Nevertheless, there was one point about which even those keen-scented children of the forest were much puzzled, and which the bee-hunter perfectly comprehended, notwithstanding the distance at which he was compelled to keep himself.  The odor of the whiskey was so strong, in and about the chiente, that the Pottawattamies did not know what to make of it.  That there should be the remains of this peculiar smell—­one so fragrant and tempting to those who are accustomed to indulge in the liquor—­in the hut itself, was natural enough; but the savages were perplexed at finding it so strong on the declivity down which the barrels had been rolled.  On this subject were they conversing, when le Bourdon first got near enough to observe their proceedings.  After discussing the matter for some time, torches were lighted, and most of the party followed a grim old warrior, who had an exceedingly true nose for the scent of whiskey, and who led them to the very spot where the half-barrel had been first stove by rolling off a rock, and where its contents had been mainly spilled.  Here the earth was yet wet in places, and the scent was so strong as to leave no doubt of the recent nature of the accident which had wasted so much of a liquor that was very precious in Pottawattamie eyes; for accident they thought it must be, since no sane man could think of destroying the liquor intentionally.

All the movements, gestures, and genuflections of the savages were plainly seen by the bee-hunter.  We say the genuflections, for nearly all of the Indians got on their knees and applied their noses to the earth, in order to scent the fragrance of the beloved whiskey; some out of curiosity, but more because they loved even this tantalizing indulgence, when no better could be had.  But le Bourdon was right in his conjectures, that the matter was not to end here.  Although most of the Indians scented the remains of the whiskey out of love for the liquor, a few of their number reasoned on the whole transaction with quite as much acuteness as could have been done by the shrewdest natural philosopher living.  To them it was very apparent that no great length of time, a few hours at most, could have elapsed since that whiskey was spilled; and human hands must have brought it there, in the first place, and poured it on the ground, in the second.  There must have been a strong reason for such an act, and that reason presented itself to their minds with unerring accuracy.  Their own approach must have been seen, and the liquor was destroyed because it could not be removed in time to prevent its falling into their hands.  Even the precise manner in which the whiskey had been disposed of was pretty nearly conjectured by a few of the chiefs, acute and practised as they were; who, accustomed to this species of exercise of their wits, had some such dexterity in examining facts of this nature, and in arriving at just results, as the men of the schools manifest in the inquiries that more especially belong to their habits and training.  But their conclusions were confined to themselves; and they were also sufficiently enveloped in doubts, to leave those who made them ready enough to receive new impressions on the same subject.