“You must mean Bourdon and Margery,” answered the missionary, in English, after a moment’s reflection.  “The idea is a new one to me; for my mind has been much occuoccupied of late, with other and more important matters; though I now plainly see what you mean!”

“That flower of the Openings would soon fade, if the young bee-hunter should leave it alone on the prairies.  This is the will of the Great Spirit.  He puts it into the minds of the young squaws to see all things well that the hunters of their fancy do.  Why he has made the young with this kindness for each other, perhaps my brother knows.  He is wise, and has books.  The poor Injins have none.  They can see only with the eyes they got from Injins, like themselves.  But one thing they know.  What the Great Spirit has commanded, is good.  Injins can’t make it any better.  They can do it harm, but they can do it no good.  Let my brother bless the couple that the Manitou has brought together.”

“I believe I understand you.  Peter, and will think of this.  And now that I must leave you for a little while, let me beg you to think of this matter of the origin of your tribes, candidly, and with care.  Everything depends on your people’s not mistaking the truth, in this great matter.  It is as necessary for a nation to know its duties, as for a single man.  Promise me to think of this, Peter.”

“My brother’s words have come into my ears—­they are good,” returned the Indian, courteously.  “We will think of them at the council, if my brother will bless his young man and young maiden, according to the law of his people.”

“I will promise to do this, Peter; or to urge Bourdon and Margery to do it, if you will promise to speak to-day, in council, of the history of your forefathers, and to take into consideration, once more, the great question of your being Hebrews.”

“I will speak as my brother wishes—­let him do as I wish.  Let him tell me that I can say to the chiefs before the sun has fallen the length of my arm, that the young pale-face bee-hunter has taken the young pale-face squaw into his wigwam.”

“I do not understand your motive, Peter; but that which you ask is wise, and according to God’s laws, and it shall be done.  Fare you well, then, for a season.  When we again meet, Bourdon and Margery shall be one, if my persuasions can prevail, and you will have pressed this matter of the lost tribes, again, home to your people.  Fare you well, Peter; fare you well.”

They separated; the Indian with a cold smile of courtesy, but with his ruthless intentions as respected the missionary in no degree changed.  Boden and Margery alone were exempt from vengeance, according to his present designs.  An unaccountable gentleness of feeling governed him, as connected with the girl; while superstition, and the dread of an unknown power, had its full influence on his determination to spare her lover.  There might be some faint ray of human