[Editorial] Correct mismatched dashes

src/epub/text/chapter-1.xhtml

@@ -34,12 +34,12 @@
 			<p>The dress of le Bourdon was well adapted to his pursuits and life. He wore a hunting-shirt and trousers, made of thin stuff, which was dyed green, and trimmed with yellow fringe. This was the ordinary forest attire of the American rifleman; being of a character, as it was thought, to conceal the person in the woods, by blending its hues with those of the forest. On his head Ben wore a skin cap, somewhat smartly made, but without the fur; the weather being warm. His moccasins were a good deal wrought, but seemed to be fading under the exposure of many marches. His arms were excellent; but all his martial accoutrements, even to a keen long-bladed knife, were suspended from the rammer of his rifle; the weapon itself being allowed to lean, in careless confidence, against the trunk of the nearest oak, as if their master felt there was no immediate use for them.</p>
 			<p>Not so with the other three. Not only was each man well armed, but each man kept his trusty rifle hugged to his person, in a sort of jealous watchfulness; while the other white man, from time to time, secretly, but with great minuteness, examined the flint and priming of his own piece.</p>
 			<p>This second paleface 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 telltale 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>Of the Indians, one, an elderly, wary, experienced warrior, was a Pottawattamie, named Elks-foot, 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 Pigeons-wing; 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, <em>stran</em>ger,” 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 Brulé<a href="endnotes.html#note-1" id="noteref-1" epub:type="noteref">1</a>) 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 freshwater 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 <em>his</em> 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>
+			<p>“Whiskey Centre” was a sobriquet bestowed by the freshwater 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 Elks-foot, 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 Pigeons-wing. 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 <em>his</em> 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>
 			<p>The tools of Ben Buzz, as Gershom had termed these implements of his trade, were neither very numerous nor very complex. They were all contained in a small covered wooden pail like those that artisans and laborers are accustomed to carry for the purpose of conveying their food from place to place. Uncovering this, le Bourdon had brought his implements to view, previously to the moment when he was first seen by the reader. There was a small covered cup of tin; a wooden box; a sort of plate, or platter, made also of wood; and a common tumbler, of a very inferior, greenish glass. In the year 1812, there was not a pane, nor a vessel, of clear, transparent glass, made in all America! Now, some of the most beautiful manufactures of that sort, known to civilization, are abundantly produced among us, in common with a thousand other articles that are used in domestic economy. The tumbler of Ben Buzz, however, was his countryman in more senses than one. It was not only American, but it came from the part of Pennsylvania of which he was himself a native. Blurred, and of a greenish hue, the glass was the best that Pittsburg could then fabricate, and Ben had bought it only the year before, on the very spot where it had been made.</p>
 			<p>An oak, of more size than usual, had stood a little remote from its fellows, or more within the open ground of the glade than the rest of the “orchard.” Lightning had struck this tree that very summer, twisting off its trunk at a height of about four feet from the ground. Several fragments of the body and branches lay near, and on these the spectators now took their seats, watching attentively the movements of the bee-hunter. Of the stump Ben had made a sort of table, first levelling its splinters with an axe, and on it he placed the several implements of his craft, as he had need of each in succession.</p>
 			<p>The wooden platter was first placed on this rude table. Then le Bourdon opened his small box, and took out of it a piece of honeycomb, that was circular in shape, and about an inch and a half in diameter. The little covered tin vessel was next brought into use. Some pure and beautifully clear honey was poured from its spout into the cells of the piece of comb, until each of them was about half filled. The tumbler was next taken in hand, carefully wiped, and examined, by holding it up before the eyes of the bee-hunter. Certainly, there was little to admire in it, but it was sufficiently transparent to answer his purposes. All he asked was to be able to look through the glass in order to see what was going on in its interior.</p>
@@ -49,18 +49,18 @@
 			<p>As the bee was now intently occupied in filling itself, Buzzing Ben, or le Bourdon, did not hesitate about removing the glass. He even ventured to look around him, and to make another captive, which he placed over the comb, and managed as he had done with the first. In a minute, the second bee was also buried in a cell, and the glass was again removed. Le Bourdon now signed for his companions to draw near.</p>
 			<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 humblest, 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 ac<em>tyve</em>.”</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>“How hive in danger?” demanded Elks-foot, 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 <abbr>St.</abbr> James’s, making it neither “creatur’ ” nor “creat<em>oo</em>re”⁠—“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>As Ben said this, he glanced his eyes at Pigeons-wing, 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 <em>that</em>; 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 <em>Honey</em> Centre, and I must keep my eye on him. Now, stand a little aside, friends, and give me room for my craft.”</p>
 			<p>The men complied, and le Bourdon was now all intense attention to his business. The bee first taken had, indeed, filled itself to satiety, and at first seemed to be too heavy to rise on the wing. After a few moments of preparation, however, up it went, circling around the spot, as if uncertain what course to take. The eye of Ben never left it, and when the insect darted off, as it soon did, in an air-line, he saw it for fifty yards after the others had lost sight of it. Ben took the range, and was silent fully a minute while he did so.</p>
 			<p>“That bee may have lighted in the corner of yonder swamp,” he said, pointing, as he spoke, to a bit of low land that sustained a growth of much larger trees than those which grew in the “opening,” “or it has crossed the point of the wood, and struck across the prairie beyond, and made for a bit of thick forest that is to be found about three miles further. In the last case, I shall have my trouble for nothing.”</p>
-			<p>“What t’other do?” demanded Elksfoot, with very obvious curiosity.</p>
+			<p>“What t’other do?” demanded Elks-foot, with very obvious curiosity.</p>
 			<p>“Sure enough; the other gentleman must be nearly ready for a start, and we’ll see what road <em>he</em> travels. ’Tis always an assistance to a bee-hunter to get one creature fairly off, as it helps him to line the next with greater sartainty.”</p>
 			<p>Ben <em>would</em> say ac<em>tyve</em>, and <em>sar</em>tain, though he was above saying creatoore, or creatur’. This is the difference between a Pennsylvanian and a Yankee. We shall not stop, however, to note all these little peculiarities in these individuals, but use the proper or the peculiar dialect, as may happen to be most convenient to ourselves.</p>
 			<p>But there was no time for disquisition, the second bee being now ready for a start. Like his companion, this insect rose and encircled the stump several times, ere it darted away toward its hive, in an air-line. So small was the object, and so rapid its movement, that no one but the bee-hunter saw the animal after it had begun its journey in earnest. To <em>his</em> disappointment, instead of flying in the same direction as the bee first taken, this little fellow went buzzing off fairly at a right angle! It was consequently clear that there were two hives, and that they lay in very different directions.</p>
-			<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>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 itself, 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 today.”</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 <em>over</em> 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>

src/epub/text/chapter-10.xhtml

@@ -44,12 +44,12 @@
 			<p>It is strange how apt are those who ought to understand one another so readily, to misinterpret each other’s thoughts. Margery had never seen the bee-hunter twenty-four hours before, though she had often heard of him, and of his success in his art; for the fame of a man of good reputation and active qualities spreads far on a frontier. The very individual whose existence would be nearly overlooked in a crowded region, shall be spoken of, and known by his qualities, a hundred leagues from his place of residence, when settlements are few and far apart. In this way, Margery had heard of Boden, or of “Bourdon,” as she called him, in common with hundreds who, confounding his real name with his sobriquet, made the mistake of using the last under the impression that it was the true appellation. Margery had no other knowledge of French than the few words gleaned in her slow progress among a frontier on which, it is true, more of that language than of any other was heard, but heard under circumstances that were not particularly favorable to the acquisition of a foreign tongue. Had she understood the real meaning of “Bourdon,” she would have bitten off her tongue before she would have once called Boden by such an appellation; though the bee-hunter himself was so accustomed to his Canadian nickname as to care nothing at all about it. But Margery did not like to give pain to anyone; and, least of all, would she desire to inflict it on the bee-hunter, though he were only an acquaintance of a day. Still, Margery could not muster sufficient courage to tell her new friend how much he was mistaken, and that of all the youths she had ever met she would most prefer to keep him near her brother and sister in their distress; while the young man, inspired by a pure and infant passion, was just in the frame of mind to believe the worst of himself, and of his claims to the attention of her who had begun to occupy so many of his thoughts.</p>
 			<p>No explanation occurring, our young people descended from the hill, misconceiving each other’s meaning and wishes, and unhappy under the influence of an ideal source of misery, when actual circumstances created so many that were substantial and real. Gershom was found awake, but, as his sister had described him, stupid and lethargic. The bee-hunter at once saw that, in his present condition, Whiskey Centre would still be an incumbrance rather than of any service, in the event of an occasion for extraordinary exertion. Margery had hinted that it usually took twenty-four hours to bring her brother entirely round, after one of his serious debauches; and within that time it was more than probable that the fate of the family would be decided.</p>
 			<p>Le Bourdon thought intently, during breakfast, of the condition of his party, and of the best mode of proceeding, while the pallid and anxious young creature at his side believed he was deliberating solely on the best means of extricating himself and his store of honey, from the savages on the other shore. Had the acquaintance between these young people been of longer date than it actually was, Margery could not have entertained a notion so injurious to the bee-hunter, for a single moment; but there was nothing either violent, or depreciating, in supposing that one so near being a total stranger would think first of himself and his own interests, in the situation in which this young man was now placed.</p>
-			<p>Little was said during the meal. Dorothy was habitually silent; the result of grief and care. As for her husband, he was too stupid to talk, though usually somewhat garrulous; while the Indian seldom did two things at the same time. This was the hour for acting; when that for talking should arrive, he would be found equal to its duties. Pigeonswing could either abstain from food, or could indulge in it without measure, just as occasion offered. He had often gone for days without tasting a mouthful, with the exception of a few berries, perhaps; and he had lain about the campfire, a week at a time, gorging himself with venison, like an anaconda. It is perhaps fortunate for the American Indian, that this particular quality of food is so very easy of digestion, since his excesses on it are notorious, and so common to his habits as almost to belong to his nature. Death might otherwise often be the consequence.</p>
+			<p>Little was said during the meal. Dorothy was habitually silent; the result of grief and care. As for her husband, he was too stupid to talk, though usually somewhat garrulous; while the Indian seldom did two things at the same time. This was the hour for acting; when that for talking should arrive, he would be found equal to its duties. Pigeons-wing could either abstain from food, or could indulge in it without measure, just as occasion offered. He had often gone for days without tasting a mouthful, with the exception of a few berries, perhaps; and he had lain about the campfire, a week at a time, gorging himself with venison, like an anaconda. It is perhaps fortunate for the American Indian, that this particular quality of food is so very easy of digestion, since his excesses on it are notorious, and so common to his habits as almost to belong to his nature. Death might otherwise often be the consequence.</p>
 			<p>When the breakfast was ended, it was time to consult about the future course. As yet, the Pottawattamies had made no new discovery; but the sagacity of the red man was ever to be feared, when it came to be merely a question of finding his foe in a forest.</p>
-			<p>“We have obtained one advantage over the enemy,” said le Bourdon, “by crossing the river. Water leaves no trail; even had Crowsfeather a canoe, he might not know where to go in it, in order to find us.”</p>
+			<p>“We have obtained one advantage over the enemy,” said le Bourdon, “by crossing the river. Water leaves no trail; even had Crows-feather a canoe, he might not know where to go in it, in order to find us.”</p>
 			<p>“Dat not so,” put in the Chippewa, a little dogmatically; “know we hab canoe⁠—know cross river in him.”</p>
-			<p>“Why should they know this, Pigeonswing? We may have gone out upon the lake, or we may have gone up in the oak openings again, for anything the Pottawattamies can know to the contrary.”</p>
-			<p>“Tell you, not so. Know don’t go on lake, cause wind blow. Know don’t go up river, cause dat hard work; know come here, cause dat easy. Injin like to do what easy, and paleface do just what Injin do. Crowsfeather make raft, pretty soon; den he come look arter scalp.”</p>
+			<p>“Why should they know this, Pigeons-wing? We may have gone out upon the lake, or we may have gone up in the oak openings again, for anything the Pottawattamies can know to the contrary.”</p>
+			<p>“Tell you, not so. Know don’t go on lake, cause wind blow. Know don’t go up river, cause dat hard work; know come here, cause dat easy. Injin like to do what easy, and paleface do just what Injin do. Crows-feather make raft, pretty soon; den he come look arter scalp.”</p>
 			<p>“Yes,” said Margery, gently; “you had better load your canoe at once, and go on the lake, while the savages cannot reach you. The wind is fair for them that are to go north; and I have heard you say that you are bound to Mackinaw.”</p>
 			<p>“I shall load my canoe, and I shall load yours, too, Margery; but I shall not go away from this family, so long as any in it stand in need of my services.”</p>
 			<p>“Brother will be able to help us by afternoon. He manages a canoe well, when himself; so go, Bourdon, while you can. I dare say you have a mother at home; or a sister perhaps a wife⁠—”</p>
@@ -61,11 +61,11 @@
 			<p>Whiskey Centre muttered a few half intelligible words of thanks, and relapsed into his state of drowsy indifference. The bee-hunter saw, however, that the effects of the brandy were leaving him, and he managed to get him on one side, where he persuaded the fellow to strip and go into the water. The bath did wonders for the poor creature, who soon got to be so far himself again, as to be of use, instead of being an incumbrance. When sober, and more especially when sober for several consecutive days, Gershom was a man of sufficient energy, possessing originally great personal strength and activity, which had been essentially lessened, however, by his excesses in liquor. It has already been stated what a different being he became, in a moral point of view, after having been sober for any length of time.</p>
 			<p>On his return from the bathing, le Bourdon again joined the females. Margery had been weeping; but she smiled in a friendly way, on meeting his eye, and appeared less anxious for his departure than she had been an hour before. As the day advanced, and no signs of the savages were seen, a sense of greater security began to steal over the females, and Margery saw less necessity for the departure of their new friend. It was true, he was losing a wind; but the lake was rough, and after all it might be better to wait. In short, now that no immediate danger was apparent, Margery began to reason in conformity with her wishes, as is so apt to be the case with the young and inexperienced. The bee-hunter perceived this change in the deportment of his fair friend, and was well enough disposed to hope it would admit of a favorable construction.</p>
 			<p>All this time, the Chippewa had taken little visible interest in the state of the party to which he had now attached himself. The previous evening had been fertile in excitement and in gratification, and he had since slept and ate to his entire content. He was ready to meet events as they might arise, and began to plot the means of obtaining more Pottawattamie scalps. Let not the refined reader feel disdisgust at this exhibition of the propensities of an American savage. Civilized life has had, and still has, very many customs, little less excusable than that of scalping. Without dragging into the account the thousand and one sins that disgrace and deform society, it will be sufficient to look into the single interest of civilized warfare, in order to make out our case. In the first place, the noblest strategy of the art is, to put the greatest possible force on the least of the enemy, and to slay the weaker party by the mere power of numbers. Then, every engine that ingenuity can invent, is drawn into the conflict; and rockets, revolvers, shells, and all other infernal devices, are resorted to, in order to get the better of an enemy who is not provided with such available means of destruction. And after the battle is over, each side commonly claims the victory; sometimes, because a partial success has been obtained in a small portion of the field; sometimes, because half a dozen horses have run away with a gun, carrying it into the hostile ranks; and, again, because a bit of rag has fallen from the hands of a dead man, and been picked up by one of the opposing side. How often has it happened that a belligerent, well practised in his art, has kept his own colors out of the affair, and then boasted that they were not lost! Now, an Indian practises no such shameless expedients. His point of honor is not a bit of rag, but a bit of his skin. He shaves his head because the hair encumbers him; but he chivalrously leaves a scalp-lock, by the aid of which his conquerors can the more easily carry away the coveted trophy. The thought of cheating in such a matter never occurs to his unsophisticated mind; and as for leaving his “colors” in barracks, while he goes in the field himself, he would disdain it⁠—nay, cannot practise it; for the obvious reason that his head would have to be left with them.</p>
-			<p>Thus it was with Pigeonswing. He had made his toilet for the warpath, and was fierce in his paint, but honest and fair-dealing in other particulars. If he could terrify his enemies by looking like a skeleton, or a demon, it was well; his enemy would terrify him, if possible, by similar means. But neither would dream, or did dream, of curtailing, by a single hair, that which might be termed the flagstaff of his scalp. If the enemy could seize it, he was welcome to the prize; but if he could seize that of the enemy, no scruples on the score of refinement, or delicacy, would be apt to interfere with his movements. It was in this spirit, then, that Pigeonswing came to the canoe, where le Bourdon was holding a little private discourse with Margery, and gave utterance to what was passing in his mind.</p>
+			<p>Thus it was with Pigeons-wing. He had made his toilet for the warpath, and was fierce in his paint, but honest and fair-dealing in other particulars. If he could terrify his enemies by looking like a skeleton, or a demon, it was well; his enemy would terrify him, if possible, by similar means. But neither would dream, or did dream, of curtailing, by a single hair, that which might be termed the flagstaff of his scalp. If the enemy could seize it, he was welcome to the prize; but if he could seize that of the enemy, no scruples on the score of refinement, or delicacy, would be apt to interfere with his movements. It was in this spirit, then, that Pigeons-wing came to the canoe, where le Bourdon was holding a little private discourse with Margery, and gave utterance to what was passing in his mind.</p>
 			<p>“Good time, now, get more scalps, Bourdon,” said the Chippewa, in his clipping, sententious English.</p>
 			<p>“It is a good time, too, to keep our own, Chippewa,” was the answer. “Your scalp-lock is too long, to be put before Pottawattamie eyes without good looking after it.”</p>
 			<p>“Nebber mind him⁠—if go, go; if stay, stay. Always good for warrior to bring home scalp.”</p>
-			<p>“Yes; I know your customs in this respect, Pigeonswing, but ours are different. We are satisfied if we can keep out of harm’s way, when we have our squaws and pappooses with us.”</p>
+			<p>“Yes; I know your customs in this respect, Pigeons-wing, but ours are different. We are satisfied if we can keep out of harm’s way, when we have our squaws and pappooses with us.”</p>
 			<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>
@@ -75,26 +75,26 @@
 			<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—paleface spile squaw, too⁠—make too much of her.”</p>
 			<p>“That can never be!” exclaimed le Bourdon, earnestly. “When a pretty, modest, warmhearted 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>On hearing sentiments so agreeable to a woman’s ears, Margery looked down, but she looked pleased. Pigeons-wing 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>“That may do among red men, but we palefaces 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 paleface 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>“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>“How should treat woman?” put in Pigeons-wing 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-Pigeons-wing; 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 <em>them</em>, 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 <em>vote</em>⁠—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 <em>have</em> 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>“You do not deserve to <em>have</em> a wife, Pigeons-wing,” 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>“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 warpath⁠—got rifle; got wife; got <em>two</em> 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 paleface pappoose in school.”</p>
-			<p>“Pigeonswing, have you never observed the manner in which the white man treats his squaw?”</p>
+			<p>“Pigeons-wing, 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? <em>dat</em> 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>

src/epub/text/chapter-11.xhtml

@@ -24,13 +24,13 @@
 			</header>
 			<p>The interruption came from Dorothy, who, on ascending the little height, had discovered a canoe coming into the mouth of the river, and who was running, breathless with haste, to announce the circumstance to the bee-hunter. The latter immediately repaired to the eminence, and saw for himself the object that so justly had alarmed the woman.</p>
 			<p>The canoe was coming in from the lake, after running before the wind, which now began to abate a little in its strength, and it evidently had been endeavoring to proceed to the northward. The reason for its entering the river, was probably connected with the cookery or food of the party, since the lake was each minute getting to be safer, and more navigable for so light a craft. To le Bourdon’s great apprehension, he saw the savages on the north shore making signal to this strange canoe, by means of smoke, and he foresaw the probability of his enemies obtaining the means of crossing the stream, should the strangers proceed in the desired direction. To counteract this design, he ran down to a spot on the beach where there was no rice-plant, and showing himself to the strangers, invited them to land on the south side, which was much the nearest, and in other visible respects quite as convenient as the opposite bank of the river. One of the strangers soon made a gesture with an arm, implying assent, and the bows of this strange canoe were immediately turned toward the spot where the bee-hunter stood.</p>
-			<p>As the canoe drew near, the whole party, including Pigeonswing, came to the margin of the water to receive the strangers. Of the last, there were three; one paddling at each end of the light bark, and a third seated in its centre, doing nothing. As the bee-hunter had his glass, with which he examined these visitors, he was soon questioned by his companions concerning their character and apparent purposes.</p>
+			<p>As the canoe drew near, the whole party, including Pigeons-wing, came to the margin of the water to receive the strangers. Of the last, there were three; one paddling at each end of the light bark, and a third seated in its centre, doing nothing. As the bee-hunter had his glass, with which he examined these visitors, he was soon questioned by his companions concerning their character and apparent purposes.</p>
 			<p>“Who are they, Bourdon?” demanded the impatient Margery⁠—“and why do they come here?”</p>
 			<p>“The last is a question they must answer for themselves, but the person paddling in the bows of the canoe seems to be a white man, and a soldier⁠—or a half-soldier, if one may judge from his dress. The man in the middle of the canoe is white, also. This last fellow seems to be a parson⁠—yes, he is a clergyman, though pretty well used up in the wilderness, as to dress. The third man is a redskin, beyond all doubt.”</p>
 			<p>“A clergyman!” repeated Margery, in surprise. “What should a clergyman be doing here?”</p>
 			<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 <em>him</em>” put in the Chippewa, pointedly. “Know <em>mean</em> 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 <em>no</em> man’s scalp was safe under <em>your</em> 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>“I’m glad to hear this, Pigeons-wing, for I had begun to think <em>no</em> man’s scalp was safe under <em>your</em> 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, Pigeons-wing, 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>“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>
@@ -39,7 +39,7 @@
 			<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. <em>alway</em> 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 <em>them</em>!”</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>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, Pigeons-wing 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>
 			<p>“You are welcome,” returned the bee-hunter. “Welcome as strangers met in the wilderness, but more welcome, as I see by your dress that you are a veteran of one of Uncle Sam’s regiments.”</p>
 			<p>“Quite true, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Bee-hunter; for such I see is _your_ callin’, by the honey vessel and glass you carry, and by the other signs about you. We are travelling toward Mackinaw, and hope to fere as friends, while we stay in your good company.”</p>
@@ -50,7 +50,7 @@
 			<p>“Amen” was not the real name of the missionary ; but it was a _sobriquet_ bestowed by the soldiers, on account of the unction with which this particular word was ordinarily pronounced, and quite likely, too, because it was the word of all others most pleasant to their ears, after a sermon, or a prayer. It had, by long use, got to be so familiar, that the men did not scruple to use it to the good man’s face. This missionary was a Methodist ; a sect that possessed, in that day, very few clergymen of education, most of its divines coming of a class in life that did not predispose them to take offence at light invasions on their dignity, and whose zeal and habitual self-denial had schooled them into a submission to far more positive personal privations, than any connected with the mere tongue. That there are “wolves in sheep’s clothing” among the Methodists, as well as among the other religious sects of the country, our daily experience shows ; but the mind must be sadly inclined to believe evil of others, which does not see in the humble and untiring efforts of this particular sect of Christians, more than mere fanaticism or hypocrisy can produce.</p>
 			<p>“You are right, corporal,” returned the missionary ; “since this is the case, I see no better course for us to pursue, than to put ourselves altogether in the hands of Onoah. He has counselled us well, hitherto, and will do better by us than any other guide to be found, out in this wilderness.”</p>
 			<p>Le Bourdon could scarcely trust his sense of hearing ! Onoah was the Indian appellation of the terrible and most dreaded savage, who, in English, went by the name of Scalping Peter, or “Scalping Pete,” among all the white dwellers on that frontier, and at all the garrisons of the Americans, far and near. The Indian name, indeed, was said to mean “scalp,” in several of the dialects of the Iroquois. Perhaps it may be well, also, to explain here, that the term “garrison” did not imply, in the language of that region, the troops only who garrisoned a post, but it was even oftener applied to the post itself than to those who held it. Thus old, empty, and deserted forts, those that have actually been abandoned, and are devoted to decay, are almost universally styled the “garrisons,” even though a soldier had not put foot in them for a quarter of a century. This is one of the proofs of the convertible nature of our language, of which the country affords so many, and which has changed the smaller-sized rivers into “creeks,” “lakes” into “ponds,” “squares” into “parks,” public promenades on the water into into “batteries”; to all of which innovations, bad as they may be, and useless and uncalled for, and wanton as they are, we are much more willing to submit, than to the newfangled and lubberly abomination of saying “<em>on</em> a steamboat,” or “<em>on</em> a ship.”</p>
-			<p>While le Bourdon was so much astounded at hearing the terrible name of Onoah, which was familiar enough to him, neither of his white companions betrayed any emotion. Had the Indian been termed “Scalping Peter,” it is probable that both Dorothy and Margery would have screamed, if not actually fled; but they knew nothing of the appellation that was given to this mysterious chief, in the language of the red men. To this circumstance, therefore, was it owing that the utterance of his name did not produce a general commotion. The bee-hunter observed, nevertheless, a great change in the demeanor of the Chippewa, the instant the missionary had uttered the ominous word, though he did not seem to be alarmed. On the contrary, Boden fancied that his friend Pigeonswing was pleased, rather than terrified, at ascertaining the character of their visitor, though he no longer put himself forward, as had been the case previously; and from that moment the young warrior appeared to carry himself in a more subdued and less confident manner than was his wont. This unexpected demeanor on the part of his friend, somewhat confounded le Bourdon, though it in a degree relieved his apprehensions of any immediate danger. All this time, the conversation between the missionary and the corporal went on in as quiet and composed a manner, as if each saw no ground for any other uneasiness than that connected with the fall of Mackinaw.</p>
+			<p>While le Bourdon was so much astounded at hearing the terrible name of Onoah, which was familiar enough to him, neither of his white companions betrayed any emotion. Had the Indian been termed “Scalping Peter,” it is probable that both Dorothy and Margery would have screamed, if not actually fled; but they knew nothing of the appellation that was given to this mysterious chief, in the language of the red men. To this circumstance, therefore, was it owing that the utterance of his name did not produce a general commotion. The bee-hunter observed, nevertheless, a great change in the demeanor of the Chippewa, the instant the missionary had uttered the ominous word, though he did not seem to be alarmed. On the contrary, Boden fancied that his friend Pigeons-wing was pleased, rather than terrified, at ascertaining the character of their visitor, though he no longer put himself forward, as had been the case previously; and from that moment the young warrior appeared to carry himself in a more subdued and less confident manner than was his wont. This unexpected demeanor on the part of his friend, somewhat confounded le Bourdon, though it in a degree relieved his apprehensions of any immediate danger. All this time, the conversation between the missionary and the corporal went on in as quiet and composed a manner, as if each saw no ground for any other uneasiness than that connected with the fall of Mackinaw.</p>
 			<p>“Yes, sir,” returned the soldier, “Onoah is a good guide, and a great hand at a council-fire; but these is wartimes, and we must stand to our arms, each accordin’ to his edication and temper⁠—you, sir, with preachin’ and prayin’, and I with gun and baggonet.”</p>
 			<p>“Ah! corporal, the preaching and praying would be of quite as much account with you men of war, as your arms and ammunition, if you could only be made to think so. Look at Fort Dearborn! It was defended by human means, having its armed band, and its guns and swords, and captains and corporals; yet you have seen their pride lowered, their means of defence destroyed, and a large part of your comrades massacred. All this has been done to armed men, while the Lord has brought <em>me</em>, an unarmed and humble teacher of his word, safely out of the hands of the Philistines, and placed me here in safety, on the shores of the Kalamazoo.”</p>
 			<p>“For that matter, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Amen, the Lord has done the same by <em>me</em>, with a musket on my shoulder and a baggonet by my side,” returned the literal corporal. “Preachin’ may be good on some marches; but arms and ammunition answers well enough on others. Hearken to the Hebrew, who knows all the ways of the wilderness, and see if he don’t give you the same opinion.”</p>
@@ -77,7 +77,7 @@
 			<p>On hearing this, Corporal Flint pricked up his ears, and stood if possible more erect than ever, for he considered himself a part of a man at least, and one moreover who had served in all the wars of the west, from the great battle of <abbr>St.</abbr> Glair to that of Mad Anthony. He was spared the necessity of a reply, however, for Peter made a significant gesture which as much as told him that he would take that office on himself.</p>
 			<p>“No need be afeard,” said Peter, quietly. “Know Pottawattamie⁠—know all chief. Nobody touch canoe of Onoah when he say don’t touch him.”</p>
 			<p>“Yet they are Injins of the British, and I see you here in company with a soldier of Uncle Sam.”</p>
-			<p>“No matter; Onoah go just where he please. Sometime to Pottawattamie; sometime to Iroquois. All Ojebways know Onoah. All Six Nation know him well. All Injin know him. Even Cherokee know him now, and open ears when he speak. Muss cross river, and shake hand with Crowsfeather.”</p>
+			<p>“No matter; Onoah go just where he please. Sometime to Pottawattamie; sometime to Iroquois. All Ojebways know Onoah. All Six Nation know him well. All Injin know him. Even Cherokee know him now, and open ears when he speak. Muss cross river, and shake hand with Crows-feather.”</p>
 			<p>There was nothing boastful, or vaunting, in Peter’s manner while he thus announced his immunity or power, but he alluded to it in a quiet, natural way, like one accustomed to being considered a personage of consequence. Mankind, in general, make few allowances for the influence of habit; the sensibilities of the vainglorious themselves being quite as often wounded by the most natural and direct allusions of those who enjoy advantages superior to their own, as by those that are intended to provoke comparisons. In the present instance, however, no such feeling could exist, the Indian asserting no more than his extended reputation would fully maintain.</p>
 			<p>When Peter had thus expressed himself, the missionary thought it meet to add a few words in explanation. This he did, however, aside, walking a little apart with the bee-hunter, in order so to do. As for Gershom, no one seemed to think him of sufficient importance to throw away any interest or care on him.</p>
 			<p>“You can trust to Peter, friend bee-hunter,” the missionary observed, “for what he promises he will perform. I know him well, and have put myself altogether in his hands. If he says that the Pottawattamies are not to have his canoe, the Pottawattamies will not get it. He is a man to be depended on.”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-12.xhtml

