Manual typography changes

src/epub/text/chapter-1.xhtml

@@ -36,7 +36,7 @@
 			<p>This second pale-face was a very different person from him just described. He was still young, tall, sinewy, gaunt, yet springy and strong, stooping and round-shouldered, with a face that carried a very decided top-light in it, like that of the notorious Bardolph. In short, whiskey had dyed the countenance of Gershom Waring with a tell-tale hue, that did not less infallibly betray his destination than his speech denoted his origin, which was clearly from one of the States of New England. But Gershom had been so long at the Northwest as to have lost many of his peculiar habits and opinions, and to have obtained substitutes.</p>
 			<p>Of the Indians, one, an elderly, wary, experienced warrior, was a Pottawattamie, named Elksfoot, who was well known at all the trading-houses and “garrisons” of the northwestern territory, including Michigan as low down as Detroit itself. The other red man was a young Chippewa, or O-jeb-way, as the civilized natives of that nation now tell us the word should be spelled. His ordinary appellation among his own people was that of Pigeonswing; a name obtained from the rapidity and length of his flights. This young man, who was scarcely turned of five-and-twenty, had already obtained a high reputation among the numerous tribes of his nation, as a messenger, or “runner.”</p>
 			<p>Accident had brought these four persons, each and all strangers to one another, in communication in the glade of the Oak Openings, which has already been mentioned, within half an hour of the scene we are about to present to the reader. Although the rencontre had been accompanied by the usual precautions of those who meet in a wilderness, it had been friendly so far; a circumstance that was in some measure owing to the interest they all took in the occupation of the bee-hunter. The three others, indeed, had come in on different trails, and surprised le Bourdon in the midst of one of the most exciting exhibitions of his art⁠—an exhibition that awoke so much and so common an interest in the spectators, as at once to place its continuance for the moment above all other considerations. After brief salutations, and wary examinations of the spot and its tenants, each individual had, in succession, given his grave attention to what was going on, and all had united in begging Ben Buzz to pursue his occupation, without regard to his visitors. The conversation that took place was partly in English, and partly in one of the Indian dialects, which luckily all the parties appeared to understand. As a matter of course, with a sole view to oblige the reader, we shall render what was said, freely, into the vernacular.</p>
-			<p>“Let’s see, let’s see, STRANger,” cried Gershom, emphasizing the syllable we have put in italics, as if especially to betray his origin, “what you can do with your tools. I’ve heer’n tell of such doin’s, but never see’d a bee lined in all my life, and have a desp’rate fancy for larnin’ of all sorts, from ‘rithmetic to preachin’.”</p>
+			<p>“Let’s see, let’s see, STRANger,” cried Gershom, emphasizing the syllable we have put in italics, as if especially to betray his origin, “what you can do with your tools. I’ve heer’n tell of such doin’s, but never see’d a bee lined in all my life, and have a desp’rate fancy for larnin’ of all sorts, from ’rithmetic to preachin’.”</p>
 			<p>“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.”</p>
 			<p>“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.”</p>
 			<p>“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.</p>
@@ -50,7 +50,7 @@
 			<p>“There they are, hard at work with the honey,” he said, speaking in English, and pointing at the bees. “Little do they think, as they undermine that comb, how near they are to the undermining of their own hive! But so it is with us all! When we think we are in the highest prosperity we may be nearest to a fall, and when we are poorest and hum-blest, we may be about to be exalted. I often think of these things, out here in the wilderness, when I’m alone, and my thoughts are acTYVE.”</p>
 			<p>Ben used a very pure English, when his condition in life is remembered; but now and then, he encountered a word which pretty plainly proved he was not exactly a scholar. A false emphasis has sometimes an influence on a man’s fortune, when one lives in the world; but it mattered little to one like Buzzing Ben, who seldom saw more than half a dozen human faces in the course of a whole summer’s hunting. We remember an Englishman, however, who would never concede talents to Burr, because the latter said, a L’AmEricaine, EurOpean, instead of EuropEan.</p>
 			<p>“How hive in danger?” demanded Elksfoot, who was very much of a matter-of-fact person. “No see him, no hear him⁠—else get some honey.”</p>
-			<p>“Honey you can have for asking, for I’ve plenty of it already in my cabin, though it’s somewhat ‘arly in the season to begin to break in upon the store. In general, the bee-hunters keep back till August, for they think it better to commence work when the creatures”⁠—this word Ben pronounced as accurately as if brought up at St. James’s, making it neither “creatur’ ” nor “creatOOre”⁠—“to commence work when the creatures have had time to fill up, after winter’s feed. But I like the old stock, and, what is more, I feel satisfied this is not to be a common summer, and so I thought I would make an early start.”</p>
+			<p>“Honey you can have for asking, for I’ve plenty of it already in my cabin, though it’s somewhat ’arly in the season to begin to break in upon the store. In general, the bee-hunters keep back till August, for they think it better to commence work when the creatures”⁠—this word Ben pronounced as accurately as if brought up at St. James’s, making it neither “creatur’ ” nor “creatOOre”⁠—“to commence work when the creatures have had time to fill up, after winter’s feed. But I like the old stock, and, what is more, I feel satisfied this is not to be a common summer, and so I thought I would make an early start.”</p>
 			<p>As Ben said this, he glanced his eyes at Pigeonswing, who returned the look in a way to prove there was already a secret intelligence between them, though neither had ever seen the other an hour before.</p>
 			<p>“Waal!” exclaimed Gershom, “this is cur’ous, I’ll allow THAT; yes, it’s cur’ous⁠—but we’ve got an article at Whiskey Centre that’ll put the sweetest honey bee ever suck’d, altogether out o’ countenance!”</p>
 			<p>“An article of which you suck your share, I’ll answer for it, judging by the sign you carry between the windows of your face,” returned Ben, laughing; “but hush, men, hush. That first bee is filled, and begins to think of home. He’ll soon be off for HONEY Centre, and I must keep my eye on him. Now, stand a little aside, friends, and give me room for my craft.”</p>
@@ -63,7 +63,7 @@
 			<p>Without wasting his time in useless talk, le Bourdon now caught another bee, which was subjected to the same process as those first taken. When this creature had filled it-self, it rose, circled the stump as usual, as if to note the spot for a second visit, and darted away, directly in a line with the bee first taken. Ben noted its flight most accurately, and had his eye on it, until it was quite a hundred yards from the stump. This he was enabled to do, by means of a quick sight and long practice.</p>
 			<p>“We’ll move our quarters, friends,” said Buzzing Ben, good-humoredly, as soon as satisfied with this last observation, and gathering together his traps for a start. “I must angle for that hive, and I fear it will turn out to be across the prairie, and quite beyond my reach for to-day.”</p>
 			<p>The prairie alluded to was one of those small natural meadows, or pastures, that are to be found in Michigan, and may have contained four or five thousand acres of open land. The heavy timber of the swamp mentioned, jutted into it, and the point to be determined was, to ascertain whether the bees had flown OVER these trees, toward which they had certainly gone in an air-line, or whether they had found their hive among them. In order to settle this material question, a new process was necessary.</p>
-			<p>“I must ‘angle’ for them chaps,” repeated le Bourdon; “and if you will go with me, strangers, you shall soon see the nicest part of the business of bee-hunting. Many a man who can ‘line’ a bee, can do nothing at an ‘angle’.”</p>
+			<p>“I must ‘angle’ for them chaps,” repeated le Bourdon; “and if you will go with me, strangers, you shall soon see the nicest part of the business of bee-hunting. Many a man who can ‘line’ a bee, can do nothing at an ‘angle.’”</p>
 			<p>As this was only gibberish to the listeners, no answer was made, but all prepared to follow Ben, who was soon ready to change his ground. The bee-hunter took his way across the open ground to a point fully a hundred rods distant from his first position, where he found another stump of a fallen tree, which he converted into a stand. The same process was gone through with as before, and le Bourdon was soon watching two bees that had plunged their heads down into the cells of the comb. Nothing could exceed the gravity and attention of the Indians, all this time. They had fully comprehended the business of “lining” the insects toward their hives, but they could not understand the virtue of the “angle.” The first bore so strong an affinity to their own pursuit of game, as to be very obvious to their senses; but the last included a species of information to which they were total strangers. Nor were they much the wiser after le Bourdon had taken his “angle”; it requiring a sort of induction to which they were not accustomed, in order to put the several parts of his proceedings together, and to draw the inference. As for Gershom, he affected to be familiar with all that was going on, though he was just as ignorant as the Indians themselves. This little bit of hypocrisy was the homage he paid to his white blood: it being very unseemly, according to his view of the matter, for a pale-face not to know more than a redskin.</p>
 			<p>The bees were some little time in filling themselves. At length one of them came out of his cell, and was evidently getting ready for his flight. Ben beckoned to the spectators to stand farther back, in order to give him a fair chance, and, just as he had done so, the bee rose. After humming around the stump for an instant, away the insect flew, taking a course almost at right angles to that in which le Bourdon had expected to see it fly. It required half a minute for him to recollect that this little creature had gone off in a line nearly parallel to that which had been taken by the second of the bees, which he had seen quit his original position. The line led across the neighboring prairie, and any attempt to follow these bees was hopeless.</p>
 			<p>But the second creature was also soon ready, and when it darted away, le Bourdon, to his manifest delight, saw that it held its flight toward the point of the swamp INTO, or OVER which two of his first captives had gone. This settled the doubtful matter. Had the hive of these bees been BEYOND that wood, the angle of intersection would not have been there, but at the hive across the prairie. The reader will understand that creatures which obey an instinct, or such a reason as bees possess, would never make a curvature in their flights without some strong motive for it. Thus, two bees taken from flowers that stood half a mile apart would be certain not to cross each other’s tracks, in returning home, until they met at the common hive: and wherever the intersecting angle in their respective flights may be, there would that hive be also. As this repository of sweets was the game le Bourdon had in view, it is easy to see how much he was pleased when the direction taken by the last of his bees gave him the necessary assurance that its home would certainly be found in that very point of dense wood.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-10.xhtml

