“Brother is awake,” she said, as soon as her sobs were quieted by a powerful effect; “but, as is usual with him after hard drinking, so stupid, that Dolly cannot make him understand our danger.  He tells her he has seen too many Injins to be afraid of these, and that they will never harm a family that has brought so much liquor into their country.”

“His senses must be at a low ebb, truly, if he counts on Injin friendship because he has sold fire-water to the young men!” answered le Bourdon, with a nice understanding of not only Indian nature, but of human nature.  “We may like the sin, Margery, while we detest the tempter.  I have never yet met with the man, pale-face or red-skin, who did not curse, in his sober moments, the hand that fed his appetite while intoxicated.”

“I dare say that may be very true,” returned the girl, in a low voice; “but one has need of his reason to understand it.  What will become of us now, it is hard to say.”  “Why, now, Margery, more than yesterday, or the day before?” “Yesterday there were no savages near us, and Gershorn had all along told us he intended to start for the garrison at the head of the lake, as soon as he got back from his visit to the openings.  He is back; but not in a state to protect his wife and sister from the red man, who will be looking for us as soon as they can build a canoe, or anything that will do to cross the river with.”

“Had they even a canoe,” returned le Bourdon, coolly, “they would not know where to look for us.  Thank Heaven! that will be a job that would take some time; nor is a bark canoe built in a minute.  But, Margery, if your brother be a little dull and heavy, after his debauch, I am sober, and as much awake as ever I was in my life.”

“Oh! you have no weakness like that of poor brother’s, to make you otherwise; but, Bourdon, you will naturally wish to take care of yourself and your property, and will quit us the first good opportunity.  I’m sure that we have no right to expect you will stay a minute longer than it is your interest to do so, and I do not know that I wish it.”

“Not wish it, Margery!” exclaimed the bee-hunter, in the manner of a disappointed man.  “I had supposed you would have wished my company.  But, now I know the contrary, I shall not much care how soon I go, or into whose hands I fall.”

It is strange how apt are those who ought to understand one another so readily, to misinterpret each other’s thoughts.  Margery had never seen the bee-hunter twenty-four hours before, though she had often heard of him, and of his success in his art; for the fame of a man of good reputation and active qualities spreads far on a frontier.  The very individual whose existence would be nearly overlooked in a crowded region, shall be spoken of, and known by his qualities, a hundred leagues from his place of residence, when settlements are few and far apart.  In this way, Margery had heard of Boden, or of “Bourdon,”