Peter saw the discovery of the two spectators with some uneasiness.  The time had not come when he intended to strike his blow; and he had seen signs among those Pottawattamies, when at the mouth of the river, which had told him how little they were disposed to look with favor on one who had so grievously trifled with their hopes.  His first care, therefore, was to interpose his authority and influence between le Bourdon and any project of revenge, which Crowsfeather’s young men might be apt to devise, as soon as they, too, laid eyes on the offender.  This was done in a characteristic and wily manner.

“Does my brother love honey?” asked the tribeless chief of the leader of the Pottawattamies present, who sat near him, gazing on le Bourdon much as the cat looks upon the mouse, ere it makes it its prey.  “Some Injins are fond of that sweet food:  if my brother is one of that sort, I can tell him how to fill his wigwam with honey with little trouble.”

At this suggestion, coming from such a source, Crowsfeather could not do less than express his thanks, and his readiness to hear what further might be in reserve for him.  Peter then alluded to le Bourdon’s art, describing him as being the most skilful bee-hunter of the West.  So great was his art in that way, that no Indian had ever yet seen his equal.  It was Peter’s intention to make him exercise his craft soon, for the benefit of the chiefs and warriors present, who might then return to their village, carrying with them stores of honey to gladden the hearts of their squaws and pappooses.  This artifice succeeded; for the Indians are not expert in taking this article of food, which so much abounds in the forests, both on account of the difficulty they find in felling the trees, and on account of the “angle-ing” part of the process, which much exceeds their skill in mathematics.  On the other hand, the last is just the sort of skill a common white American would be likely to manifest, his readiness and ingenuity in all such processes almost amounting to an instinct.

Having thus thrown his mantle around le Bourdon for the moment, Peter then deemed it the better course to finish the historical investigation in which the council had been so much interested, when the strange interruption by the wolves occurred.  With this view, therefore, he rose himself, and recalled the minds of all present to this interesting subject, by a short speech.  This he did, especially to prevent any premature attack on the person of le Bourdon.

“Brothers,” said this mysterious chief, “it is good for Injins to learn.  When they learn a thing, they know it; then they may learn another.  It is in this way that the pale-faces do; it makes them wise, and puts it in their power to take away our hunting-grounds.  A man that knows nothing is only a child that has grown up too fast.  He may be big—­may take long steps—­may be strong enough to carry burdens—­may love venison and buffaloes’ humps; but his size is