@@ -69,33 +69,33 @@
 			<p>“No pappooses here,” returned the Indian, looking around him⁠—“dat your squaw, eh?”</p>
 			<p>The reader can readily imagine that this abrupt question brought blushes into the cheeks of pretty Margery, making her appear ten times more handsome than before; while even le Bourdon did not take the interrogatory wholly undisturbed. Still, the latter answered manfully, as became his sex.</p>
 			<p>“I am not so fortunate as to have a squaw, and least of all to have this” said le Bourdon.</p>
-			<p>“Why no hab her⁠—she good squaw,” returned the literal-minded Indian⁠—“han’some ‘nough for chief. You ask; she hab⁠—now squaw well⁠—always like warrior to ask him fuss; den say, yes.”</p>
+			<p>“Why no hab her⁠—she good squaw,” returned the literal-minded Indian⁠—“han’some ’nough for chief. You ask; she hab⁠—now squaw well⁠—always like warrior to ask him fuss; den say, yes.”</p>
 			<p>“Aye, that may do with your red-skin squaws,” le Bourdon hastily replied; for he saw that Margery was not only distressed, but a little displeased⁠—“but not with the young women of the pale-faces. I never saw Margery before last evening; and it takes time for a pale-face girl to know a youth.”</p>
 			<p>“Just so wid red-skin⁠—sometime don’t know, till too late! See plenty dat, in wigwam.”</p>
 			<p>“Then it is very much in the wigwams as it is in the houses. I have heard this before.”</p>
 			<p>“Why not same?⁠—skin make no difference⁠—pale-face spile squaw, too⁠—make too much of her.”</p>
 			<p>“That can never be!” exclaimed le Bourdon, earnestly. “When a pretty, modest, warm-hearted young woman accepts a youth for a husband, he can never make enough of her!”</p>
 			<p>On hearing sentiments so agreeable to a woman’s ears, Margery looked down, but she looked pleased. Pigeonswing viewed the matter very differently; and being somewhat of a partisan in matters relating to domestic economy, he had no thought of leaving a point of so much importance in so bad a way. Accordingly, it is not surprising that, in pursuing the subject, he expressed opinions in several essentials diametrically the reverse of those of the bee-hunter.</p>
-			<p>‘ “Easy ‘nough spile squaw,” rejoined the Chippewa. “What she good for, don’t make her work? Can’t go on the warpath⁠—can’t take scalp⁠—can’t shoot deer⁠—can’t hunt⁠—can’t kill warrior⁠—so muss work. Dat what squaw good for.”</p>
+			<p>‘ “Easy ’nough spile squaw,” rejoined the Chippewa. “What she good for, don’t make her work? Can’t go on the warpath⁠—can’t take scalp⁠—can’t shoot deer⁠—can’t hunt⁠—can’t kill warrior⁠—so muss work. Dat what squaw good for.”</p>
 			<p>“That may do among red men, but we pale-faces find squaws good for something else⁠—we love them and take care of them⁠—keep them from the cold in winter, and from the heat in summer; and try to make them as comfortable and happy as we can.”</p>
 			<p>“Dat good talk for young squaw’s ears,” returned the Chippewa, a little contemptuously as to manner; though his real respect for the bee-hunter, of whose prowess he had so lately been a witness, kept him a little within bounds “but it bess not take nobody in. What Injin say to squaw, he do⁠—what pale-face say, he no do.”</p>
 			<p>“Is that true, Bourdon?” demanded Margery, laughing at the Indian’s earnestness.</p>
 			<p>“I shall be honest, and own that there may be some truth in it⁠—for the Injin promises nothing, or next to nothing, and it is easy to square accounts, in such cases. That white men undertake more than they always perform, is quite likely to be the fact The Injin gets his advantage in this matter, by not even thinking of treating his wife as a woman should be treated.”</p>
-			<p>“How should treat woman?” put in Pigeonswing with warmth. “When warrior eat venison, gib her rest, eh? Dat no good⁠—what you call good, den? If good hunter husband, she get ‘nough⁠—if an’t good hunter, she don’t get ‘nough. Just so wid Injin⁠—sometime hungry, sometime full. Dat way to live!”</p>
+			<p>“How should treat woman?” put in Pigeonswing with warmth. “When warrior eat venison, gib her rest, eh? Dat no good⁠—what you call good, den? If good hunter husband, she get ’nough⁠—if an’t good hunter, she don’t get ’nough. Just so wid Injin⁠—sometime hungry, sometime full. Dat way to live!”</p>
 			<p>“Aye, that may be your red man’s ways, but it is not the manner in which we wish to treat our wives. Ask pretty Margery, here, if she would be satisfied to wait until her husband had eaten his dinner, and then come in for the scraps. No-no-Pigeonswing; we feed our women and children first and come in last, ourselves.”</p>
 			<p>“Dat good for pappoose⁠—he little; want venison⁠—squaw tough; use to wait. Do her good.”</p>
 			<p>Margery now laughed outright, at these specimens of Indian gallantry, which only too well embody the code of the red man’s habits. Doubtless the heart has its influence among even the most savage people, for nature has not put into our breasts feelings and passions to be discarded by one’s own expedients, or wants. But no advocate of the American Indian has ever yet been able to maintain that woman fills her proper place in his estimate of claims. As for Margery, though so long subject to the whims, passions and waywardness of a drunkard, she had reaped many of the advantages of having been born in that woman’s paradise, New England. We are no great admirers of the legacy left by the Puritan to his descendants, taken as an inheritance in morals, manners, and customs, and as a whole; though there are parts, in the way of codicils, that there is no portion of the Christian world which might not desire to emulate. In particular, do we allude to the estimate put upon, and the treatment received by their women. Our allusion is not to the refinements and gracefulness of polished intercourse; for of THEM, the Blarney Rock of Plymouth has transmitted but a meagre account in the inventory, and perhaps the less that is said about this portion of the family property the better; but, dropping a few degrees in the social scale, and coming down to the level where we are accustomed to regard people merely as men and women, we greatly question if any other portion of the world can furnish a parallel to the manly, considerate, rational, and wisely discriminating care, that the New England husband, as the rule, bestows on his wife; the father on his daughter; or the brother on his sister. Gershom was a living, and, all things considered, a remarkable instance of these creditable traits. When sober, he was uniformly kind to Dorothy; and for Margery he would at any time risk his life. The latter, indeed, had more power over him than his own wife possessed, and it was her will and her remonstrances that most frequently led him back from the verge of that precipice over which he was so often disposed to cast himself. By some secret link she bound him closest to the family dwelling, and served most to recall the days of youth and comparative innocence, when they dwelt together beneath the paternal roof, and were equally the objects of the affection and solicitude of the same kind mother. His attachment to Dorothy was sincere, and, for one so often brutalized by drink, steady; but Dorothy could not carry him as far back, in recollections, as the one only sister who had passed the morning of life with him, in the same homely but comfortable abode.</p>
 			<p>We have no disposition to exaggerate the character of those whom it is the fashion to term the American yeomen, though why such an appellation should be applied to any in a state of society to which legal distinctions are unknown, is what we could never understand. There are no more of esquires and yeomen in this country than there are of knights and nobles, though the quiet manner in which the transition from the old to the new state of things has been made, has not rendered the public mind very sensible to the changes. But, recurring to the class, which is a positive thing and consequently ought to have a name of some sort or other, we do not belong to those that can sound its praises without some large reservations on the score of both principles and manners. Least of all, are we disposed to set up these yeomen as a privileged class, like certain of the titular statesmen of the country, and fall down and worship a calf⁠—not a golden one by the way⁠—of our own setting up. We can see citizens in these yeomen, but not princes, who are to be especially favored by laws made to take from others to bestow on them. But making allowances for human infirmities, the American freeholder belongs to a class that may justly hold up its head among the tillers of the earth. He improves daily, under the influence of beneficent laws, and if he don’t get spoiled, of which there is some danger, in the eagerness of factions to secure his favor, and through that favor his VOTE⁠—if he escape this danger, he will ere long make a reasonably near approach to that being, which the tongue of the flatterer would long since have persuaded him he had already more than got to be.</p>
 			<p>To one accustomed to be treated kindly, as was the case with Margery, the Chippewa’s theory for the management of squaws contained much to excite her mirth, as well as her resentment, as she now made apparent by her remarks.</p>
 			<p>“You do not deserve to HAVE a wife, Pigeonswing,” she cried, half-laughing, yet evidently alive to the feelings of her sex⁠—“can have no gratitude for a wife’s tenderness and care. I wonder that a Chippewa girl can be found to have you?”</p>
-			<p>“Don’t want him,” coolly returned the Indian, making his preparations to light his pipe⁠—“got Winnebagoe squaw, already; good ‘nough for me. Shoot her t’other husband and take his scalp⁠—den she come into my wigwam.”</p>
+			<p>“Don’t want him,” coolly returned the Indian, making his preparations to light his pipe⁠—“got Winnebagoe squaw, already; good ’nough for me. Shoot her t’other husband and take his scalp⁠—den she come into my wigwam.”</p>
 			<p>“The wretch!” exclaimed Margery.</p>
 			<p>But this was a word the savage did not understand, and he continued to puff at the newly lighted tobacco, with all of a smoker’s zeal. When the fire was secured, he found time to continue the subject.</p>
 			<p>“Yes, dat good war-path⁠—got rifle; got wife; got TWO scalp! Don’t do so well, ebbery day.”</p>
 			<p>“And that woman hoes your corn, and cooks your venison?” demanded the bee-hunter.</p>
 			<p>“Sartain⁠—capital good to hoe⁠—no good to cook⁠—make deer meat too dry. Want to be made to mind business. Bye’m by teach him. No l’arn all at once, like pale-face pappoose in school.”</p>
 			<p>“Pigeonswing, have you never observed the manner in which the white man treats his squaw?”</p>
-			<p>“Sartain⁠—see him make much of her⁠—put her in warm corner⁠—wrap blanket round her⁠—give her venison ‘fore he eat himself⁠—see all dat, often⁠—what den? DAT don’t make it right.”</p>
+			<p>“Sartain⁠—see him make much of her⁠—put her in warm corner⁠—wrap blanket round her⁠—give her venison ’fore he eat himself⁠—see all dat, often⁠—what den? DAT don’t make it right.”</p>
 			<p>“I give you up, Chippewa, and agree with Margery in thinking you ought not to have a squaw, at all.”</p>
 			<p>“T’ink alike, den⁠—why no get marry?” asked the Indian, without circumlocution.</p>
 			<p>Margery’s face became red as fire; then her cheeks settled into the color of roses, and she looked down, embarrassed. The bee-hunter’s admiration was very apparent to the Indian, though the girl did not dare to raise her eyes from the ground, and so did not take heed of it. But this gossiping was suddenly brought to an end by a most unexpected cause of interruption; the manner and form of which it shall be our office to relate, in the succeeding chapter.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-11.xhtml

@@ -30,13 +30,13 @@
 			<p>“There are missionaries scattered about among the savages, I suppose you know, and this is probably one of them. A body can tell one of these parsons by his outside, as far as he can see him. The poor man has heard of the war, most likely, and is trying to get back into the settlements, while his scalp is safe on his head.”</p>
 			<p>“Don’t hurt HIM” put in the Chippewa, pointedly. “Know MEAN well⁠—talk about Great Spirit⁠—Injin don’t scalp sich medicine-men⁠—if don’t mind what he say, no good to take his scalp.”</p>
 			<p>“I’m glad to hear this, Pigeonswing, for I had begun to think NO man’s scalp was safe under YOUR fingers. But what can the so’ger be doing down this-away? A body would think there was business enough for all the so’gers up at the garrison, at the head of the lake. By the way, Pigeonswing, what has become of your letter to the captain at Fort Dearborn, to let him know of the war?”</p>
-			<p>“Chaw him up, like so much ‘baccy,” answered the Chippewa⁠—“yes, chaw him up, lest Pottawattamie get hold on him, and ask one of King George’s men to read him. No good to hab letter in sich times.”</p>
+			<p>“Chaw him up, like so much ’baccy,” answered the Chippewa⁠—“yes, chaw him up, lest Pottawattamie get hold on him, and ask one of King George’s men to read him. No good to hab letter in sich times.”</p>
 			<p>“The general who employed you to carry that letter, will scarce thank you for your care.”</p>
 			<p>“Yes, he do⁠—t’ank all same⁠—pay all same⁠—letter no use now.”</p>
 			<p>“How can you know that? The letter might be the means of preventing the garrison from falling into the enemy’s hands.”</p>
 			<p>“Got dere, already. Garrison all kill, scalp, or prisoner. Pottawattamie talk tell me DAT!”</p>
 			<p>“Is this possible! Mackinaw and Chicago both gone, already! John Bull must have been at work among the savages a long time, to get them into this state of readiness!”</p>
-			<p>“Sartain⁠—work long as can ‘member. ALWAY somebody talkin’ for great Montreal Fadder among red men.”</p>
+			<p>“Sartain⁠—work long as can ’member. ALWAY somebody talkin’ for great Montreal Fadder among red men.”</p>
 			<p>“It must be as you say, Chippewa⁠—but, here are our visitors⁠—let us see what we can make of THEM!”</p>
 			<p>By this time, the canoe was so near as to render it easy to distinguish countenances and dress, without the aid of the glass⁠—so near, indeed, that a swift-moving boat, like the canoe, might be expected soon to reach the shore. The truth of the observation of the bee-hunter was confirmed, as the strangers approached. The individual in the bows of the canoe was clearly a soldier, in a fatigue-dress, and the musket between his legs was one of those pieces that government furnishes to the troops of the line. The man in the middle of the boat could no more be mistaken than he in its bows. Each might be said to be in uniform⁠—the well-worn, nay, almost threadbare black coat of the “minister,” as much denoting him to be a man of peace, as the fatigue-jacket and cap on the person of his hard-featured and weather-beaten companion indicated that the last was a man of war. As for the red man, Pigeonswing declared that he could not yet tell his tribe, though there was that about his air, attire and carriage, that proclaimed him a chief⁠—and, as the Chippewa fancied, a chief of note. In another minute, the bows of the light craft grated gently on the shingle of the beach.</p>
 			<p>“Sago, sago,” said the soldier, rising to step ashore⁠—“sago all, friends, and I hope we come to a welcome camp.”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-13.xhtml

@@ -60,11 +60,11 @@
 			<p>As the bee-hunter uttered this answer, he was putting the last of his honey-kegs into the cache, and as he rose from completing the operation, he laughed heartily, like one who saw images in the occurrences of the past night, that tended to divert himself, if they had not the same effect on the other spectators.</p>
 			<p>“If you medicine-man, can tell who Peter be? Winnebagoe, Sioux, Fox, Ojebway, Six Nations all say don’t know him. Medicine-man ought to know⁠—who he be, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“I am not enough of a medicine-man to answer your question, Pigeonswing. Set me at finding a whiskey-spring, or any little job of that sort, and I’ll turn my back to no other whiskey-spring finder on the whole frontier; but, as for Peter, he goes beyond my calculations, quite. Why is he called Scalping Peter in the garrisons, if he be so good an Injin, Chippewa?”</p>
-			<p>“You ask question⁠—you answer. Don’t know, ‘less he take a good many scalps. Hear he do take all he can find⁠—den hear he don’t.”</p>
+			<p>“You ask question⁠—you answer. Don’t know, ’less he take a good many scalps. Hear he do take all he can find⁠—den hear he don’t.”</p>
 			<p>“But you take all you can find, Pigeonswing; and that which is good in you, cannot be so bad in Peter.”</p>
 			<p>“Don’t take scalp from friend. When you hear Pigeonswing scalp FRIEND, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“I never did hear it; and hope I never shall. But when did you hear that Peter is so wicked?”</p>
-			<p>“S’pose he don’t, ‘cause he got no friend among pale-face. Bes’ take care of dat man?”</p>
+			<p>“S’pose he don’t, ’cause he got no friend among pale-face. Bes’ take care of dat man?”</p>
 			<p>“I’m of your way of thinking, myself, Chippewa; though the corporal and the priest think him all in all. When I asked Parson Amen how he came to be the associate of one who went by a scalping name, even he told me it was all name; that Peter hadn’t touched a hair of a human head, in the way of scalping, since his youth, and that most of his notions and ways were quite Jewish, The parson has almost as much faith in Peter, as he has in his religion; I’m not quite sure he has not even more.”</p>
 			<p>“No matter. Bes’ always for pale-face to trust pale-face, and Injin to trust Injin. Dat most likely to be right.”</p>
 			<p>“Nevertheless, I trust YOU Pigeonswing; and, hitherto, you have not deceived me!”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-14.xhtml