@@ -36,36 +36,36 @@
 			<p>Peter’s preparations were soon made. Everything belonging to the missionary and the corporal was removed from the canoe, which then contained only the extra clothing and the special property of the Indian himself. As soon as ready, the latter quietly and fearlessly paddled away, his canoe going easily and swiftly down before the wind. He had no sooner got clear of the rice, than the bee-hunter and Margery ran away to the eminence, to watch his movements, and to note his reception among the Pottawattamies. Leaving them there, we shall accompany the canoe, in its progress toward the northern shore.</p>
 			<p>At first, Peter paddled quietly on, as if he had no other object before him than the passage of the river. When quite clear of the rice, however, he ceased, and undid his bundle of clothes, which were carefully put away in the knapsack of a soldier. From this repository of his effects, the chief carefully drew forth a small bundle, on opening which, no less than seven fresh human scalps appeared. These he arranged in order on a wand-like pole, when, satisfied with the arrangement, he resumed the paddle. It was apparent, from the first, that the Pottawattamies on the north shore had seen the strange canoe when it entered the river, and they now collected in a group, at the ordinary landing beneath the chiente, to await its approach. Peter ceased his own exertion, as soon as he had got within a hundred yards of the beach, took the scalp-pole in his hand, arose, and permitted the canoe to drift down before the wind, certain it would take the desired direction, from the circumstance of his having placed it precisely to windward of the landing. Once or twice he slowly waved the pole in a way to draw attention to the scalps, which were suspended from its end, each obvious and distinct from its companions.</p>
 			<p>Napoleon, when he returned from the campaign of Austerlitz; or Wellington, when he entered the House of Commons to receive the thanks of its speaker, on his return from Spain; or the chief of all the battles of the Rio Bravo del Norte; or him of the valley of Mexico, whose exploits fairly rival those of Cortes himself, could scarcely be a subject of greater interest to a body of spectators, assembled to do him honor, than was this well-known Indian, as he drew near to the Pottawattamies, waving his scalps, in significant triumph! Glory, as the homage paid by man to military renown is termed, was the common impulse with them all. It is true, that, measured by the standards of reason and right, the wise and just might find motives for appreciating the victories of those named differently from the manner in which they are usually regarded through the atmosphere of success; but in the common mind it was all glory, alike. The name of “Onoah” passed in murmurs of admiration, from mouth to mouth; for, as it appeared, the person of this renowned Indian was recognized by many on the shore, some time ere he reached it himself.</p>
-			<p>Crowsfeather, and the other chiefs, advanced to meet the visitor; the young men standing in the background, in respectful admiration. Peter now stepped from the canoe, and greeted each of the principal men with the courteous gravity of a savage. He shook hands with each, calling one or two by name, a proof of the parties having met before; then the following dialogue occurred. All spoke in the tongue of the Pottawattamies, but, as we have had occasion to remark on previous occasions, it is to be presumed that the reader would scarcely be able to understand what was said, were we to record it, word for word, in the language in which it was uttered. In consequence of this difficulty, and for other reasons to which it may not be necessary to allude, we shall endeavor to translate that which passed, as closely as the English idioms will permit us so to do.</p>
-			<p>“My father is very welcome!” exclaimed Crowsfeather, who, by many degrees, exceeded all his companions in consideration and rank. “I see he has taken many scalps as is his practice, and that the palefaces are daily getting to be fewer. Will the sun ever rise on that day when their wigwams will look like the branches of the oak in winter? Can my father give us any hope of seeing that hour?”</p>
+			<p>Crows-feather, and the other chiefs, advanced to meet the visitor; the young men standing in the background, in respectful admiration. Peter now stepped from the canoe, and greeted each of the principal men with the courteous gravity of a savage. He shook hands with each, calling one or two by name, a proof of the parties having met before; then the following dialogue occurred. All spoke in the tongue of the Pottawattamies, but, as we have had occasion to remark on previous occasions, it is to be presumed that the reader would scarcely be able to understand what was said, were we to record it, word for word, in the language in which it was uttered. In consequence of this difficulty, and for other reasons to which it may not be necessary to allude, we shall endeavor to translate that which passed, as closely as the English idioms will permit us so to do.</p>
+			<p>“My father is very welcome!” exclaimed Crows-feather, who, by many degrees, exceeded all his companions in consideration and rank. “I see he has taken many scalps as is his practice, and that the palefaces are daily getting to be fewer. Will the sun ever rise on that day when their wigwams will look like the branches of the oak in winter? Can my father give us any hope of seeing that hour?”</p>
 			<p>“It is a long path from the salt-lake out of which the sun rises, to that other salt-lake in which it hides itself at night. The sun sleeps each night beneath water, but it is so hot that it is soon dried when it comes out of its bed in the morning. This is the Great Spirit’s doings, and not ours. The sun is his sun; the Indians can warm themselves by it, but they cannot shorten its journey a single tomahawk handle’s length. The same is true of time; it belongs to the Manitou, who will lengthen or shorten it, as he may see fit. We are his children, and it is our duty to submit. He has not forgotten us. He made us with his own hand, and will no more turn us out of the land than a father will turn his child from the wigwam.”</p>
 			<p>“We hope this is so; but it does not seem thus to out poor weak eyes, Onoah. We count the palefaces, and every summer they grow fast as the grass on the prairies. We can see more when the leaf falls than when the tree is in bud; and, then, more when the leaf is in bud than when it falls. A few moons will put a town where the pine stood, and wigwams drive the wolves from their homes. In a few years we shall have nothing but dogs to eat, if the paleface dogs do not eat us.”</p>
 			<p>“Squaws are impatient, but men know how to wait. This land was given to the red man by the Great Spirit, as I have often told you, my children; if he has let in the palefaces for a few winters, it is to punish us for having done wrong. Now that we are sorry for what we have done, he will help us to drive away the strangers, and give us the woods again to hunt in by ourselves. Have not messengers from our Great Father in Montreal been among the Pottawattamies to strengthen their hearts?”</p>
 			<p>“They are always whispering in the ears of our tribes. I cannot remember the time when whispers from Montreal have not been among us. Their blankets are warm, their firewater is strong, their powder is good, and their rifles shoot well; but all this does not stop the children of Uncle Sam from being more at night than they were in the morning. The red men get tired of counting them. They have become plentier than the pigeons in the spring. My father has taken many of their scalps, but the hair must grow after his knife, their scalps are so many.”</p>
 			<p>“See!” rejoined Peter, lowering his pole so that all might examine his revolting trophies, “these come from the soldiers at the head of the lake. Blackbird was there with his young men; no one of them all got as many scalps! This is the way to stop the white pigeon from flying over us in such flocks as to hide and darken the sun.”</p>
 			<p>Another murmur of admiration passed through the crowd, as each young warrior bent forward to count the number of the scalps, and to note, by signs familiar to themselves, the ages, sex, and condition of the different victims. Here was another instance among a hundred others of which they had heard, of the prowess of the mysterious Onoah, as well as of his inextinguishable hatred of the race, that was slowly, but unerringly, supplanting the ancient stock, causing the places that once knew the people of their tribes “to know them no more.” As soon as this little burst of feeling had subsided, the conversation went on.</p>
-			<p>“We have had a paleface medicine-man among us, Onoah,” continued Crowsfeather, “and he has so far blinded us that we know not what to think.”</p>
-			<p>The chief then recounted the leading events of the visit of the bee-hunter to the place, stating each occurrence fairly, as he understood it, and as fairly confessing that even the chiefs were at a loss to know what to make of the affair. In addition to this account, he gave the mysterious Onoah the history of the prisoner they had taken, the death of Elks-foot, their intention to torture that very morning the Chippewa they had captured, and his flight, together with the loss of their young man, and the subsequent escape of their unknown enemies, who had taken away all of their own canoes. How far the medicine-man had anything to do with the other events of his narrative, Crowsfeather very candidly admitted he could not even conjecture. He was still at a loss whether to set down the conjurer for a pretender, or as a real oracle. Peter, however, was less credulous even than the chiefs. He had his superstitious notions, like all uneducated men, but a clear head and quick intellect placed him far above the weaknesses of the red man in general. On receiving a description of the person of the unknown “medicine-man,” he at once recognized the bee-hunter. With an Indian to describe, and an Indian to interpret or apply, escape from discovery was next to impossible.</p>
-			<p>Although Onoah, or the “Tribeless,” as he was also frequently called by the red men, from the circumstance of no one’s knowing to what particular section of the great Indian family he belonged, perfectly understood that the bee-hunter he had seen on the other shore was the individual who had been playing the part of a conjurer among these Pottawattamies, he was very careful not to reveal the fact to Crowsfeather. He had his own policy, and was fully aware of all the virtue there is in mystery and reserve. With an Indian, these qualities go farther even than with a white man; and we of the Caucasian race are not entirely exempt from the folly of being deceived by appearances. On the present occasion Peter kept his knowledge to himself, still leaving his red brethren in doubt and uncertainty; but he took care to be right in his own opinions by putting as many questions as were necessary for that purpose. Once assured of this fact, he turned to other subjects of even greater interest to himself and his companions.</p>
-			<p>The conference which now took place between the “Tribeless” and Crowsfeather was held apart, both being chiefs of too much importance to be intruded on at a moment like that. The two chiefs exhibited a very characteristic picture while engaged in this conference. They seated themselves on a bank, and drawing their legs partially under them, sat face to face, with their heads less than two feet asunder, occasionally gesticulating with dignity, but each speaking in his turn with studied decorum. Crowsfeather was highly painted, and looked fierce and warlike, but Onoah had nothing extraordinary about him, with the exception of the decorations and dress already described, unless it might be his remarkable countenance. The face of this Indian ordinarily wore a thoughtful cast, an expression which it is not unusual to meet with in a savage; though at times it lighted up, as it might be with the heat of inward fires, like the crater giving out its occasional flames beneath the hues of a saddened atmosphere. One accustomed to study the human face, and to analyze its expressions, would possibly have discovered in that countenance lines of deep artifice, together with the traces of a profound and constitutional enthusiasm. He was bent, at that very moment, on a scheme worthy of the loftiest spirit living; the regeneration and union of the people of his race, with a view to recover the possessions they had yielded to the palefaces; but it was a project blended with the ferocity and revenge of a savage-noble while ferocious.</p>
+			<p>“We have had a paleface medicine-man among us, Onoah,” continued Crows-feather, “and he has so far blinded us that we know not what to think.”</p>
+			<p>The chief then recounted the leading events of the visit of the bee-hunter to the place, stating each occurrence fairly, as he understood it, and as fairly confessing that even the chiefs were at a loss to know what to make of the affair. In addition to this account, he gave the mysterious Onoah the history of the prisoner they had taken, the death of Elks-foot, their intention to torture that very morning the Chippewa they had captured, and his flight, together with the loss of their young man, and the subsequent escape of their unknown enemies, who had taken away all of their own canoes. How far the medicine-man had anything to do with the other events of his narrative, Crows-feather very candidly admitted he could not even conjecture. He was still at a loss whether to set down the conjurer for a pretender, or as a real oracle. Peter, however, was less credulous even than the chiefs. He had his superstitious notions, like all uneducated men, but a clear head and quick intellect placed him far above the weaknesses of the red man in general. On receiving a description of the person of the unknown “medicine-man,” he at once recognized the bee-hunter. With an Indian to describe, and an Indian to interpret or apply, escape from discovery was next to impossible.</p>
+			<p>Although Onoah, or the “Tribeless,” as he was also frequently called by the red men, from the circumstance of no one’s knowing to what particular section of the great Indian family he belonged, perfectly understood that the bee-hunter he had seen on the other shore was the individual who had been playing the part of a conjurer among these Pottawattamies, he was very careful not to reveal the fact to Crows-feather. He had his own policy, and was fully aware of all the virtue there is in mystery and reserve. With an Indian, these qualities go farther even than with a white man; and we of the Caucasian race are not entirely exempt from the folly of being deceived by appearances. On the present occasion Peter kept his knowledge to himself, still leaving his red brethren in doubt and uncertainty; but he took care to be right in his own opinions by putting as many questions as were necessary for that purpose. Once assured of this fact, he turned to other subjects of even greater interest to himself and his companions.</p>
+			<p>The conference which now took place between the “Tribeless” and Crows-feather was held apart, both being chiefs of too much importance to be intruded on at a moment like that. The two chiefs exhibited a very characteristic picture while engaged in this conference. They seated themselves on a bank, and drawing their legs partially under them, sat face to face, with their heads less than two feet asunder, occasionally gesticulating with dignity, but each speaking in his turn with studied decorum. Crows-feather was highly painted, and looked fierce and warlike, but Onoah had nothing extraordinary about him, with the exception of the decorations and dress already described, unless it might be his remarkable countenance. The face of this Indian ordinarily wore a thoughtful cast, an expression which it is not unusual to meet with in a savage; though at times it lighted up, as it might be with the heat of inward fires, like the crater giving out its occasional flames beneath the hues of a saddened atmosphere. One accustomed to study the human face, and to analyze its expressions, would possibly have discovered in that countenance lines of deep artifice, together with the traces of a profound and constitutional enthusiasm. He was bent, at that very moment, on a scheme worthy of the loftiest spirit living; the regeneration and union of the people of his race, with a view to recover the possessions they had yielded to the palefaces; but it was a project blended with the ferocity and revenge of a savage-noble while ferocious.</p>
 			<p>Not idly had the whites, scattered along that frontier, given the sobriquet of “Scalping” to Peter, As his pole now showed, it had been earned in a hundred scenes of bloody vengeance; and so great had been his success, that the warrior, prophet, and councillor, for all these characters were united in his single person, began to think the attainment of his wishes possible. As a matter of course, much ignorance of the power of the Anglo-Saxon race on this continent was blended with these opinions and hopes; but it was scarcely an ignorance exceeding that of certain persons of far higher pretensions in knowledge, who live in another hemisphere, and who often set themselves up as infallible judges of all things connected with man and his attributes. Peter, the “Tribeless,” was not more in fault than those who fancied they saw the power of this great republic in the gallant little band collected at Corpus Christi, under its indomitable chief, and who, march by march, nay, foot by foot, as it might be, have perseveringly predicted the halt, the defeat, the disasters, and final discomfiture, which it has not yet pleased Divine Providence to inflict on this slight effort of the young Hercules, as he merely moves in his cradle. Alas, the enemy that most menaces the overthrow of this new and otherwise invincible exhibition of human force, is within; seated in the citadel itself; and must be narrowly watched, or he will act his malignant purpose, and destroy the fairest hopes that ever yet dawned on the fortunes of the human race!</p>
-			<p>The conference between the chiefs lasted fully an hour. Crowsfeather possessed much of the confidence of Peter, and, as for Onoah, neither Tecumseh, nor his brother the Prophet, commanded as much of the respect of Crowsfeather as he did himself. Some even whispered that the “Tribeless” was the individual who lay behind all, and that the others named merely acted as he suggested, or advised. The reader will obtain all the insight into the future that it is necessary now to give him, by getting a few of the remarks made by the two colloquists, just before they joined the rest of the party.</p>
-			<p>“My father, then, intends to lead his palefaces on a crooked path, and take their scalps when he has done with them,” said Crowsfeather, who had been gravely listening to Peter’s plans of future proceeding; “but who is to get the scalp of the Chippewa?”</p>
+			<p>The conference between the chiefs lasted fully an hour. Crows-feather possessed much of the confidence of Peter, and, as for Onoah, neither Tecumseh, nor his brother the Prophet, commanded as much of the respect of Crows-feather as he did himself. Some even whispered that the “Tribeless” was the individual who lay behind all, and that the others named merely acted as he suggested, or advised. The reader will obtain all the insight into the future that it is necessary now to give him, by getting a few of the remarks made by the two colloquists, just before they joined the rest of the party.</p>
+			<p>“My father, then, intends to lead his palefaces on a crooked path, and take their scalps when he has done with them,” said Crows-feather, who had been gravely listening to Peter’s plans of future proceeding; “but who is to get the scalp of the Chippewa?”</p>
 			<p>“One of my Pottawattamie young men; but not until I have made use of him. I have a medicine-priest of the palefaces and a warrior with me, but shall not put their scalps on my pole until they have paddled me further. The council is to be first held in the Oak Openings”⁠—we translate this term freely, that used by Peter meaning rather “the open woods of the prairies”⁠—“and I wish to show my prisoners to the chiefs, that they may see how easy it is to cut off all the Yankees. I have now four men of that people, and two squaws, in my power; let every red man destroy as many, and the land will soon be clear of them all!”</p>
-			<p>This was uttered with gleamings of ferocity in the speaker’s face, that rendered his countenance terrible. Even Crowsfeather quailed a little before that fierce aspect; but the whole passed away almost as soon as betrayed, and was succeeded by a friendly and deceptive smile, that was characteristic of the wily Asiatic rather than of the aboriginal American.</p>
+			<p>This was uttered with gleamings of ferocity in the speaker’s face, that rendered his countenance terrible. Even Crows-feather quailed a little before that fierce aspect; but the whole passed away almost as soon as betrayed, and was succeeded by a friendly and deceptive smile, that was characteristic of the wily Asiatic rather than of the aboriginal American.</p>
 			<p>“They cannot be counted,” returned the Pottawattamie chief, as soon as his restraint was a little removed by this less terrific aspect of his companion, “if all I hear is true. Blackbird says that even the squaws of the palefaces are numerous enough to overcome all the red men that remain.”</p>
 			<p>“There will be two less, when I fasten to my pole the scalps of those on the other side of the river,” answered Peter, with another of his transient, but startling gleams of intense revenge. “But no matter, now: my brother knows all I wish him to do. Not a hair of the head of any of these palefaces must be touched by any hand but mine. When the time comes, the knife of Onoah is sure. The Pottawattamies shall have their canoes, and can follow us up the river. They will find us in the Openings, and near the Prairie Round. They know the spot; for the red men love to hunt the deer in that region. Now, go and tell this to your young men; and tell them that corn will not grow, nor the deer wait to be killed by any of your people, if they forget to do as I have said. Vengeance shall come, when it is time.”</p>
-			<p>Crowsfeather communicated all this to his warriors, who received it as the ancients received the words of their oracles. Each member of the party endeavored to get an accurate notion of his duty, in order that he might comply to the very letter with the injunctions received. So profound was the impression made among all the red men of the northwest by the previous labors of the “Tribeless” to awaken a national spirit, and so great was their dread of the consequences of disobedience, that every warrior present felt as if his life were the threatened penalty of neglect or disinclination to obey.</p>
-			<p>No sooner, however, had Crowsfeather got through with his communication, than a general request was made that the problem of the whiskey-spring might be referred to Onoah for solution. The young men had strong hopes, notwithstanding all that had passed, that this spring might yet turn out to be a reality. The scent was still there, strong and fragrant, and they could not get rid of the notion that “firewater” grew on that spot. It is true, their faith had been somewhat disturbed by the manner in which the medicine-man had left them, and by his failure to draw forth the gushing stream which he had impliedly promised, and in a small degree performed; nevertheless little pools of whiskey had been found on the rock, and several had tasted and satisfied themselves of the quality of the liquor. As is usual, that taste had created a desire for more, a desire that seldom slumbered on an Indian palate when strong drinks were connected with its gratification.</p>
+			<p>Crows-feather communicated all this to his warriors, who received it as the ancients received the words of their oracles. Each member of the party endeavored to get an accurate notion of his duty, in order that he might comply to the very letter with the injunctions received. So profound was the impression made among all the red men of the northwest by the previous labors of the “Tribeless” to awaken a national spirit, and so great was their dread of the consequences of disobedience, that every warrior present felt as if his life were the threatened penalty of neglect or disinclination to obey.</p>
+			<p>No sooner, however, had Crows-feather got through with his communication, than a general request was made that the problem of the whiskey-spring might be referred to Onoah for solution. The young men had strong hopes, notwithstanding all that had passed, that this spring might yet turn out to be a reality. The scent was still there, strong and fragrant, and they could not get rid of the notion that “firewater” grew on that spot. It is true, their faith had been somewhat disturbed by the manner in which the medicine-man had left them, and by his failure to draw forth the gushing stream which he had impliedly promised, and in a small degree performed; nevertheless little pools of whiskey had been found on the rock, and several had tasted and satisfied themselves of the quality of the liquor. As is usual, that taste had created a desire for more, a desire that seldom slumbered on an Indian palate when strong drinks were connected with its gratification.</p>
 			<p>Peter heard the request with gravity, and consented to look into the matter with a due regard to his popularity and influence. He had his own superstitious views, but among them there did not happen to be one which admitted the possibility of whiskey’s running in a stream from the living rock. Still he was willing to examine the charmed spot, scent the fragrant odor, and make up his own estimate of the artifices by which the bee-hunter had been practising on the untutored beings into whose hand chance had thrown him.</p>
 			<p>While the young men eagerly pointed out the precise spots where the scent was the strongest, Peter maintained the most unmoved gravity. He did not kneel to smell the rocks, like the other chiefs, for this an innate sense of propriety told him would be undignified; but he made his observations closely, and with a keen Indian-like attention to every little circumstance that might aid him in arriving at the truth. All this time, great was the awe and deep the admiration of the lookers-on. Onoah had succeeded in creating a moral power for himself among the Indians of the northwest which much exceeded that of any other red man of that region. The whites scarcely heard of him, knew but little of his career, and less of his true character, for both were shrouded in mystery. There is nothing remarkable in this ignorance of the palefaces of the time. They did not understand their own leaders; much less the leaders of the children of the openings, the prairies, and the forest. At this hour, what is really known by the mass of the American people of the true characters of their public men? No nation that has any claim to civilization and publicity knows less, and for several very obvious reasons. The want of a capital in which the intelligence of the nation periodically assembles and whence a corrected public opinion on all such matters ought constantly to flow, as truth emanates from the collisions of minds, is one of these reasons. The extent of the country, which separates men by distances that no fact can travel over without incurring the dangers of being perverted on the road, is another. But the most fatal of al he influences that tend to mislead the judgment of the American citizen, is to be found in the abuse of a machinery that was intended to produce an exactly contrary effect. If the tongue was given to man to communicate ideas to his fellows, so has philosophy described it as “a gift to conceal his thoughts.” If the press was devised to circulate truth, so has it been changed into a means of circulating lies. One is easily, nay, more easily, sent abroad on the four winds of the heavens than the other. Truth requires candor, impartiality, honesty, research, and industry; but a falsehood, whether designed or not, stands in need of neither. Of that which is the most easily produced, the country gets the most; and it were idle to imagine that a people who blindly and unresistingly submit to be put, as it might be, under the feet of falsehood, as respects all their own public men, can ever get very accurate notions of those of other nations.</p>
 			<p>Thus was it with Onoah. His name was unknown to the whites, except as a terrible and much-dreaded avenger of the wrongs of his race. With the red men it was very different. They had no “forked tongues” to make falsehood take the place of truth; or if such existed they were not believed. The Pottawattamies now present knew all about Tecumseh,<a href="endnotes.xhtml#note-5" id="noteref-5" epub:type="noteref">5</a> of whom the whites had also various and ample accounts. This Shawanee chief had long been active among them, and his influence was extended far and near. He was a bold, restless, and ingenious warrior; one, perhaps, who better understood the art of war, as it was practised among red men, than any Indian then living. They knew the name and person, also, of his brother Elkswatawa,<a href="endnotes.xhtml#note-6" id="noteref-6" epub:type="noteref">6</a> or the Prophet, whose name has also become incorporated with the histories of the times. These two chiefs were very powerful, though scarce dwelling regularly in any tribe; but their origin, their careers, and their characters were known to all, as were those of their common father, Pukeesheno,<a href="endnotes.xhtml#note-7" id="noteref-7" epub:type="noteref">7</a> and their mother, Meethetaske.<a href="endnotes.xhtml#note-8" id="noteref-8" epub:type="noteref">8</a> But with Onoah it was very different. With him the past was as much of a mystery as the future. No Indian could say even of what tribe he was born. The totem that he bore on his person belonged to no people then existing on the continent, and all connected with him, his history, nation, and family, was conjecture and fancy.</p>
 			<p>It is said that the Indians have traditions which are communicated only to a favored few, and which by them have been transmitted from generation to generation. An enlightened and educated red man has quite recently told us in person, that he had been made the repository of some of these traditions, and that he had thus obtained enough of the history of his race to be satisfied that they were not derived from the lost tribes of Israel, though he declined communicating any more. It is so natural to resort to secrecy in order to extend influence, that we can have no difficulty In believing the existence of the practice; there probably being no other reason why Free Masonry or Odd Fellowship should have recourse to such an expedient, but to rule through the imagination in preference to the judgment. Now Peter enjoyed all the advantages of mystery. It was said that even his real name was unknown, that of Onoah having been given in token of the many scalps he took, and that of Wa-wa-nosh, which he also sometimes bore, having been bestowed on him by adoption in consequence of an act of favor extended to him from an Ojebway of some note, while that of Peter was clearly derived from the whites. Some of his greatest admirers whispered that when the true name of the “Tribeless” should get to be known, his origin, early career, and all relating to him would at once become familiar to every red man. At present, the Indians must rest content with what they saw and understood. The wisdom of Wa-wa-nosh made itself felt in the councils; his eloquence no speaker has equalled for ages; as for his vengeance on the enemies of his race, that was to be estimated by the scalps he had taken. More than this no Indian was to be permitted to know, until the mission of this oracle and chief was completed.</p>
 			<p>Had one enlightened by the education of a civilized man been there, to watch the movements and countenance of Peter as he scented the whiskey, and looked in vain for the cause of the odor, and for a clue to the mystery which so much perplexed the Pottawattamies, he would probably have discovered some reason to distrust the sincerity of this remarkable savage’s doubts. If ever Peter was an actor, it was on that occasion. He did not, in the least, fall into any of the errors of his companions; but the scent a good deal confounded him at first. At length he came to the natural conclusion, that this unusual odor was in some way connected with the family he had left on the other shore; and from that moment his mind was at ease.</p>
-			<p>It did not suit the views of Peter, however, to explain to the Pottawattamies that which was now getting to be so obvious to himself. On the contrary, he rather threw dust into the eyes of the chiefs, with a view to bring them also under the influence of superstition. After making his observations with unmoved gravity, he promised a solution of the whole affair when they should again meet in the Openings, and proposed to recross the river. Before quitting the shore Peter and Crowsfeather had a clear understanding on the subject of their respective movements; and, as soon as the former began to paddle up against the wind, the latter called his young men together, made a short address, and led them into the woods, as if about to proceed on a march of length. The party, notwithstanding, did not proceed more than a mile and a half, when it came to a halt, and lighted a fire in order to cook some venison taken on the way.</p>
+			<p>It did not suit the views of Peter, however, to explain to the Pottawattamies that which was now getting to be so obvious to himself. On the contrary, he rather threw dust into the eyes of the chiefs, with a view to bring them also under the influence of superstition. After making his observations with unmoved gravity, he promised a solution of the whole affair when they should again meet in the Openings, and proposed to recross the river. Before quitting the shore Peter and Crows-feather had a clear understanding on the subject of their respective movements; and, as soon as the former began to paddle up against the wind, the latter called his young men together, made a short address, and led them into the woods, as if about to proceed on a march of length. The party, notwithstanding, did not proceed more than a mile and a half, when it came to a halt, and lighted a fire in order to cook some venison taken on the way.</p>
 			<p>When Peter reached the south shore, he found the whole group assembled to receive him. His tale was soon told. He had talked with the Pottawattamies, and they were gone. The canoes, however, must be carried to the other shore and left there, in order that their owners might recover their property when they returned. This much had Peter promised, and his paleface friends must help him to keep his word. Then he pointed to the Openings as to their place of present safety. There they would be removed from all immediate danger, and he would accompany them and give them the countenance and protection of his name and presence. As for going south on the lake, that was impossible, so long as the wind lasted, and it was useless even could it be done. The troops had all left Chicago, and the fort was destroyed.</p>
 			<p>Parson Amen and Corporal Flint, both of whom were completely deluded by Peter, fancying him a secret friend of the whites, in consequence of his own protestations to that effect and the service he had already rendered them, in appearance at least, instantly acquiesced in this wily savage’s proposal. It was the best, the wisest, nay, the only thing that now could be done. Mackinaw was gone, as well as Chicago, and Detroit must be reached by crossing the peninsula, instead of taking the easier but far more circuitous route of the lakes. Gershom was easily enough persuaded into the belief of the feasibility, as well as of the necessity, of this deviation from his original road, and he soon agreed to accompany the party.</p>
-			<p>With le Bourdon the case was different. He understood himself and the wilderness. For him the wind was fair, and there was no necessity for his touching at Mackinaw at all. It is true, he usually passed several days on that pleasant and salubrious island, and frequently disposed of lots of honey there; but he could dispense with the visit and the sales. There was certainly danger now to be apprehended from the Ottawas, who would be very apt to be out on the lake after this maritime excursion against the fort; but it was possible even to elude their vigilance. In a word, the bee-hunter did not believe in the prudence of returning to the Openings, but thought it by far the wisest for the whole party to make the best of its way by water to the settlements. All this he urged warmly on his white companions, taking them aside for that purpose, and leaving Peter and Pigeonswing together while he did so.</p>
+			<p>With le Bourdon the case was different. He understood himself and the wilderness. For him the wind was fair, and there was no necessity for his touching at Mackinaw at all. It is true, he usually passed several days on that pleasant and salubrious island, and frequently disposed of lots of honey there; but he could dispense with the visit and the sales. There was certainly danger now to be apprehended from the Ottawas, who would be very apt to be out on the lake after this maritime excursion against the fort; but it was possible even to elude their vigilance. In a word, the bee-hunter did not believe in the prudence of returning to the Openings, but thought it by far the wisest for the whole party to make the best of its way by water to the settlements. All this he urged warmly on his white companions, taking them aside for that purpose, and leaving Peter and Pigeons-wing together while he did so.</p>
 			<p>But Parson Amen would as soon have believed that his old congregation in Connecticut was composed of Philistines, as not to believe that the red men were the lost tribes, and that Peter, in particular, was not especially and elaborately described in the Old Testament. He had become so thoroughly possessed by this crotchet as to pervert everything that he saw, read, or heard, into evidence, of some sort or other, of the truth of his notions. In this respect there was nothing peculiar in the good missionary’s weakness, it being a failing common to partisans of a theory, to discover proofs of its truths in a thousand things in which indifferent persons can find even no connection with the subject at all. In this frame of mind the missionary would as soon think of letting go his hold on the Bible itself, as think of separating from an Indian who might turn out any day to be a direct representative of Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob. Not to speak irreverently, but to use language that must be familiar to all, the well-meaning missionary wished to be in at the death.</p>
 			<p>Corporal Flint, too, had great faith in Peter. It was a part of the scheme of the savage to make this straight forward soldier an instrument in placing many scalps in hit power; and though he had designed from the first to execute his bloody office on the corporal himself, he did not intend to do so until he had made the most of him as a stool-pigeon. Here were four more palefaces thrown in his power, principally by means of the confidence he had awakened in the minds of the missionary and the soldier; and that same confidence might be made instrumental in adding still more to the number. Peter was a sagacious, even a farseeing savage, but he labored under the curse of ignorance. Had his information been of a more extended nature, he would have seen the utter fallacy of his project to destroy the palefaces altogether, and most probably would have abandoned it.</p>
 			<p>It is a singular fact that, while such men as Tecumseh, his brother the Prophet, and Peter, were looking forward to the downfall of the republic on the side of the forest, so many, who ought to have been better informed on such a subject, were anxiously expecting, nay confidently predicting it, from beyond the Atlantic. Notwithstanding these sinister soothsayers, the progress of the nation has, by a beneficent Providence, been onward and onward, until it is scarcely presumptuous to suppose that even England has abandoned the expectation of classing this country again among her dependencies. The fortunes of America, under God, depend only on herself. America may destroy America; of that there is danger; but it is pretty certain that Europe united could make no serious impression on her. Favored by position, and filled with a population that we have ever maintained was one of the most military in existence, a truth that recent events are hourly proving to be true, it much exceeds the power of all the enemies of her institutions to make any serious impression on her. There is an enemy who may prove too much for her; it exists in her bosom; and God alone can keep him in subjection, and repress his desolation.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-13.xhtml

