, "if that be what you wish to know. I hope you think I shall have a good husband, Peter."

"Hope so, too--nebber know till time come. All good for little while--Injin good, squaw good. Juss like weadder. Sometime rain--sometime storm--sometime sunshine. Juss so wid Injin, juss so wid pale-face. No difference. All same. You see dat cloud?--he little now; but let wind blow, he grow big, and you see nuttin' but cloud. Let him have plenty of sunshine, and he go away; den all clear over head. Dat bess way to live wid husband."

"And that is the way which Bourdon and I WILL always live together. When we get back among our own people, Peter, and are living comfortably in a pale-face wigwam, with pale-face food, and pale-face drinks, and all the other good things of pale-face housekeeping about us, then I hope you will come and see how happy we are, and pa.s.s some time with us. Every year I wish you to come and see us, and to bring us venison, and Bourdon will give you powder, and lead, and blankets, and all you may want, unless it be fire-water. Fire-water he has promised never again to give to an Injin."

"No find any more whiskey-spring, eh?" demanded Peter, greatly interested in the young woman's natural and warm-hearted manner of proposing her hospitalities. "So bess--so bess. Great curse for Injin.

Plenty honey, no fire-water. All dat good. And I come, if--"

Here Peter stopped, nor could all Margery's questions induce him to complete the sentence. His gaze at the earnest countenance of the bride was such as to give her an indefinite sort of uneasiness, not to say a feeling of alarm.