@@ -63,7 +63,7 @@
 			<p>“This has been done by you, corporal, in order to bring us together, under arms, by way of practice,” le Bourdon at length exclaimed.</p>
 			<p>“False alarms is useful, if not overdone; especially among raw troops,” answered Flint, coolly; “but I have given none to-night. I will own I did intend to have you all out in a day or two by way of practice, but I have thought it useless to attempt too much at once. When the garrison is finished, it will be time enough to drill the men to the alarm-posts.”</p>
 			<p>“What is your opinion, Peter?” continued le Bourdon. “You understand the wilderness, and its ways. To what is this extr’or’nary call owing? Why have we been brought here, at this hour?”</p>
-			<p>“Somebody blow horn, most likely,” answered Peter, in his unmoved, philosophical manner. “ ’Spose don’t know; den can’t tell. Warrior often hear ‘larm on war-path.”</p>
+			<p>“Somebody blow horn, most likely,” answered Peter, in his unmoved, philosophical manner. “ ’Spose don’t know; den can’t tell. Warrior often hear ’larm on war-path.”</p>
 			<p>“This is an onaccountable thing! If I ever heard a horn, I heard one to-night; yet this is the only horn we have, and no one has touched it! It was not the conch I heard; there is no mistaking the difference in sound between a shell and a horn; and there is the conch, hanging at Gershom’s neck, just where it has been the whole night.”</p>
 			<p>“No one has touched the conch⁠—I will answer for THAT,” returned Gershom, laying a hand on the shell, as if to make certain all was right.</p>
 			<p>“This is most extr’or’nary! I heard the horn, if ears of mine ever heard such an instrument!”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-15.xhtml

@@ -36,7 +36,7 @@
 			<p>“I know no more than he has himself told me. By his account there is to be a great council of red men on the prairie, a few miles from this spot; he is waiting for the appointed day to come, in order to go and make one of the chiefs that will be there. Is not this true, Chippewa?”</p>
 			<p>“Yes, dat true⁠—what dat council smoke round fire for, eh? You know?”</p>
 			<p>“No, I do not, and would be right glad to have you tell me, Pigeonswing. Perhaps the tribe mean to have a meetin’ to determine in their own minds which side they ought to take in this war.”</p>
-			<p>“Not dat nudder. Know well ‘nough which side take. Got message and wampum from Canada fadder, and most all Injin up this-a way look for Yankee scalp. Not dat nudder.”</p>
+			<p>“Not dat nudder. Know well ’nough which side take. Got message and wampum from Canada fadder, and most all Injin up this-a way look for Yankee scalp. Not dat nudder.”</p>
 			<p>“Then I have no notion what is at the bottom of this council. Peter seems to expect great things from it; that I can see by his way of talking and looking whenever he speaks of it.”</p>
 			<p>“Peter want to see him very much. Smoke at great many sich council fire.”</p>
 			<p>“Do you intend to be present at this council on Prairie Round?” asked the bee-hunter, innocently enough. Pigeonswing turned to look at his companion, in a way that seemed to inquire how far he was really the dupe of the mysterious Indian’s wiles. Then, suddenly aware of the importance of not betraying all he himself knew, until the proper moment had arrived, he bent his eyes forward again, continuing onward and answering somewhat evasively.</p>
@@ -55,7 +55,7 @@
 			<p>“Noise!” repeated the perfectly unsuspecting bee-hunter. “Little good or little harm can noise do in these openings, where there is neither mountain to give back an echo, or ear to be startled. The crack of my rifle has rung through these groves a hundred times and no harm come of it.”</p>
 			<p>“Forget war-time now. Bess nebber fire, less can’t help him. Pottawattamie hear great way off.”</p>
 			<p>“Oh! That’s it, is it! You’re afraid our old friends the Pottawattamies may find us out, and come to thank us for all that happened down at the river’s mouth. Well,” continued le Bourdon, laughing, “if they wish another whiskey-spring, I have a small jug left, safely hid against a wet day; a very few drops will answer to make a tolerable spring. You redskins don’t know everything, Pigeonswing, though you are so keen and quick-witted on a trail.”</p>
-			<p>“Bess not tell Pottawattamie any more ‘bout springs,” answered the Chippewa, gravely; for by this time he regarded the state of things in the openings to be so serious as to feel little disposition to mirth. “Why you don’t go home, eh? Why don’t med’cine-man go home, too? Bess for pale-face to be wid pale-face when red man go on war-path. Color bess keep wid color.”</p>
+			<p>“Bess not tell Pottawattamie any more ’bout springs,” answered the Chippewa, gravely; for by this time he regarded the state of things in the openings to be so serious as to feel little disposition to mirth. “Why you don’t go home, eh? Why don’t med’cine-man go home, too? Bess for pale-face to be wid pale-face when red man go on war-path. Color bess keep wid color.”</p>
 			<p>“I see you want to be rid of us, Pigeonswing; but the parson has no thought of quitting this part of the world until he has convinced all the red-skins that they are Jews.”</p>
 			<p>“What he mean, eh?” demanded the Chippewa, with more curiosity than it was usual for an Indian warrior to betray. “What sort of a man Jew, eh? Why call red man Jew?”</p>
 			<p>“I know very little more about it than you do yourself, Pigeonswing; but such as my poor knowledge is, you’re welcome to it. You’ve heard of the Bible, I dare say?”</p>
@@ -63,7 +63,7 @@
 			<p>“Yes, it’s all that, and a great companion have I found my Bible, when I’ve been alone with the bees out here in the openings. It tells us of our God, Chippewa; and teaches us how we are to please him, and how we may offend. It’s a great loss to you red-skins not to have such a book among you.”</p>
 			<p>“Med’cine-man bring him⁠—don’t do much good, yet; some day, p’r’aps, do better. How dat make red man Jew?”</p>
 			<p>“Why, this is a new idea to me, though Parson Amen seems fully possessed with it. I suppose you know what a Jew is?”</p>
-			<p>“Don’t know anything ‘bout him. Sort o’ nigger, eh?”</p>
+			<p>“Don’t know anything ’bout him. Sort o’ nigger, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“No, no, Pigeonswing, you’re wide of the mark this time. But, that we may understand each other, we’ll begin at the beginning like, which will let you into the whole history of the pale-face religion. As we’ve had a smart walk, however, and here is the bear’s meat safe and sound, just as you left it, let us sit down a bit on this trunk of a tree, while I give you our tradition from beginning to end, as it might be. In the first place, Chippewa, the earth was made without creatures of any sort to live on it⁠—not so much as a squirrel or a woodchuck.”</p>
 			<p>“Poor country to hunt in, dat,” observed the Chippewa quietly, while le Bourdon was wiping his forehead after removing his cap. “Ojebways stay in it very little time.”</p>
 			<p>“This, according to our belief, was before any Ojebway lived. At length, God made a man, out of clay, and fashioned him, as we see men fashioned and living all around us.”</p>
@@ -84,11 +84,11 @@
 			<p>“You will remember, Chippewa,” he said, “that I told you nothing on the subject of any woman. What I have told you, as yet, consarned only the first MAN, who was made out of clay, into whom God breathed the breath of life.”</p>
 			<p>“Dat good⁠—make warrior fuss. Juss right. When breat’ in him, fit to take scalp, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“Why, as to that, it is not easy to see whom he was to scalp, seeing that he was quite alone in the world, until it pleased his Creator to give him a woman for a companion.”</p>
-			<p>“Tell ‘bout dat,” returned Pigeonswing, with interest⁠—“tell how he got squaw.”</p>
+			<p>“Tell ’bout dat,” returned Pigeonswing, with interest⁠—“tell how he got squaw.”</p>
 			<p>“Accordin’ to the Bible, God caused this man to fall into a deep sleep, when he took one of his ribs, and out of that he made a squaw for him. Then he put them both to live together, in a most beautiful garden, in which all things excellent and pleasant was to be found⁠—some such place as these openings, I reckon.”</p>
 			<p>“Any bee dere?” asked the Indian, quite innocently. “Plenty honey, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“That will I answer for! It could hardly be otherwise, when it was the intention to make the first man and first woman perfectly happy. I dare say, Chippewa, if the truth was known, it would be found that bees was a sipping at every flower in that most delightful garden!”</p>
-			<p>“Why pale-face quit dat garden, eh? Why come here to drive poor Injin ‘way from game? Tell me dat, Bourdon, if he can? Why pale-face ever leave DAT garden, when he so han’some, eh?”</p>
+			<p>“Why pale-face quit dat garden, eh? Why come here to drive poor Injin ’way from game? Tell me dat, Bourdon, if he can? Why pale-face ever leave DAT garden, when he so han’some, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“God turned him out of it, Chippewa⁠—yes, he was turned OUT of it, with shame on his face, for having disobeyed the commandments of his Creator. Having left the garden, his children have scattered over the face of the earth.”</p>
 			<p>“So come here to drive off Injin! Well, dat ’e way wid pale-face I Did ever hear of red man comin’ to drive off pale-face?”</p>
 			<p>“I have heard of your red warriors often coming to take our scalps, Chippewa. More or less of this has been done every year, since our people have landed in America. More than that they have not done, for we are too many to be driven very far in, by a few scattering tribes of Injins.”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-18.xhtml

@@ -57,7 +57,7 @@
 			<p>“This has been to me a most trying scene,” observed the missionary, as the three pursued their way toward the garrison. “How hard it is to convince men against their wishes. Now, I am as certain as a man can be, that every one of these Injins is in fact a Jew; and yet, you have seen how small has been my success in persuading them to be of the right way of thinking, on this subject.”</p>
 			<p>“I have always noticed that men stick even to their defects, when they’re nat’ral,” returned the bee-hunter. “Even a nigger will stand up for his color, and why shouldn’t an Injin? You began wrong, parson. Had you just told these chiefs that they were Jews, they might have stood THAT, poor creatures, for they hardly know how mankind looks upon a Jew; but you went to work to skin them, in a lump, making so many poor, wishy-washy pale-faces of all the red-skins, in a body. You and I may fancy a white face better than one of any other color; but nature colors the eye when it colors the body, and there’s not a nigger in America who doesn’t think black the pink of beauty.”</p>
 			<p>“Perhaps it was proceeding too fast to say anything about the change of color, Bourdon. But what can a Christian minister do, unless he tell the truth? Adam could have been but of one color; and all the races on earth, one excepted, must have changed from that one color.”</p>
-			<p>“Aye, and my life on it, that all the races on ‘arth believe that one color to have been just that which has fallen to the luck of each partic’lar shade. Hang me if I should like to be persuaded out of my color, any more than these Injins. In America, color goes for a great deal; and it may count for as much with an Injin as among us whites. No, no, parson; you should have begun with persuading these savages into the notion that they’re Jews; if you could get along with THAT, the rest might be all the easier.”</p>
+			<p>“Aye, and my life on it, that all the races on ’arth believe that one color to have been just that which has fallen to the luck of each partic’lar shade. Hang me if I should like to be persuaded out of my color, any more than these Injins. In America, color goes for a great deal; and it may count for as much with an Injin as among us whites. No, no, parson; you should have begun with persuading these savages into the notion that they’re Jews; if you could get along with THAT, the rest might be all the easier.”</p>
 			<p>“You speak of the Jews, not as if you considered them a chosen people of the Lord, but as a despised and hateful race. This is not right, Bourdon. I know that Christians are thus apt to regard them; but it does not tell well for their charity or their knowledge.”</p>
 			<p>“I know very little about them, Parson Amen; not being certain of ever having seen a Jew in my life. Still, I will own that I have a sort of grudge against them, though I can hardly tell you why. Of one thing I feel certain⁠—no man breathing should ever persuade me into the notion that I’M a Jew, lost or found; ten tribes or twenty. What say you, corporal, to this idea?”</p>
 			<p>“Just as you say, Bourdon. Jews, Turks, and infidels, I despise: so was I brought up, and so I shall remain.”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-19.xhtml