@@ -37,7 +37,7 @@
 			<p>“Have you thought enough of this, Margery? may not reflection change your mind?”</p>
 			<p>“This is a duty on which a girl is not called to reflect; she must <em>feel</em>, in a matter of conscience.”</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter fairly sighed, and from a very resolute he became a very irresolute sort of person. As was natural to one in his situation, he let out the secret current his thoughts had taken, in the remarks which followed.</p>
-			<p>“I do not like the manner in which Peter and Pigeonswing are now talking together,” he said. “When an Injin is so earnest, there is generally mischief brewing. Do you see Peter’s manner?”</p>
+			<p>“I do not like the manner in which Peter and Pigeons-wing are now talking together,” he said. “When an Injin is so earnest, there is generally mischief brewing. Do you see Peter’s manner?”</p>
 			<p>“He seems to be telling the young warrior something that makes both forget themselves. I never saw two men who seem so completely to forget all the rest of the world as them two savages! What can be the meaning, Bourdon, of so much fierce earnestness?”</p>
 			<p>“I would give the world to know-possibly the Chippewa may tell me. We understand each other tolerably well, and, just as you spoke, he gave me a secret sign that I have a right to think means confidence and friendship. That savage is either a fast friend, or a thorough villain.”</p>
 			<p>“Is it safe to trust any of them, Bourdon? No⁠—no⁠—your best way will be to go down the lakes, and get back to Detroit as soon as you can. Not only your property, but your <em>life</em>, is at risk.”</p>
@@ -47,8 +47,8 @@
 			<p>“But this corporal is a friend of the minister, and ministers ought not to drink!”</p>
 			<p>“Ministers are like other men, as them that live much among ’em will soon find out. Hows’ever, if you <em>will</em> stay, Margery, there is no more to be said. I must cache<a href="endnotes.xhtml#note-9" id="noteref-9" epub:type="noteref">9</a> my honey, and get the canoe ready to go up stream again. Where you go, Margery, I go too, unless you tell me that you do not wish my company.”</p>
 			<p>This was said quietly, but in the manner of one whose mind was made up. Margery scarce knew how to take it. That she was secretly delighted, cannot be denied; while, at the same time, that she felt a generous and lively concern for the fortunes of le Bourdon, is quite as certain. As Gershom just then called to her to lend her assistance in preparing to embark, she had no leisure for expostulation, nor do we know that she now seriously wished to divert the bee-hunter from his purpose.</p>
-			<p>It was soon understood by everyone that the river was to be crossed, in order that Gershom might get his household effects, previously to ascending the Kalamazoo. This set all at⁠—work but the Chippewa, who appeared to le Bourdon to be watchful and full of distrust. As the latter had a job before him, that would be likely to consume a couple of hours, the others were ready for a start long before he had his hole dug. It was therefore arranged that the bee-hunter should complete his task, while the others crossed the stream, and went in quest of Gershom’s scanty stock of household goods. Pigeonswing, however, was not to be found, when the canoes were ready, and Peter proceeded without him. Nor did le Bourdon see anything of his friend until the adventurers were fairly on the north shore, when he rejoined le Bourdon, sitting on a log, a curious spectator of the latter’s devices to conceal his property, but not offering to aid him in a single movement. The bee-hunter too well understood an Indian warrior’s aversion to labor of all sorts, unless it be connected with his military achievements, to be surprised at his companion’s indifference to his own toil. As the work went on, a friendly dialogue was kept up between the parties.</p>
-			<p>“I didn’t know, Pigeonswing, but you had started for the openings, before us,” observed le Bourdon. “That tribeless old Injin made something of a fuss about your being out of the way; I dare say he wanted you to help back the furniture down to the canoes.”</p>
+			<p>It was soon understood by everyone that the river was to be crossed, in order that Gershom might get his household effects, previously to ascending the Kalamazoo. This set all at⁠—work but the Chippewa, who appeared to le Bourdon to be watchful and full of distrust. As the latter had a job before him, that would be likely to consume a couple of hours, the others were ready for a start long before he had his hole dug. It was therefore arranged that the bee-hunter should complete his task, while the others crossed the stream, and went in quest of Gershom’s scanty stock of household goods. Pigeons-wing, however, was not to be found, when the canoes were ready, and Peter proceeded without him. Nor did le Bourdon see anything of his friend until the adventurers were fairly on the north shore, when he rejoined le Bourdon, sitting on a log, a curious spectator of the latter’s devices to conceal his property, but not offering to aid him in a single movement. The bee-hunter too well understood an Indian warrior’s aversion to labor of all sorts, unless it be connected with his military achievements, to be surprised at his companion’s indifference to his own toil. As the work went on, a friendly dialogue was kept up between the parties.</p>
+			<p>“I didn’t know, Pigeons-wing, but you had started for the openings, before us,” observed le Bourdon. “That tribeless old Injin made something of a fuss about your being out of the way; I dare say he wanted you to help back the furniture down to the canoes.”</p>
 			<p>“Got squaw⁠—what he want⁠—better to do dat?”</p>
 			<p>“So you would put that pretty piece of work on such persons as Margery and Dolly!”</p>
 			<p>“Why not, no? Bot’ squaw-bot know how. Dere business to work for warrior.”</p>
@@ -56,18 +56,18 @@
 			<p>“Keep out of way of Pottawattamie,” returned the Chippewa; “no want to lose scalp-radder take his’n.”</p>
 			<p>“But Peter says the Pottawattamies are all gone, and that we have no longer any reason to fear them; and this medicine-priest tells us, that what Peter says we can depend on for truth.”</p>
 			<p>“Dat good medicine-man, eh? T’ink he know a great deal, eh?”</p>
-			<p>“That is more than I can tell you, Pigeonswing; for though I’ve been a medicine-man myself, so lately, it is in a different line altogether from that of Parson Amen’s.”</p>
+			<p>“That is more than I can tell you, Pigeons-wing; for though I’ve been a medicine-man myself, so lately, it is in a different line altogether from that of Parson Amen’s.”</p>
 			<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>“I am not enough of a medicine-man to answer your question, Pigeons-wing. 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>“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 <em>friend</em>, eh?”</p>
+			<p>“But you take all you can find, Pigeons-wing; and that which is good in you, cannot be so bad in Peter.”</p>
+			<p>“Don’t take scalp from friend. When you hear Pigeons-wing scalp <em>friend</em>, 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 paleface. 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 paleface to trust paleface, and Injin to trust Injin. Dat most likely to be right.”</p>
-			<p>“Nevertheless, I trust <em>you</em> Pigeonswing; and, hitherto, you have not deceived me!”</p>
+			<p>“Nevertheless, I trust <em>you</em> Pigeons-wing; and, hitherto, you have not deceived me!”</p>
 			<p>The Chippewa cast a glance of so much meaning on the bee-hunter, that the last was troubled by it. For many a day did le Bourdon remember that look; and painful were the apprehensions to which it gave birth. Until that morning, the intercourse between the two had been of the most confidential character; but something like a fierce hatred was blended in that look. Could it be that the feelings of the Chippewa were changed? and was it possible that Peter was in any way connected with this alteration in looks and sentiments? All these suspicions passed through le Bourdon’s mind, as he finished his cache; and sufficiently disagreeable did he find it to entertain them. The circumstances, however, did not admit of any change of plan; and, in a few minutes, the two were in the canoe, and on their way to join their companions.</p>
 			<p>Peter had dealt fairly enough with those who accompanied him. The Pottawattamies were nowhere to be seen, and Gershom led the corporal to the place where his household goods had been secreted, in so much confidence, that both the men left their arms behind them. Such was the state of things when le Bourdon reached the north shore. The young man was startled, when his eyes fell on the rifles; but, on looking around, there did not really appear to be any sufficient reason why they might not be laid aside for a few minutes.</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter, having disposed of all his honey, had now a nearly empty canoe; accordingly, he received a portion of Gershom’s effects; all of which were safely transported from their place of concealment to the water side. Their owner was slowly recovering the use of his body and mind, though still a little dull, from his recent debauch. The females supplied his place, however, in many respects; and two hours after the party had landed, it was ready again to proceed on its journey into the interior. The last article was stowed in one of the canoes, and Gershom announced his willingness to depart.</p>
@@ -76,16 +76,16 @@
 			<p>The recollection of the scene of the previous night came so fresh and vividly over the imagination of the bee-hunter, that, instead of answering the question of the chief, he burst into a hearty fit of laughter. Then, fearful of giving offence, he was about to apologize for a mirth so ill-timed, when the Indian smiled, with a gleam of intelligence on his swarthy face, that seemed to say, “I understand it all,” and continued⁠—</p>
 			<p>“Good⁠—the chief with three eyes”⁠—in allusion to the spy⁠—glass that le Bourdon always carried suspended from his neck⁠—“is a very great medicine-man; he knows when to laugh, and when to look sad. The Pottawattamies were dry, and he wanted to find them some whiskey to drink, but could not⁠—our brother, in the canoe, had drunk it all. Good.”</p>
 			<p>Again the bee-hunter laughed; and though Peter did not join in his mirth, it was quite plain that he understood its cause. With this good-natured sort of intelligence between them, the two returned to the canoes; the bee-hunter always supposing that the Indian had obtained his object, in receiving his indirect admission, that the scene of the previous night had been merely a piece of ingenious jugglery. So much of a courtier, however, was Peter, and so entire his self-command, that on no occasion, afterward, did he ever make any further allusion to the subject.</p>
-			<p>The ascent of the river was now commenced. It was not a difficult matter for le Bourdon to persuade Margery, that her brother’s canoe would be too heavily loaded for such a passage, unless she consented to quit it for his own. Pigeonswing took the girl’s place, and was of material assistance in forcing the light, but steady craft, up stream. The three others continued in the canoe in which they had entered the river. With this arrangement, therefore, our adventurers commenced this new journey.</p>
+			<p>The ascent of the river was now commenced. It was not a difficult matter for le Bourdon to persuade Margery, that her brother’s canoe would be too heavily loaded for such a passage, unless she consented to quit it for his own. Pigeons-wing took the girl’s place, and was of material assistance in forcing the light, but steady craft, up stream. The three others continued in the canoe in which they had entered the river. With this arrangement, therefore, our adventurers commenced this new journey.</p>
 			<p>Every reader will easily understand, that ascending such a stream as the Kalamazoo was a very difficult thing from descending it. The progress was slow, and at many points laborious. At several of the “rifts,” it became necessary to “track” the canoes up; and places occurred at which the only safe way of proceeding was to unload them altogether, and transport boats, cargoes, and all, on the shoulders of the men, across what are called, in the language of the country, “portages,” or “carrying-places.” In such toil as this, the corporal was found to be very serviceable; but neither of the Indians declined to lend their assistance, in work of this manly character. By this time, moreover, Gershom had come round, and was an able-bodied, vigorous assistant, once more. If the corporal was the master of any alcohol, he judiciously kept it a secret; for not a drop passed anyone’s lips during the whole of that toilsome journey.</p>
 			<p>Although the difficult places in the river were sufficiently numerous, most of the reaches were places having steady, but not swift currents toward the lake. In these reaches the paddles, and those not very vigorously applied, enabled the travellers to advance as fast as was desirable; and such tranquil waters were a sort of resting-places to those who managed the canoes. It was while ascending these easy channels, that conversation most occurred; each speaker yielding, as was natural, to the impulses of the thoughts uppermost in his mind. The missionary talked much of the Jews; and, as the canoes came near each other, he entered at large, with their different occupants, into the reasons he had for believing that the red men of America were the lost tribes of Israel. “The very use of the word ‘tribes,’ ” would this simple-minded, and not very profound expounder of the word of God, say, “is one proof of the truth of what I tell you. Now, no one thinks of dividing the white men of America into ‘tribes.’ Who ever heard of the ‘tribe’ of New England, or of the ‘tribe’ of Virginia, or of the ‘tribe’ of the Middle States?<a href="endnotes.xhtml#note-10" id="noteref-10" epub:type="noteref">10</a> Even among the blacks, there are no tribes. There is a very remarkable passage in the sixty-eighth Psalm, that has greatly struck me, since my mind has turned to this subject; ‘God shall wound the head his enemies.’ saith the Psalmist, ‘and the hairy scalp of such a one as goeth on still in his wickedness.’ Here is a very obvious allusion to a well-known, and what we think, a barbarous practice of the red men; but, rely on it, friends, nothing that is permitted on earth is permitted in vain. The attentive reader of the inspired book, by gleaning here and there, can collect much authority for this new opinion about the lost tribes; and the day will come, I do not doubt, when men will marvel that the truth hath been so long hidden from them. I can scarcely open a chapter, in the Old Testament, that some passage does not strike me as going to prove this identity, between the red men and the Hebrews; and, were they all collected together, and published in a book, mankind would be astonished at their lucidity and weight. As for scalping, it is a horrid thing in our eyes, but it is honorable with the red men; and I have quoted to you the words of the Psalmist, in order to show the manner in which divine wisdom inflicts penalties on sin. Here is plain justification of the practice, provided always that the sufferer be in the bondage of transgression, and obnoxious to divine censure. Let no man, therefore, in the pride of his learning, and, perhaps, of his prosperity, disdain to believe things that are so manifestly taught and foretold; but let us all bow in humble submission to the will of a Being who, to our finite understanding, is so perfectly incomprehensible.”</p>
-			<p>We trust that no one of our readers will be disposed to deride Parson Amen’s speculations on this interesting subject, although this may happen to be the first occasion on which he has ever heard the practice of taking scalps justified by Scripture. Viewed in a proper spirit, they ought merely to convey a lesson of humility, by rendering apparent the wisdom, nay the necessity, of men’s keeping them-selves within the limits of the sphere of knowledge they were designed to fill, and convey, when rightly considered, as much of a lesson to the Puseyite, with abstractions that are quite as unintelligible to himself as they are to others; to the high-wrought and dogmatical Calvinist, who in the midst of his fiery zeal, forgets that love is the very essence of the relation between God and man; to the Quaker, who seems to think the cut of a coat essential to salvation; to the descendant of the Puritan, who whether he be Socinian, Calvinist, Universalist, or any other “1st,” appears to believe that the “rock” on which Christ declared he would found his church was the “Rock of Plymouth”; and to the unbeliever, who, in deriding all creeds, does not know where to turn to find one to substitute in their stead. Humility, in matters of this sort, is the great lesson that all should teach and learn; for it opens the way to charity, and eventually to faith, and through both of these to hope; finally, through all of these, to heaven.</p>
+			<p>We trust that no one of our readers will be disposed to deride Parson Amen’s speculations on this interesting subject, although this may happen to be the first occasion on which he has ever heard the practice of taking scalps justified by Scripture. Viewed in a proper spirit, they ought merely to convey a lesson of humility, by rendering apparent the wisdom, nay the necessity, of men’s keeping themselves within the limits of the sphere of knowledge they were designed to fill, and convey, when rightly considered, as much of a lesson to the Puseyite, with abstractions that are quite as unintelligible to himself as they are to others; to the high-wrought and dogmatical Calvinist, who in the midst of his fiery zeal, forgets that love is the very essence of the relation between God and man; to the Quaker, who seems to think the cut of a coat essential to salvation; to the descendant of the Puritan, who whether he be Socinian, Calvinist, Universalist, or any other “1st,” appears to believe that the “rock” on which Christ declared he would found his church was the “Rock of Plymouth”; and to the unbeliever, who, in deriding all creeds, does not know where to turn to find one to substitute in their stead. Humility, in matters of this sort, is the great lesson that all should teach and learn; for it opens the way to charity, and eventually to faith, and through both of these to hope; finally, through all of these, to heaven.</p>
 			<p>The journey up the Kalamazoo lasted many days, the ascent being often so painful, and no one seeming in a hurry. Peter waited for the time set for his council to approach, and was as well content to remain in his canoe, as to “camp out” in the openings. Gershom never was in haste, while the bee-hunter would have been satisfied to pass the summer in so pleasant a manner, Margery being seated most of the time in his canoe. In his ordinary excursions, le Bourdon carried the mastiff as a companion; but, now that his place was so much better filled, Hive was suffered to roam the woods that lined most of the riverbanks, joining his master from time to time at the portages or landings. As for the missionary and the corporal, impatience formed no part of their present disposition. The first had been led, by the artful Peter, to expect great results to his theory from the assembly of chiefs which was to meet in the “openings”; and the credulous parson was, in one sense, going as blindly on the path of destruction, as any sinner it had ever been his duty to warn of his fate, was proceeding in the same direction in another. The corporal, too, was the dupe of Peter’s artifices. This man had heard so many stories to the Indian’s prejudice, at the different posts where he had been stationed, as at first to render him exceedingly averse to making the present journey in his company. The necessity of the case, as connected with the preservation of his own life after the massacre of Fort Dearborn, and the influence of the missionary, had induced him to overlook his ancient prejudices, and to forget opinions that, it now occurred to him, had been founded in error. Once fairly within the influence of Peter’s wiles, a simple-minded soldier like the corporal, was soon completely made the Indian’s dupe. By the time the canoe reached the mouth of the Kalamazoo, as has been related, each of these men placed the most implicit reliance on the good faith and friendly feelings of the very being whose entire life, both sleeping and waking thoughts, were devoted, not only to his destruction, but to that of the whole white race on the American continent. So bland was the manner of this terrible savage, when it comported with his views to conceal his ruthless designs, that persons more practised and observant than either of his two companions might have been its dupes, not to say its victims. While the missionary was completely mystified by his own headlong desire to establish a theory, and to announce to the religious world where the lost tribes were to be found, the corporal had aided in deceiving himself, also, by another process. With him, Peter had privately conversed of war, and had insinuated that he was secretly laboring in behalf of his great father at Washington, and against the other great father down at Montreal. As between the two, Peter professed to lean to the interests of the first; though, had he laid bare his inmost soul, a fiery hatred of each would have been found to be its predominant feeling. But Corporal Flint fondly fancied he was making a concealed march with an ally, while he thus accompanied one of the fiercest enemies of his race.</p>
 			<p>Peter is not to be judged too harshly. It is always respectable to defend the fireside, and the land of one’s nativity, although the cause connected with it may be sometimes wrong. This Indian knew nothing of the principles of colonization, and had no conception that any other than its original owners⁠—original so far as his traditions reached⁠—could have a right to his own hunting-grounds. Of the slow but certain steps by which an overruling Providence is extending a knowledge of the true God, and of the great atonement through the death of his blessed Son, Peter had no conception; nor would it probably have seemed right to his contracted mind, had he even seen and understood this general tendency of things. To him, the paleface appeared only as a rapacious invader, and not a creature obeying the great law of his destiny, the end of which is doubtless to help knowledge to abound, until it shall “cover the whole earth as the waters cover the sea.” Hatred, inextinguishable and active hatred, appeared to be the law of this man’s being; and he devoted all the means, aided by all the intelligence he possessed, to the furtherance of his narrow and shortsighted means of vengeance and redress. In all this, he acted in common with Tecumseh and his brother, though his consummate art kept him behind a veil, while the others were known and recognized as open and active foes. No publication speaks of this Peter, nor does any orator enumerate his qualities, while the other two chiefs have been the subjects of every species of descriptive talent, from that of the poet to that of the painter.</p>
-			<p>As day passed after day, the feeling of distrust in the bosom of the bee-hunter grew weaker and weaker, and Peter succeeded in gradually worming himself into his confidence also. This was done, moreover, without any apparent effort. The Indian made no professions of friendship, laid himself out for no particular attention, nor ever seemed to care how his companions regarded his deportment. His secret purposes he kept carefully smothered in his own breast, it is true; but, beyond that, no other sign of duplicity could have been discovered even by one who knew his objects and schemes. So profound was his art, that it had the aspect of nature. Pigeonswing alone was alive to the danger of this man’s company; and he knew it only by means of certain semi-confidential communications received in his character of a red man. It was no part of Peter’s true policy to become an ally to either of the great belligerents of the day. On the contrary, his ardent wish was to see them destroy each other, and it was the sudden occurrence of the present war that had given a new impulse to his hopes, and a new stimulus to his efforts, as a time most propitious to his purposes. He was perfectly aware of the state of the Chippewa’s feelings, and he knew that this man was hostile to the Pottawattamies, as well as to most of the tribes of Michigan; but this made no difference with him. If Pigeonswing took the scalp of a white man, he cared not whether it grew on an English or an American head; in either case it was the destruction of his enemy. With such a policy constantly in view, it cannot be matter of surprise that Peter continued on just as good terms with Pigeonswing as with Crowsfeather. But one precaution was observed in his intercourse with the first. To Crowsfeather, then on the warpath in quest of Yankee scalps, he had freely communicated his designs on his own white companions, while he did not dare to confide to the Chippewa this particular secret, since that Indian’s relations with the bee-hunter were so amicable as to be visible to every observer. Peter felt the necessity of especial caution in his communication with this savage, therefore; and this was the reason why the Chippewa was in so much painful uncertainty as to the other’s intentions. He had learned enough to be distrustful, but not enough to act with decision.</p>
+			<p>As day passed after day, the feeling of distrust in the bosom of the bee-hunter grew weaker and weaker, and Peter succeeded in gradually worming himself into his confidence also. This was done, moreover, without any apparent effort. The Indian made no professions of friendship, laid himself out for no particular attention, nor ever seemed to care how his companions regarded his deportment. His secret purposes he kept carefully smothered in his own breast, it is true; but, beyond that, no other sign of duplicity could have been discovered even by one who knew his objects and schemes. So profound was his art, that it had the aspect of nature. Pigeons-wing alone was alive to the danger of this man’s company; and he knew it only by means of certain semi-confidential communications received in his character of a red man. It was no part of Peter’s true policy to become an ally to either of the great belligerents of the day. On the contrary, his ardent wish was to see them destroy each other, and it was the sudden occurrence of the present war that had given a new impulse to his hopes, and a new stimulus to his efforts, as a time most propitious to his purposes. He was perfectly aware of the state of the Chippewa’s feelings, and he knew that this man was hostile to the Pottawattamies, as well as to most of the tribes of Michigan; but this made no difference with him. If Pigeons-wing took the scalp of a white man, he cared not whether it grew on an English or an American head; in either case it was the destruction of his enemy. With such a policy constantly in view, it cannot be matter of surprise that Peter continued on just as good terms with Pigeons-wing as with Crows-feather. But one precaution was observed in his intercourse with the first. To Crows-feather, then on the warpath in quest of Yankee scalps, he had freely communicated his designs on his own white companions, while he did not dare to confide to the Chippewa this particular secret, since that Indian’s relations with the bee-hunter were so amicable as to be visible to every observer. Peter felt the necessity of especial caution in his communication with this savage, therefore; and this was the reason why the Chippewa was in so much painful uncertainty as to the other’s intentions. He had learned enough to be distrustful, but not enough to act with decision.</p>
 			<p>Once, and once only, during their slow passage up the Kalamazoo, did the bee-hunter observe something about Peter to awaken his original apprehensions. The fourth day after leaving the mouth of the river, and when the whole party were resting after the toil of passing a “carrying-place,” our hero had observed the eyes of that tribeless savage roaming from one white face to another, with an expression in them so very fiendish, as actually to cause his heart to beat quicker than common. The look was such a one as le Bourdon could not remember to have ever before beheld in a human countenance. In point of fact, he had seen Peter in one of those moments when the pent fires of the volcano, that ceaselessly raged within his bosom, were becoming difficult to suppress; and when memory was busiest in recalling to his imagination scenes of oppression and wrong, that the white man is only too apt to forget amid the ease of his civilization, and the security of his power. But the look, and the impression produced by it on le Bourdon, soon passed away, and were forgotten by him to whom it might otherwise have proved to be a most useful warning.</p>
 			<p>It was a little remarkable that Margery actually grew to be attached to Peter, often manifesting toward the chief attentions and feelings such as a daughter is apt to exhibit toward a father. This arose from the high and courteous bearing of this extraordinary savage. At all times, an Indian warrior is apt to maintain the dignified and courteous bearing that has so often been remarked in the race, but it is very seldom that he goes out of his way to manifest attention to the squaws. Doubtless these men have the feelings of humanity, and love their wives and offspring like others; but it is so essential a part of their training to suppress the exhibition of such emotions, that it is seldom the mere looker-on has occasion to note them. Peter, however, had neither wife nor child; or if they existed, no one knew where either was to be found. The same mystery shrouded this part of his history as veiled all the rest. In his hunts, various opportunities occurred for exhibiting to the females manly attentions, by offering to them the choicest pieces of his game, and pointing out the most approved Indian modes of cooking the meats, so as to preserve their savory properties. This he did sparingly at first, and as a part of a system of profound deception; but day by day, and hour after hour, most especially with Margery, did his manner become sensibly less distant, and more natural. The artlessness, the gentle qualities, blended with feminine spirit as they were, and the innocent gayety of the girl, appeared to win on this nearly remorseless savage, in spite of his efforts to resist her influence. Perhaps the beauty of Margery contributed its share in exciting these novel emotions in the breast of one so stern. We do not mean that Peter yielded to feelings akin-to love; of this, he was in a manner incapable; but a man can submit to a gentle regard for woman that shall be totally free from passion. This sort of regard Peter certainly began to entertain for Margery; and like begetting like, as money produces money, it is not surprising that the confidence of the girl herself, as well as her sympathies, should continue to increase in the favor of this terrible Indian.</p>
-			<p>But the changes of feeling, and the various little incidents to which we have alluded, did not occur in a single moment of time. Day passed after day, and still the canoes were working their way up the winding channels of the Kalamazoo, placing at each setting sun longer and longer reaches of its sinuous stream between the travellers and the broad sheet of Michigan. As le Bourdon had been up and down the river often, in his various excursions, he acted as the pilot of the navigation; though all worked, even to the missionary and the Chippewa. On such an expedition, toil was not deemed to be discreditable to a warrior, and Pigeonswing used the paddle and the pole as willingly, and with as much dexterity, as any of the party.</p>
+			<p>But the changes of feeling, and the various little incidents to which we have alluded, did not occur in a single moment of time. Day passed after day, and still the canoes were working their way up the winding channels of the Kalamazoo, placing at each setting sun longer and longer reaches of its sinuous stream between the travellers and the broad sheet of Michigan. As le Bourdon had been up and down the river often, in his various excursions, he acted as the pilot of the navigation; though all worked, even to the missionary and the Chippewa. On such an expedition, toil was not deemed to be discreditable to a warrior, and Pigeons-wing used the paddle and the pole as willingly, and with as much dexterity, as any of the party.</p>
 			<p>It was only on the eleventh day after quitting the mouth of the river, that the canoes came to in the little bay where le Bourdon was in the habit of securing his light bark, when in the openings. Castle Meal was in full view, standing peacefully in its sweet solitude; and Hive, who, as he came within the range of his old hunts, had started off, and got to the spot the previous evening, now stood on the bank of the river to welcome his master and his friends to the chiente. It wanted a few minutes of sunset as the travellers landed, and the parting rays of the great luminary of our system were glancing through the various glades of the openings, imparting a mellow softness to the herbage and flowers. So far as the bee-hunter could perceive, not even a bear had visited the place in his absence. On ascending to his abode and examining the fastenings, and on entering the hut, storehouse, <abbr>etc.</abbr>, le Bourdon became satisfied that all the property he had left behind was safe, and that the foot of man⁠—he almost thought of beast too⁠—had not visited the spot at all during the last fortnight.</p>
 		</section>
 	</body>

