“That comes from your Puritan blood,” answered le Bourdon, with a quiet smile, using surprisingly pure English for one in his class of life.  “They tell me you Puritans preach by instinct.”

“I don’t know how that is,” answered Gershom, “though I can turn my hand to anything.  I heer’n tell, across at Bob Ruly (Bois Brulk [Footnote:  This unfortunate name, which it may be necessary to tell a portion of our readers means “burnt wood,” seems condemned to all sorts of abuses among the linguists of the West.  Among other pronunciations is that of “Bob Ruly”; while an island near Detroit, the proper name of which is “Bois Blanc,” is familiarly known to the lake mariners by the name of “Bobolo."]) of sich doin’s, and would give a week’s keep at Whiskey Centre, to know how ’twas done.”

“Whiskey Centre” was a sobriquet bestowed by the fresh-water sailors of that region, and the few other white adventurers of Saxon origin who found their way into that trackless region, firstly on Gershom himself, and secondly on his residence.  These names were obtained from the intensity of their respective characters, in favor of the beverage named.  L’eau de mort was the place termed by the voyagers, in a sort of pleasant travesty on the eau de vie of their distant, but still well-remembered manufactures on the banks of the Garonne.  Ben Boden, however, paid but little attention to the drawling remarks of Gershom Waring.  This was not the first time he had heard of “Whiskey Centre,” though the first time he had ever seen the man himself.  His attention was on his own trade, or present occupation; and when it wandered at all, it was principally bestowed on the Indians; more especially on the runner.  Of Elk’s foot, or Elksfoot, as we prefer to spell it, he had some knowledge by means of rumor; and the little he knew rendered him somewhat more indifferent to his proceedings than he felt toward those of the Pigeonswing.  Of this young redskin he had never heard; and, while he managed to suppress all exhibition of the feeling, a lively curiosity to learn the Chippewa’s business was uppermost in his mind.  As for Gershom, he had taken his measure at a glance, and had instantly set him down to be, what in truth he was, a wandering, drinking, reckless adventurer, who had a multitude of vices and bad qualities, mixed up with a few that, if not absolutely redeeming, served to diminish the disgust in which he might otherwise have been held by all decent people.  In the meanwhile, the bee-hunting, in which all the spectators took so much interest, went on.  As this is a process with which most of our readers are probably unacquainted, it may be necessary to explain the modus operandi, as well as the appliances used.