@@ -33,7 +33,7 @@
 			<p>“My proper home is in Pennsylvania, on the other side of Lake Erie. It is a long path, and I’m not certain of getting safely over it in these troubled times. Perhaps it would be best for me, however, to shape at once for Ohio; if in that state I might find my way round the end of Erie, and so go the whole distance by land.”</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter said this, by way of throwing dust into the Indian’s eyes, for he had not the least intention of travelling in the direction named. It is true, it was HIS most direct course, and the one that prudence would point out to him, under all the circumstances, had he been alone. But le Bourdon was no longer alone⁠—in heart and feelings, at least. Margery now mingled with all his views for the future; and he could no more think of abandoning her in her present situation, than he could of offering his own person to the savages for a sacrifice. It was idle to think of attempting such a journey in company with the females, and most of all to attempt it in defiance of the ingenuity, perseverance, and hostility of the Indians. The trail could not be concealed; and, as for speed, a party of the young men of the wilderness would certainly travel two miles to Margery’s one.</p>
 			<p>Le Bourdon, notwithstanding Pigeonswing’s remonstrances, still had his eye on the Kalamazoo. He remembered the saying, “that water leaves no trail,” and was not without hopes of reaching the lake again, where he felt he should be in comparative security; his own canoe, as well as that of Gershom, being large, well fitted, and not altogether unsuited to those waters in the summer months. As it would be of the last importance, however, to get several hours’ start of the Indians, in the event of his having recourse to such a mode of flight, it was of the utmost importance also to conceal his intentions, and, if possible, to induce Peter to imagine his eyes were turned in another direction.</p>
-			<p>“Well, s’pose go dat way,” answered the chief, quietly, as if suspecting no artifice. “Set ‘bout him by-’em-by. Today muss teach Injin how to find honey. Dat make him good friend; and maybe he help my pale-face broders back to deir country. Been better for ebbery body, if none come here, at all.”</p>
+			<p>“Well, s’pose go dat way,” answered the chief, quietly, as if suspecting no artifice. “Set ’bout him by-’em-by. Today muss teach Injin how to find honey. Dat make him good friend; and maybe he help my pale-face broders back to deir country. Been better for ebbery body, if none come here, at all.”</p>
 			<p>Thus ended the discourse for that moment. Peter was not fond of much talking, when he had not his great object in view, but rather kept his mind occupied in observation. For the next hour, every one in and about Castle Meal was engaged in the usual morning avocations, that of breaking their fasts included; and then it was understood that all were to go forth to meet the chiefs, that le Bourdon might give a specimen of his craft.</p>
 			<p>One, ignorant of the state of political affairs on the American continent, and who was not aware of the vicinity of savages, would have seen nothing that morning, as the party proceeded on its little excursion, in and around that remote spot, but a picture of rural tranquillity and peace. A brighter day never poured its glories on the face of the earth; and the Openings, and the glades, and even the dark and denser forests, were all bathed in the sunlight, as that orb is known to illuminate objects in the softer season of the year, and in the forty-third degree of latitude. Even the birds appeared to rejoice in the beauties of the time, and sang and fluttered among the oaks, in numbers greater than common. Nature usually observes a stern fitness in her adaptation of means to ends. Birds are to be found in the forests, on the prairies, and in the still untenanted openings of the west⁠—and often in countless numbers; more especially those birds which fly in flocks, and love the security of unoccupied regions⁠—unoccupied by man is meant⁠—wherein to build their nests, obey the laws of their instincts, and fulfil their destinies. Thus, myriads of pigeons, and ducks, and geese, etc., are to be found in the virgin woods, while the companionable and friendly robin, the little melodious wren, the thrush, the lark, the swallow, the marten, and all those pleasant little winged creatures, that flit about our dwellings and grounds, and seem to be sent by Providence, expressly to chant their morning and evening hymns to God in our ears, most frequent the peopled districts. It has been said by Europeans that the American birds are mute, in comparison with those of the Old World. This is true, to a certain extent, as respects those which are properly called forest birds, which do, in general, appear to partake of the sombre character that marks the solemn stillness of their native haunts. It is not true, however, with the birds which live in our fields, and grounds, and orchards, each of which sings its song of praise, and repeats its calls and its notes, as richly and as pleasantly to the ear, as the birds of other lands. One large class, indeed, possesses a faculty that enables it to repeat every note it has ever heard, even to some of the sounds of quadrupeds. Nor is this done in the discordant tones of the parrot; but in octaves, and trills, and in rich contra-altos, and all the other pleasing intonations known to the most gifted of the feathered race. Thus it is, that one American mocking-bird can outsing all the birds of Europe united.</p>
 			<p>It seemed that morning as if every bird that was accustomed to glean its food from the neighborhood of Castle Meal was on the wing, and ready to accompany the party that now sallied forth to catch the bee. This party consisted of le Bourdon, himself, as its chief and leader; of Peter, the missionary, and the corporal. Margery, too, went along; for, as yet, she had never seen an exhibition of Boden’s peculiar skill. As for Gershom and his wife, they remained behind, to make ready the noontide meal; while the Chippewa took his accoutrements, and again sallied out on a hunt. The whole time of this Indian appeared to be thus taken up; though, in truth, venison and bear’s meat both abounded, and there was much less necessity for those constant efforts than he wished to make it appear. In good sooth, more than half his time was spent in making those observations, which had led to the advice he had been urging on his friend, the bee-hunter, in order to induce him to fly. Had Pigeonswing better understood Peter, and had he possessed a clearer insight into the extent and magnitude of his plans of retributive vengeance, it is not probable his uneasiness, at the moment, would have been so great, or the urgency for an immediate decision on the part of le Bourdon would have appeared as urgently pressing as it now seemed to be.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-2.xhtml

@@ -25,7 +25,7 @@
 			<p>The next thing was to ascertain which was the particular tree in which the bees had found a shelter. Collecting his implements, le Bourdon was soon ready, and, with a light elastic tread, he moved off toward the point of the wood, followed by the whole party. The distance was about half a mile, and men so much accustomed to use their limbs made light of it. In a few minutes all were there, and the bee-hunter was busy in looking for his tree. This was the consummation of the whole process, and Ben was not only provided for the necessities of the case, but he was well skilled in all the signs that betokened the abodes of bees.</p>
 			<p>An uninstructed person might have passed that point of wood a thousand times, without the least consciousness of the presence of a single insect of the sort now searched for. In general, the bees flew too high to be easily perceptible from the ground, though a practised eye can discern them at distances that would almost seem to be marvellous. But Ben had other assistants than his eyes. He knew that the tree he sought must be hollow, and such trees usually give outward signs of the defect that exists within. Then, some species of wood are more frequented by the bees than others, while the instinct of the industrious little creatures generally enables them to select such homes as will not be very likely to destroy all the fruits of their industry by an untimely fall. In all these particulars, both bees and bee-hunter were well versed, and Ben made his search accordingly.</p>
 			<p>Among the other implements of his calling, le Bourdon had a small spy-glass; one scarcely larger than those that are used in theatres, but which was powerful and every way suited to its purposes. Ben was not long in selecting a tree, a half-decayed elm, as the one likely to contain the hive; and by the aid of his glass he soon saw bees flying among its dying branches, at a height of not less than seventy feet from the ground. A little further search directed his attention to a knot-hole, in and out of which the glass enabled him to see bees passing in streams. This decided the point; and putting aside all his implements but the axe, Buzzing Ben now set about the task of felling the tree.</p>
-			<p>“STRANger,” said Gershom, when le Bourdon had taken out the first chip, “perhaps you’d better let ME do that part of the job. I shall expect to come in for a share of the honey, and I’m willing to ‘arn all I take. I was brought up on axes, and jack-knives, and sich sort of food, and can cut OR whittle with the best chopper, or the neatest whittler, in or out of New England.”</p>
+			<p>“STRANger,” said Gershom, when le Bourdon had taken out the first chip, “perhaps you’d better let ME do that part of the job. I shall expect to come in for a share of the honey, and I’m willing to ’arn all I take. I was brought up on axes, and jack-knives, and sich sort of food, and can cut OR whittle with the best chopper, or the neatest whittler, in or out of New England.”</p>
 			<p>“You can try your hand, if you wish it,” said Ben, relinquishing the axe. “I can fell a tree as well as yourself, but have no such love for the business as to wish to keep it all to myself.”</p>
 			<p>“Waal, I can say, I LIKE it,” answered Gershom, first passing his thumb along the edge of the axe, in order to ascertain its state; then swinging the tool, with a view to try its “hang.”</p>
 			<p>“I can’t say much for your axe, STRANGER, for this helve has no tarve to’t, to my mind; but, sich as it is, down must come this elm, though ten millions of bees should set upon me for my pains.”</p>
@@ -76,7 +76,7 @@
 			<p>“Why should I? I am alone here, on the Openings, and it would seem foolish in me to wish to fight.”</p>
 			<p>“Got no tribe⁠—no Ojebway⁠—no Pottawattamie, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“I have my tribe, as well as another, Chippewa, but can see no use I can be to it, here. If the English and Americans fight, it must be a long way from this wilderness, and on or near the great salt lake.”</p>
-			<p>“Don’t know⁠—nebber know, ‘till see. English warrior plenty in Canada.”</p>
+			<p>“Don’t know⁠—nebber know, ’till see. English warrior plenty in Canada.”</p>
 			<p>“That may be; but American warriors are not plenty here. This country is a wilderness, and there are no soldiers hereabouts, to cut each other’s throats.”</p>
 			<p>“What you t’ink him?” asked Pigeonswing, glancing at Gershom; who, unable to forbear any longer, had gone to the spring to mix a cup from a small supply that still remained of the liquor with which he had left home. “Got pretty good scalp?”</p>
 			<p>“I suppose it is as good as another’s⁠—but he and I are countrymen, and we cannot raise the tomahawk on one another.”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-20.xhtml

@@ -48,7 +48,7 @@
 			<p>“I hope this may prove to be true! I do not see, after all, why an Injin should not have the feelin’s you name. He is a man, and must feel for his wife and children, the same as other⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Bourdon, what ails the dog? Look at the manner in which Hive is behaving!”</p>
 			<p>Sure enough, the appearance of Hive was sufficiently obvious to attract his master’s attention. By this time the crowd had got within twenty rods of the little island-like copse of wood, the mastiff being nearly half that distance in advance. Instead of preceding the party, however, Hive had raised his form in a menacing manner, and moved cautiously from side to side, like one of his kind that scents a foe. There was no mistaking these movements; and all the principal chiefs soon had their attention also drawn to the behavior of the dog.</p>
-			<p>“Why he do so?” asked Peter. “He ‘fraid of bee, eh?”</p>
+			<p>“Why he do so?” asked Peter. “He ’fraid of bee, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“He waits for me to come up,” answered le Bourdon. “Let my brother and two other chiefs come with me, and let the rest stay here. Bees do not like crowds. Corporal, I put Margery in your keeping, and Parson Amen will be near you. I now go to show these chiefs what a bee can tell a man.”</p>
 			<p>Thus saying, le Bourdon advanced, followed by Peter, Bear’s Meat, and Crowsfeather. Our hero had made up his mind that something more than bees were to be found in the thicket; for, the place being a little marshy, bushes as well as trees were growing on it, and he fully expected a rencontre with bears, the creatures most disposed to prey on the labors of the bee⁠—man excepted. Being well armed, and accompanied by men accustomed to such struggles, he had no apprehensions, and led the way boldly, feeling the necessity of manifesting perfect confidence in all his own acts, in order to command the respect of the observers. As soon as the bee-hunter passed the dog, the latter growled, showed his teeth fiercely, and followed, keeping closely at his side. The confidence and alacrity with which le Bourdon moved into the thicket, compelled his companions to be on the alert; though the first broke through the belt of hazels which enclosed the more open area within, a few instants before the Indians reached the place. Then it was that there arose such a yell, such screechings and cries, as reached far over the prairie, and might have appalled the stoutest heart. The picture that was soon offered to the eye was not less terrific than the sounds which assailed the ear. Hundreds of savages, in their war-paint, armed, and in a crowded maze, arose as it might be by one effort, seemingly out of the earth, and began to leap and play their antics amid the trees. The sudden spectacle of a crowd of such beings, nearly naked, frightfully painted, and tossing their arms here and there, while each yelled like a demon, was enough to overcome the nerves of a very resolute man. But le Bourdon was prepared for a conflict and even felt relieved rather than alarmed, when he saw the savages. His ready mind at once conceived the truth. This band belonged to the chiefs, and composed the whole, or a principal part of the force which he knew they must have outlying somewhere on the prairies, or in the openings. He had sufficiently understood the hints of Pigeonswing to be prepared for such a meeting, and at no time, of late, had he approached a cover, without remembering the possibility of its containing Indians.</p>
 			<p>Instead of betraying alarm, therefore, when this cloud of phantom-like beings rose before his eyes, le Bourdon stood firm, merely turning toward the chiefs behind him, to ascertain if they were taken by surprise, as well as himself. It was apparent that they were; for, understanding that a medicine-ceremony was to take place on the prairie, these young men had preceded the party from the hut, and had, ununknown to all the chiefs, got possession of this copse, as the best available cover, whence to make their observations on what was going on.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-21.xhtml