src/epub/text/chapter-14.xhtml

@@ -25,7 +25,7 @@
 			<p>The week which succeeded the arrival of our party at Château au Miel, or Castle Meal, as le Bourdon used to call his abode, was one of very active labor. It was necessary to house the adventurers, and the little habitation already built was quite insufficient for such a purpose. It was given to the females, who used it as a private apartment for themselves, while the cooking, eating, and even sleeping, so far as the males were concerned, were all done beneath the trees of the openings. But a new chiente was soon constructed, which, though wanting in the completeness and strength of Castle Meal, was sufficient for the wants of these sojourners in the wilderness. It is surprising with how little of those comforts which civilization induces us to regard as necessaries we can get along, when cast into the midst of the western wilds. The female whose foot has trodden, from infancy upward, on nothing harder than a good carpet-who has been reared amid all the appliances of abundance and art, seems at once to change her nature, along with her habits, and often proves a heroine, and an active assistant, when there was so much reason to apprehend she might turn out to be merely an encumbrance. In the course of a life that is now getting to be well stored with experience of this sort, as well as of many other varieties, we can recall a hundred cases of women, who were born and nurtured in affluence and abundance, who have cheerfully quitted the scenes of youth, their silks and satins, their china and plate, their mahogany and Brussels, to follow husbands and fathers into the wilderness, there to compete with the savage, often for food, and always for the final possession of the soil!</p>
 			<p>But in the case of Dorothy and Blossom, the change had never been of this very broad character, and habit had long been preparing them for scenes even more savage than that into which they were now cast. Both were accustomed to work, as, blessed be God! the American woman usually works; that is to say, within doors, and to render home neat, comfortable, and welcome. As housewives, they were expert and willing, considering the meagreness of their means; and le Bourdon told the half-delighted, half-blushing Margery, ere the latter had been twenty-four hours in his chiente, that nothing but the presence of such a one as herself was wanting to render it an abode fit for a prince! Then, the cooking was so much improved! Apart from cleanliness, the venison was found to be more savory; the cakes were lighter; and the pork less greasy. On this subject of grease, however, we could wish that a sense of right would enable us to announce its utter extinction in the American kitchen; or, if not absolutely its extinction, such a subjection of the unctuous properties, as to bring them within the limits of a reasonably accurate and healthful taste. To be frank, Dorothy carried a somewhat heavy hand, in this respect; but pretty Margery was much her superior. How this difference in domestic discipline occurred, is more than we can say; but of its existence there can be no doubt There are two very respectable sections of the civilized world to which we should imagine no rational being would ever think of resorting in order to acquire the art of cookery, and these are Germany and the land of the Pilgrims. One hears, and reads in those elegant specimens of the polite literature of the day, the letters from Washington, and from various travellers, who go up and down this river in steamboats, or along that railway, gratis, much in honor of the good things left behind the several writers, in the “region of the kock”; but, woe betide the wight who is silly enough to believe in all this poetical imagery, and who travels in that direction, in the expectation of finding a good table! It is extraordinary that such a marked difference does exist, on an interest of this magnitude, among such near neighbors; but, of the fact, we should think no intelligent and experienced man can doubt. Believing as we do, that no small portion of the elements of national character can be, and are, formed in the kitchen, the circumstance may appear to us of more moment than to some of our readers. The vacuum left in cookery, between Boston and Baltimore for instance, is something like that which exists between Le Verrier’s new planet and the sun.</p>
 			<p>But Margery could even fry pork without causing it to swim in grease, and at a venison steak, a professed cook was not her superior. She also understood various little mysteries, in the way of converting their berries and fruits of the wilderness into pleasant dishes; and Corporal Flint soon affirmed that it was a thousand pities she did not live in a garrison, which, agreeably to his view of things, was something like placing her at the comptoir of the Café de Paris, or of marrying her to some second Vatel.</p>
-			<p>With the eating and drinking, the building advanced pari passu. Pigeonswing brought in his venison, his ducks, his pigeons, and his game of different varieties, daily, keeping the larder quite as well supplied as comported with the warmth of the weather; while the others worked on the new chiente. In order to obtain materials for this building, one so much larger than his old abode, Ben went up the Kalamazoo about half a mile, where he felled a sufficient number of young pines, with trunks of about a foot in diameter, cutting them into lengths of twenty and thirty feet, respectively. These lengths, or trunks, were rolled into the river, down which they slowly floated, until they arrived abreast of Castle Meal, where they were met by Peter, in a canoe, who towed each stick, as it arrived, to the place of landing. In this way, at the end of two days’ work, a sufficient quantity of materials was collected to commence directly on the building itself.</p>
+			<p>With the eating and drinking, the building advanced pari passu. Pigeons-wing brought in his venison, his ducks, his pigeons, and his game of different varieties, daily, keeping the larder quite as well supplied as comported with the warmth of the weather; while the others worked on the new chiente. In order to obtain materials for this building, one so much larger than his old abode, Ben went up the Kalamazoo about half a mile, where he felled a sufficient number of young pines, with trunks of about a foot in diameter, cutting them into lengths of twenty and thirty feet, respectively. These lengths, or trunks, were rolled into the river, down which they slowly floated, until they arrived abreast of Castle Meal, where they were met by Peter, in a canoe, who towed each stick, as it arrived, to the place of landing. In this way, at the end of two days’ work, a sufficient quantity of materials was collected to commence directly on the building itself.</p>
 			<p>Log-houses are of so common occurrence, as to require no particular description of the one now put up, from us. It was rather less than thirty feet in length, and one-third narrower than it was long. The logs were notched, and the interstices were filled by pieces of the pine, split to a convenient size. The roof was of bark, and of the simplest construction, while there was neither door nor window; though one aperture was left for the first, and two for the last. Corporal Flint, however, was resolved that not only a door should be made, as well as shutters for the windows, but that the house should, in time, be picketed. When le Bourdon remonstrated with him on the folly of taking so much unnecessary pains, it led to a discussion, in which the missionary even felt constrained to join.</p>
 			<p>“What’s the use⁠—what’s the use?” exclaimed le Bourdon a little impatiently, when he found the corporal getting to be in earnest in his proposal. “Here have I lived, safely, two seasons in Castle Meal, without any pickets or palisades; and yet you want to turn this new house into a regular garrison!”</p>
 			<p>“Aye, Bourdon, that was in peaceable times; but these is war times. I’ve seen the fall of Fort Dearborn, and I don’t want to see the fall of another post this war. The Pottawattamies is hostile, even Peter owns; and the Pottawattamies has been here once, as you say yourself, and may come ag’in.”</p>
@@ -40,7 +40,7 @@
 			<p>“In my judgment,” observed the corporal, “that chief could give the history of twenty, if he was so minded.”</p>
 			<p>“There were but ten of them, brother Flint⁠—but ten; and of those ten he could give us a full and highly interesting account. One of these days, we shall hear it all; in the meantime, it may be well enough to turn one of these houses into some sort of a garrison.”</p>
 			<p>“Let it, then, be Castle Meal,” said le Bourdon; “surely, if anyone is to be defended and fortified in this way, it ought to be the women. You may easily palisade that hut, which is so much stronger than this, and so much smaller.”</p>
-			<p>With this compromise, the work went on. The corporal dug a trench four feet deep, encircling the “castle,” as happy as a lord the whole time; for this was not the first time he had been at such work, which he considered to be altogether in character, and suitable to his profession. No youthful engineer, fresh from the Point, that seat of military learning to which the republic is even more indebted for its signal successes in Mexico, than to the high military character of this population-no young aspirant for glory, fresh from this useful school, could have greater delight in laying out his first bastion, or counter-scarp, or glacis, than Corporal Flint enjoyed in fortifying Castle Meal. It will be remembered that this was the first occasion he was ever actually at the head of the engineering department Hitherto, it had been his fortune to follow; but now it had become his duty to lead. As no one else, of that party, had ever been employed in such a work on any previous occasion, the corporal did not affect to conceal the superior knowledge with which he was overflowing. Gershom he found a ready and active assistant; for, by this time, the whiskey was well out of him; and he toiled with the greater willingness, as he felt that the palisades would add to the security of his wife and sister. Neither did Parson Amen disdain to use the pick and shovel; for, while the missionary had the fullest reliance in the fact that the red men of that region were the descendants of the children of Israel, he regarded them as a portion of the chosen people who were living under the ban of the divine displeasure, and as more than usually influenced by those evil spirits, whom <abbr>St.</abbr> Paul mentions as the powers of the air. In a word, while the good missionary had all faith in the final conversion and restoration of these children of the forests, he did not overlook the facts of their present barbarity, and great propensity to scalp. He was not quite as efficient as Gershom, at this novel employment, but a certain inborn zeal rendered him both active and useful. As for the Indians, neither of them deigned to touch a tool. Pigeonswing had little opportunity for so doing, indeed, being usually, from the rising to the setting sun, out hunting for the support of the party; while Peter passed most of his time in ruminations and solitary walks. This last paid little attention to the work about the castle, either knowing it would, at any moment, by an act of treachery, be in his power to render all these precautions of no avail; or, relying on the amount of savage force that he knew was about to collect in the openings. Whenever he cast a glance on the progress of the work, it was with an eye of great indifference; once he even carried his duplicity so far, as to make a suggestion to the corporal, by means of which, as he himself expressed it, in his imperfect English⁠—“Injin no get inside, to use knife and tomahawk.” This seeming indifference, on the part of Peter, did not escape the observation of the bee-hunter, who became still less distrustful of that mysterious savage, as he noted his conduct in connection with the dispositions making for defence.</p>
+			<p>With this compromise, the work went on. The corporal dug a trench four feet deep, encircling the “castle,” as happy as a lord the whole time; for this was not the first time he had been at such work, which he considered to be altogether in character, and suitable to his profession. No youthful engineer, fresh from the Point, that seat of military learning to which the republic is even more indebted for its signal successes in Mexico, than to the high military character of this population-no young aspirant for glory, fresh from this useful school, could have greater delight in laying out his first bastion, or counter-scarp, or glacis, than Corporal Flint enjoyed in fortifying Castle Meal. It will be remembered that this was the first occasion he was ever actually at the head of the engineering department Hitherto, it had been his fortune to follow; but now it had become his duty to lead. As no one else, of that party, had ever been employed in such a work on any previous occasion, the corporal did not affect to conceal the superior knowledge with which he was overflowing. Gershom he found a ready and active assistant; for, by this time, the whiskey was well out of him; and he toiled with the greater willingness, as he felt that the palisades would add to the security of his wife and sister. Neither did Parson Amen disdain to use the pick and shovel; for, while the missionary had the fullest reliance in the fact that the red men of that region were the descendants of the children of Israel, he regarded them as a portion of the chosen people who were living under the ban of the divine displeasure, and as more than usually influenced by those evil spirits, whom <abbr>St.</abbr> Paul mentions as the powers of the air. In a word, while the good missionary had all faith in the final conversion and restoration of these children of the forests, he did not overlook the facts of their present barbarity, and great propensity to scalp. He was not quite as efficient as Gershom, at this novel employment, but a certain inborn zeal rendered him both active and useful. As for the Indians, neither of them deigned to touch a tool. Pigeons-wing had little opportunity for so doing, indeed, being usually, from the rising to the setting sun, out hunting for the support of the party; while Peter passed most of his time in ruminations and solitary walks. This last paid little attention to the work about the castle, either knowing it would, at any moment, by an act of treachery, be in his power to render all these precautions of no avail; or, relying on the amount of savage force that he knew was about to collect in the openings. Whenever he cast a glance on the progress of the work, it was with an eye of great indifference; once he even carried his duplicity so far, as to make a suggestion to the corporal, by means of which, as he himself expressed it, in his imperfect English⁠—“Injin no get inside, to use knife and tomahawk.” This seeming indifference, on the part of Peter, did not escape the observation of the bee-hunter, who became still less distrustful of that mysterious savage, as he noted his conduct in connection with the dispositions making for defence.</p>
 			<p>Le Bourdon would not allow a tree of any sort to be felled anywhere near his abode. While the corporal and his associates were busy in digging the trench, he had gone to a considerable distance, quite out of sight from Castle Meal, and near his great highway, the river, where he cut and trimmed the necessary number of burr-oaks for the palisades. Boden labored the more cheerfully at this work, for two especial reasons. One was the fact that the defences might be useful to himself, hereafter, as much against bears as against Indians; and the other, because Margery daily brought her sewing or knitting, and sat on the fallen trees, laughing and chatting, as the axe performed its duties. On three several occasions Peter was present, also, accompanying Blossom, with a kindness of manner, and an attention to her pretty little tastes in culling flowers, that would have done credit to a man of a higher school of civilization.</p>
 			<p>The reader is not to suppose, however, because the Indian pays but little outward attention to the squaws, that he is without natural feeling, or manliness of character. In some respects his chivalrous devotion to the sex is, perhaps, in no degree inferior to that of the class which makes a parade of such sentiments, and this quite as much from convention and ostentation, as from any other motive. The red man is still a savage beyond all question, but he is a savage with so many nobler and more manly qualities, when uncorrupted by communion with the worst class of whites, and not degraded by extreme poverty, as justly to render him a subject of our admiration, in self-respect, in dignity, and in simplicity of deportment. The Indian chief is usually a gentleman; and this, though he may have never heard of Revelation, and has not the smallest notion of the Atonement, and of the deep obligations it has laid on the human race.</p>
 			<p>Amid the numberless exaggerations of the day, one of particular capacity has arisen connected with the supposed character of a gentleman. Those who regard all things through the medium of religious feeling, are apt to insist that he who is a Christian, is necessarily a gentleman; while he can be no thorough gentleman, who has not most of the qualities of the Christian character. This confusion in thought and language, can lead to no really useful result, while it embarrasses the minds of many, and renders the expression of our ideas less exact and comprehensive than they would otherwise be.</p>
@@ -69,13 +69,13 @@
 			<p>“This is most extr’or’nary! I heard the horn, if ears of mine ever heard such an instrument!”</p>
 			<p>Each of the white men added as much, for every one of them had distinctly heard the blast. Still neither could suggest any probable clue to the mystery. The Indians said nothing; but it was so much in conformity with their habits for red men to maintain silence, whenever any unusual events awakened feelings in others, that no one thought their deportment out of rule. As for Peter, a statue of stone could scarcely have been colder in aspect than was this chief, who seemed to be altogether raised above every exhibition of human feeling. Even the corporal gaped, though much excited, for he had been suddenly aroused from a deep sleep; but Peter was as much superior to physical, as to moral impressions, on this occasion. He made no suggestion, manifested no concern, exhibited no curiosity; and when the men withdrew, again, to their proper habitation, he walked back with them, in the same silence and calm, as those with which he had advanced. Gershom, however, entered within the palisade, and passed the remainder of the night with his family.</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter and the Chippewa accidentally came together, as the men moved slowly toward their own hut, when the following short dialogue occurred between them.</p>
-			<p>“Is that you, Pigeonswing?” exclaimed le Bourdon, when he found his friend touching an elbow, as if by chance.</p>
+			<p>“Is that you, Pigeons-wing?” exclaimed le Bourdon, when he found his friend touching an elbow, as if by chance.</p>
 			<p>“Yes, dis me⁠—want better friend, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“No, I’m well satisfied to have you near me, in an alarm, Chippewa. We’ve stood by each other once, in troublesome times; and I think we can do as much, ag’in.”</p>
 			<p>“Yes; stand by friend⁠—dat honor. Nebber turn back on friend; dat my way.”</p>
 			<p>“Chippewa, who blew the blast on the horn?⁠—can you tell me <em>that</em>?”</p>
 			<p>“Why don’t you ask Peter? He wise chief⁠—know eb-beryt’ing. Young Injin ask ole Injin when don’t know⁠—why not young paleface ask ole man, too, eh?”</p>
-			<p>“Pigeonswing, if truth was said, I believe it would be found that you suspect Peter of having a hand in this business?”</p>
+			<p>“Pigeons-wing, if truth was said, I believe it would be found that you suspect Peter of having a hand in this business?”</p>
 			<p>This speech was rather too idiomatic for the comprehension of the Indian, who answered according to his own particular view of the matter.</p>
 			<p>“Don’t blow horn wid hand,” he said⁠—“Injin blow wid mout’, just like paleface.”</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter did not reply; but his companion’s remark had a tendency to revive in his breast certain unpleasant and distrustful feelings toward the mysterious savage, which the incidents and communications of the last two weeks had had a strong tendency to put to sleep.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-15.xhtml

