When Peter arose from his knees, after repeating the prayer to Margery’s slow leading, it was with the dependence of a child on the teaching of its mother.  Physically, he was the man he ever had been.  He was as able to endure fatigue, as sinewy in his frame, and as capable of fasting and of sustaining fatigue, as in his most warlike days; but, morally, the change was great, indeed.  Instead of the obstinate confidence in himself and his traditions, which had once so much distinguished this chief, there was substituted an humble distrust of his own judgment, that rendered him singularly indisposed to rely on his personal views, in any matter of conscience, and he was truly become a child in all that pertained to his religious belief.  In good hands, and under more advantageous circumstances, the moral improvement of Peter would have been great; but, situated as he was, it could not be said to amount to much more than a very excellent commencement.

All this time both Peter and Margery had been too intent on their feelings and employment, to take much heed to the precautions necessary to their concealment.  The sun was setting ere they arose, and then it was that Peter made the important discovery that they were observed by two of the young men of the Pottawattamies—­scouts kept out by Bear’s Meat to look for the fugitives.

The time was when Peter would not have hesitated to use his rifle on these unwelcome intruders; but the better spirit that had come over him, now led him to adopt a very different course.  Motioning to the young men, he ordered them to retire, while he led Margery within the cover of the bushes.  Formerly, Peter would not have scrupled to resort to deception, in order to throw these two young men on a wrong scent, and get rid of them in that mode; but now he had a reluctance to deceive; and, no sooner did they fall back at his beckoning, than he followed Margery to the camp.  The latter was giving her husband a hurried account of what had just happened, as Peter joined them.

“Our camp is known!” exclaimed the bee-hunter the instant he beheld the Indian.

“Juss so.  Pottawattamie see squaw, and go and tell his chief.  Dat sartain,” answered Peter.

“What is there to be done?—­Fight for our lives, or fly?”

“Get in canoe quick as can.  It take dem young men half-hour to reach place where chief be.  In dat half-hour we muss go as far as we can.  No good to stay here.  Injin come in about one hour.”

Le Bourdon knew his position well enough to understand this.  Nevertheless, there were several serious objections to an immediate flight.  Pigeonswing was absent, and the bee-hunter did not like the notion of leaving him behind, for various reasons.  Then it was not yet dark; and to descend the river by daylight, appeared like advancing into the jaws of the lion designedly.  Nor was le Bourdon at his ease on the subject of Peter.  His sudden appearance, the