“As I live, yonder are Peter and Pigeonswing,” suddenly exclaimed our hero.  “They have crossed the Peninsula, and have come out from the point, in that canoe, to meet us.”

“With important news, then, depend on it, Benjamin,” answered the wife.  “Tell this to brother, that he and Dolly may not feel more alarm than is necessary.”

The bee-hunter called out to his friends in the other canoe, and communicated the discovery just made, the two craft keeping always within hailing distance of each other.

“Them Injins are not here for nothing,” answered Dorothy.  “You will find they have something serious to say.”

“We shall soon know,” called out le Bourdon.  “Ten minutes will bring us alongside of them.”

The ten minutes did that much, and before the expiration of the short space, the three canoes were fastened together, that of Peter being in the centre.  The bee-hunter saw, at a glance, that the expedition of the Indians had been hurried; for their canoe, besides being of very indifferent qualities, was not provided with the implements and conveniences usual to a voyage of any length.  Still, he would not ask a question, but lighting his pipe, after a few puffs, he passed it courteously over to Peter.  The great chief smoked a while, and gave it to Pigeonswing, in his turn, who appeared to enjoy it quite as much as any of the party.

“My father does not believe he is a Jew?” said le Bourdon, smiling; willing to commence a discourse, though still determined not to betray a womanish curiosity.

“We are poor Injins, Bourdon; just as the Great Spirit made us.  Dat bess.  Can’t help what Manitou do.  If he don’t make us Jew, can’t be Jew.  If he make us Injin, muss be Injin.  For my part, b’lieve I’m Injin, and don’t want to be pale-face.  Can love pale-face, now, juss as well as love Injin.”

“Oh, I hope this is true, Peter,” exclaimed Margery, her handsome face flushing with delight, at hearing these words.  “So long as your heart tells you this, be certain that the Spirit of God is in you.”

Peter made no answer, but he looked profoundly impressed with the novel feeling that had taken possession of his soul.  As for the bee-hunter, he did not meddle with Margery’s convictions or emotions on such subjects, resembling, in this particular, most men, who, however indifferent to religion in their own persons, are never sorry to find that their wives profoundly submit to its influence.  After a short pause, a species of homage involuntarily paid to the subject, he thought he might now inquire into the circumstances that brought the Indians on their route, without incurring the imputation of a weak and impatient curiosity.  In reply, Peter’s story was soon told.  He had rejoined the chiefs without exciting distrust, and all had waited for the young men to bring in the captives.  As soon as it was ascertained that the intended victims had escaped, and by water, parties proceeded to different