@@ -28,63 +28,63 @@
 					<cite>Hillhouse</cite>
 				</blockquote>
 			</header>
-			<p>No further disturbance took place that night, and the men set about filling up the trenches in the morning steadily, as if nothing had happened. They talked a little of the extraordinary occurrence, but more was <em>thought</em> than <em>said</em>. Le Bourdon observed, however, that Pigeonswing went earlier than usual to the hunt, and that he made his preparations as if he expected to be absent more than the customary time.</p>
+			<p>No further disturbance took place that night, and the men set about filling up the trenches in the morning steadily, as if nothing had happened. They talked a little of the extraordinary occurrence, but more was <em>thought</em> than <em>said</em>. Le Bourdon observed, however, that Pigeons-wing went earlier than usual to the hunt, and that he made his preparations as if he expected to be absent more than the customary time.</p>
 			<p>As there were just one hundred feet of ditch to fill with dirt, the task was completed, and that quite thoroughly, long ere the close of the day. The pounding down of the earth consumed more time, and was much more laborious than the mere tumbling of the earth back into its former bed; but even this portion of the work was sufficiently attended to. When all was done, the corporal himself, a very critical sort of person in what he called “garrisons,” was fain to allow that it was as “pretty a piece of palisading” as he had ever laid eyes on. The “garrison” wanted only one thing, now, to render it a formidable post⁠—and that was water⁠—no spring or well existing within its narrow limit; however, he procured two or three empty barrels, portions of le Bourdon’s effects, placed them within the works, and had them filled with sweet water. By emptying this water two or three times a week, and refilling the barrels, it was thought that a sufficient provision of that great necessary would be made and kept up. Luckily the corporal’s “garrison” did not drink, and the want was so much the more easily supplied for the moment.</p>
 			<p>In truth, the chiente was now converted into a place of some strength, when it is considered that artillery had never yet penetrated to those wilds. More than half the savages of the west fought with arrows and spears in that day, as most still do when the great prairies are reached. A rifleman so posted as to have his body in a great measure covered by the trunk of a burr-oak tree, would be reasonably secure against the missives of an Indian, and, using his own fatal instrument of death, under a sense of personal security, he would become a formidable opponent to dislodge. Nor was the smallness of the work any objection to its security. A single well-armed man might suffice to defend twenty-five feet of palisades, when he would have been insufficient to make good his position with twice the extent. Then le Bourdon had cut loops on three sides of the hut itself, in order to fire at the bears, and sometimes at the deer, which had often approached the building in its days of solitude and quiet, using the window on the fourth side for the same purpose. In a word, a sense of increased security was felt by the whole party when this work was completed, though one arrangement was still wanting to render it perfect. By separating the real garrison from the nominal garrison during the night, there always existed the danger of surprise; and the corporal, now that his fortifications were finished, soon devised a plan to obviate this last-named difficulty. His expedient was very simple, and had somewhat of barrack-life about it.</p>
 			<p>Corporal Flint raised a low platform along one side of the chiente, by placing there logs of pine that were squared on one of their sides. Above, at the height of a man’s head, a roof of bark was reared on poles, and prairie grass, aided by skins, formed very comfortable barrack-beds beneath. As the men were expected to lie with their heads to the wall of the hut, and their feet outward, there was ample space for twice their number. Thither, then, were all the homely provisions for the night transported; and when Margery closed the door of the chiente, after returning the bee-hunter’s cordial good night, it was with no further apprehension for the winding of the mysterious horn.</p>
-			<p>The first night that succeeded the new arrangement passed without any disturbance. Pigeonswing did not return, as usual, at sunset, and a little uneasiness was felt on his account; but, as he made his appearance quite early in the morning, this source of concern ceased. Nor did the Chippewa come in empty-handed; he had killed not only a buck, but he had knocked over a bear in his rambles, besides taking a mess of famously fine trout from a brawling stream at no great distance. The fish were eaten for breakfast, and immediately after that meal was ended, a party.</p>
+			<p>The first night that succeeded the new arrangement passed without any disturbance. Pigeons-wing did not return, as usual, at sunset, and a little uneasiness was felt on his account; but, as he made his appearance quite early in the morning, this source of concern ceased. Nor did the Chippewa come in empty-handed; he had killed not only a buck, but he had knocked over a bear in his rambles, besides taking a mess of famously fine trout from a brawling stream at no great distance. The fish were eaten for breakfast, and immediately after that meal was ended, a party.</p>
 			<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>“No, I do not, and would be right glad to have you tell me, Pigeons-wing. 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>“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>
+			<p>“Do you intend to be present at this council on Prairie Round?” asked the bee-hunter, innocently enough. Pigeons-wing 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>
 			<p>“Don’t know,” he replied. “Hunter nebber tell. Chief want venison, and he must hunt. Just like squaw in paleface wigwam⁠—work, work⁠—sweep, sweep⁠—cook, cook⁠—never know when work done. So hunter hunt⁠—hunt⁠—hunt.”</p>
 			<p>“And for that matter, Chippewa, just like squaw in the red man’s village, too. Hoe, hoe⁠—dig, dig⁠—carry, carry⁠—so that she never knows when she may sit down to rest.”</p>
-			<p>“Yes,” returned Pigeonswing, coolly nodding his assent as he moved steadily forward. “Dat do right way wid squaw⁠—juss what he good for⁠—juss what he <em>made</em> for⁠—work for warrior and cook his dinner. Paleface make too much of squaw.”</p>
+			<p>“Yes,” returned Pigeons-wing, coolly nodding his assent as he moved steadily forward. “Dat do right way wid squaw⁠—juss what he good for⁠—juss what he <em>made</em> for⁠—work for warrior and cook his dinner. Paleface make too much of squaw.”</p>
 			<p>“Not accordin’ to your account of their manner of getting along, Injin. If the work of our squaws is never done, we can hardly make too much of them. Where does Peter keep <em>his</em> squaw?”</p>
 			<p>“Don’t know,” answered the Chippewa. “Nobody know. Don’t know where his tribe even.”</p>
 			<p>“This is very extraor’nary, considering the influence the man seems to enjoy. How is it that he has so completely got the ears of all the red men, far and near?”</p>
-			<p>To this question Pigeonswing gave no answer. His own mind was so far under Peter’s control that he did not choose to tell more than might be prudent. He was fully aware of the mysterious chief’s principal design, that of destroying the white race altogether, and of restoring the red men to their ancient rights, but several reasons prevented his entering into the plot heart and hand. In the first place, he was friendly to the “Yankees,” from whom he, personally, had received many favors and no wrongs; then, the tribe, or half-tribe, to which he belonged had been employed, more or less, by the agents of the American government as runners, and in other capacities, ever since the peace of ’83; and, lastly, he himself had been left much in different garrisons, where he had not only acquired his English, but a habit of thinking of the Americans as his friends. It might also be added that Pigeonswing, though far less gifted by nature than the mysterious Peter, had formed a truer estimate of the power of the “Yankees,” and did not believe they were to be annihilated so easily. How it happened that this Indian had come to a conclusion so much safer than that of Peter’s, a man of twice his capacity, is more than we can explain; though it was probably owing to the accidental circumstances of his more intimate associations with the whites.</p>
-			<p>The bee-hunter was by nature a man of observation, a faculty that his habits had both increased and stimulated. Had it not been for the manner in which he was submitting to the influence of Margery, he would long before have seen that in the deportment of the Chippewa which would have awakened his distrust; not that Margery in any way endeavored to blind him to what was passing before his face, but that he was fast getting to have eyes only for her. By this time she filled not only his waking, but many of his sleeping thoughts; and when she was not actually before him, charming him with her beauty, enlivening him with her artless gayety, and inspiring him with her innocent humor, he fancied she was there, imagination, perhaps, heightening all those advantages which we have enumerated. When a man is thoroughly in love, he is quite apt to be fit for very little else but to urge his suit. Such, in a certain way, proved to be the case with le Bourdon, who allowed things to pass unheeded directly before his eyes that previously to his acquaintance with Margery would not only have been observed, but which would have most probably led to some practical results. The conduct of Pigeonswing was among the circumstances that were thus overlooked by our hero. In point of fact, Peter was slowly but surely working on the mind of the Chippewa, changing all his opinions radically, and teaching him to regard every paleface as an enemy. The task, in this instance, was not easy; for Pigeonswing, in addition to his general propensities in favor of the “Yankees,” the result of mere accident, had conceived a real personal regard for le Bourdon, and was very slow to admit any views that tended to his injury. The struggle in the mind of the young warrior was severe; and twenty times was he on the point of warning his friend of the danger which impended over the whole party, when a sense of good faith toward Peter, who held his word to the contrary, prevented his so doing. This conflict of feeling was now constantly active in the breast of the young savage.</p>
-			<p>Pigeonswing had another source of uneasiness, to which his companions were entirely strangers. While hunting, his keen eyes had detected the presence of warriors in the openings. It is true he had not seen even one, but he knew that the signs he had discovered could not deceive him. Not only were warriors at hand, but warriors in considerable numbers. He had found one deserted lair, from which its late occupants could not have departed many hours when it came under his own notice. By means of that attentive sagacity which forms no small portion of the education of an American Indian, Pigeonswing was enabled to ascertain that this party, of itself, numbered seventeen, all of whom were men and warriors. The first fact was easily enough to be seen, perhaps, there being just seventeen different impressions left in the grass; but that all these persons were armed men, was learned by Pigeonswing through evidence that would have been overlooked by most persons. By the length of the lairs he was satisfied none but men of full stature had been there; and he even examined sufficiently close to make out the proofs that all but four of these men carried firearms. Strange as it may seem to those who do not know how keen the senses become when whetted by the apprehensions and wants of savage life, Pigeonswing was enabled to discover signs which showed that the excepted were provided with bows and arrows, and spears.</p>
+			<p>To this question Pigeons-wing gave no answer. His own mind was so far under Peter’s control that he did not choose to tell more than might be prudent. He was fully aware of the mysterious chief’s principal design, that of destroying the white race altogether, and of restoring the red men to their ancient rights, but several reasons prevented his entering into the plot heart and hand. In the first place, he was friendly to the “Yankees,” from whom he, personally, had received many favors and no wrongs; then, the tribe, or half-tribe, to which he belonged had been employed, more or less, by the agents of the American government as runners, and in other capacities, ever since the peace of ’83; and, lastly, he himself had been left much in different garrisons, where he had not only acquired his English, but a habit of thinking of the Americans as his friends. It might also be added that Pigeons-wing, though far less gifted by nature than the mysterious Peter, had formed a truer estimate of the power of the “Yankees,” and did not believe they were to be annihilated so easily. How it happened that this Indian had come to a conclusion so much safer than that of Peter’s, a man of twice his capacity, is more than we can explain; though it was probably owing to the accidental circumstances of his more intimate associations with the whites.</p>
+			<p>The bee-hunter was by nature a man of observation, a faculty that his habits had both increased and stimulated. Had it not been for the manner in which he was submitting to the influence of Margery, he would long before have seen that in the deportment of the Chippewa which would have awakened his distrust; not that Margery in any way endeavored to blind him to what was passing before his face, but that he was fast getting to have eyes only for her. By this time she filled not only his waking, but many of his sleeping thoughts; and when she was not actually before him, charming him with her beauty, enlivening him with her artless gayety, and inspiring him with her innocent humor, he fancied she was there, imagination, perhaps, heightening all those advantages which we have enumerated. When a man is thoroughly in love, he is quite apt to be fit for very little else but to urge his suit. Such, in a certain way, proved to be the case with le Bourdon, who allowed things to pass unheeded directly before his eyes that previously to his acquaintance with Margery would not only have been observed, but which would have most probably led to some practical results. The conduct of Pigeons-wing was among the circumstances that were thus overlooked by our hero. In point of fact, Peter was slowly but surely working on the mind of the Chippewa, changing all his opinions radically, and teaching him to regard every paleface as an enemy. The task, in this instance, was not easy; for Pigeons-wing, in addition to his general propensities in favor of the “Yankees,” the result of mere accident, had conceived a real personal regard for le Bourdon, and was very slow to admit any views that tended to his injury. The struggle in the mind of the young warrior was severe; and twenty times was he on the point of warning his friend of the danger which impended over the whole party, when a sense of good faith toward Peter, who held his word to the contrary, prevented his so doing. This conflict of feeling was now constantly active in the breast of the young savage.</p>
+			<p>Pigeons-wing had another source of uneasiness, to which his companions were entirely strangers. While hunting, his keen eyes had detected the presence of warriors in the openings. It is true he had not seen even one, but he knew that the signs he had discovered could not deceive him. Not only were warriors at hand, but warriors in considerable numbers. He had found one deserted lair, from which its late occupants could not have departed many hours when it came under his own notice. By means of that attentive sagacity which forms no small portion of the education of an American Indian, Pigeons-wing was enabled to ascertain that this party, of itself, numbered seventeen, all of whom were men and warriors. The first fact was easily enough to be seen, perhaps, there being just seventeen different impressions left in the grass; but that all these persons were armed men, was learned by Pigeons-wing through evidence that would have been overlooked by most persons. By the length of the lairs he was satisfied none but men of full stature had been there; and he even examined sufficiently close to make out the proofs that all but four of these men carried firearms. Strange as it may seem to those who do not know how keen the senses become when whetted by the apprehensions and wants of savage life, Pigeons-wing was enabled to discover signs which showed that the excepted were provided with bows and arrows, and spears.</p>
 			<p>When the bee-hunter and his companion came in sight of the carcase of the bear, which they did shortly after the last remark which we have given in the dialogue recorded, the former exclaimed with a little surprise:</p>
 			<p>“How’s this, Chippewa! You have killed this beast with your bow! Did you not hunt with the rifle yesterday?”</p>
-			<p>“Bad fire rifle off now-a-day,” answered Pigeonswing, sententiously. “Make noise⁠—noise no good.”</p>
+			<p>“Bad fire rifle off now-a-day,” answered Pigeons-wing, sententiously. “Make noise⁠—noise no good.”</p>
 			<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 wartime 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>“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, Pigeons-wing, 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 paleface to be wid paleface when red man go on warpath. 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 redskins that they are Jews.”</p>
+			<p>“I see you want to be rid of us, Pigeons-wing; but the parson has no thought of quitting this part of the world until he has convinced all the redskins 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>
+			<p>“I know very little more about it than you do yourself, Pigeons-wing; but such as my poor knowledge is, you’re welcome to it. You’ve heard of the Bible, I dare say?”</p>
 			<p>“Sartain⁠—med’cine-man read him Sunday. Good book to read, some t’ink.”</p>
 			<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 redskins 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>“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 paleface 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>“No, no, Pigeons-wing, 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 paleface 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>
 			<p>“Yes,” answered the Chippewa, nodding his head in assent. “Den Manitou put plenty blood in him⁠—dat make red warrior. Bible good book, if tell dat tradition.”</p>
 			<p>“The Bible says nothing about any colors; but we suppose the man first made to have been a paleface. At any rate, the palefaces have got possession of the best parts of the earth, as it might be, and I think they mean to keep them. First come, first served, you know. The palefaces are many, and are strong.”</p>
-			<p>“Stop!” exclaimed Pigeonswing, in a way that was very unusual for an Indian to interrupt another when speaking; “want to ask question⁠—how many paleface you t’ink is dere? Ebber count him?”</p>
+			<p>“Stop!” exclaimed Pigeons-wing, in a way that was very unusual for an Indian to interrupt another when speaking; “want to ask question⁠—how many paleface you t’ink is dere? Ebber count him?”</p>
 			<p>“Count him!⁠—Why, Chippewa, you might as well count the bees, as they buzz around a fallen tree. You saw me cut down the tree I last discovered, and saw the movement of the little animals, and may judge what success tongue or eye would have in counting <em>them</em>; now, just as true would it be to suppose that any man could count the palefaces on this earth.”</p>
-			<p>“Don’t want count <em>all</em>,” answered Pigeonswing. “Want to know how many dis side of great salt lake.”</p>
+			<p>“Don’t want count <em>all</em>,” answered Pigeons-wing. “Want to know how many dis side of great salt lake.”</p>
 			<p>“That’s another matter, and more easily come at. I understand you now, Chippewa; you wish to know how many of us there are in the country we call America?”</p>
-			<p>“Juss so,” returned Pigeonswing, nodding in assent. “Dat juss it⁠—juss what Injin want to know.”</p>
+			<p>“Juss so,” returned Pigeons-wing, nodding in assent. “Dat juss it⁠—juss what Injin want to know.”</p>
 			<p>“Well, we do have a count of our own people, from time to time, and I suppose come about as near to the truth as men can come in such a matter. There must be about eight millions of us altogether; that is, old and young, big and little, male and female.”</p>
 			<p>“How many warrior you got?⁠—don’t want hear about squaw and pappoose.”</p>
 			<p>“No, I see you’re warlike this morning, and want to see how we are likely to come out of this struggle with your great Canada father. Counting all round, I think we might muster hard on upon a million of fighting men⁠—good, bad, and indifferent; that is to say, there must be a million of us of proper age to go into the wars.”</p>
-			<p>Pigeonswing made no answer for near a minute. Both he and the bee-hunter had come to a halt alongside of the bear’s meat, and the latter was beginning to prepare his own portion of the load for transportation, while his companion stood thus motionless, lost in thought. Suddenly, Pigeonswing recovered his recollection, and resumed the conversation, by saying:</p>
+			<p>Pigeons-wing made no answer for near a minute. Both he and the bee-hunter had come to a halt alongside of the bear’s meat, and the latter was beginning to prepare his own portion of the load for transportation, while his companion stood thus motionless, lost in thought. Suddenly, Pigeons-wing recovered his recollection, and resumed the conversation, by saying:</p>
 			<p>“What million mean, Bourdon? How many time so’ger at Detroit, and so’ger on lakes?”</p>
 			<p>“A million is more than the leaves on all the trees in these openings”⁠—le Bourdon’s notions were a little exaggerated, perhaps, but this was what he <em>said</em>⁠—“yes, more than the leaves on all these oaks, far and near. A million is a countless number, and I suppose would make a row of men as long as from this spot to the shores of the great salt lake, if not farther.”</p>
 			<p>It is probable that the bee-hunter himself had no very clear notion of the distance of which he spoke, or of the number of men it would actually require to fill the space he mentioned; but his answer sufficed deeply to impress the imagination of the Indian, who now helped le Bourdon to secure his load to his back, in silence, receiving the same service in return. When the meat of the bear was securely bestowed, each resumed his rifle, and the friends commenced their march in, toward the chiente; conversing, as they went, on the matter which still occupied their minds. When the bee-hunter again took up the history of the creation, it was to speak of our common mother.</p>
 			<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 <em>man</em>, 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 Pigeons-wing, 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>
@@ -95,7 +95,7 @@
 			<p>“T’ink, den, more paleface dan Injin, eh?” asked the Chippewa, with an interest so manifest that he actually stopped in his semi-trot, in order to put the question. “More paleface warrior dan red men?”</p>
 			<p>“More! Aye, a thousand times more, Chippewa. Where you could show one warrior, we could show a thousand!”</p>
 			<p>Now, this was not strictly true, perhaps, but it answered the purpose of deeply impressing the Chippewa with the uselessness of Peter’s plans, and sustained as it was by his early predilections, it served to keep him on the right side, in the crisis which was approaching. The discourse continued, much in the same strain, until the men got in with their bear’s meat, having been preceded some time by the others, with the venison.</p>
-			<p>It is a little singular that neither the questions, nor the manner of Pigeonswing, awakened any distrust in the bee-hunter. So far from this, the latter regarded all that had passed as perfectly natural, and as likely to arise in conversation, in the way of pure speculation, as in any other manner. Pigeonswing intended to be guarded in what he said and did, for, as yet, he had not made up his mind which side he would really espouse, in the event of the great project coming to a head. He had the desire, natural to a red man, to avenge the wrongs committed against his race; but this desire existed in a form a good deal mitigated by his intercourse with the “Yankees,” and his regard for individuals. It had, nevertheless, strangely occurred to the savage reasoning of this young warrior that possibly some arrangement might be effected, by means of which he should take scalps from the Canadians, while Peter and his other followers were working their will on the Americans. In this confused condition was the mind of the Chippewa, when he and his companion threw down their loads, near the place where the provision of game was usually kept. This was beneath the tree, near the spring and the cookhouse, in order that no inconvenience should arise from its proximity to the place where the party dwelt and slept. For a siege, should there be occasion to shut themselves up within the “garrison,” the men depended on the pickled pork, and a quantity of dried meat; of the latter of which the missionary had brought a considerable supply in his own canoe. Among these stores were a few dozen of buffaloes’ or bisons’ tongues, a delicacy that would honor the best table in the civilized world, though then so common among the western hunters, as scarce to be deemed food as good as the common salted pork and beef of the settlements.</p>
+			<p>It is a little singular that neither the questions, nor the manner of Pigeons-wing, awakened any distrust in the bee-hunter. So far from this, the latter regarded all that had passed as perfectly natural, and as likely to arise in conversation, in the way of pure speculation, as in any other manner. Pigeons-wing intended to be guarded in what he said and did, for, as yet, he had not made up his mind which side he would really espouse, in the event of the great project coming to a head. He had the desire, natural to a red man, to avenge the wrongs committed against his race; but this desire existed in a form a good deal mitigated by his intercourse with the “Yankees,” and his regard for individuals. It had, nevertheless, strangely occurred to the savage reasoning of this young warrior that possibly some arrangement might be effected, by means of which he should take scalps from the Canadians, while Peter and his other followers were working their will on the Americans. In this confused condition was the mind of the Chippewa, when he and his companion threw down their loads, near the place where the provision of game was usually kept. This was beneath the tree, near the spring and the cookhouse, in order that no inconvenience should arise from its proximity to the place where the party dwelt and slept. For a siege, should there be occasion to shut themselves up within the “garrison,” the men depended on the pickled pork, and a quantity of dried meat; of the latter of which the missionary had brought a considerable supply in his own canoe. Among these stores were a few dozen of buffaloes’ or bisons’ tongues, a delicacy that would honor the best table in the civilized world, though then so common among the western hunters, as scarce to be deemed food as good as the common salted pork and beef of the settlements.</p>
 			<p>The evening that followed proved to be one of singular softness and sweetness. The sun went down in a cloudless sky, and gentle airs from the southwest fanned the warm cheeks of Margery, as she sat, resting from the labors of the day, with le Bourdon at her side, speaking of the pleasures of a residence in such a spot. The youth was eloquent, for he felt all that he said, and the maiden was pleased. The young man could expatiate on bees in a way to arrest anyone’s attention; and Margery delighted to hear him relate his adventures with these little creatures; his successes, losses, and journeys.</p>
 			<p>“But are you not often lonely, Bourdon, living here in the openings, whole summers at a time, without a living soul to speak to?” demanded Margery, coloring to the eyes, the instant the question was asked, lest it should subject her to an imputation against which her modesty revolted, that of wishing to draw the discourse to a discussion on the means of preventing this solitude in future.</p>
 			<p>“I have not been, hitherto,” answered le Bourdon, so frankly as at once to quiet his companion’s sensitiveness, “though I will not answer for the future. Now that I have so many with me, we may make some of them necessary. Mind⁠—I say <em>some</em>, not all of my present guests. If I could have my pick, pretty Margery, the present company would give me <em>all</em> I can desire, and more too. I should not think of going to Detroit for that companion, since she is to be found so much nearer.”</p>
@@ -108,7 +108,7 @@
 			<p>“The horn!⁠—The horn has been blown twice, and, I think, we shall soon hear it again.”</p>
 			<p>“The horn was hanging at the door of the chiente, and the conch, too. It will be easy to see if they are in their places.”</p>
 			<p>It was only necessary to walk around the walls of the hut, to its opposite side, in order to ascertain this fact. Le Bourdon did so, accompanied by the corporal, and just as each laid a hand on the instruments, which were suspended in their proper places, a heavy rush was made against the gate, as if to try its fastenings. These pushes were repeated several times, with a violence that menaced the bars. Of course, the two men stepped to the spot, a distance of only a few paces, the gateway of the palisades and the door of the chiente being contiguous to each other, and immediately ascertained that it was the mastiff, endeavoring to force his way in. The bee-hunter admitted the dog, which had been trained to suppress his bark, though this animal was too brave and large to throw away his breath when he had better rely on his force. Powerful animals, of this race, are seldom noisy, it being the province of the cur, both among dogs and men, to be blustering and spitting out their venom, at all hours and seasons. Hive, however, in addition to his natural disposition, had been taught, from the time he was a pup, not to betray his presence unnecessarily by a bark; and it was seldom that his deep throat opened beneath the arches of the oaks. When it did, it told like the roaring of the lion in the desert.</p>
-			<p>Hive was no sooner admitted to the “garrison,” than he manifested just as strong a desire to get out, as a moment before he had manifested to get in. This, le Bourdon well knew, indicated the presence of some thing, or creature, that did not properly belong to the vicinity. After consulting with the corporal, Pigeonswing was called; and leaving him as a sentinel at the gate, the two others made a sortie. The corporal was as brave as a lion, and loved all such movements, though he fully anticipated encountering savages, while his companion expected an interview with bears.</p>
+			<p>Hive was no sooner admitted to the “garrison,” than he manifested just as strong a desire to get out, as a moment before he had manifested to get in. This, le Bourdon well knew, indicated the presence of some thing, or creature, that did not properly belong to the vicinity. After consulting with the corporal, Pigeons-wing was called; and leaving him as a sentinel at the gate, the two others made a sortie. The corporal was as brave as a lion, and loved all such movements, though he fully anticipated encountering savages, while his companion expected an interview with bears.</p>
 			<p>As this movement was made at the invitation of the dog, it was judiciously determined to let him act as pioneer, on the advance. Previously to quitting the defences, however, the two adventurers looked closely to their arms. Each examined the priming, saw that his horn and pouch were accessible, and loosened his knife in its sheath. The corporal, moreover, fixed his “baggonet,” as he called the formidable, glittering instrument that usually embellished the end of his musket⁠—a <em>musket</em> being the weapon he chose to carry, while the bee-hunter himself was armed with a long western <em>rifle</em>.</p>
 		</section>
 	</body>

