“You will think better of this, Bourdon,” the girl resumed.  “We are going south, and cannot quit the river with this wind, but you could not have a better time to go north, unless the wind blows harder than I think it does.”

“The lake is a bad water for a canoe, when there is much wind,” put in Gershom, yawning after he had spoken, as if the effort fatigued him, “I wonder what we’re all doing over on this side of the river!  Whiskey Centre is a good enough country for me; I’m going back to look arter my casks, now I’ve breakfasted.  Come, Doll; let’s load up, and be off.”

“You are not yourself yet, Gershom,” returned the sorrowful wife, “or you would not talk in this way.  You had better listen to the advice of Bourdon, who has done so much for us already, and who will tell you the way to keep out of Injin clutches.  We owe our lives to Bourdon, Gershom, and you should thank him for it.”

Whiskey Centre muttered a few half intelligible words of thanks, and relapsed into his state of drowsy indifference.  The bee-hunter saw, however, that the effects of the brandy were leaving him, and he managed to get him on one side, where he persuaded the fellow to strip and go into the water.  The bath did wonders for the poor creature, who soon got to be so far himself again, as to be of use, instead of being an incumbrance.  When sober, and more especially when sober for several consecutive days, Gershom was a man of sufficient energy, possessing originally great personal strength and activity, which had been essentially lessened, however, by his excesses in liquor.  It has already been stated what a different being he became, in a moral point of view, after having been sober for any length of time.

On his return from the bathing, le Bourdon again joined the females.  Margery had been weeping; but she smiled in a friendly way, on meeting his eye, and appeared less anxious for his departure than she had been an hour before.  As the day advanced, and no signs of the savages were seen, a sense of greater security began to steal over the females, and Margery saw less necessity for the departure of their new friend.  It was true, he was losing a wind; but the lake was rough, and after all it might be better to wait.  In short, now that no immediate danger was apparent, Margery began to reason in conformity with her wishes, as is so apt to be the case with the young and inexperienced.  The bee-hunter perceived this change in the deportment of his fair friend, and was well enough disposed to hope it would admit of a favorable construction.

All this time, the Chippewa had taken little visible interest in the state of the party to which he had now attached himself.  The previous evening had been fertile in excitement and in gratification, and he had since slept and ate to his entire content.  He was ready to meet events as they might arise, and began to plot the means of obtaining more Pottawattamie scalps.  Let not the refined reader feel disdisgust