“Does my daughter wish this?” returned Peter, when Margery had thus frankly and sincerely given vent to her feelings.  “Can a pale-face squaw wish to leave an Injin any of his hunting-grounds?”

“Thousands of us wish it, Peter, and I for one.  Often and often have we talked of this around our family fire, and even Gershom, when his head has not been affected by fire-water, has thought as we all have thought.  I know that Bourdon thinks so, too; and I have heard him say that he thought Congress ought to pass a law to prevent white men from getting any more of the Injin’s lands.”

The face of Peter would have been a remarkable study, during the few moments that his fierce will was in the process of being brought in subjugation to the influence of his better feelings.  At first he appeared bewildered; then compunction had its shade; and human sympathy came last, asserting its long dormant, but inextinguishable power.  Margery saw some of this, though it far exceeded her penetration to read all the workings of that stern and savage mind; yet she felt encouraged by what she did see and understand.

While an almighty and divine Providence was thus carrying out its own gracious designs in its own way, the bee-hunter continued bent on reaching a similar end by means of his own.  Little did he imagine how much had been done for him within the last few moments, and how greatly all he had in view was jeoparded and put at risk by his own contrivances—­contrivances which seemed to him so clever, but which were wanting in the unerring simplicity and truth that render those that come from above infallible.  Still, the expedients of le Bourdon may have had their agency in bringing about events, and may have been intended to be a part of that moral machinery, which was now at work in the breast of Peter, for good.

It will be remembered that the bee-hunter habitually carried a small spy-glass, as a part of the implements of his calling.  It enabled him to watch the bees, as they went in and came out of the hives, on the highest trees, and often saved him hours of fruitless search.  This glass was now in his hand; for an object on a dead tree, that rose a little apart from those around it, and which stood quite near the extreme point in the forest, toward which they were all proceeding, had caught his attention.  The distance was still too great to ascertain by the naked eye what that object was; but a single look with the glass showed that it was a bear.  This was an old enemy of the bee-hunter, who often encountered the animal, endeavoring to get at the honey, and he had on divers occasions been obliged to deal with these plunderers, before he could succeed in his own plans of pilfering.  The bear now seen continued in sight but an instant; the height to which he had clambered being so great, most probably, as to weary him with the effort, and to compel him to fall back again.  All this was favorable to le Bourdon’s wishes, who immediately called a halt.  The first thing that Bourdon did, when all the dark eyes were gleaming on him in fierce curiosity, was to catch a bee and hold it to his ear, as it buzzed about in the tumbler.