src/epub/text/chapter-17.xhtml

@@ -48,9 +48,9 @@
 			<p>“Thus it was, my children,” Parson Amen continued, the circle being just as quiet and attentive as if no interruption had occurred⁠—“the Great Spirit, selecting from among the nations of the earth, one to be his chosen people. I cannot stop, now, to tell you all he did for this nation, in the way of wonders and powers; but, finally, he placed them in a beautiful country, where milk and honey abounded, and made them its masters. From that people, in his earthly character, came the Christ whom we missionaries preach to you, and who is the great head of our church. Although the Jews, or Israelites, as we call that people, were thus honored and thus favored of the Manitou, they were but men, they had the weaknesses of men. On more than one occasion they displeased the Great Spirit, and that so seriously as to draw down condign punishment on themselves, and on their wives and children. In various ways were they visited for their backsliding and sins, each time repenting and receiving forgiveness. At length the Great Spirit, tired of their forgetfulness and crimes, allowed an army to come into their land, and to carry away as captives no less than ten of their twelve tribes; putting their people in strange hunting-grounds. Now, this happened many thousands of moons since, and no one can say with certainty what has become of those captives, whom Christians are accustomed to call ‘the lost tribes of Israel.’ ”</p>
 			<p>Here the missionary paused to arrange his thoughts, and a slight murmur was heard in the circle as the chiefs communed together, in interested comments on what had just been said. The pause, however, was short, and the speaker again proceeded, safe from any ungracious interruption, among auditors so trained in self-restraint.</p>
 			<p>“Children, I shall not now say anything touching the birth of Christ, the redemption of the world, and the history of the two tribes that remained in the land where God had placed his people; for that is a part of the subject that comes properly within the scope of my ordinary teaching. At present I wish only to speak of yourselves; of the red man of America, of his probable origin and end, and of a great discovery that many of us think we have made, on this most interesting topic in the history of the good book. Does anyone present know aught of the ten lost tribes of whom I have spoken?”</p>
-			<p>Eye met eye, and expectation was lively among those primitive and untaught savages. At length Crowsfeather arose to answer, the missionary standing the whole time, motionless, as if waiting for a reply.</p>
+			<p>Eye met eye, and expectation was lively among those primitive and untaught savages. At length Crows-feather arose to answer, the missionary standing the whole time, motionless, as if waiting for a reply.</p>
 			<p>“My brother has told us a tradition,” said the Pottawattamie. “It is a good tradition. It is a strange tradition. Red men love to hear such traditions. It is wonderful that so many as ten tribes should be <em>lost</em>, at the same time, and no one know what has become of them! My brother asks us if <em>we</em> know what has become of these ten tribes. How should poor red men, who live on their hunting-grounds, and who are busy when the grass grows in getting together food for their squaws and pappooses, against a time when the buffalo can find nothing to eat in this part of the world, know anything of a people that they never saw? My brother has asked a question that he only can answer. Let him tell us where these ten tribes are to be found, if he knows the place. We should like to go and look at them.”</p>
-			<p>“Here!” exclaimed the missionary, the instant Crowsfeather ceased speaking, and even before he was seated. “Here⁠—in this council⁠—on these prairies⁠—in these openings⁠—here, on the shores of the great lakes of sweet water, and throughout the land of America, are these tribes to be found. The red man is a Jew; a Jew is a red man. The Manitou has brought the scattered people of Israel to this part of the world, and I see his power in the wonderful fact. Nothing but a miracle could have done this!”</p>
+			<p>“Here!” exclaimed the missionary, the instant Crows-feather ceased speaking, and even before he was seated. “Here⁠—in this council⁠—on these prairies⁠—in these openings⁠—here, on the shores of the great lakes of sweet water, and throughout the land of America, are these tribes to be found. The red man is a Jew; a Jew is a red man. The Manitou has brought the scattered people of Israel to this part of the world, and I see his power in the wonderful fact. Nothing but a miracle could have done this!”</p>
 			<p>Great was the admiration of the Indians at this announcement! None of their own traditions gave this account of their origin; but there is reason to believe, on the other hand, that none of them contradict it. Nevertheless, here was a medicine-priest of the palefaces boldly proclaiming the fact, and great was the wonder of all who heard, thereat! Having spoken, the missionary again paused, that his words might produce their effect. Bear’s Meat now became his interrogator, rising respectfully, and standing during the colloquy that succeeded.</p>
 			<p>“My brother has spoken a great tradition,” said the Menominee. “Did he first hear it from his fathers?”</p>
 			<p>“In part, only. The history of the lost tribes has come down to us from our fathers; it is written in the good book of the palefaces; the book that contains the word of the Great Spirit.”</p>
@@ -63,7 +63,7 @@
 			<p>“Are there, then, two roads to that far-off land, where the red men are thought to have once lived?</p>
 			<p>“Even so. The traveller may come to this spot from that land by way of the rising sun, or by way of the setting sun.”</p>
 			<p>The general movement among the members of the council denoted the surprise with which this account was received. As the Indians, until they have had much intercourse with the whites, very generally believe the earth to be flat, it was not easy for them to comprehend how a given point could be reached by directly opposite routes. Such an apparent contradiction would be very likely to extort further questions.</p>
-			<p>“My brother is a medicine-man of the palefaces; his hairs are gray,” observed Crowsfeather. “Some of your medicine-men are good, and some wicked. It is so with the medicine-men of the redskins. Good and bad are to be found in all nations. A medicine-man of your people cheated my young men by promising to show them where firewater grows. He did not show them. He let them smell, but he did not let them drink. That was a wicked medicine-man. His scalp would not be safe did my young men see it again”⁠—here the bee-hunter, insensibly to himself, felt for his rifle, making sure that he had it between his legs; the corporal being a little surprised at the sudden start he gave. “His hair does not grow on his head closer than the trees grow to the ground. Even a tree can be cut down. But all medicine-men are not alike. My brother is a <em>good</em> medicine-man. All he says may not be just as he thinks, but he <em>believes</em> what he says. It is wonderful how men can look two ways; but it is more wonderful that they should go to the same place by paths that lead before and behind. This we do not understand; my brother will tell us how it can be.”</p>
+			<p>“My brother is a medicine-man of the palefaces; his hairs are gray,” observed Crows-feather. “Some of your medicine-men are good, and some wicked. It is so with the medicine-men of the redskins. Good and bad are to be found in all nations. A medicine-man of your people cheated my young men by promising to show them where firewater grows. He did not show them. He let them smell, but he did not let them drink. That was a wicked medicine-man. His scalp would not be safe did my young men see it again”⁠—here the bee-hunter, insensibly to himself, felt for his rifle, making sure that he had it between his legs; the corporal being a little surprised at the sudden start he gave. “His hair does not grow on his head closer than the trees grow to the ground. Even a tree can be cut down. But all medicine-men are not alike. My brother is a <em>good</em> medicine-man. All he says may not be just as he thinks, but he <em>believes</em> what he says. It is wonderful how men can look two ways; but it is more wonderful that they should go to the same place by paths that lead before and behind. This we do not understand; my brother will tell us how it can be.”</p>
 			<p>“I believe I understand what it is that my children would know. They think the earth is flat, but the palefaces know that it is round. He who travels and travels toward the setting sun would come to this very spot, if he travelled long enough. The distance would be great, but the end of every straight path in this world is the place of starting.”</p>
 			<p>“My brother says this. He says many curious things. I have heard a medicine-man of his people say that the palefaces have seen their Great Spirit, talked with him, walked with him. It is not so with us Indians. Our Manitou speaks to us in thunder only. We are ignorant, and wish to learn more than we now know. Has my brother ever travelled on that path which ends where it begins? Once, on the prairies, I lost my way. There was snow, and glad was I to find tracks. I followed the tracks. But one traveller had passed. After walking an hour, two had passed. Another hour, and the three had passed, Then I saw the tracks were my own, and that I had been walking, as the squaws reason, round and round, but not going ahead.”</p>
 			<p>“I understand my friend, but he is wrong. It is no matter which path the lost tribes travelled to get here. The main question is, whether they came at all. I see in the red men, in their customs, their history, their looks, and even in their traditions, proof that they are these Jews, once the favored people of the Great Spirit.”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-18.xhtml

@@ -30,11 +30,11 @@
 			</header>
 			<p>It often happens in the recesses of the wilderness, that, in the absence of men, the animals hunt each other. The wolves, in particular, following their instincts, are often seen in packs, pressing upon the heels of the antelope, deer, and other creatures of that family, which depend for safety more on their speed than on their horns. On the present occasion, a fine buck, with a pack of fifty wolves close after it, came bounding through the narrow gorge that contained the rill, and entered the amphitheatre of the bottomland. Its headlong career was first checked by the sight of the fire; then arose a dark circle of men, each armed and accustomed to the chase. In much less time than it has taken to record the fact, that little piece of bottomland was crowded with wolves, deer, and men. The headlong impetuosity of the chase and flight had prevented the scent from acting, and all were huddled together, for a single instant, in a sort of inextricable confusion. Brief as was this melee, it sufficed to allow of a young hunter’s driving his arrow through the heart of the buck, and enabled others among the Indians to kill several of the wolves; some with arrows, others with knives, <abbr class="eoc">etc.</abbr> No rifle was used, probably from a wish not to give an alarm.</p>
 			<p>The wolves were quite as much astonished at this unexpected rencontre, as the Indians. They were not a set of hungry and formidable beasts, that famine might urge to any pass of desperation; but a pack hunting, like gentlemen, for their own amusement. Their headlong speed was checked less by the crowd of men, than by the sight of fire. In their impetuosity, it is probable that they would have gone clean through five hundred men, but no wild beast will willingly encounter fire. Three or four of the chiefs, aware of this dread, seized brands, and throwing themselves, without care, into the midst of the pack, the animals went howling off, scattering in all directions. Unfortunately for its own welfare, one went directly through the circle, plunged into the thicket beyond, and made its way quite up to the fallen tree, on which the bee-hunter and the corporal had taken their stations. This was altogether too much for the training, or for the philosophy of Hive. Perceiving a recognized enemy rushing toward him, that noble mastiff met him in a small cleared spot, open-mouthed, and for a few moments a fierce combat was the consequence. Dogs and wolves do not fight in silence, and loud were the growls and yells on this occasion. In vain did le Bourdon endeavor to drag his mastiff off; the animal was on the high-road to victory, when it is ever hard to arrest the steps of the combatant. Almost as a matter of course, some of the chiefs rushed toward the spot, when the presence of the two spectators first became known to them. At the next moment the wolf lay dead at the feet of Hive; and the parties stood gazing at each other, equally taken by surprise, and equally at a loss to know what to do next.</p>
-			<p>It was perhaps fortunate for the bee-hunter, that neither Crowsfeather, nor any other of the Pottawattamies, was present at this first rencontre, or he might have fallen on the spot, a victim to their disappointed hopes of drinking at a whiskey-spring. The chiefs present were strangers to le Bourdon, and they stared at him, in a way to show that his person was equally unknown to them. But it was necessary, now, to follow the Indians back to their circle, where the whole party soon collected again, the wolves having gone off on their several routes, to put up some other animal, and run him to death.</p>
-			<p>During the whole of that excited and tumultuous scene, which would probably now be termed a “stampede” in the Mexican-Americo-English of the day, Peter had not stirred. Familiar with such occurrences, he felt the importance of manifesting an unmoved calm, as a quality most likely to impress the minds of his companions with a profound sense of his dignity and self-command. While all around him was in a tumult, he stood in his tracks, motionless as a statue. Even the fortitude of the worthy missionary was shaken by the wild tempest that momentarily prevailed; and the good man forgot the Jews in his alarm at wolves, forgot the mighty past in his apprehensions for the uncomfortable and ill-boding present time. All this, however, was soon over, and order, and quiet, and a dignified calm once more reigned in the circle. Fagots were thrown on the fire; and the two captives, or spectators, stood as near it, the observed of all observers, as the heat rendered comfortable. It was just then that Crowsfeather and his companions first recognized the magician of the whiskey-spring.</p>
-			<p>Peter saw the discovery of the two spectators with some uneasiness. The time had not come when he intended to strike his blow; and he had seen signs among those Pottawattamies, when at the mouth of the river, which had told him how little they were disposed to look with favor on one who had so grievously trifled with their hopes. His first care, therefore, was to interpose his authority and influence between le Bourdon and any project of revenge, which Crowsfeather’s young men might be apt to devise, as soon as they, too, laid eyes on the offender. This was done in a characteristic and wily manner.</p>
+			<p>It was perhaps fortunate for the bee-hunter, that neither Crows-feather, nor any other of the Pottawattamies, was present at this first rencontre, or he might have fallen on the spot, a victim to their disappointed hopes of drinking at a whiskey-spring. The chiefs present were strangers to le Bourdon, and they stared at him, in a way to show that his person was equally unknown to them. But it was necessary, now, to follow the Indians back to their circle, where the whole party soon collected again, the wolves having gone off on their several routes, to put up some other animal, and run him to death.</p>
+			<p>During the whole of that excited and tumultuous scene, which would probably now be termed a “stampede” in the Mexican-Americo-English of the day, Peter had not stirred. Familiar with such occurrences, he felt the importance of manifesting an unmoved calm, as a quality most likely to impress the minds of his companions with a profound sense of his dignity and self-command. While all around him was in a tumult, he stood in his tracks, motionless as a statue. Even the fortitude of the worthy missionary was shaken by the wild tempest that momentarily prevailed; and the good man forgot the Jews in his alarm at wolves, forgot the mighty past in his apprehensions for the uncomfortable and ill-boding present time. All this, however, was soon over, and order, and quiet, and a dignified calm once more reigned in the circle. Fagots were thrown on the fire; and the two captives, or spectators, stood as near it, the observed of all observers, as the heat rendered comfortable. It was just then that Crows-feather and his companions first recognized the magician of the whiskey-spring.</p>
+			<p>Peter saw the discovery of the two spectators with some uneasiness. The time had not come when he intended to strike his blow; and he had seen signs among those Pottawattamies, when at the mouth of the river, which had told him how little they were disposed to look with favor on one who had so grievously trifled with their hopes. His first care, therefore, was to interpose his authority and influence between le Bourdon and any project of revenge, which Crows-feather’s young men might be apt to devise, as soon as they, too, laid eyes on the offender. This was done in a characteristic and wily manner.</p>
 			<p>“Does my brother love honey?” asked the tribeless chief of the leader of the Pottawattamies present, who sat near him, gazing on le Bourdon much as the cat looks upon the mouse, ere it makes it its prey. “Some Injins are fond of that sweet food: if my brother is one of that sort, I can tell him how to fill his wigwam with honey with little trouble.”</p>
-			<p>At this suggestion, coming from such a source, Crowsfeather could not do less than express his thanks, and his readiness to hear what further might be in reserve for him. Peter then alluded to le Bourdon’s art, describing him as being the most skilful bee-hunter of the West. So great was his art in that way, that no Indian had ever yet seen his equal. It was Peter’s intention to make him exercise his craft soon, for the benefit of the chiefs and warriors present, who might then return to their village, carrying with them stores of honey to gladden the hearts of their squaws and pappooses. This artifice succeeded; for the Indians are not expert in taking this article of food, which so much abounds in the forests, both on account of the difficulty they find in felling the trees, and on account of the “angle-ing” part of the process, which much exceeds their skill in mathematics. On the other hand, the last is just the sort of skill a common white American would be likely to manifest, his readiness and ingenuity in all such processes almost amounting to an instinct.</p>
+			<p>At this suggestion, coming from such a source, Crows-feather could not do less than express his thanks, and his readiness to hear what further might be in reserve for him. Peter then alluded to le Bourdon’s art, describing him as being the most skilful bee-hunter of the West. So great was his art in that way, that no Indian had ever yet seen his equal. It was Peter’s intention to make him exercise his craft soon, for the benefit of the chiefs and warriors present, who might then return to their village, carrying with them stores of honey to gladden the hearts of their squaws and pappooses. This artifice succeeded; for the Indians are not expert in taking this article of food, which so much abounds in the forests, both on account of the difficulty they find in felling the trees, and on account of the “angle-ing” part of the process, which much exceeds their skill in mathematics. On the other hand, the last is just the sort of skill a common white American would be likely to manifest, his readiness and ingenuity in all such processes almost amounting to an instinct.</p>
 			<p>Having thus thrown his mantle around le Bourdon for the moment, Peter then deemed it the better course to finish the historical investigation in which the council had been so much interested, when the strange interruption by the wolves occurred. With this view, therefore, he rose himself, and recalled the minds of all present to this interesting subject, by a short speech. This he did, especially to prevent any premature attack on the person of le Bourdon.</p>
 			<p>“Brothers,” said this mysterious chief, “it is good for Injins to learn. When they learn a thing, they know it; then they may learn another. It is in this way that the palefaces do; it makes them wise, and puts it in their power to take away our hunting-grounds. A man that knows nothing is only a child that has grown up too fast. He may be big⁠—may take long steps⁠—may be strong enough to carry burdens⁠—may love venison and buffaloes’ humps; but his size is only in the way; his steps he does not know where to direct; his burdens he does not know how to choose; and he has to beg food of the squaws, instead of carrying it himself to their wigwams. He has not learned how to take game. We must all learn. It is right. When we have learned how to take game, and how to strike the enemy, and how to keep the wigwam filled, then we may learn traditions. Traditions tell us of our fathers. We have many traditions. Some are talked of, even to the squaws. Some are told around the fires of the tribes. Some are known only to the aged chiefs. This is right, too. Injins ought not to say too much, nor too little. They should say what is wise⁠—what is best. But my brother, the medicine-man of the palefaces, says that our traditions have not told us everything. Something has been kept back. If so, it is best to learn that too. If we are Jews, and not Injins, we ought to know it. If we are Injins, and not Jews, our brother ought to know it, and not call us by a wrong name. Let him speak. We listen.”</p>
 			<p>Here Peter slowly resumed his seat. As the missionary understood all that had been said, he next arose, and proceeded to make good, as far as he was able, and in such language as his knowledge of Indian habits suggested, his theory of the lost tribes.</p>
@@ -74,26 +74,26 @@
 			<p>Thus, too, was it with the corporal. Unless courage, and other military qualities, were manifested precisely in the way in which <em>he</em> had been trained, they were not courage and military qualities at all. Every virtue has its especial and conventional accessories, according to this school of morals; nothing of the sort remaining as it came from above, in the simple abstract qualities of right and wrong. On such feelings and principles as these, do men get to be dogmatical, narrow-minded, and conceited!</p>
 			<p>Our three white men pursued their way back to the “garrison,” conversing as they went, much in the manner they did in the dialogue we have just recorded. Neither Parson Amen nor the corporal seemed to apprehend anything, notwithstanding the extraordinary scene in which one had been an actor, and of which the other had been a witness. Their wonder and apprehensions, no doubt, were much mitigated by the fact, that it was understood Peter was to meet a large collection of the chiefs in the Openings, and the minds of all were, more or less, prepared to see some such assemblage as had that night got together. The free manner in which the mysterious chief led the missionary to the circle, was, of itself, some proof that <em>he</em> did not desire concealment; and even le Bourdon admitted, when they came to discuss the details, that this was a circumstance that told materially in favor of the friendliness of his intentions. Still, the bee-hunter had his doubts; and most sincerely did he wish that all in Castle Meal, Blossom in particular, were safe within the limits of civilized settlements.</p>
 			<p>On reaching the “garrison,” all was safe. Whiskey Centre watched the gate⁠—a sober man, now, perforce, if not by inclination; for being in the Openings, in this respect, is like being at sea with an empty spirit-room. He was aware that several had passed out, but was surprised to learn that Peter was of the number. That gate Peter had not passed, of a certainty; and how else he could quit the palisades was not easily understood. It was possible to climb over them, it is true; but the feat would be attended with so great an exertion, and would be so likely to lead to a noise which would expose the effort, that all had great difficulty in believing a man so dignified and reserved in manner as this mysterious chief would be apt to resort to such means of quitting the place.</p>
-			<p>As for the Chippewa, Gershom reported his return a few minutes before; and the bee-hunter entered, to look for that tried friend, as soon as he learned the fact. He found Pigeonswing laying aside his accoutrements, previously to lying down to take his rest.</p>
+			<p>As for the Chippewa, Gershom reported his return a few minutes before; and the bee-hunter entered, to look for that tried friend, as soon as he learned the fact. He found Pigeons-wing laying aside his accoutrements, previously to lying down to take his rest.</p>
 			<p>“So, Chippewa, <em>you</em> have come back, have you?” exclaimed le Bourdon. “So many of your redskin brethren are about, that I didn’t expect to see you again for these two or three days.”</p>
 			<p>“No want to eat, den, eh? How you all eat, if hunter don’t do he duty? S’pose squaw don’t cook vittles, you no like it, eh? Juss so wid hunter⁠—no <em>kill</em> vittles, don’t like it nudder.”</p>
 			<p>“This is true enough. Still, so many of your people are about, just now, that I thought it probable you might wish to remain outside with them for a day or two.”</p>
 			<p>“How know red man about, eh? You <em>see</em> him⁠—you <em>count</em> him eh?”</p>
-			<p>“I have seen something like fifty, and may say I counted that many. They were chiefs, however, and I take it for granted, a goodly number of common warriors are not far off. Am I right, Pigeonswing?”</p>
+			<p>“I have seen something like fifty, and may say I counted that many. They were chiefs, however, and I take it for granted, a goodly number of common warriors are not far off. Am I right, Pigeons-wing?”</p>
 			<p>“S’pose don’t know⁠—den, can’t tell? Only tell what he know.”</p>
-			<p>“Sometimes an Injin <em>guesses</em>, and comes as near the truth as a white man who has seen the thing with his own Pigeonswing made no answer; though le Bourdon fancied, from his manner, that he had really something on his mind, and that, too, of importance, which he wished to communicate.</p>
+			<p>“Sometimes an Injin <em>guesses</em>, and comes as near the truth as a white man who has seen the thing with his own Pigeons-wing made no answer; though le Bourdon fancied, from his manner, that he had really something on his mind, and that, too, of importance, which he wished to communicate.</p>
 			<p>“I think you might tell me some news that I should like to hear, Chippewa, if you was so minded.”</p>
 			<p>“Why you stay here, eh?” demanded the Indian, abruptly. “Got plenty honey⁠—bess go home, now. Always bess go home, when hunt up. Home good place, when hunter well tired.”</p>
-			<p>“My home is here, in the Openings, Pigeonswing. When I go into the settlements, I do little but loaf about among the farmhouses on the Detroit River, having neither squaw nor wigwam of my own to go to. I like this place well enough, if your red brethren will let me keep it in peace.”</p>
+			<p>“My home is here, in the Openings, Pigeons-wing. When I go into the settlements, I do little but loaf about among the farmhouses on the Detroit River, having neither squaw nor wigwam of my own to go to. I like this place well enough, if your red brethren will let me keep it in peace.”</p>
 			<p>“Dis bad place for paleface, juss now. Better go home, dan stay in Openin’. If don’t know short path to Detroit, I show you. Bess go, soon as can; and bess go <em>alone</em>. No good to be trouble wid squaw, when in hurry.”</p>
 			<p>The countenance of le Bourdon changed at this last intimation; though the Indian might not have observed it in the darkness. After a brief pause, the first answered in a very determined way.</p>
 			<p>“I believe I understand you, Chippewa,” he said. “I shall do nothing of the sort, however. If the squaws can’t go, too, I shall not quit them. Would you desert <em>your</em> squaws because you thought them in trouble?”</p>
 			<p>“An’t your squaw yet. Bess not have squaw at all, when Openin’ so full of Injin. Where you t’ink is two buck I shoot dis mornin’, eh? Skin ’em, cut ’em up, hang ’em on tree, where wolf can’t get ’em. Well, go on after anudder; kill <em>him</em>, too. Dere he is, inside of palisade, but no tudder two. He bot’ gone, when I get back to tree. Two good buck as ever see! How you like dat, eh?”</p>
-			<p>“I care very little about it, since we have food enough, and are not likely to want. So the wolves got your venison from the trees, after all your care; ha! Pigeonswing.”</p>
+			<p>“I care very little about it, since we have food enough, and are not likely to want. So the wolves got your venison from the trees, after all your care; ha! Pigeons-wing.”</p>
 			<p>“Wolf don’t touch him⁠—wolf <em>can</em>’T touch him. Moccasin been under tree. See him mark. Bess do as I tell you; go home, soon as ever can. Short path to Detroit; an’t two hundred paleface mile.”</p>
-			<p>“I see how it is, Pigeonswing; I see how it is, and thank you for this hint, while I honor your good faith to your own people. But I cannot go to Detroit, in the first place, for that town and fort have fallen into the hands of the British. It might be possible for a canoe to get past in the night, and to work its way through into Lake Erie, but I cannot quit my friends. If you can put us <em>all</em> in the way of getting away from this spot, I shall be ready to enter into the scheme. Why can’t we all get into the canoe, and go down stream, as soon as another night sets in? Before morning we could be twenty miles on our road.”</p>
-			<p>“No do any good,” returned Pigeonswing, coldly. “If can’t go alone, can’t go at all. Squaw no keep up when so many be on trail. No good to try canoe. Catch you in two days⁠—p’raps one. Well, I go to sleep⁠—can’t keep eye open all night.”</p>
-			<p>Hereupon, Pigeonswing coolly repaired to his skins, lay down, and was soon fast asleep. The bee-hunter was fain to do the same, the night being now far advanced; but he lay awake a long time, thinking of the hint he had received, and pondering on the nature of the danger which menaced the security of the family. At length, sleep asserted its power over even him, and the place lay in the deep stillness of night.</p>
+			<p>“I see how it is, Pigeons-wing; I see how it is, and thank you for this hint, while I honor your good faith to your own people. But I cannot go to Detroit, in the first place, for that town and fort have fallen into the hands of the British. It might be possible for a canoe to get past in the night, and to work its way through into Lake Erie, but I cannot quit my friends. If you can put us <em>all</em> in the way of getting away from this spot, I shall be ready to enter into the scheme. Why can’t we all get into the canoe, and go down stream, as soon as another night sets in? Before morning we could be twenty miles on our road.”</p>
+			<p>“No do any good,” returned Pigeons-wing, coldly. “If can’t go alone, can’t go at all. Squaw no keep up when so many be on trail. No good to try canoe. Catch you in two days⁠—p’raps one. Well, I go to sleep⁠—can’t keep eye open all night.”</p>
+			<p>Hereupon, Pigeons-wing coolly repaired to his skins, lay down, and was soon fast asleep. The bee-hunter was fain to do the same, the night being now far advanced; but he lay awake a long time, thinking of the hint he had received, and pondering on the nature of the danger which menaced the security of the family. At length, sleep asserted its power over even him, and the place lay in the deep stillness of night.</p>
 		</section>
 	</body>
 </html>

