“Got dere, already.  Garrison all kill, scalp, or prisoner.  Pottawattamie talk tell me dat”

“Is this possible!  Mackinaw and Chicago both gone, already!  John Bull must have been at work among the savages a long time, to get them into this state of readiness!”

“Sartain—­work long as can ‘member.  Alway somebody talkin’ for great Montreal Fadder among red men.”

“It must be as you say, Chippewa—­but, here are our visitors—­let us see what we can make of them”

By this time, the canoe was so near as to render it easy to distinguish countenances and dress, without the aid of the glass—­so near, indeed, that a swift-moving boat, like the canoe, might be expected soon to reach the shore.  The truth of the observation of the bee-hunter was confirmed, as the strangers approached.  The individual in the bows of the canoe was clearly a soldier, in a fatigue-dress, and the musket between his legs was one of those pieces that government furnishes to the troops of the line.  The man in the middle of the boat could no more be mistaken than he in its bows.  Each might be said to be in uniform—­the well-worn, nay, almost threadbare black coat of the “minister,” as much denoting him to be a man of peace, as the fatigue-jacket into “batteries”; to all of which innovations, bad as they may be, and useless and uncalled for, and wanton as they are, we are much more willing to submit, than to the new-fangled and lubberly abomination of saying “On a steamboat,” or “On a ship.”

While le Bourdon was so much astounded at hearing the terrible name of Onoah, which was familiar enough to him, neither of his white companions betrayed any emotion.  Had the Indian been termed “Scalping Peter,” it is probable that both Dorothy and Margery would have screamed, if not actually fled; but they knew nothing of the appellation that was given to this mysterious chief, in the language of the red men.  To this circumstance, therefore, was it owing that the utterance of his name did not produce a general commotion.  The bee-hunter observed, nevertheless, a great change in the demeanor of the Chippewa, the instant the missionary had uttered the ominous word, though he did not seem to be alarmed.  On the contrary, Boden fancied that his friend Pigeonswing was pleased, rather than terrified, at ascertaining the character of their visitor, though he no longer put himself forward, as had been the case previously; and from that moment the young warrior appeared to carry himself in a more subdued and less confident manner than was his wont.  This unexpected demeanor on the part of his friend, somewhat confounded le Bourdon, though it in a degree relieved his apprehensions of any immediate danger.  All this time, the conversation between the missionary and the corporal went on in as quiet and composed a manner, as if each saw no ground for any other uneasiness than that connected with the fall of Mackinaw.