@@ -36,7 +36,7 @@
 			<p>Margery laughingly promised to remember his injunction, and went her way, closely attended by her lover. The corporal followed, armed to the teeth, and keeping at just such a distance from the young people, as might enable them to converse without being overheard. As for the missionary, he was detained a moment by Peter, the others moving slowly, in order to permit him to come up, ere they had gone their first mile. Of course, the mysterious chief had not detained Parson Amen without a motive.</p>
 			<p>“My brother has told me many curious things,” said Peter, when alone with the missionary, and speaking now in the language of the Ojebways⁠—“many very curious things. I like to listen to them. Once he told me how the pale-face young men take their squaws.”</p>
 			<p>“I remember to have told you this. We ask the Great Spirit to bless our marriages, and the ceremony is commonly performed by a priest. This is our practice, Peter; though not necessary, I think it good.”</p>
-			<p>“Yes; good alway for pale-face to do pale-face fashion, and for Injin to do Injin fashion. Don’t want medicine-man to get red-skin squaw. Open wigwam door, and she come in. Dat ‘nough. If she don’t wish to come in, can’t make her. Squaw go to warrior she likes; warrior ask squaw he likes. But it is best for pale-face to take his wife in pale-face fashion. Does not my brother see a young man of his people, and a young maiden, that he had better bring together and bless?”</p>
+			<p>“Yes; good alway for pale-face to do pale-face fashion, and for Injin to do Injin fashion. Don’t want medicine-man to get red-skin squaw. Open wigwam door, and she come in. Dat ’nough. If she don’t wish to come in, can’t make her. Squaw go to warrior she likes; warrior ask squaw he likes. But it is best for pale-face to take his wife in pale-face fashion. Does not my brother see a young man of his people, and a young maiden, that he had better bring together and bless?”</p>
 			<p>“You must mean Bourdon and Margery,” answered the missionary, in English, after a moment’s reflection. “The idea is a new one to me; for my mind has been much occuoccupied of late, with other and more important matters; though I now plainly see what you mean!”</p>
 			<p>“That flower of the Openings would soon fade, if the young bee-hunter should leave it alone on the prairies. This is the will of the Great Spirit. He puts it into the minds of the young squaws to see all things well that the hunters of their fancy do. Why he has made the young with this kindness for each other, perhaps my brother knows. He is wise, and has books. The poor Injins have none. They can see only with the eyes they got from Injins, like themselves. But one thing they know. What the Great Spirit has commanded, is good. Injins can’t make it any better. They can do it harm, but they can do it no good. Let my brother bless the couple that the Manitou has brought together.”</p>
 			<p>“I believe I understand you. Peter, and will think of this. And now that I must leave you for a little while, let me beg you to think of this matter of the origin of your tribes, candidly, and with care. Everything depends on your people’s not mistaking the truth, in this great matter. It is as necessary for a nation to know its duties, as for a single man. Promise me to think of this, Peter.”</p>
@@ -64,7 +64,7 @@
 			<p>“We were talking of the lost tribes,” said Margery, half smiling as she spoke, “and of your idea, Mr. Amen, that these Injins are Jews. It seems strange to me that they should have lost so much of their ancient ways, and notions, and appearances, if they are really the people you think.”</p>
 			<p>“Lost! It is rather wonderful that, after the lapse of two thousand years and more, so much should remain. Whichever way I look, signs of these people’s origin beset me. You have read your Bible, Margery⁠—which I am sorry to say all on this frontier have not⁠—but you have read your Bible, and one can make an allusion to you with some satisfaction. Now, let me ask you if you remember such a thing as the scape-goat of the ancient Jews. It is to be found in Leviticus, and is one of those mysterious customs with which that extraordinary book is full.”</p>
 			<p>“Leviticus is a book I never read but once, for we do not read it in our New England schools. But I do remember that the Jews were commanded to let one of two goats go, from which practice it has, I believe, been called a scape-goat.”</p>
-			<p>“Well,” said le Bourdon, simply, “what a thing is ‘l’arnin’!’ Now, this is all news to me, though I have heard of ‘scape-goats,’ and TALKED of ‘scape-goats’ a thousand times! There’s a meanin’ to everything, I find; and I do not look upon this idea of the lost tribes as half as strange as I did before I l’arnt this!”</p>
+			<p>“Well,” said le Bourdon, simply, “what a thing is ’l’arnin’!’ Now, this is all news to me, though I have heard of ‘scape-goats,’ and TALKED of ‘scape-goats’ a thousand times! There’s a meanin’ to everything, I find; and I do not look upon this idea of the lost tribes as half as strange as I did before I l’arnt this!”</p>
 			<p>Margery had not fallen in love with the bee-hunter for his biblical knowledge, else might her greater information have received a rude shock by this mark of simplicity; but instead of dwelling on this proof of le Bourdon’s want of “schooling,” her active mind was more disposed to push the allusion to scape-goats to some useful conclusion.</p>
 			<p>“And what of the goat, Mr. Amen?” she asked; “and how can it belong to anything here?”</p>
 			<p>“Why were all those goats turned into the woods and deserts, in the olden time, Margery? Doubtless to provide food for the ten tribes, when these should be driven forth by conquerors and hard task-masters. Time, and climate, and a difference of food, has altered them, as they have changed the Jews themselves, though they still retain the cleft hoof, the horns, the habits, and the general characteristics of the goats of Arabia. Yes; naturalists will find in the end, that the varieties of the deer of this continent, particularly the antelope, are nothing but the scape-goats of the ancient world, altered and perhaps improved by circumstances.”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-23.xhtml

@@ -33,7 +33,7 @@
 			<p>“Oh! it means good, of course. I could say nothing against a hunter who takes so good care of us all.”</p>
 			<p>“What he mean, den?”</p>
 			<p>“It means a man who keeps his wife and children well supplied with food.”</p>
-			<p>“You get ‘nough, eh?”</p>
+			<p>“You get ’nough, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“I get enough, Pigeonswing, thanks to your industry, such as it is. Injin diet, however, is not always the best for Christian folk, though a body may live on it. I miss many things, out here in the Openings, to which I have been used all the early part of my life.”</p>
 			<p>“What squaw miss, eh? P’raps Injin find him sometime.”</p>
 			<p>“I thank you, Pigeonswing, with all my heart, and am just as grateful for your good intentions, as I should be was you to do all you wish. It is the mind that makes the marcy, and not always the deed. But you can never find the food of a pale-face kitchen out here in the Openings of Michigan. When a body comes to reckon up all the good things of Ameriky, she don’t know where to begin, or where to stop. I miss tea as much as anything. And milk comes next. Then there’s buckwheat and coffee⁠—though things may be found in the woods to make coffee of, but tea has no substitute. Then, I like wheaten bread, and butter, and potatoes, and many other such articles, that I was used to all my life, until I came out here, close to sunset. As for pies and custards, I can’t bear to think of ’em now!”</p>
@@ -44,7 +44,7 @@
 			<p>“I’m in no such hurry, Pigeonswing, and I like these Openings well enough to stay a while longer, and see what all these Injins, that they tell me are about ’em, mean to do. Now we are fairly among your people, and on good terms with them, it is wisest to stay where we are. These are war-times, and travelling is dangerous, they tell me. When Gershom and Bourdon are ready to start, I shall be ready.”</p>
 			<p>“Bess get ready, now,” rejoined Pigeonswing; who, having given this advice with point, as to manner, proceeded to the spring, where he knelt and slaked his thirst. The manner of the Chippewa was such as to attract the attention of the missionary, who, full of his theory, imagined that this desire to get rid of the whites was, in some way or other, connected with a reluctance in the Indians to confess themselves Jews. He had been quite as much surprised as he was disappointed, with the backwardness of the chiefs in accepting this tradition, and was now in a state of mind that predisposed him to impute everything to this one cause.</p>
 			<p>“I hope, Pigeonswing,” he said to the Chippewa, whom he had followed to the spring⁠—“I hope, Pigeonswing, that no offence has been taken by the chiefs on account of what I told them yesterday, concerning their being Jews. It is what I think, and it is an honor to belong to God’s chosen people, and in no sense a disgrace. I hope no offence has been taken on account of my telling the chief they are Jews.”</p>
-			<p>“Don’t care any t’ing ‘bout it,” answered the literal Indian, rising from his kneeling position, and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t care wedder Jew, or wedder Indian.”</p>
+			<p>“Don’t care any t’ing ’bout it,” answered the literal Indian, rising from his kneeling position, and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t care wedder Jew, or wedder Indian.”</p>
 			<p>“For my own part, gladly would I have it to say that I am descended from Israel.”</p>
 			<p>“Why don’t say him, if he make you grad? Good to be grad. All Injin love to be grad.”</p>
 			<p>“Because I cannot say it with truth. No; I come of the Gentiles, and not of the Hebrews, else would I glory in saying I am a Jew, in the sense of extraction, though not now in the sense of faith. I trust the chiefs will not take offence at my telling them just what I think.”</p>
@@ -57,7 +57,7 @@
 			<p>“Bess get him to tell you path into Detroit. Dat good path, now, for all pale-faces.”</p>
 			<p>On uttering this advice, which he did also somewhat pointedly, the Chippewa left the spring, and walked toward the kennel of Hive, where the bee-hunter was busy feeding his old companion.</p>
 			<p>“You’re welcome back, Pigeonswing,” the last cordially remarked, without pausing in his occupation, however. “I saw that you came in loaded, as usual. Have you left any dead game in the Openings, for me to go and back in with you?”</p>
-			<p>“You open ear, Bourdon⁠—you know what Injin say,” returned the Chippewa, earnestly. “When dog get ‘nough come wid me. Got somet’ing to tell. Bess hear it, when he CAN hear it.”</p>
+			<p>“You open ear, Bourdon⁠—you know what Injin say,” returned the Chippewa, earnestly. “When dog get ’nough come wid me. Got somet’ing to tell. Bess hear it, when he CAN hear it.”</p>
 			<p>“You’ll find me ready enough in a minute. There, Hive, my good fellow, that ought to satisfy any reasonable dog, and I’ve never found you unreasonable yet. Well, Chippewa, here I am, with my ears wide open⁠—stop, I’ve a bit of news, first, for your ears. Do you know, Pigeonswing, my good fellow, that I am married?”</p>
 			<p>“Marry, eh? Got squaw, eh? Where you get him?”</p>
 			<p>“Here, to be sure⁠—where else should I get her? There is but one girl in these Openings that I would ask to be my wife, and she has been asked, and answered, yes. Parson Amen married us, yesterday, on our way in from Prairie Round; so that puts me on a footing with yourself. When you boast of your squaw that you’ve left in your wigwam, I can boast of mine that I have here. Margery is a girl to boast of, too!”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-25.xhtml

@@ -55,7 +55,7 @@
 			<p>“Brother,” said Bough of the Oak, again placing himself before the captive, “you have a stout heart. It is made of stone, and not of flesh. If our hearts be of dog’s meat, yours is of stone. What you say is true. The pale-faces DID come at first in two or three canoes, and there were but few of them. We are ashamed, for it is true, A few pale-faces drove toward the setting sun many Injins. But we cannot be driven any further. We mean to stop here, and begin to take all the scalps we can. A great chief, who belongs to no one tribe, but belongs to all tribes, who speaks all tongues, has been sent by the Great Spirit to arouse us. He has done it. You know him. He came from the head of the lake with you, and kept his eye on your scalp. He has meant to take it from the first. He waited only for an opportunity. That opportunity has come, and we now mean to do as he has told us we ought to do. This is right. Squaws are in a hurry; warriors know how to wait. We would kill you at once, and hang your scalp on our pole, but it would not be right We wish to do what is right. If we ARE poor Injins, and know but little, we know what is right. It is right to torment so great a brave, and we mean to do it. It is only just to you to do so. An old warrior who has seen so many enemies, and who has so big a heart, ought not to be knocked in the head like a pappoose or a squaw. It is his right to be tormented. We are getting ready, and shall soon begin. If my brother can tell us a new way of tormenting, we are willing to try it. Should we not make out as well as pale-faces, my brother will remember who we are. We mean to do our best, and we hope to make his heart soft. If we do this, great will be our honor. Should we not do it, we cannot help it. We shall try.”</p>
 			<p>It was now the corporal’s turn to put in a rebutter.</p>
 			<p>This he did without any failure in will or performance. By this time he was so well warmed as to think or care very little about the saplings, and to overlook the pain they might occasion.</p>
-			<p>“Dogs can do little but bark; ‘specially Injin dogs,” he said. “Injins themselves are little better than their own dogs. They can bark, but they don’t know how to bite. You have many great chiefs here. Some are panthers, and some bears, and some buffaloes; but where are your weasels? I have fit you now these twenty years, and never have I known ye to stand up to the baggonet. It’s not Injin natur’ to do THAT.”</p>
+			<p>“Dogs can do little but bark; ’specially Injin dogs,” he said. “Injins themselves are little better than their own dogs. They can bark, but they don’t know how to bite. You have many great chiefs here. Some are panthers, and some bears, and some buffaloes; but where are your weasels? I have fit you now these twenty years, and never have I known ye to stand up to the baggonet. It’s not Injin natur’ to do THAT.”</p>
 			<p>Here the corporal, without knowing it, made some such reproach to the aboriginal warriors of America as the English used to throw into the teeth of ourselves⁠—that of not standing up to a weapon which neither party possessed. It was matter of great triumph that the Americans would not stand the charge of the bayonet at the renowned fight on Breed’s, for instance, when it is well known that not one man in five among the colonists had any such weapon at all to “stand up” with. A different story was told at Guildford, and Stony Point, and Eutaw, and Bennington, and Bemis’ Heights, and fifty other places that might be named, after the troops were furnished with bayonets. THEN it was found that the Americans could use them as well as others, and so might it have proved with the red men, though their discipline, or mode of fighting, scarce admitted of such systematic charges. All this, however, the corporal overlooked, much as if he were a regular historian who was writing to make out a case.</p>
 			<p>“Harkee, brother, since you WILL call me brother; though, Heaven be praised, not a drop of nigger or Injin blood runs in my veins,” resumed the corporal. “Harkee, friend redskin, answer me one thing. Did you ever hear of such a man as Mad Anthony? He was the tickler for your infernal tribes! You pulled no saplings together for him. He put you up with ‘the long-knives and leather-stockings,’ and you outrun his fleetest horses. I was with him, and saw more naked backs than naked faces among your people, that day. Your Great Bear got a rap on his nose that sent him to his village yelping like a cur.”</p>
 			<p>Again was the corporal compelled to stop to take breath. The allusion to Wayne, and his defeat of the Indians, excited so much ire, that several hands grasped knives and tomahawks, and one arrow was actually drawn nearly to the head; but the frown of Bear’s Meat prevented any outbreak, or actual violence. It wa’s deemed prudent, however, to put an end to this scene, lest the straightforward corporal, who laid it on heavily, and who had so much to say about Indian defeats, might actually succeed in touching some festering wound that would bring him to his death at once. It was, accordingly, determined to proceed with the torture of the saplings without further delay.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-27.xhtml

