Still no explanation passed between them.  Margery remained near Peter for some time, administering to his wants, and otherwise demeaning herself much as a daughter might have done.  At length le Bourdon joined them.  The salutations were friendly, and the manner in which the mysterious chief regarded the equally mysterious bee-hunter, was not altogether without a certain degree of awe.  Boden perceived this, and was not slow to comprehend that he owed this accession of influence to the scene which had occurred on the prairie.

“Is the great council ended, Peter?” asked the bee-hunter, when the little interval of silence had been observed.

“Yes, it over.  No more council, now, on Prairie Round.”

“And the chiefs—­have they all gone on their proper paths?  What has become of my old acquaintance, Crowsfeather? and all the rest of them—­Bear’s Meat, in particular?”

“All gone.  No more council now.  Agree what to do and so go away.”

“But are red men always as good as their words? do they perform always what they promise?”

“Sartain.  Ebbery man ought do what he say.  Dat Injin law—­no pale-face law, eh?”

“It may be the law, Peter, and a very good law it is; but we white men do not always mind our own laws.”

“Dat bad—­Great Spirit don’t like dat,” returned Peter, looking grave, and slowly shaking his head.  “Dat very bad.  When Injin say he do it, den he do it, if he can.  If can’t, no help for it.  Send squaw away now, Bourdon—­bess not to let squaw hear what men say, or will always want to hear.”

Le Bourdon laughed, as he turned to Margery and repeated these words.  The young wife colored, but she took it in good part, and ran up toward the palisaded lodge, like one who was glad to be rid of her companions.  Peter waited a few moments, then turning his head slowly in all directions, to make sure of not being overheard, he began to lay open his mind.

“You been on Prairie Round, Bourdon—­you see Injin dere—­chief, warrior, young men, hunter, all dere.”

“I saw them all, Peter, and a goodly sight it was—­what between paint, and medals, and bows and arrows and tomahawks, and all your bravery!”

“You like to see him, eh?  Yes; he fine t’ing to look at.  Well, dat council call togedder by me—­you know dat, too, Bourdon?”

“I have heard you say that such was your intention, and I suppose you did it, chief.  They tell me you have great power among your own people, and that they do very much as you tell them to do.”

Peter looked graver than ever at this remark; and one of his startling gleams of ferocity passed over his dark countenance.  Then he answered with his customary self-command.

“Sometime so,” he said; “sometime not so.  Yesterday, not so.  Dere is chief dat want to put Peter under his foot!  He try, but he no do it!  I know Peter well, and know dat chief, too.”