“I see you want to be rid of us, Pigeonswing; but the parson has no thought of quitting this part of the world until he has convinced all the red-skins that they are Jews.”

“What he mean, eh?” demanded the Chippewa, with more curiosity than it was usual for an Indian warrior to betray.  “What sort of a man Jew, eh?  Why call red man Jew?”

“I know very little more about it than you do yourself, Pigeonswing; but such as my poor knowledge is, you’re welcome to it.  You’ve heard of the Bible, I dare say?”

“Sartain—­med’cine-man read him Sunday.  Good book to read, some t’ink.”

“Yes, it’s all that, and a great companion have I found my Bible, when I’ve been alone with the bees out here in the openings.  It tells us of our God, Chippewa; and teaches us how we are to please him, and how we may offend.  It’s a great loss to you red-skins not to have such a book among you.”

“Med’cine-man bring him—­don’t do much good, yet; some day, p’r’aps, do better.  How dat make red man Jew?”

“Why, this is a new idea to me, though Parson Amen seems fully possessed with it.  I suppose you know what a Jew is?”

“Don’t know anything ‘bout him.  Sort o’ nigger, eh?”

“No, no, Pigeonswing, you’re wide of the mark this time.  But, that we may understand each other, we’ll begin at the beginning like, which will let you into the whole history of the pale-face religion.  As we’ve had a smart walk, however, and here is the bear’s meat safe and sound, just as you left it, let us sit down a bit on this trunk of a tree, while I give you our tradition from beginning to end, as it might be.  In the first place, Chippewa, the earth was made without creatures of any sort to live on it—­not so much as a squirrel or a woodchuck.”

“Poor country to hunt in, dat,” observed the Chippewa quietly, while le Bourdon was wiping his forehead after removing his cap.  “Ojebways stay in it very little time.”

“This, according to our belief, was before any Ojebway lived.  At length, God made a man, out of clay, and fashioned him, as we see men fashioned and living all around us.”

“Yes,” answered the Chippewa, nodding his head in assent.  “Den Manitou put plenty blood in him—­dat make red warrior.  Bible good book, if tell dat tradition.”

“The Bible says nothing about any colors; but we suppose the man first made to have been a pale-face.  At any rate, the pale-faces have got possession of the best parts of the earth, as it might be, and I think they mean to keep them.  First come, first served, you know.  The pale-faces are many, and are strong.”

“Stop!” exclaimed Pigeonswing, in a way that was very unusual for an Indian to interrupt another when speaking; “want to ask question—­ how many pale-face you t’ink is dere?  Ebber count him?”

“Count him!—­Why, Chippewa, you might as well count the bees, as they buzz around a fallen tree.  You saw me cut down the tree I last discovered, and saw the movement of the little animals, and may judge what success tongue or eye would have in counting them; now, just as true would it be to suppose that any man could count the pale-faces on this earth.”