@@ -77,11 +77,11 @@
 			<p>It now appeared that Pigeonswing had chosen another swamp as a place of concealment for the fugitives to use during the day. These swamps, through which the river wound its way in short reaches, were admirably adapted to such purposes. Dark, sombre, and hardly penetrable on the side of the land, they were little likely to be entered after a first examination. Nor was it at all probable that females, in particular, would seek a refuge in such a place. But the Chippewa had found the means to obviate the natural obstacles of the low land. There were several spots where the water from the river set back into the swamp, forming so many little creeks; and into the largest of one of these he pushed his canoe, the others following where he led. By resorting to such means, the shelter now obtained was more complete, perhaps, than that previously left.</p>
 			<p>Pigeonswing forced his light boat up the shallow inlet, until he reached a bit of dry land, where he brought up, announcing THAT as the abiding-place during the day. Glad enough was every one to get on shore, in a spot that promised security, after eight hours of unremitting paddling and of painful excitement. Notwithstanding the rifts and carrying-places they had met, and been obliged to overcome, le Bourdon calculated that they had made as many as thirty miles in the course of that one night. This was a great movement, and to all appearances it had been made without detection. As for the Chippewa, he was quite content, and no sooner was his canoe secured, than he lighted his pipe and sat down to his enjoyment with an air of composure and satisfaction.</p>
 			<p>“And here, you think, Pigeonswing, that we shall be safe during the day?” demanded le Bourdon, approaching the fallen tree on which the Indian had taken his seat.</p>
-			<p>“Sartain⁠—no Pottawattamie come here. Too wet. Don’t like wet. An’t duck, or goose⁠—like dry land, juss like squaw. Dis good ‘baccy, Bourdon⁠—hope you got more for friend.”</p>
+			<p>“Sartain⁠—no Pottawattamie come here. Too wet. Don’t like wet. An’t duck, or goose⁠—like dry land, juss like squaw. Dis good ’baccy, Bourdon⁠—hope you got more for friend.”</p>
 			<p>“I have enough for us all, Pigeonswing, and you shall have a full share. Now, tell me; what will be your next move, and where do you intend to pass the morrow?”</p>
-			<p>“Juss like diss. Plenty of swamp, Bourdon, on Kekalamazoo. [Footnote: This is the true Indian word, though the whites have seen fit to omit the first syllable.] Run canoe in swamp; den safe ‘nough. Injins won’t look ‘ere, ‘cause he don’t know whereabout look. Don’t like swamp. Great danger down at mouth of river.”</p>
+			<p>“Juss like diss. Plenty of swamp, Bourdon, on Kekalamazoo. [Footnote: This is the true Indian word, though the whites have seen fit to omit the first syllable.] Run canoe in swamp; den safe ’nough. Injins won’t look ’ere, ’cause he don’t know whereabout look. Don’t like swamp. Great danger down at mouth of river.”</p>
 			<p>“So it has seemed to me, Chippewa. The Injins must be there in a strong force, and we shall find it no easy matter to get through them. How do you propose to do it?”</p>
-			<p>“Go by in night. No udder way. When can’t see, can’t see. Dere plenty of rush dere; dat good t’ing, and, p’raps, dat help us. Rush good cover for canoe. Expec’, when we get down ‘ere, to get some scalp, too. Plenty of Pottawattamie about dat lodge, sartain; and it very hard if don’t get some on him scalp. You mean stop, and dig up cache; eh, Bourdon?”</p>
+			<p>“Go by in night. No udder way. When can’t see, can’t see. Dere plenty of rush dere; dat good t’ing, and, p’raps, dat help us. Rush good cover for canoe. Expec’, when we get down ’ere, to get some scalp, too. Plenty of Pottawattamie about dat lodge, sartain; and it very hard if don’t get some on him scalp. You mean stop, and dig up cache; eh, Bourdon?”</p>
 			<p>The cool, quiet manner in which Pigeonswing revealed his own plans, and inquired into those of his friend, had, at least, the effect to revive the confidence of le Bourdon. He could not think the danger very great so long as one so experienced as the Chippewa felt so much confidence in his own future proceedings; and, after talking a short time longer with this man, the bee-hunter went to seek Margery, in order to impart to her a due portion of his own hopes.</p>
 			<p>The sisters were preparing the breakfast. This was done without the use of fire, it being too hazardous to permit smoke to rise above the tops of the trees. Many is the camp that has been discovered by the smoke, which can be seen at a great distance; and it is a certain sign of the presence of man, when it ascends in threads, or such small columns as denote a domestic fire beneath. This is very different from the clouds that float above the burning prairies, and which all, at once, impute to their true origin. The danger of using fire had been so much guarded against by our fugitives, that the cooking of the party had been done at night; the utmost caution having been used to prevent the fire itself from being seen, and care taken to extinguish it long before the return of day. A supply of cold meat was always on hand, and had it not been, the fugitives would have known how to live on berries, or, at need, to fast; anything was preferable, being exposed to certain capture.</p>
 			<p>As soon as the party had broken their fast, arrangements were made for recruiting nature by sleep. As for Pigeonswing, Indian-like, he had eaten enormously, no reasonable quantity of venison sufficing to appease his appetite; and when he had eaten, he lay down in the bottom of his canoe and slept. Similar dispositions were made of their persons by the rest, and half an hour after the meal was ended, all there were in a profound sleep. No watch was considered necessary, and none was kept.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-3.xhtml

@@ -99,7 +99,7 @@
 			<p>The Kalamazoo is a crooked stream; and it wound from the spot where le Bourdon had built his cabin, to a point within a hundred yards of the fallen tree in which the bees had constructed their hive. As a matter of course, Ben profited by this circumstance to carry his canoe to the latter place, with a view to render it serviceable in transporting the honey. First securing everything in and around the chiente, he and Gershom embarked, taking with them no less than four pieces of fire-arms; one of which was, to use the language of the west, a double-barrelled “shot-gun.” Before quitting the place, however, the bee-hunter went to a large kennel made of logs, and let out a mastiff of great power and size. Between this dog and himself there existed the best possible intelligence; the master having paid many visits to the prisoner since his return, feeding and caressing him. Glad, indeed, was this fine animal to be released, bounding back and forth, and leaping about le Bourdon in a way to manifest his delight. He had been cared for in his kennel, and well cared for, too; but there is no substitute for liberty, whether in man or beast, individuals or communities.</p>
 			<p>When all Was ready, le Bourdon and Gershom got into the canoe, whither the former now called his dog, using the name of “Hive,” an appellation that was doubtless derived from his own pursuit. As soon as the mastiff leaped into the canoe, Ben shoved off, and the light craft was pushed up the stream by himself and Gershom without much difficulty, and with considerable rapidity. But little driftwood choked the channel; and, after fifteen minutes of moderate labor, the two men came near to the point of low wooded land in which the bee-tree had stood. As they drew nigh, certain signs of uneasiness in the dog attracted his master’s attention, and he pointed them out to Gershom.</p>
 			<p>“There’s game in the wind,” answered Whiskey Centre, who had a good knowledge of most of the craft of border life, notwithstanding his ungovernable propensity to drink, and who, by nature, was both shrewd and resolute. “I shouldn’t wonder”⁠—a common expression of his class⁠—“if we found bears prowling about that honey!”</p>
-			<p>“Such things have happened in my time,” answered the bee-hunter, “and twice in my experience I’ve been driven from the field, and forced to let the devils get my ‘arnin’s.”</p>
+			<p>“Such things have happened in my time,” answered the bee-hunter, “and twice in my experience I’ve been driven from the field, and forced to let the devils get my ’arnin’s.”</p>
 			<p>“That was when you had no comrade, stranger” returned Gershom, raising a rifle, and carefully examining its flint and its priming. “It will be a large family on ’em that drives us from that tree; for my mind is made up to give Doll and Blossom a taste of the sweets.”</p>
 			<p>If this was said imprudently, as respects ownership in the prize, it was said heartily, so far as spirit and determination were concerned. It proved that Whiskey Centre had points about him which, if not absolutely redeeming, served in some measure to lessen the disgust which one might other-wise have felt for his character. The bee-hunter knew that there was a species of hardihood that belonged to border men as the fruits of their habits, and, apparently, he had all necessary confidence in Gershom’s disposition to sustain him, should there be occasion for a conflict with his old enemies.</p>
 			<p>The first measure of the bee-hunter, after landing and securing his boat, was to quiet Hive. The animal being under excellent command, this was soon done; the mastiff maintaining the position assigned him in the rear, though evidently impatient to be let loose. Had not le Bourdon known the precise position of the fallen tree, and through that the probable position of his enemies, he would have placed the mastiff in advance, as a pioneer or scout; but he deemed it necessary, under the actual circumstances, to hold him as a reserve, or a force to be directed whither occasion might require. With this arrangement, then, le Bourdon and Whiskey Centre advanced, side by side, each carrying two pieces, from the margin of the river toward the open land that commanded a view of the tree. On reaching the desired point, a halt was called, in order to reconnoitre.</p>
@@ -117,7 +117,7 @@
 			<p>“You have eaten bread and salt with me, Whiskey, and both are scarce articles in a wilderness; and you’ve slept under my roof: is it not almost time to call me something else than stranger?”</p>
 			<p>“Well, Bourdon, if you prefer that name; though STRANger is a name I like, it has sich an up and off sound to it. When a man calls all he sees STRANgers, it’s a sign he don’t let the grass grow in the road for want of movin’; and a movin’ man for me, any day, before your stationaries. I was born on the sea-shore, in the Bay State; and here I am, up among the fresh-water lakes, as much nat’ralized as any muskelunge that was ever cotch’d in Huron, or about Mackinaw. If I can believe my eyes, Bourdon, there is the muzzle of a bear to be seen, jist under that heavy hemlock⁠—here, where the bees seem thickest!”</p>
 			<p>“No doubt in the world,” answered le Bourdon, coolly; though he had taken the precaution to look to the priming of each of his pieces, as if he expected there would soon be occasion to use them. “But what was that you were about to say concernin’ Blossom? It would not be civil to the young woman to overlook her, on account of a bear or two.”</p>
-			<p>“You take it easy, STRANger⁠—Bourdon, I should say⁠—you take it easy! What I was about to say was this: that the whull lake country, and that’s a wide stretch to foot it over, I know; but, big as it is, the whull lake country don’t contain Blossom’s equal. I’m her brother, and perhaps ought to be a little modest in sich matters; but I an’t a bit, and let out jist what I think. Blossom’s a di’mond, if there be di’monds on ‘arth.”</p>
+			<p>“You take it easy, STRANger⁠—Bourdon, I should say⁠—you take it easy! What I was about to say was this: that the whull lake country, and that’s a wide stretch to foot it over, I know; but, big as it is, the whull lake country don’t contain Blossom’s equal. I’m her brother, and perhaps ought to be a little modest in sich matters; but I an’t a bit, and let out jist what I think. Blossom’s a di’mond, if there be di’monds on ’arth.”</p>
 			<p>“And yonder is a bear, if there be bears on earth!” exclaimed le Bourdon, who was not a little amused with Gershom’s account of his family, but who saw that the moment was now arrived when it would be necessary to substitute deeds for words. “There they come, in a drove, and they seem in earnest.”</p>
 			<p>This was true enough. No less than eight bears, half of which, however, were quite young, came tumbling over the logs, and bounding up toward the fallen tree, as if charging the citadel of the bees by preconcert. Their appearance was the signal for a general rally of the insects, and by the time the foremost of the clumsy animals had reached the tree, the air above and around him was absolutely darkened by the cloud of bees that was collected to defend their treasures. Bruin trusted too much to the thickness of his hide and to the defences with which he was provided by nature, besides being too much incited by the love of honey, to regard the little heroes, but thrust his nose in at the hole, doubtless hoping to plunge it at once into the midst of a mass of the sweets. A growl, a start backward, and a flourishing of the fore-paws, with sundry bites in the air, at once announced that he had met with greater resistance than he had anticipated. In a minute, all the bears were on their hind-legs, beating the air with their fore-paws, and nipping right and left with their jaws, in vigorous combat with their almost invisible foes. Instinct supplied the place of science, and spite of the hides and the long hair that covered them, the bees found the means of darting their stings into unprotected places, until the quadrupeds were fairly driven to rolling about on the grass in order to crush their assailants. This last process had some effect, a great many bees being destroyed by the energetic rollings and tumblings of the bears; but, as in the tide of battle, the places of those who fell were immediately supplied by fresh assailants, until numbers seemed likely to prevail over power, if not over discipline. At this critical instant, when the bears seemed fatigued with their nearly frantic saltations, and violent blows upon nothing, le Bourdon deemed it wise to bring his forces into the combat. Gershom having been apprised of the plan, both fired at the same instant. Each ball took effect; one killing the largest of all the bears, dead on the spot, while the other inflicted a grievous wound on a second. This success was immediately followed by a second discharge, wounding two more of the enemy, while Ben held the second barrel of his “shot-gun” in reserve. While the hurt animals were hobbling off, the men reloaded their pieces; and by the time the last were ready to advance on the enemy, the ground was cleared of bears and bees alike, only two of the former remaining, of which one was already dead and the other dying. As for the bees, they followed their retreating enemies in a body, making a mistake that sometimes happens to still more intelligent beings; that of attributing to themselves, and their own prowess, a success that had been gained by others.</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter and his friend now set themselves at work to provide a reception for the insects, the return of which might shortly be expected. The former lighted a fire, being always provided with the means, while Gershom brought dry wood. In less than five minutes a bright blaze was gleaming upward, and when the bees returned, as most of them soon did, they found this new enemy intrenched, as it might be, behind walls of flame. Thousands of the little creatures perished by means of this new invention of man, and the rest soon after were led away by their chiefs to seek some new deposit for the fruits of their industry.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-30.xhtml

