Here the Chippewa looked his contempt for the credulity and ignorance of the others, though he did not express it after the boisterous manner in which a white man of his class might have indulged.  To him le Bourdon was a good fellow, but no conjuror, and he understood the taking of the bee too well to have any doubts as to the character of that process.  His friend had let him amuse himself by the hour in looking through his spy-glass, so that the mind of this one savage was particularly well fortified against the inroads of the weaknesses that had invaded those of most of the members of the great council.  Consequently, he was amused with the notion taken up by some of the others, that le Bourdon had been carried off by bees, though he manifested his amusement in a very Indian-like fashion.

“So much the better,” answered le Bourdon; “and I hope they have followed to line me down to my hive in the settlements.”

“Most on ’em go—­yes, dat true.  But some don’t go.  Plenty of Injins still about dis part of Opening.”

“What are we then to do?  We shall soon be in want of food.  The fish do not bite as they did, and I have killed all the squirrels I can find.  You know I dare not use a rifle.”

“Don’t be squaw, Bourdon.  When Injin get marry he grows good deal like squaw at fuss; but dat soon go away.  I spose it’s just so wid pale-face.  Mustn’t be squaw, Bourdon.  Dat bad for warrior.  What you do for eat?  Why, see dere,” pointing to an object that was floating slowly down the river, the current of which was very sluggish just in that reach.  “Dere as fat buck as ever did see, eh?”

Sure enough the Indian had killed a deer, of which the Openings were full, and having brought it to the river, he had constructed a raft of logs, and placing the carcase on it, he had set his game adrift, taking care to so far precede it as to be in readiness to tow it into port.  When this last operation was performed, it was found that the Chippewa did not heedlessly vaunt the quality of his prize.  What was more, so accurately had he calculated the time, and the means of subsistence in the possession of the fugitives, that his supply came in just as it was most needed.  In all this he manifested no more than the care of an experienced and faithful hunter.  Next to the war-path, the hunting-ground is the great field for an Indian’s glory; deeds and facts so far eclipsing purely intellectual qualifications with savages, as to throw oratory, though much esteemed by them, and wisdom at the Council Fires, quite into the shade.  In all this, we find the same propensity among ourselves.  The common mind, ever subject to these impulses, looks rather to such exploits as address themselves to the senses and the imagination, than to those qualities which the reason alone can best appreciate; and in this, ignorance asserts its negative power over all conditions of life.

Pigeonswing now condescended to enter on such explanations as the state of the case rendered necessary.  His account was sufficiently clear, and it manifested throughout the sagacity and shrewdness of a practised hunter and scout.  We shall not attempt to give his words, which would require too much space, but the substance of his story was briefly this: