It will be remembered that the trees for the palisades had been cut from a swamp, a short distance above the bee-hunter’s residence.  They had grown on the margin of the river, which had been found serviceable in floating the logs to their point of destination.  The tops of many of these trees, resinuous, and suited by their nature to preserve their leaves for a considerable time, lay partly in the stream and partly on its banks; and Pigeonswing, foreseeing the necessity of having a place of refuge, had made so artful a disposition of several of them, that, while they preserved all the appearance of still lying where they had fallen, it was possible to haul canoes up beneath them, between the branches and the bank, in a way to form a place of perfect concealment.  No Indian would have trusted to such a hiding-place, had it not been matter of notoriety that the trees had been felled for a particular purpose, or had their accidental disposition along the bank been discernibly deranged.  But such was not the case, the hand of Pigeonswing having been so skilfully employed that what he had done could not be detected.  He might be said to have assisted nature, instead of disturbing her.

The canoes were actually paddling close under the bank, in the Castle Meal reach of the river, when the band arrived at the grove, and commenced what might be called the investment of the place.  Had not all the attention of the savages been drawn toward the hut, it is probable that some wandering eye might have caught a glimpse of some one of them, as inequalities in the bank momentarily exposed each, in succession, to view.  This danger, however, passed away, and by turning a point, the fugitives were effectually concealed from all who did not actually approach the river at that particular point.  Here it was, however, that the swamp commenced, and the ground being wet and difficult, no one would be likely to do this.  The stream flowed through this swamp, having a dense wood on each side, though one of no great extent.  The reach, moreover, was short, making a completely sheltered haven of the Kalamazoo, within its limits.

Once in this wooded reach, Peter tossed an arm, and assumed an air of greater security.  He felt infinitely relieved, and knew that they were safe, for a time, unless some wanderer should have taken to the swamp—­a most improbable thing of itself.  When high enough, he led the way across the stream, and entering below, he soon had all the canoes in their place of concealment.

“Dis good place,” observed the great chief, as soon as all were fast; “bess take care, dough.  Bess not make track too much on land; Injin got sharp eye, and see ebbery t’ing.  Now, I go and talk wid chief.  Come back by-’em-by.  You stay here.  Good-bye.”

“Stop, Peter—­one word before we part.  If you see Parson Amen, or the corporal, it might be well to tell them where we are to be found.  They would be glad to know.”