@@ -55,7 +55,7 @@
 			<p>“Red men and pale-faces?” I asked, not a little surprised with his reply.</p>
 			<p>“Red man and pale-face. Christ die for all, and his Fadder make all. No difference, excep’ in color. Color only skin deep.”</p>
 			<p>“Do you, then, look on us pale-faces as having a right here? Do you not regard us as invaders, as enemies who have come to take away your lands?”</p>
-			<p>“Injin don’t own ‘arth. ‘Arth belong to God, and he send whom he like to live on it. One time he send Injin; now he send pale-face. His ‘arth, and he do what he please wid it. Nobody any right to complain. Bad to find fault wid Great Spirit. All he do, right; nebber do anyt’ing bad. His blessed Son die for all color, and all color muss bow down at his holy name. Dat what dis good book say,” showing a small pocket Bible, “and what dis good book say come from Great Spirit, himself.”</p>
+			<p>“Injin don’t own ’arth. ’Arth belong to God, and he send whom he like to live on it. One time he send Injin; now he send pale-face. His ’arth, and he do what he please wid it. Nobody any right to complain. Bad to find fault wid Great Spirit. All he do, right; nebber do anyt’ing bad. His blessed Son die for all color, and all color muss bow down at his holy name. Dat what dis good book say,” showing a small pocket Bible, “and what dis good book say come from Great Spirit, himself.”</p>
 			<p>“You read the Holy Scriptures, then⁠—you are an educated Indian?”</p>
 			<p>“No; can’t read at all. Don’t know how. Try hard, but too ole to begin. Got young eyes, however, to help me,” he added, with one of the fondest smiles I ever saw light a human face, as he turned to meet the pretty Dolly’s “Good-morning, Peter,” and to shake the hand of the elder sister. “She read good book for old Injin, when he want her; and when she off at school, in ‘city,’ den her mudder or her gran’mudder read for him. Fuss begin wid gran’mudder; now get down to gran’da’ghter. But good book all de same, let who will read it.”</p>
 			<p>This, then, was “Scalping Peter,” the very man I was travelling into Michigan to see, but how wonderfully changed! The Spirit of the Most High God had been shed freely upon his moral being, and in lieu of the revengeful and vindictive savage, he now lived a subdued, benevolent Christian! In every human being he beheld a brother, and no longer thought of destroying races, in order to secure to his own people the quiet possession of their hunting-grounds. His very soul was love; and no doubt he felt himself strong enough to “bless those who cursed him,” and to give up his spirit, like the good missionary whose death had first turned him toward the worship of the one true God, praying for those who took his life.</p>
@@ -77,7 +77,7 @@
 			<p>We were still in the field, when General Boden’s attention was drawn toward the person of another guest. This, too, was an Indian, old like himself, but not clad like Peter, in the vestments of the whites. The attire of this sinewy old man was a mixture of that of the two races. He wore a hunting-shirt, moccasins, and a belt; but he also wore trousers, and otherwise had brought himself within the habits of conventional decency. It was Pigeonswing, the Chippewa, come to pay his annual visit to his friend, the bee-hunter, The meeting was cordial, and we afterward ascertained that when the old man departed, he went away loaded with gifts that would render him comfortable for a twelvemonth.</p>
 			<p>But Peter, after all, was the great centre of interest with us. We could admire the General’s bee-hives, which were numerous and ingenious; could admire his still handsome Margery, and all their blooming descendants; and were glad when we discovered that our old friend⁠—made so by means of a knowledge of his character, if not by actual acquaintance⁠—was much improved in mind, was a sincere Christian, and had been a Senator of his own State; respected and esteemed by all who knew him. Such a career, however, has nothing peculiar in America; it is one of every-day occurrence, and shows the power of man when left free to make his own exertions; while that of the Scalping Peter indicated the power of God. There he was, living in the midst of the hated race, loving and beloved; wishing naught but blessings on all colors alike; looking back upon his traditions and superstitions with a sort of melancholy interest, as we all portray in our memories the scenes, legends, and feelings of an erring childhood.</p>
 			<p>We were walking in the garden, after dinner, and looking at the hives. There were the general, Margery, Peter, and ourselves. The first was loud in praise of his buzzing friends, for whom it was plain he still entertained a lively regard. The old Indian, at first, was sad. Then he smiled, and, turning to us, he spoke earnestly and with some of his ancient fire and eloquence.</p>
-			<p>“Tell me you make a book,” he said. “In dat book tell trut’. You see me⁠—poor old Injin. My fadder was chief⁠—I was great chief, but we was children. Knowed nuttin’. Like little child, dough great chief. Believe tradition. T’ink dis ‘arth flat⁠—t’ink Injin could scalp all pale-face⁠—t’ink tomahawk, and war-path, and rifle, bess t’ings in whole world. In dat day, my heart was stone. Afraid of Great Spirit, but didn’t love him. In dat time I t’ink General could talk wid bee. Yes; was very foolish den. Now, all dem cloud blow away, and I see my Fadder dat is in heaven. His face shine on me, day and night, and I never get tired of looking at it. I see him smile, I see him lookin’ at poor ole Injin, as if he want him to come nearer; sometime I see him frown and dat scare me. Den I pray, and his frown go away.</p>
+			<p>“Tell me you make a book,” he said. “In dat book tell trut’. You see me⁠—poor old Injin. My fadder was chief⁠—I was great chief, but we was children. Knowed nuttin’. Like little child, dough great chief. Believe tradition. T’ink dis ’arth flat⁠—t’ink Injin could scalp all pale-face⁠—t’ink tomahawk, and war-path, and rifle, bess t’ings in whole world. In dat day, my heart was stone. Afraid of Great Spirit, but didn’t love him. In dat time I t’ink General could talk wid bee. Yes; was very foolish den. Now, all dem cloud blow away, and I see my Fadder dat is in heaven. His face shine on me, day and night, and I never get tired of looking at it. I see him smile, I see him lookin’ at poor ole Injin, as if he want him to come nearer; sometime I see him frown and dat scare me. Den I pray, and his frown go away.</p>
 			<p>“Stranger, love God. B’lieve his blessed Son, who pray for dem dat kill him. Injin don’t do that. Injin not strong enough to do so good t’ing. It want de Holy Spirit to strengthen de heart, afore man can do so great t’ing. When he got de force of de Holy Spirit, de heart of stone is changed to de heart of woman, and we all be ready to bless our enemy and die. I have spoken. Let dem dat read your book understand.”</p>
 		</section>
 	</body>

src/epub/text/chapter-6.xhtml

@@ -83,7 +83,7 @@
 			<p>At the next moment the feet of the Chippewa were released, as were also his knees. Of all the fastenings none now remained but that which bound the captive to the tree. In not cutting this, the bee-hunter manifested his coolness and judgment; for were the stout rope of bark severed, the Indian would have fallen like a log, from total inability to stand. His thongs had impeded the circulation of the blood, and the usual temporary paralysis had been the consequence. Pigeonswing understood the reason of his friend’s forbearance, and managed to rub his hands and wrists together, while the bee-hunter himself applied friction to his feet, by passing his own arms around the bottom of the tree. The reader may imagine the intense anxiety of Margery the while; for she witnessed the arrival of le Bourdon at the tree, and could not account for the long delay which succeeded.</p>
 			<p>All this time, the dogs were far from being quiet or satisfied. Their masters, accustomed to being surrounded at night by wolves and foxes, or other beasts, took little heed, however, of the discontent of these creatures, which were in the habit of growling in their lairs. The bee-hunter, as he kept rubbing at his friend’s legs, felt now but little apprehension of the dogs, though a new source of alarm presented itself by the time the Chippewa was barely able to sustain his weight on his feet, and long before he could use them with anything like his former agility. The manner in which the savages came together in the hut, and the gestures made by their chief, announced pretty plainly that a watch was about to be set for the night. As it was probable that the sentinel would take his station near the prisoner, the bee-hunter was at a loss to decide whether it were better to commence the flight before or after the rest of the savages were in their lairs. Placing his mouth as close to the ear of Pigeonswing as could be done without bringing his head into the light, the following dialogue passed between le Bourdon and the captive.</p>
 			<p>“Do you see, Chippewa,” the bee-hunter commenced, “the chief is telling one of the young men to come and keep guard near you?”</p>
-			<p>“See him, well ‘nough. Make too many sign, no to see.”</p>
+			<p>“See him, well ’nough. Make too many sign, no to see.”</p>
 			<p>“What think you⁠—shall we wait till the warriors are asleep, or try to be off before the sentinel comes?”</p>
 			<p>“Bess wait, if one t’ing. You got rifle⁠—got tomahawk⁠—got knife, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“I have them all, though my rifle is a short distance behind me, and a little down the hill.”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-7.xhtml