src/epub/text/chapter-19.xhtml

@@ -32,27 +32,27 @@
 			<p>“Tell by-’em-by. No hurry for dat. Want to sleep fuss. See so much better, when I open eye. So you t’ink of makin’ journey on long path. If can’t go to Detroit, where can go to?”</p>
 			<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 <em>his</em> 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>Le Bourdon, notwithstanding Pigeons-wing’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 paleface 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, everyone 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, <abbr>etc.</abbr>, 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 mockingbird 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>
+			<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 Pigeons-wing 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>
 			<p>The bee-hunter took his way to a spot that was at some distance from his habitation, a small prairie of circular form, that is now generally known in that region of the country by the name of Prairie Round. Three hours were necessary to reach it, and this so much the more, because Margery’s shorter steps were to be considered. Margery, however, was no laggard on a path. Young, active, light of foot, and trained in exertions of this nature, her presence did not probably retard the arrival many minutes.</p>
 			<p>The extraordinary part of the proceedings was the circumstance, that the bee-hunter did not tell anyone whither he was going, and that Peter did not appear to care about putting the question to him. Notwithstanding this reserve on one side, and seeming indifference on the other, when the party reached Prairie Round, every one of the chiefs who had been present at the council of the previous night, was there before it. The Indians were straggling about, but remained sufficiently near the point where the bee-hunter and his followers reached the prairie, to assemble around the group in a very few minutes after it made its appearance.</p>
 			<p>All this struck le Bourdon as fearfully singular, since it proved how many secret means of communication existed between the savages. That the inmates of the habitations were closely observed, and all their proceedings noted, he could not but suspect, even before receiving this proof of Peter’s power; but he was not aware until now, how completely he and all with him were at the mercy of these formidable foes. What hope could there be for escape, when hundreds of eyes were thus watching their movements, and every thicket had its vigilant and sagacious sentinel? Yet must flight be attempted, in some way or other, or Margery and her sister would be hopelessly lost⁠—to say nothing of himself and the three other men.</p>
 			<p>But the appearance of the remarkable little prairie that he had just reached, and the collection of chiefs, now occupied all the present thoughts of le Bourdon. As for the first, it is held in repute, even at the present hour, as a place that the traveller should see, though covered with farms, and the buildings that belong to husbandry. It is still visited as a picture of ancient civilization, placed in the setting of a new country. It is true that very little of this part of Michigan wears much, if any, of that aspect of a rough beginning, including stubs, stumps, and circled trees, that it has so often fallen to our share to describe. There are dense forests, and those of considerable extent; and wherever the axe is put into them, the progress of improvement is marked by the same steps as elsewhere; but the lovely openings form so many exceptions, as almost to compose the rule.</p>
 			<p>On Prairie Round there was even a higher stamp of seeming civilization⁠—seeming, since it was nature, after all, that had mainly drawn the picture. In the first place, the spot had been burnt so recently, as to leave the entire expanse covered with young grasses and flowers, the same as if it were a well-kept park. This feature, at that advanced period of the summer, was in some degree accidental, the burning of the prairies depending more or less on contingencies of that sort. We have now less to do with the cause, than with its consequences. These were most agreeable to the eye, as well as comfortable to the foot, the grass nowhere being of a height to impede movement, or, what was of still more importance to le Bourdon’s present pursuit, to overshadow the flowers. Aware of this fact, he had led his companions all that distance, to reach this scene of remarkable rural beauty, in order that he might make a grand display of his art, in presence of the assembled chiefs of that region. The bee-hunter had pride in his craft, the same as any other skilful workman who had gained a reputation by his cunning, and he now trod the prairie with a firmer step, and a more kindling eye, than was his wont in the commoner haunts of his calling. Men were there whom it might be an honor to surprise, and pretty Margery was there also, she who had so long desired to see this very exhibition.</p>
 			<p>But to revert once more to the prairie, ere we commence the narrative of what occurred on it. This well-known area is of no great extent, possessing a surface about equal to that of one of the larger parks of Europe. Its name was derived from its form, which, without being absolutely regular, had so near an approach to a circle as to justify the use of the appellation. The face of this charming field was neither waving, or what is called “rolling,” nor a dead flat, as often occurs with river bottoms. It had just enough of undulation to prevent too much moisture, and to impart an agreeable variety to its plain. As a whole, it was clear of the forest; quite as much so as if the axe had done its work there a thousand years before, though wood was not wanting. On the contrary, enough of the last was to be seen, in addition to that which formed the frame of this charming landscape, to relieve the view from all appearance of monotony, and to break it up into copses, thickets, trees in small clusters, and in most of the varieties that embellish native scenery. One who had been unexpectedly transferred to the spot, might well have imagined that he was looking on the site of some old and long-established settlement, from which every appliance of human industry had been suddenly and simultaneously abstracted. Of houses, outbuildings, fences, stacks, and husbandry, there were no signs; unless the even and verdant sward, that was spread like a vast carpet, sprinkled with flowers, could have been deemed a sign of the last. There were the glades, vistas, irregular lawns, and woods, shaped with the pleasing outlines of the free hand of nature, as if consummate art had been endeavoring to imitate our great mistress in one of her most graceful moods.</p>
-			<p>The Indians present served largely to embellish this scene. Of late years, horses have become so common among the western tribes, the vast natural meadows of those regions furnishing the means necessary to keep them, that one can now hardly form a picture of those savages, with-out representing them mounted, and wielding the spear; but such was not the fact with the time of which we are writing, nor was it ever the general practice to go mounted, among the Indians in the immediate vicinity of the great lakes. Not a hoof of any sort was now visible, with the exception of those which belonged to a herd of deer, that were grazing on a favorite spot, less than a league distant from the place where le Bourdon and his companions reached the prairie. All the chiefs were on foot, and very few were equipped with more than the knife and tomahawk, the side-arms of a chief; the rifles having been secreted, as it might be, in deference to the festivities and peaceful character of the occasion. As le Bourdon’s party was duly provided with rifles, the missionary and Margery excepted, this was a sign that no violence was contemplated on that occasion at least. “Contemplated,” however, is a word very expressive, when used in connection with the out-breakings of human passions, as they are wont to exhibit themselves among the ignorant and excited. It matters not whether the scene be the capital of some ancient European monarchy, or the wilds of America, the workings of such impulses are much the same. Now, a throne is overturned, perhaps, before they who do it are yet fully aware of what they ought to set up in its place; and now the deadly rifle, or the murderous tomahawk is used, more in obedience to the incentives of demons, than in furtherance of justly recognized rules of conduct. Le Bourdon was aware of all this, and did not so far confide in appearances, as to overlook the watchfulness that he deemed indispensable.</p>
+			<p>The Indians present served largely to embellish this scene. Of late years, horses have become so common among the western tribes, the vast natural meadows of those regions furnishing the means necessary to keep them, that one can now hardly form a picture of those savages, without representing them mounted, and wielding the spear; but such was not the fact with the time of which we are writing, nor was it ever the general practice to go mounted, among the Indians in the immediate vicinity of the great lakes. Not a hoof of any sort was now visible, with the exception of those which belonged to a herd of deer, that were grazing on a favorite spot, less than a league distant from the place where le Bourdon and his companions reached the prairie. All the chiefs were on foot, and very few were equipped with more than the knife and tomahawk, the side-arms of a chief; the rifles having been secreted, as it might be, in deference to the festivities and peaceful character of the occasion. As le Bourdon’s party was duly provided with rifles, the missionary and Margery excepted, this was a sign that no violence was contemplated on that occasion at least. “Contemplated,” however, is a word very expressive, when used in connection with the out-breakings of human passions, as they are wont to exhibit themselves among the ignorant and excited. It matters not whether the scene be the capital of some ancient European monarchy, or the wilds of America, the workings of such impulses are much the same. Now, a throne is overturned, perhaps, before they who do it are yet fully aware of what they ought to set up in its place; and now the deadly rifle, or the murderous tomahawk is used, more in obedience to the incentives of demons, than in furtherance of justly recognized rules of conduct. Le Bourdon was aware of all this, and did not so far confide in appearances, as to overlook the watchfulness that he deemed indispensable.</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter was not long in selecting a place to set up his apparatus. In this particular, he was mainly governed by a lovely expanse of sweet-scented flowers, among which bees in thousands were humming, sipping of their precious gifts at will. Le Bourdon had a care, also, not to go far from the forests which encircled the prairies, for among its trees he knew he had to seek the habitations of the insects. Instead of a stump, or a fallen tree, he had prepared a light framework of lath, which the corporal bore to the field for him, and on which he placed his different implements, as soon as he had selected the scene of operations.</p>
-			<p>It will not be necessary for us to repeat the process, which has already been described in our opening chapters; but we shall only touch such parts of it as have a direct connection with the events of the legend. As le Bourdon commenced his preparations, however, the circle of chiefs closed around him, in mute but close attention to every-thing that passed. Although every one of them had heard of the bee-hunters of the palefaces, and most of them had heard of this particular individual of their number, not an Indian present had ever seen one of these men practise his craft. This may seem strange, as respects those who so much roamed the woods; but we have already remarked that it exceeded the knowledge of the red man to make the calculations that are necessary to take the bee by the process described. Usually, when he obtains honey, it is the result of some chance meeting in the forest, and not the fruits of that farsighted and persevering industry, which enables the white man to lay in a store large enough to supply a neighborhood, in the course of a few weeks’ hunting.</p>
+			<p>It will not be necessary for us to repeat the process, which has already been described in our opening chapters; but we shall only touch such parts of it as have a direct connection with the events of the legend. As le Bourdon commenced his preparations, however, the circle of chiefs closed around him, in mute but close attention to everything that passed. Although every one of them had heard of the bee-hunters of the palefaces, and most of them had heard of this particular individual of their number, not an Indian present had ever seen one of these men practise his craft. This may seem strange, as respects those who so much roamed the woods; but we have already remarked that it exceeded the knowledge of the red man to make the calculations that are necessary to take the bee by the process described. Usually, when he obtains honey, it is the result of some chance meeting in the forest, and not the fruits of that farsighted and persevering industry, which enables the white man to lay in a store large enough to supply a neighborhood, in the course of a few weeks’ hunting.</p>
 			<p>Never was a juggler watched with closer attention, than was le Bourdon, while setting up his stand, and spreading his implements. Every grave, dark countenance was turned toward him, and each keen, glistening eye was riveted on his movements. As the vessel with the comb was set down, the chiefs nearest recognizing the substance murmured their admiration; for to them it seemed as if the operator were about to make honey with honey. Then the glass was a subject of surprise: for half of those present had never seen such an utensil before. Though many of the chiefs present had visited the “garrisons” of the northwest, both American and English, many had not; and, of those who had, not one in ten got any clear idea of the commonest appliances of civilized life. Thus it was, then, that almost every article used by the bee-hunter, though so simple and homely, was the subject of a secret, but well-suppressed admiration.</p>
 			<p>It was not long ere le Bourdon was ready to look for his bee. The insects were numerous on the flowers, particularly on the white clover, which is indigenous in America, springing up spontaneously wherever grasses are permitted to grow. The great abundance of the bees, however, had its usual effect, and our hero was a little difficult to please. At length, a fine and already half-loaded little animal was covered by the glass and captured. This was done so near the group of Indians, that each and all noted the process. It was curious, and it was inexplicable! Could the palefaces compel bees to reveal the secret of their hives, and was that encroaching race about to drive all the insects from the woods and seize their honey, as they drove the Indians before them and seized their lands? Such was the character of the thoughts that passed through the minds of more than one chief, that morning, though all looked on in profound stillness.</p>
 			<p>When the imprisoned bee was put over the comb, and le Bourdon’s cap was placed above all, these simple-minded children of the woods and the prairies gazed, as if expecting a hive to appear beneath the covering, whenever the latter should be removed. It was not long before the bee “settled,” and not only the cap, but the tumbler was taken away. For the first time since the exhibition commenced, le Bourdon spoke, addressing himself to Peter.</p>
 			<p>“If the tribeless chief will look sharply,” he said, “he will soon see the bee take flight. It is filling itself with honey, and the moment it is loaded⁠—look⁠—look⁠—it is about to rise⁠—there, it is up⁠—see it circling around the stand, as if to take a look that it may know it again⁠—there it goes!”</p>
 			<p>There it did go, of a truth, and in a regular beeline, or as straight as an arrow. Of all that crowd, the bee-hunter and Margery alone saw the insect in its flight. Most of those present lost sight of it, while circling around the stand; but the instant it darted away, to the remainder it seemed to vanish into air. Not so with le Bourdon and Margery, however. The former saw it from habit; the latter from a quick eye, intense attention, and the wish not to miss anything that le Bourdon saw fit to do, for her information or amusement. The animal flew in an air-line toward a point of wood distant fully half a mile, and on the margin of the prairie.</p>
 			<p>Many low exclamations arose among the savages. The bee was gone, but whither they knew not, or on what errand. Could it have been sent on a message by the paleface, or had it flown off to give the alarm to its companions, in order to adopt the means of disappointing the bee-hunter? As for the last, he went coolly to work to choose another insect; and he soon had three at work on the comb⁠—all in company, and all uncovered. Had the number anything to do with the charm, or were these three to be sent to bring back the one that had already gone away? Such was the sort of reasoning, and such the queries put to themselves, by several of the stern children of nature who were drawn up around the stand.</p>
-			<p>In the meantime le Bourdon proceeded with his operations in the utmost simplicity. He now called Peter and Bear’s Meat and Crowsfeather nearer to his person, where they might share with Margery the advantage of more closely seeing all that passed. As soon as these three chiefs were near enough, Ben pointed to one bee in particular, saying in the Indian dialect:</p>
+			<p>In the meantime le Bourdon proceeded with his operations in the utmost simplicity. He now called Peter and Bear’s Meat and Crows-feather nearer to his person, where they might share with Margery the advantage of more closely seeing all that passed. As soon as these three chiefs were near enough, Ben pointed to one bee in particular, saying in the Indian dialect:</p>
 			<p>“My brothers see that bee in the centre⁠—he is about to go away. If he go after the one that went before him, I shall soon know where to look for honey.”</p>
 			<p>“How can my brother tell which bee will first fly away?” demanded Bear’s Meat.</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter was able to foresee this, by knowing which insect had been longest on the comb; but so practised had his eye become, that he knew with tolerable accuracy, by the movements of the creatures, those that had filled themselves with honey from those that had not. As it did not suit his purpose, however, to let all the minutiae of his craft be known, his answer was evasive. Just at that moment a thought occurred to him, which it might be well to carry out in full. He had once saved his life by necromancy, or what seemed to the simple children of the woods to be necromancy, and why might he not turn the cunning of his regular art to account, and render it the means of rescuing the females, as well as himself, from the hands of their captors? This sudden impulse from that moment controlled his conduct; and his mind was constantly casting about for the means of effecting what was now his one great purpose-escape. Instead of uttering in reply to Bear’s Meat’s question the simple truth, therefore, he rather sought for such an answer as might make the process in which he was engaged appear imposing and mystical.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-2.xhtml

@@ -32,7 +32,7 @@
 			<p>This was no idle boast of Waring’s. Worthless as he was in so many respects, he was remarkably skilful with the axe, as he now proved by the rapid manner in which he severed the trunk of the large elm on which he was at work. He inquired of Ben where he should “lay the tree,” and when it came clattering down, it fell on the precise spot indicated. Great was the confusion among the bees at this sudden downfall of their long-cherished home. The fact was not known to their enemy, but they had inhabited that tree for a long time; and the prize now obtained was the richest he had ever made in his calling. As for the insects, they filled the air in clouds, and all the invaders deemed it prudent to withdraw to some little distance for a time, lest the irritated and wronged bees should set upon them and take an ample revenge. Had they known their power, this might easily have been done, no ingenuity of man being able to protect him against the assaults of this insignificant-looking animal, when unable to cover himself, and the angry little heroes are in earnest. On the present occasion, however, no harm befell the marauders. So suddenly had the hive tumbled that its late occupants appeared to be astounded, and they submitted to their fate as men yield to the power of tempests and earthquakes. In half an hour most of them were collected on an adjacent tree, where doubtless a consultation on the mode of future proceedings was held, after their fashion.</p>
 			<p>The Indians were more delighted with le Bourdon’s ingenious mode of discovering the hive than with the richness of the prize; while Ben himself, and Gershom, manifested most satisfaction at the amount of the earnings. When the tree was cut in pieces, and split, it was ascertained that years of sweets were contained within its capacious cavities, and Ben estimated the portion that fell to his share at more than three hundred pounds of good honey⁠—comb included⁠—after deducting the portions that were given to the Indians, and which were abstracted by Gershom. The three last, however, could carry but little, as they had no other means of bearing it away than their own backs.</p>
 			<p>The honey was not collected that night. The day was too far advanced for that; and le Bourdon⁠—certainly never was name less merited than this sobriquet as applied to the active young bee-hunter⁠—but le Bourdon, to give him his quaint appellation, offered the hospitalities of his own cabin to the strangers, promising to put them on their several paths the succeeding day, with a good store of honey in each knapsack.</p>
-			<p>“They do say there ar’ likely to be troublesome times.” he continued, with simple earnestness, after having given the invitation to partake of his homely fare; “and I should like to hear what is going on in the world. From Whiskey Centre I do not expect to learn much, I will own; but I am mistaken if the Pigeonswing, here, has not a message that will make us all open our ears.”</p>
+			<p>“They do say there ar’ likely to be troublesome times.” he continued, with simple earnestness, after having given the invitation to partake of his homely fare; “and I should like to hear what is going on in the world. From Whiskey Centre I do not expect to learn much, I will own; but I am mistaken if the Pigeons-wing, here, has not a message that will make us all open our ears.”</p>
 			<p>The Indians ejaculated their assent; but Gershom was a man who could not express anything sententiously. As the bee-hunter led the way toward his cabin, or shanty, he made his comments with his customary freedom. Before recording what he communicated, however, we shall digress for one moment in order to say a word ourselves concerning this term “shanty.” It is now in general use throughout the whole of the United States, meaning a cabin that has been constructed in haste, and for temporary purposes. By a license of speech, it is occasionally applied to more permanent residences, as men are known to apply familiar epithets to familiar objects. The derivation of the word has caused some speculation. The term certainly came from the West-perhaps from the Northwest-and the best explanation we have ever heard of its derivation is to suppose “shanty,” as we now spell it, a corruption of “chiente,” which it is thought may have been a word in Canadian French phrase to express a “dog-kennel.” “Chenil,” we believe, is the true French term for such a thing, and our own word is said to be derived from it⁠—“meute” meaning “a kennel of dogs,” or “a pack of hounds,” rather than their dwelling. At any rate, “chiente” is so plausible a solution of the difficulty, that one may hope it is the true one, even though he has no better authority for it than a very vague rumor. Curious discoveries are sometimes made by these rude analogies, however, though they are generally thought not to be very near akin to learning. For ourselves, now, we do not entertain a doubt that the sobriquet of “Yankees” which is in every man’s mouth, and of which the derivation appears to puzzle all our philologists, is nothing but a slight corruption of the word “Yengeese,” the term applied to the “English,” by the tribes to whom they first became known. We have no other authority for this derivation than conjecture, and conjectures that are purely our own; but it is so very plausible as almost to carry conviction of itself.<a href="endnotes.xhtml#note-2" id="noteref-2" epub:type="noteref">2</a></p>
 			<p>The “chiente’ ” or shanty of le Bourdon stood quite near to the banks of the Kalamazoo, and in a most beautiful grove of the burr-oak. Ben had selected the site with much taste, though the proximity of a spring of delicious water had probably its full share in influencing his decision. It was necessary, moreover, that he should be near the river, as his great movements were all made by water, for the convenience of transporting his tools, furniture, <abbr>etc.</abbr>, as well as his honey. A famous bark canoe lay in a little bay, out of the current of the stream, securely moored, head and stern, in order to prevent her beating against any object harder than herself.</p>
 			<p>The dwelling had been constructed with some attention to security. This was rendered necessary, in some measure, as Ben had found by experience, on account of two classes of enemies⁠—men and bears. From the first, it is true, the bee-hunter had hitherto apprehended but little. There were few human beings in that region. The northern portions of the noble peninsula of Michigan are somewhat low and swampy, or are too broken and savage to tempt the native hunters from the openings and prairies that then lay, in such rich profusion, further south and west. With the exception of the shores, or coasts, it was seldom that the northern half of the peninsula felt the footstep of man. With the southern half, however, it was very different; the “openings,” and glades, and watercourses, offering almost as many temptations to the savage as they have since done to the civilized man. Nevertheless, the bison, or the buffalo, as the animal is erroneously, but very generally, termed throughout the country, was not often found in the vast herds of which we read, until one reached the great prairies west of the Mississippi. There it was that the red men most loved to congregate; though always bearing, in numbers, but a trifling proportion to the surface they occupied. In that day, however, near as to the date, but distant as to the events, the Chippewas, Ottawas, Pottawattamies, kindred tribes, we believe, had still a footing in Michigan proper, and were to be found in considerable numbers in what was called the <abbr>St.</abbr> Joseph’s country, or along the banks of the stream of that name; a region that almost merits the lofty appellation of the garden of America. Le Bourdon knew many of their warriors, and was much esteemed among them; though he had never met with either of those whom chance now had thrown in his way. In general, he suffered little wrong from the red men, who wondered at his occupation, while they liked his character; but he had sustained losses, and even ill-treatment, from certain outcasts of the tribes, as well as from vagrant whites, who occasionally found their way to his temporary dwellings. On the present occasion, le Bourdon felt far more uneasiness from the circumstance of having his abode known to Gershom Waring, a countryman and fellow-Christian, in one sense at least, than from its being known to the Chippewa and the Pottawattamie.</p>
@@ -67,41 +67,41 @@
 			<p>“There is the spring,” returned le Bourdon, gravely; “a gourd hangs against the tree.”</p>
 			<p>Gershom made a wry face, but he did not move.</p>
 			<p>“Is there any news stirring among the tribes?” asked the bee-hunter, waiting, however, a decent interval, lest he might be supposed to betray a womanly curiosity.</p>
-			<p>Elksfoot puffed away some time before he saw fit to answer, reserving a salvo in behalf of his own dignity. Then he removed the pipe, shook off the ashes, pressed down the fire a little, gave a reviving draught or two, and quietly replied:</p>
+			<p>Elks-foot puffed away some time before he saw fit to answer, reserving a salvo in behalf of his own dignity. Then he removed the pipe, shook off the ashes, pressed down the fire a little, gave a reviving draught or two, and quietly replied:</p>
 			<p>“Ask my young brother⁠—he runner⁠—he know.”</p>
-			<p>But Pigeonswing seemed to be little more communicative than the Pottawattamie. He smoked on in quiet dignity, while the bee-hunter patiently waited for the moment when it might suit his younger guest to speak. That moment did not arrive for some time, though it came at last. Almost five minutes after Elksfoot had made the allusion mentioned, the Ojebway, or Chippewa, removed his pipe also, and looking courteously round at his host, he said with emphasis:</p>
+			<p>But Pigeons-wing seemed to be little more communicative than the Pottawattamie. He smoked on in quiet dignity, while the bee-hunter patiently waited for the moment when it might suit his younger guest to speak. That moment did not arrive for some time, though it came at last. Almost five minutes after Elks-foot had made the allusion mentioned, the Ojebway, or Chippewa, removed his pipe also, and looking courteously round at his host, he said with emphasis:</p>
 			<p>“Bad summer come soon. Palefaces call young men togedder, and dig up hatchet.”</p>
 			<p>“I had heard something of this,” answered le Bourdon, with a saddened countenance, “and was afraid it might happen.”</p>
-			<p>“My brother dig up hatchet too, eh?” demanded Pigeonswing.</p>
+			<p>“My brother dig up hatchet too, eh?” demanded Pigeons-wing.</p>
 			<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>“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>“What you t’ink him?” asked Pigeons-wing, 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>
 			<p>“Don’t t’ink so. Plenty Yankee, him!”</p>
-			<p>Le Bourdon smiled at this proof of Pigeonswings sagacity, though he felt a good deal of uneasiness at the purport of his discourse.</p>
+			<p>Le Bourdon smiled at this proof of Pigeons-wings sagacity, though he felt a good deal of uneasiness at the purport of his discourse.</p>
 			<p>“You are right enough in <em>that</em>” he answered, “but I’m plenty of Yankee, too.”</p>
 			<p>“No, don’t say so,” returned the Chippewa⁠—“no, mustn’t say <em>dat</em>. English; no Yankee. <em>him</em> not a bit like you.”</p>
 			<p>“Why, we are unlike each other, in some respects, it is true, though we are countrymen, notwithstanding. My great father lives at Washington, as well as his.”</p>
 			<p>The Chippewa appeared to be disappointed; perhaps he appeared sorry, too; for le Bourdon’s frank and manly hospitality had disposed him to friendship instead of hostilities, while his admissions would rather put him in an antagonist position. It was probably with a kind motive that he pursued the discourse in a way to give his host some insight into the true condition of matters in that part of the world.</p>
 			<p>“Plenty Breetish in woods,” he said, with marked deliberation and point. “Yankee no come yet.”</p>
 			<p>“Let me know the truth, at once, Chippewa,” exclaimed le Bourdon. “I am but a peaceable bee-hunter, as you see, and wish no man’s scalp, or any man’s honey but my own. Is there to be a war between America and Canada, or not?”</p>
-			<p>“Some say, yes; some say, no,” returned Pigeonswing, evasively, “My part, don’t know. Go, now, to see. But plenty Montreal belt among redskins; plenty rifle; plenty powder, too.”</p>
+			<p>“Some say, yes; some say, no,” returned Pigeons-wing, evasively, “My part, don’t know. Go, now, to see. But plenty Montreal belt among redskins; plenty rifle; plenty powder, too.”</p>
 			<p>“I heard something of this as I came up the lakes,” rejoined Ben; “and fell in with a trader, an old acquaintance, from Canada, and a good friend, too, though he is to be my enemy, according to law, who gave me to understand that the summer would not go over without blows. Still, they all seemed to be asleep at Mackinaw (Michilimackinac) as I passed there.”</p>
 			<p>“Wake up pretty soon. Canada warrior take fort.”</p>
 			<p>“If I thought that, Chippewa, I would be off this blessed night to give the alarm.”</p>
 			<p>“No⁠—t’ink better of dat.”</p>
 			<p>“Go I would, if I died for it the next hour!”</p>
 			<p>“T’ink better⁠—be no such fool, I tell you.”</p>
-			<p>“And I tell you, Pigeonswing, that go I would, if the whole Ojebway nation was on my trail. I am an American, and mean to stand by my own people, come what will.”</p>
+			<p>“And I tell you, Pigeons-wing, that go I would, if the whole Ojebway nation was on my trail. I am an American, and mean to stand by my own people, come what will.”</p>
 			<p>“T’ought you only peaceable bee-hunter, just now,” retorted the Chippewa, a little sarcastically.</p>
-			<p>By this time le Bourdon had somewhat cooled, and he became conscious of his indiscretion. He knew enough of the history of the past, to be fully aware that, in all periods of American history, the English, and, for that matter, the French too, so long as they had possessions on this continent, never scrupled about employing the savages in their conflicts. It is true, that these highly polished, and, we may justly add, humane nations⁠—(for each is, out of all question, entitled to that character in the scale of comparative humanity as between communities, and each if you will take its own account of the matter, stands at the head of civilization in this respect)⁠—would, notwithstanding these high claims, carry on their <em>american</em> wars by the agency of the tomahawk, the scalping-knife, and the brand. Eulogies, though pronounced by ourselves on ourselves, cannot erase the stains of blood. Even down to the present hour, a cloud does not obscure the political atmosphere between England and America, that its existence may not be discovered on the prairies, by a movement among the In-dians. The pulse that is to be felt there is a sure indication of the state of the relations between the parties. Everyone knows that the savage, in his warfare, slays both sexes and all ages; that the doorpost of the frontier cabin is defiled by the blood of the infant, whose brains have been dashed against it; and that the smouldering ruins of log-houses oftener than not cover the remains of their tenants. But what of all that? Brutus is still “an honorable man,” and the American, who has not this sin to answer for among his numberless transgressions, is reviled as a semi-barbarian! The time is at hand, when the Lion of the West will draw his own picture, too; and fortunate will it be for the characters of some who will gather around the easel, if they do not discover traces of their own lineaments among his labors.</p>
+			<p>By this time le Bourdon had somewhat cooled, and he became conscious of his indiscretion. He knew enough of the history of the past, to be fully aware that, in all periods of American history, the English, and, for that matter, the French too, so long as they had possessions on this continent, never scrupled about employing the savages in their conflicts. It is true, that these highly polished, and, we may justly add, humane nations⁠—(for each is, out of all question, entitled to that character in the scale of comparative humanity as between communities, and each if you will take its own account of the matter, stands at the head of civilization in this respect)⁠—would, notwithstanding these high claims, carry on their <em>american</em> wars by the agency of the tomahawk, the scalping-knife, and the brand. Eulogies, though pronounced by ourselves on ourselves, cannot erase the stains of blood. Even down to the present hour, a cloud does not obscure the political atmosphere between England and America, that its existence may not be discovered on the prairies, by a movement among the Indians. The pulse that is to be felt there is a sure indication of the state of the relations between the parties. Everyone knows that the savage, in his warfare, slays both sexes and all ages; that the doorpost of the frontier cabin is defiled by the blood of the infant, whose brains have been dashed against it; and that the smouldering ruins of log-houses oftener than not cover the remains of their tenants. But what of all that? Brutus is still “an honorable man,” and the American, who has not this sin to answer for among his numberless transgressions, is reviled as a semi-barbarian! The time is at hand, when the Lion of the West will draw his own picture, too; and fortunate will it be for the characters of some who will gather around the easel, if they do not discover traces of their own lineaments among his labors.</p>
 			<p>The feeling engendered by the character of such a warfare is the secret of the deeply seated hostility which pervades the breast of the <em>western</em> American against the land of his ancestors. He never sees the Times, and cares not a rush for the mystifications of the Quarterly Review; but he remembers where his mother was brained, and his father or brother tortured; aye, and by whose instrumentality the foul deeds were mainly done. The man of the world can understand that such atrocities may be committed, and the people of the offending nation remain ignorant of their existence, and, in a measure, innocent of the guilt; but the sufferer, in his provincial practice, makes no such distinction, confounding all alike in his resentments, and including all that bear the hated name in his maledictions. It is a fearful thing to awaken the anger of a nation; to excite in it a desire for revenge; and thrice is that danger magnified, when the people thus aroused possess the activity, the resources, the spirit, and the enterprise of the Americans. We have been openly derided, and that recently, because, in the fullness of our sense of power and sense of right, language that exceeds any direct exhibition of the national strength has escaped the lips of legislators, and, perhaps justly, has exposed them to the imputation of boastfulness. That derision, however, will not soon be repeated. The scenes enacting in Mexico, faint as they are in comparison with what would have been seen, had hostilities taken an other direction, place a perpetual gag in the mouths of all scoffers. The child is passing from the gristle into the bone, and the next generation will not even laugh, as does the present, at any idle and ill-considered menaces to coerce this republic; strong in the consciousness of its own power, it will eat all such fanfaronades, if any future statesman should be so ill-advised as to renew them, with silent indifference.</p>
-			<p>Now, le Bourdon was fully aware that one of the surest pulses of approaching hostilities between England and America was to be felt in the far West. If the Indians were in movement, some power was probably behind the scenes to set them in motion. Pigeonswing was well known to him by reputation; and there was that about the man which awakened the most unpleasant apprehensions, and he felt an itching desire to learn all he could from him, without betraying any more of his own feelings, if that were possible.</p>
+			<p>Now, le Bourdon was fully aware that one of the surest pulses of approaching hostilities between England and America was to be felt in the far West. If the Indians were in movement, some power was probably behind the scenes to set them in motion. Pigeons-wing was well known to him by reputation; and there was that about the man which awakened the most unpleasant apprehensions, and he felt an itching desire to learn all he could from him, without betraying any more of his own feelings, if that were possible.</p>
 			<p>“I do not think the British will attempt Mackinaw,” Ben remarked, after a long pause and a good deal of smoking had enabled him to assume an air of safe indifference.</p>
-			<p>“Got him, I tell you,” answered Pigeonswing, pointedly.</p>
+			<p>“Got him, I tell you,” answered Pigeons-wing, pointedly.</p>
 			<p>“Got what, Chippewa?”</p>
 			<p>“Him⁠—Mac-naw⁠—got fort⁠—got so’gers⁠—got whole island. Know dat, for been dere.”</p>
 			<p>This was astounding news, indeed! The commanding officer of that ill-starred garrison could not himself have been more astonished, when he was unexpectedly summoned to surrender by an enemy who appeared to start out of the earth, than was le Bourdon, at hearing this intelligence. To western notions, Michilimackinac was another Gibraltar, although really a place of very little strength, and garrisoned by only one small company of regulars. Still, habit had given the fortress a sort of sanctity among the adventurers of that region; and its fall, even in the settled parts of the country, sounded like the loss of a province. It is now known that, anticipating the movements of the Americans, some three hundred whites, sustained by more than twice that number of Indians, including warriors from nearly every adjacent tribe, had surprised the post on the 17th of July, and compelled the subaltern in command, with some fifty odd men, to surrender. This rapid and highly military measure, on the part of the British, completely cut off the post of Chicago, at the head of Lake Michigan, leaving it isolated, on what was then a very remote wilderness. Chicago, Mackinac, and Detroit, were the three grand stations of the Americans on the upper lakes, and here were two of them virtually gone at a blow!</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-20.xhtml