@@ -31,7 +31,7 @@
 			<p>At length le Bourdon paused, causing his companion to stop also. In the hurry and confusion of the flight, the former had lost his landmarks, finding himself amidst a copse of small trees, or large bushes, but not in the particular copse he sought. Every effort to get out of this thicket, except by the way he had entered it, proved abortive, and the dogs were barking at no great distance in his rear. It is true that these animals no longer approached: for they were floundering in the mud and water; but their throats answered every purpose to lead the pursuers on, and the low calls that passed from mouth to mouth, let the pursued understand that the Pottawattamies were at their heels, if not absolutely on their trail.</p>
 			<p>The crisis demanded both discretion and decision; qualities in which the bee-hunter, with his forest training, was not likely to be deficient. He looked out for the path by which he had reached the unfortunate thicket, and having found it, commenced a retreat by the way he had come. Nerve was needed to move almost in a line toward the dogs and their masters; but the nerve was forthcoming, and the two advanced like veterans expecting the fire of some concealed but well-armed battery. Presently, le Bourdon stopped, and examined the ground on which he stood.</p>
 			<p>“HERE we must turn, Chippewa,” he said, in a guarded voice. “This is the spot where I must have missed my way.”</p>
-			<p>“Good place to turn ‘bout,” answered the Indian⁠—“dog too near.”</p>
+			<p>“Good place to turn ’bout,” answered the Indian⁠—“dog too near.”</p>
 			<p>“We must shoot the dogs if they press us too hard,” returned the bee-hunter, leading off rapidly, now secure in the right direction. “They seem to be in trouble, just at this time; but animals like them will soon find their way across this marsh.”</p>
 			<p>“Bess shoot Pottawattamie,” coolly returned Pigeonswing. “Pottawattamie got capital scalp⁠—dog’s ears no good for nutting any more.”</p>
 			<p>“Yonder, I believe, is the tree I am in search of!” exclaimed le Bourdon. “If we can reach that tree, I think all will go well with us.”</p>
@@ -65,14 +65,14 @@
 			<p>“What do them chaps say?” asked le Bourdon of the Chippewa. “They yell as if striving to make the two men at the door of the hut hear them. Can you make out what they are bawling so loud?”</p>
 			<p>“Tell two warrior to come down and take care of canoe⁠—dat all⁠—let ’em come⁠—find two here to take care of DEM⁠—got good scalp, them two rascal Pottawattamie!”</p>
 			<p>“No⁠—no⁠—Pigeonswing⁠—we must have no more of that work to-night, but must set about towing these four canoes off the shore as fast as we can. Have you got hitches on your two?”</p>
-			<p>“Fast ‘nough⁠—so fast, he follow,” answered the Indian, who, notwithstanding his preparations to help to remove the canoes, was manifestly reluctant to depart without striking another blow at his enemies. “Now good time for dem rascal to lose scalp!”</p>
+			<p>“Fast ’nough⁠—so fast, he follow,” answered the Indian, who, notwithstanding his preparations to help to remove the canoes, was manifestly reluctant to depart without striking another blow at his enemies. “Now good time for dem rascal to lose scalp!”</p>
 			<p>“Them rascals, as you call them, begin to understand their friends in the marsh, and are looking to the priming of their rifles. We must be moving, or they may see us, and give us a shot. Shove off, Chippewa, and paddle at once for the middle of the bay.”</p>
 			<p>As le Bourdon was much in earnest, Pigeonswing was fain to comply. Had the last possessed a rifle of his own, or even a knife, it is highly probable he would have leaped ashore, and found the means of stealing on some of his enemies unawares, and thus secured another trophy. But the bee-hunter was determined, and the Chippewa, however reluctant, was compelled to obey; for not only had le Bourdon kept his rifle at his side, but he had used the precaution of securing his knife and tomahawk, both of which he carried habitually, the same as a red man.</p>
 			<p>The canoes had now a somewhat difficult task. The wind still blew fresh, and it was necessary for one of these light craft, pretty well loaded with its proper freight, and paddled by only a single person, to tow two other craft of equal size dead to the windward. The weight in the towing craft, and the lightness of those that were towed, rendered this task, however, easier than it might otherwise have proved. In the course of a couple of minutes all the canoes were far enough from the shore to be out of sight of the two Indians, who, by that time, had got down to the beach to look after their own craft. The yell these savages raised on finding themselves too late, not only announced their disappointment, but communicated the extent of the disaster to their friends, who were still floundering through the marsh.</p>
 			<p>The great advantage that the party of the bee-hunter had now obtained must be very apparent to all. In possession of ALL the canoes, their enemies were, or would be for some time at least, confined to the northern side of the river, which was so wide near its mouth as to present an effectual barrier between them and those who occupied the opposite bank. The canoes, also, enabled the weaker party to change their position at will, carrying with them as many effects as were on board, and which included the whole of the property of le Bourdon; while their loss deprived their enemies of all extra means of motion, and would be very likely to induce them to proceed on their expedition by land. The objects of that expedition could only be conjectured by the bee-hunter, until he had questioned the Chippewa; a thing he did not fail to do, so soon as he believed the party quite safe under the south shore. Here the fugitives landed, proceeding up a natural channel in the wild rice in order to do so, and selecting a bit of dry beach for their purpose. Margery set about lighting a fire, in order to keep the mosquitos at a distance, selecting a spot to kindle it, behind a swell on the land, that concealed the light from all on the other shore. In the morning, it would be necessary to extinguish that fire, lest its smoke should betray their position. It was while these things were in progress, and after le Bourdon had himself procured the fuel necessary to feed pretty Margery’s fire, that he questioned the Chippewa touching his captivity.</p>
-			<p>“Yes, tell all ‘bout him,” answered the Indian, as soon as interrogated⁠—“no good to hide trail from friend. ‘Member when say good-by up in openin’ to Bourdon?”</p>
+			<p>“Yes, tell all ’bout him,” answered the Indian, as soon as interrogated⁠—“no good to hide trail from friend. ‘Member when say good-by up in openin’ to Bourdon?”</p>
 			<p>“Certainly⁠—I remember the very instant when you left me. The Pottawattamie went on one path, and you went on another. I was glad of that, as you seemed to think he was not your friend.”</p>
-			<p>“Yes; good not to travel on same path as inimy, ‘cause he quarrel sometime,” coolly returned the Indian. “Dis time, path come together, somehow; and Pottawattamie lose he scalp.”</p>
+			<p>“Yes; good not to travel on same path as inimy, ’cause he quarrel sometime,” coolly returned the Indian. “Dis time, path come together, somehow; and Pottawattamie lose he scalp.”</p>
 			<p>“I am aware of all that, Pigeonswing, and wish it had not been so. I found the body of Elksfoot sitting up against a tree soon after you left me, and knew by whose hands he had fallen.”</p>
 			<p>“Didn’t find scalp, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“No, the scalp had been taken; though I accounted that but for little, since the man’s life was gone. There is little gained by carrying on war in this manner, making the woods, and the openings, and the prairies, alike unsafe. You see, to what distress this family is reduced by your Injin manner of making war.”</p>
@@ -83,13 +83,13 @@
 			<p>“So best,” answered the bee-hunter. “I wish I could persuade you to throw away that disgusting thing at your belt. Remember, Chippewa, you are now among Christians, and ought to do as Christians wish.”</p>
 			<p>“What Christians DO, eh?” returned the Indian, with a sneer, “get drunk like Whiskey Centre, dere? Cheat poor red man; den get down on knee and look up at Manitou? DAT what Christian do, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“They who do such things are Christian but in name⁠—you must think better of such as are Christians in fact.”</p>
-			<p>“Ebberybody call himself Christian, tell you⁠—all pale-face Christian, dey say. Now, listen to Chippewa. Once talk long talk wit’ missionary⁠—tell all about Christian⁠—what Christian do⁠—what Christian say⁠—how he eat, how he sleep, HOW he drink!⁠—all good⁠—wish Pigeonwing Christian⁠—den ‘member so’ger at garrison⁠—no eat, no sleep, no drink Christian fashion⁠—do ebbery t’ing so’ger fashion⁠—swear, fight, cheat, get drunk⁠—wuss dan Injin⁠—dat Christian, eh?”</p>
+			<p>“Ebberybody call himself Christian, tell you⁠—all pale-face Christian, dey say. Now, listen to Chippewa. Once talk long talk wit’ missionary⁠—tell all about Christian⁠—what Christian do⁠—what Christian say⁠—how he eat, how he sleep, HOW he drink!⁠—all good⁠—wish Pigeonwing Christian⁠—den ’member so’ger at garrison⁠—no eat, no sleep, no drink Christian fashion⁠—do ebbery t’ing so’ger fashion⁠—swear, fight, cheat, get drunk⁠—wuss dan Injin⁠—dat Christian, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“No, that is not acting like a Christian; and I fear very few of us who call ourselves by that name, act as if we were Christians, in truth,” said le Bourdon, conscious of the justice of the Chippewa’s accusation.</p>
 			<p>“Just dat⁠—now, I get him⁠—ask missionary, one day, where all Christian go to, so dat Injin can’t find him⁠—none in woods⁠—none on prairie⁠—none in garrison⁠—none in Mack’naw⁠—none at Detroit⁠—where all go to, den, so Injin can’t find him, on’y in missionary talk?”</p>
 			<p>“I am curious to know what answer your missionary made to that question.”</p>
-			<p>“Well, tell you⁠—say, on’y one in ten t’ousant RAAL Christians ‘mong pale-face, dough all call himself Christian! DAT what Injin t’ink queer, eh?”</p>
+			<p>“Well, tell you⁠—say, on’y one in ten t’ousant RAAL Christians ’mong pale-face, dough all call himself Christian! DAT what Injin t’ink queer, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“It is not easy to make a red man understand all the ways of the pale-faces, Pigeonswing; but we will talk of these things another time, when we are more at our ease. Just now, I wish to learn all I can of the manner in which you fell into the hands of the Pottawattamies.”</p>
-			<p>“Dat plain ‘nough⁠—wish Christian talk half as plain. You see, Bourdon, dat Elksfoot on scout, when we meet in openin’, up river. I know’d his ar’nd, and so took scalp. Dem Pottawattamie his friend⁠—when dey come to meet ole chief, no find him; but find Pigeonwing; got me when tired and ‘sleep; got Elkfoot scalp wid me⁠—sorry for dat⁠—know scalp by scalp-lock, which had gray hair, and some mark. So put me in canoe, and meant to take Chippewa to Chicago to torture him⁠—but too much wind. So, when meet friend in t’odder canoe, come back here to wait little while.”</p>
+			<p>“Dat plain ’nough⁠—wish Christian talk half as plain. You see, Bourdon, dat Elksfoot on scout, when we meet in openin’, up river. I know’d his ar’nd, and so took scalp. Dem Pottawattamie his friend⁠—when dey come to meet ole chief, no find him; but find Pigeonwing; got me when tired and ’sleep; got Elkfoot scalp wid me⁠—sorry for dat⁠—know scalp by scalp-lock, which had gray hair, and some mark. So put me in canoe, and meant to take Chippewa to Chicago to torture him⁠—but too much wind. So, when meet friend in t’odder canoe, come back here to wait little while.”</p>
 			<p>This was the simple explanation of the manner in which Pigeonswing had fallen into the hands of his enemies. It would seem that Elksfoot had come in a canoe from the mouth of the St. Joseph’s to a point about half-way between that river and the mouth of the Kalamazoo, and there landed. What the object of the party was, does not exactly appear, though it is far from being certain that it was not to seize the bee-hunter, and confiscate his effects. Although le Bourdon was personally a stranger to Elksfoot, news flies through the wilderness in an extraordinary manner; and it was not at all unlikely that the fact of a white American’s being in the openings should soon spread, along with the tidings that the hatchet was dug up, and that a party should go out in quest of his scalp and the plunder. It would seem that the savage tact of the Chippewa detected that in the manner of the Pottawattamie chief, which assured him the intentions of the old warrior were not amicable; and that he took the very summary process which has been related, not only to secure HIS scalp, but effectually to put it out of his power to do any mischief to one who was an ally, and by means of recent confidence, now a friend. All this the Indian explained to his companion, in his usual clipped English, but with a clearness sufficient to make it perfectly intelligible to his listener. The bee-hunter listened with the most profound attention, for he was fully aware of the importance of comprehending all the hazards of his own situation.</p>
 			<p>While this dialogue was going on, Margery had succeeded in lighting her fire, and was busy in preparing some warm compound, which she knew would be required by her unhappy brother after his debauch, Dorothy passed often between the fire and the canoe, feeling a wife’s anxiety in the fate of her husband. As for the Chippewa, intoxication was a very venial offence in his eyes; though he had a contempt for a man who would thus indulge while on a warpath. The American Indian does possess this merit of adapting his deportment to his circumstances. When engaged in war he usually prepares himself, in the coolest and wisest manner, to meet its struggles, indulging only in moments of leisure, and of comparative security. It is true that the march of what is called civilization is fast changing the red man’s character, and he is very apt now to do that which he sees done by the “Christians” around him.</p>
 			<p>Le Bourdon, when his dialogue with the Chippewa was over, and after a few words of explanation with Margery, took his own canoe, and paddled through the rice-plants into the open water of the river, to reconnoitre. The breadth of the stream induced him to float down before the wind, until he reached a point where he could again command a view of the hut. What he there saw, and what he next did, must be reserved for a succeeding chapter.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-8.xhtml

@@ -54,7 +54,7 @@
 			<p>“Pottawattamie, the truth must always be said to a medicine-man. There is no use in trying to hide truth from HIM. There IS a war-path open; and a long and a tangled path it is. My Great Father at Washington has dug up the hatchet against my Great Father at Quebec. Enemies always take scalps when they can get them.”</p>
 			<p>“Dat true⁠—dat right, too⁠—nobody grumble at DAT⁠—but who enemy? pale-face or red-skin?”</p>
 			<p>“This time it was a red-skin⁠—a Chippewa⁠—one of your own nation, though not of your own tribe. A warrior called Pigeonswing, whom you had in thongs, intending to torture him in the morning. He cut his thongs, and shot your young man⁠—after which he took his scalp.”</p>
-			<p>“How know dat?” demanded the Cloud, a little fiercely. “You ‘long, and help kill Pottawattamie, eh?”</p>
+			<p>“How know dat?” demanded the Cloud, a little fiercely. “You ’long, and help kill Pottawattamie, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“I know it,” answered le Bourdon, coolly, “because medicine-men know most of what happens. Do not be so hasty, chief, for this is a medicine spot⁠—whiskey GROWS here.”</p>
 			<p>A common exclamation escaped all of the red men, who comprehended the clear, distinct, and oracular-like language and manner of the bee-hunter. He intended to make an impression on his listeners, and he succeeded admirably; perhaps as much by means of manner as of matter. As has been said, all who understood his words⁠—some four or five of the party⁠—grunted forth their surprise at this evidence of their guest’s acquaintance with the secrets of the place, in which they were joined by the rest of their companions, as soon as the words of the pale-face had been translated. Even the experienced and wary old chiefs, who had more than half conjectured the truth, in connection with this mysterious odor of whiskey, were much unsettled in their opinions concerning the wonder, and got to be in that condition of mind when a man does not know what to think of any particular event. The bee-hunter, quick-witted, and managing for his life, was not slow to perceive the advantage he had gained, and he proceeded at once to clinch the nail he had so skilfully driven. Turning from Cloud to the head-chief of the party, a warrior whom he had no difficulty in recognizing, after having so long watched his movements in the earlier part of the night, he pushed the same subject a little further.</p>
 			<p>“Yes; this place is called by the whites Whiskey Centre,” he added⁠—“which means that it is the centre of all the whiskey of the country round about.”</p>
@@ -66,7 +66,7 @@
 			<p>Le Bourdon, it will be remembered, had, with his own hands, rolled the two barrels of whiskey down the declivity. Feeling the great importance of effectually destroying them, he had watched their descent, from the top to the bottom of the hill, and the final disappearance of the staves, etc., into the torrent which brawled at its foot. It had so happened that the half-filled cask broke and let out its liquor at a point much more remote from the stream, than the filled. The latter had held together until it went over the low rocky precipice, already mentioned, and was stove at its base, within two yards of the torrent, which received all its fragments and swept them away, including most of the liquor itself; but not until the last had been spilled. Now, the odorous spot which had attracted the noses of the savages, and near which they had built their fire, was that where the smallest quantity of the whiskey had fallen. Le Bourdon reasoned on these circumstances in this wise:⁠—if half a barrel of the liquor can produce so strong a scent, a barrel filled ought to produce one still stronger; and I will manifest my medicine-character, by disregarding for the present moment the spot on the hill-side, and proceed at once to that at the foot of the rocks. To this latter point, therefore, did he direct all the ceremony, as well as his own footsteps, when he yielded to the solicitations of the Pottawattamies, and undertook to point out the position of the whiskey spring.</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter understood the Indian character too well to forget to embellish his work with a proper amount of jugglery and acting. Luckily, he had left in the canoe a sort of frock of mottled colors that he had made himself, to wear in the woods in the autumn as a hunting-dress, under the notion that such a covering would conceal his approach from his game, by blending its hues with those of the autumn leaf. This dress he now assumed, extorting a good deal of half-suppressed admiration from the younger warriors, by the gay appearance he made. Then he drew out his spy-glass to its greatest length, making various mysterious signs and gestures as he did so. This glass proved to be a great auxiliary, and possibly alone kept the doubters in awe. Le Bourdon saw at once that it was entirely new, even to the oldest chief, and he felt how much it might be made to assist him. Beckoning to Cloud, and adjusting the focus, he directed the small end of his glass to the fire, and placed the large end to that Indian’s eye. A solitary savage, who loved the scent of whiskey too much to tear himself away from the spot, was lingering within the influence of the rays, and of course was seen by the chief, with his person diminished to that of a dwarf, and his form thrown to a seeming distance.</p>
 			<p>An eloquent exclamation followed this exhibition of the medicine-man’s power; and each of the chiefs, and most of the other warriors, were gratified with looks through the glass.</p>
-			<p>“What dat mean?” demanded Cloud, earnestly. “See Wolfeye well ‘nough⁠—why he so little?⁠—why he so far off, he?”</p>
+			<p>“What dat mean?” demanded Cloud, earnestly. “See Wolfeye well ’nough⁠—why he so little?⁠—why he so far off, he?”</p>
 			<p>“That is to show you what a medicine-man of the pale-faces can do, when he is so minded. That Indian is named Wolfseye, and he loves whiskey too well. That I know, as well as I know his name.”</p>
 			<p>Each of these exhibitions of intelligence extorted exclamations of wonder. It is true, that one or two of the higher chiefs understood that the name might possibly have been obtained from Cloud; but how was the medicine-man to know that Wolfseye was a drunkard? This last had not been said in terms; but enough had been said, to let those who were aware of the propensity feel that more was meant than had been expressed. Before there was time, however, to deliberate on, or to dissect this specimen of mysterious knowledge, le Bourdon reversed the glass, and applied the small end to the eye of Cloud, after having given it its former direction. The Indian fairly yelled, partly with dread, and partly with delight, when he saw Wolfseye, large as life, brought so near him that he fancied he might be touched with his own hand.</p>
 			<p>“What dat mean?” exclaimed Cloud, as soon as surprise and awe enabled him to find his voice. “Fuss he little, den he big⁠—fuss he great way, den he close by⁠—what dat mean, eh?”</p>