@@ -40,7 +40,7 @@
 			<p>Thus saying, le Bourdon prepared for another march. He moved with all his appliances, Margery keeping close at his side, carrying the honeycomb and honey. As the girl walked lightly, in advance of the Indians, some fifteen or twenty bees, attracted by the flavor of what she carried, kept circling around her head, and consequently around that of Boden; and Peter did not fail to observe the circumstance. To him it appeared as if these bees were so many accompanying agents, who attended their master in order to do his bidding. In a word, Peter was fast getting into that frame of mind, when all that is seen is pressed into the support of the theory we have adopted. The bee-hunter had some mysterious connection with, and control over the bees, and this was one among the many other signs of the existence of his power. All this, however, Boden himself disregarded. His mind was bent on throwing dust into the eyes of the Indians; and he was cogitating the means of so doing, on a much larger scale than any yet attempted.</p>
 			<p>“Why dem bee fly ’round young squaw?” demanded Peter⁠—“and fly round you, too?”</p>
 			<p>“They know us, and go with us to their hive; just as Injins would come out of their villages to meet and honor visitors.”</p>
-			<p>This was a ready reply, but it scarcely satisfied the wily savage to whom it was given. Just then Crowsfeather led Peter a little aside, and began talking earnestly to that chief, both continuing on with the crowd. Le Bourdon felt persuaded that the subject of this private conference was some of his own former backslidings in the character of conjuror, and that the Pottawattamie would not deal very tenderly with his character. Nevertheless, it was too late to retrace his steps, and he saw the necessity of going on.</p>
+			<p>This was a ready reply, but it scarcely satisfied the wily savage to whom it was given. Just then Crows-feather led Peter a little aside, and began talking earnestly to that chief, both continuing on with the crowd. Le Bourdon felt persuaded that the subject of this private conference was some of his own former backslidings in the character of conjuror, and that the Pottawattamie would not deal very tenderly with his character. Nevertheless, it was too late to retrace his steps, and he saw the necessity of going on.</p>
 			<p>“I wish you had not come out with us,” the bee-hunter found an occasion to say to Margery. “I do not half like the state of things, and this conjuration about the bees may all fall through.”</p>
 			<p>“It is better that I should be here, Bourdon,” returned the spirited girl. “My being here may make them less unfriendly to you. When I am by, Peter always seems more human, and less of a savage, they all tell me, than when I am not by.”</p>
 			<p>“No one can be more willing to own your power, Margery, than I; but Injins hold the squaws too cheap, to give you much influence over this old fellow.”</p>
@@ -50,15 +50,15 @@
 			<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>“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>Thus saying, le Bourdon advanced, followed by Peter, Bear’s Meat, and Crows-feather. 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 Pigeons-wing 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>
 			<p>“My brother sees his young men,” said le Bourdon, quietly, the instant a dead calm had succeeded to the outcries with which he had been greeted. “I thought he might wish to say something to them, and my bees told me where to find them. Does my brother wish to know anything else?”</p>
 			<p>Great was the wonder of the three chiefs, at this exhibition of medicine power! So far from suspecting the truth, or of detecting the lucky coincidence by which le Bourdon had been led to the cover of their warriors, it all appeared to them to be pure necromancy. Such an art must be of great service; and how useful it would be to the warrior on his path, to be accompanied by one who could thus command the vigilance of the bees.</p>
 			<p>“You find enemy all same as friend?” demanded Peter, letting out the thought that was uppermost, in the question.</p>
 			<p>“To be sure. It makes no difference with a bee; he can find an enemy as easily as he can find a friend.’</p>
-			<p>“No whiskey-spring dis time?” put in Crowsfeather, a little inopportunely, and with a distrust painted in his swarthy face that le Bourdon did not like.</p>
+			<p>“No whiskey-spring dis time?” put in Crows-feather, a little inopportunely, and with a distrust painted in his swarthy face that le Bourdon did not like.</p>
 			<p>“Pottawattamie, you do not understand medicine-men. <em>ought</em> I to have shown your young men where whiskey was to be had for nothing? Ask yourself that question. Did you wish to see your young men wallowing like hogs in such a spring? What would the great medicine-priest of the palefaces, who is out yonder, have said to <em>that</em>?”</p>
-			<p>This was a coup de maitre on the part of the bee-hunter. Until that moment, the affair of the whiskey-spring had weighed heavily in the balance against him; but now, it was suddenly changed over in the scales, and told as strongly in his favor. Even a savage can understand the morality which teaches men to preserve their reason, and not to lower themselves to the level of brutes, by swallowing “firewater”; and Crowsfeather suddenly saw a motive for regarding our hero with the eyes of favor, instead of those of distrust and dislike.</p>
+			<p>This was a coup de maitre on the part of the bee-hunter. Until that moment, the affair of the whiskey-spring had weighed heavily in the balance against him; but now, it was suddenly changed over in the scales, and told as strongly in his favor. Even a savage can understand the morality which teaches men to preserve their reason, and not to lower themselves to the level of brutes, by swallowing “firewater”; and Crows-feather suddenly saw a motive for regarding our hero with the eyes of favor, instead of those of distrust and dislike.</p>
 			<p>“What the paleface says is true,” observed Peter to his companion. “Had he opened his spring, your warrior would have been weaker than women. He is a wonderful medicine-man, and we must not provoke him to anger. How <em>could</em> he know, but through his bees, that our young men were here?”</p>
 			<p>This question could not be answered; and when the chiefs, followed by the whole band of warriors, some three or four hundred in number came out upon the open prairie, all that had passed was communicated to those who awaited their return, in a few brief, but clear explanations. Le Bourdon found a moment to let Margery comprehend his position and views, while Parson Amen and the corporal were put sufficiently on their guard not to make any unfortunate blunder. The last was much more easily managed than the first. So exceedingly sensitive was the conscience of the priest, that had he clearly understood the game le Bourdon was playing, he might have revolted at the idea of necromancy, as touching on the province of evil spirits; but he was so well mystified as to suppose all that passed was regularly connected with the art of taking bees. In this respect, he and the Indians equally resembled one of those familiar pictures, in which we daily see men, in masses, contributing to their own deception and subjection, while they fondly but blindly imagine that they are not only inventors, but masters. This trade of mastery, after all, is the property of a very few minds; and no precaution of the prudent, no forethought of the wary, nor any expedient of charters, constitutions, or restrictions, will prevent the few from placing their feet on the neck of the many. We may revive the fable of King Log and King Stork, as often, and in as many forms as we will; it will ever be the fable of King Log and King Stork. We are no admirers of political aristocracies, as a thousand paragraphs from our pen will prove; and, as for monarchs, we have long thought they best enact their parts, when most responsible to opinion; but we cannot deceive ourselves on the subject of the atrocities that are daily committed by those who are ever ready to assume the places of both, making their fellow-creatures in masses their dupes, and using those that they affect to serve.</p>
 			<p>Ben Boden was now a sort of “gouvernement provisoire” among the wondering savages who surrounded him. He had got them to believe in necromancy⁠—a very considerable step toward the exercise of despotic power. It is true, he hardly knew, himself, what was to be done next; but he saw quite distinctly that he was in a dilemma, and must manage to get out of it by some means or other. If he could only succeed in this instance, as well as he had succeeded in his former essay in the black art, all might be well, and Margery be carried in triumph into the settlements. Margery, pro haec vice, was his goddess of liberty, and he asked for no higher reward, than to be permitted to live the remainder of his days in the sunshine of her smiles. Liberty! a word that is, just now, in all men’s mouths, but in how few hearts in its purity and truth! What a melancholy mistake, moreover, to suppose that, could it be enjoyed in that perfection with which the imaginations of men love to cheat their judgments, it is the great good of life! One hour spent in humble veneration for the Being that gave it, in common with all of earth, its vacillating and uncertain existence, is of more account than ages passed in its service; and he who fancies that in worshipping liberty, he answers the great end of his existence, hugs a delusion quite as weak, and infinitely more dangerous, than that which now came over the minds of Peter and his countrymen, in reference to the intelligence of the bee. It is a good thing to possess the defective and qualified freedom, which we term “liberty”; but it is a grave error to set it up as an idol to be worshipped.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-21.xhtml

@@ -24,12 +24,12 @@
 					<cite>Rogers</cite>
 				</blockquote>
 			</header>
-			<pre>During the hunt there was little leisure for reflection on the seemingly extraordinary manner in which the bee-hunter had pointed out the spot where the bears were to be found. No one of the Indians had seen him apply the glass to his eye, for, leading the party, he had been able to do this unobserved; but, had they witnessed such a procedure, it would have been as inexplicable as all the rest. It is true, Crowsfeather and one or two of his companions had taken a look through that medicine-glass, but it rather contributed to increase the conjuror's renown, than served to explain any of the marvels he performed.</pre>
+			<pre>During the hunt there was little leisure for reflection on the seemingly extraordinary manner in which the bee-hunter had pointed out the spot where the bears were to be found. No one of the Indians had seen him apply the glass to his eye, for, leading the party, he had been able to do this unobserved; but, had they witnessed such a procedure, it would have been as inexplicable as all the rest. It is true, Crows-feather and one or two of his companions had taken a look through that medicine-glass, but it rather contributed to increase the conjuror's renown, than served to explain any of the marvels he performed.</pre>
 			<p>Peter was most struck with all that had just occurred. He had often heard of the skill of those who hunted bees, and had several times met with individuals who practised the art, but this was the first occasion on which he had ever been a witness, in his own person, of the exercise of a craft so wonderful! Had the process been simply that of catching a bee, filling it with honey, letting it go, and then following it to its hive, it would have been so simple as to require no explanation. But Peter was too intelligent, as well as too observant, not to have seen that a great deal more than this was necessary. On the supposition that the bee flew <em>toward</em> the forest, as had been the fact with two of the bees taken that morning, in what part of that forest was the hunter to look for the bee-tree? It was the angle that perplexed Peter, as it did all the Indians; for that angle, to be understood, required a degree of knowledge and calculation that entirely exceeded all he had ever acquired. Thus is it with us ever. The powers, and faculties, and principles that are necessary fully to comprehend all that we see and all that surrounds us, exist and have been bestowed on man by his beneficent Creator. Still, it is only by slow degrees that he is to become their master, acquiring knowledge, step by step, as he has need of its services, and learns how to use it. Such seems to be the design of Providence, which is gradually opening to our inquiries the arcana of nature, in order that we may convert their possession into such uses as will advance its own wise intentions. Happy are they who feel this truth in their character of individuals! Thrice happy the nations which can be made to understand, that the surest progress is that which is made on the clearest principles, and with the greatest caution! The notion of setting up anything new in morals, is as fallacious in theory as it will be found to be dangerous in practice.</p>
 			<p>It has been said that a sudden change had come over the fierce purposes of Peter. For some time, the nature, artlessness, truth, feminine playfulness and kindness, not to say personal beauty of Margery, had been gradually softening the heart of this stern savage, as it respected the girl herself. Nothing of a weak nature was blended with this feeling, which was purely the growth of that divine principle that is implanted in us all. The quiet, earnest manner in which the girl had, that day, protested her desire to see the rights of the red man respected, completed her conquest; and, so far as the great chief was concerned, secured her safety. It may seem singular, however, that Peter, with all his influence, was unable to say that even one that he was so much disposed to favor, should be spared. By means of his own eloquence, and perseverance, and deep desire for vengeance, however, he had aroused a spirit among his followers that was not so easily quelled. On several occasions, he had found it difficult to prevent the younger and more impetuous of the chiefs from proceeding at once to secure the scalps of those who were in their power; and this he had done, only by promising to increase the number of the victims. How was he then to lessen that number? and that, too, when circumstances did not seem likely to throw any more immediately into his power, as he had once hoped. This council must soon be over, and it would not be in his power to send the chiefs away without enumerating the scalps of the palefaces present among those which were to make up the sum of their race.</p>
 			<p>Taking the perplexity produced by the bee-hunter’s necromancy, and adding it to his concern for Margery, Peter found ample subject for all his reflections. While the young men were dressing their bears, and making the preparations for a feast, he walked apart, like a man whose thoughts had little in common with the surrounding scene. Even the further proceedings of le Bourdon, who had discovered his bee-tree, had felled it, and was then distributing the honey among the Indians, could not draw him from his meditations. The great council of all was to be held that very day⁠—there, on Prairie Round⁠—and it was imperative on Peter to settle the policy he intended to pursue, previously to the hour when the fire was to be lighted, and the chiefs met in final consultation.</p>
 			<p>In the meantime, le Bourdon, by his distribution of the honey, no less than by the manner in which he had found it, was winning golden opinions of those who shared in his bounty. One would think that the idea of property is implanted in us by nature, since men in all conditions appear to entertain strong and distinct notions of this right. Natural it may not be, in the true signification of the term; but it is a right so interwoven with those that are derived from nature, and more particularly with our wants, as almost to identify it with the individual being. It is certain that all we have of civilization is dependent on a just protection of this right; for, without the assurance of enjoying his earnings, who would produce beyond the supply necessary for his own immediate wants? Among the American savages the rights of property are distinctly recognized, so far as their habits and resources extend. The hunting-ground belongs to the tribe, and occasionally the field; but the wigwam, and the arms, and the skins, both for use and for market, and often the horses, and all other movables, belong to the individual. So sacred is this right held to be, that not one of those who stood by, and saw le Bourdon fell his tree, and who witnessed the operation of bringing to light its stores of honey, appeared to dream of meddling with the delicious store, until invited so to do by its lawful owner. It was this reserve, and this respect for a recognized principle, that enabled the bee-hunter to purchase a great deal of popularity, by giving away liberally an article so much prized. None, indeed, was reserved; Boden seeing the impossibility of carrying it away. Happy would he have been, most happy, could he have felt the assurance of being able to get Margery off, without giving a second thought to any of his effects, whether present or absent.</p>
-			<p>As has been intimated, the bee-hunter was fast rising in the favor of the warriors; particularly of those who had a weakness on the score of the stomach. This is the first great avenue to the favor of man⁠—the belly ruling all the other members, the brains included. All this Peter noted, and was now glad to perceive; for, in addition to the favor that Margery had found in his eyes, that wary chief had certain very serious misgivings on the subject of the prudence of attempting to deal harshly with a medicine man of Boden’s calibre. Touching the whiskey-spring he had been doubtful, from the first; even Crowsfeather’s account of the wonderful glass through which that chief had looked, and seen men reduced to children and then converted into giants, had failed to conquer his scepticism; but he was not altogether proof against what he had that day beheld with his own eyes. These marvels shook his previous opinion touching the other matters; and, altogether, the effect was to elevate the bee-hunter to a height, that it really appeared dangerous to assail.</p>
+			<p>As has been intimated, the bee-hunter was fast rising in the favor of the warriors; particularly of those who had a weakness on the score of the stomach. This is the first great avenue to the favor of man⁠—the belly ruling all the other members, the brains included. All this Peter noted, and was now glad to perceive; for, in addition to the favor that Margery had found in his eyes, that wary chief had certain very serious misgivings on the subject of the prudence of attempting to deal harshly with a medicine man of Boden’s calibre. Touching the whiskey-spring he had been doubtful, from the first; even Crows-feather’s account of the wonderful glass through which that chief had looked, and seen men reduced to children and then converted into giants, had failed to conquer his scepticism; but he was not altogether proof against what he had that day beheld with his own eyes. These marvels shook his previous opinion touching the other matters; and, altogether, the effect was to elevate the bee-hunter to a height, that it really appeared dangerous to assail.</p>
 			<p>While Peter was thus shaken with doubts⁠—and that, too, on a point on which he had hitherto stood as firm as a rock⁠—there was another in the crowd, who noted the growing favor of le Bourdon with deep disgust. This man could hardly be termed a chief, though he possessed a malignant power that was often wielded to the discomfiture of those who were. He went by the significant appellation of “The Weasel,” a sobriquet that had been bestowed on him for some supposed resemblance to the little pilfering, prowling quadruped after which he was thus named. In person, and in physical qualities generally, this individual was mean and ill-favored; and squalid habits contributed to render him even less attractive than he might otherwise have been. He was, moreover, particularly addicted to intemperance; lying, wallowing like a hog, for days at a time, whenever his tribe received any of the ample contribution of firewater, which it was then more the custom than it is today, to send among the aborigines. A warrior of no renown, a hunter so indifferent as to compel his squaw and pappooses often to beg for food in strange lodges, of mean presence, and a drunkard, it may seem extraordinary that the Weasel should possess any influence amid so many chiefs renowned for courage, wisdom, deeds in arms, on the hunt, and for services around the council-fire. It was all due to his tongue. Ungque, or the Weasel, was eloquent in a high degree⁠—possessing that variety of his art which most addresses itself to the passions; and, strange as it may seem, men are oftener and more easily led by those who do little else than promise, than by those who actually perform. A lying and fluent tongue becomes a power of itself, with the masses; subverting reason, looking down justice, browbeating truth, and otherwise placing the wrong before the right. This quality the Weasel possessed in a high degree, and was ever willing to use, on occasions that seemed most likely to defeat the wishes of those he hated. Among the last was Peter, whose known ascendancy in his own particular tribe had been a source of great envy and uneasiness to this Indian. He had struggled hard to resist it, and had even dared to speak in favor of the palefaces, and in opposition to the plan of cutting them all off, purely with a disposition to oppose this mysterious stranger. It had been in vain, however; the current running the other way, and the fiery eloquence of Peter proving too strong even for him. Now, to his surprise, from a few words dropped casually, this man ascertained that their greatest leader was disposed so far to relent, as not to destroy <em>all</em> the palefaces in his power. Whom, and how many he meant to spare, Ungque could not tell; but his quick, practised discernment detected the general disposition, and his ruthless tendency to oppose, caused him to cast about for the means of resisting this sudden inclination to show mercy. With the Weasel, the moving principle was ever that of the demagogue; it was to flatter the mass that he might lead it; and he had an innate hostility to whatever was frank, manly, and noble.</p>
 			<p>The time had now come when the Indians wished to be alone. At this council it was their intention to come to an important decision; and even the “young men,” unless chiefs, were to be merely distant spectators. Peter sent for le Bourdon, accordingly, and communicated his wish that all the whites would return to the castle, whither he promised to join them about the setting of the sun, or early the succeeding day.</p>
 			<p>“One of you, you know⁠—dat my wigwam,” said the grim chief, smiling on Margery with a friendly eye, and shaking hands with the bee-hunter, who thought his manner less constrained than on former similar occasions. “Get good supper for ole Injin, young squaw; dat juss what squaw good for.”</p>
@@ -80,7 +80,7 @@
 			<p>The bee-hunter, consequently, was well disposed to second Peter’s project. As for Margery herself, she had half yielded all her objections to her lover’s unaided arguments, and was partly conquered before this reinforcement was brought into the field against her. Peter’s motive was much canvassed, no one of them all being able to penetrate it. Boden, however, had his private opinion on the subject, nor was it so very much out of the way. He fancied that the mysterious chief was well disposed to Margery, and wished to put her as far as possible beyond the chances of an Indian wigwam; marriage being the step of all others most likely to afford her this protection. Now this was not exactly true, but it was right enough in the main. Peter’s aim was to save the life of the girl; her gentle attractions, and kind attentions to himself having wrought this much in her favor; and he believed no means of doing so as certain as forming a close connection for her with the great medicine-bee-hunter. Judging of them by himself, he did not think the Indians would dare to include so great a conjurer in their schemes of vengeance, and was willing himself that le Bourdon should escape, provided Margery could go free and unharmed with him. As for the bee-hunter’s powers, he had many misgivings; they might be dangerous to the red men, and they might not. On this subject, he was in the painful doubts of ignorance, and had the wide area of conjecture open before his mind. He saw; but it was “as in a glass, darkly.”</p>
 			<p>Margery was disposed to delay the ceremony, at least until her brother and sister might be present. But to this le Bourdon himself was not much inclined. It had struck him that Gershom was opposed to an early marriage, most probably because he fancied himself more secure of the bee-hunter’s ingenious and important aid in getting back to the settlements, so long as this strong inducement existed to cling to himself, than if he should release his own hold of Margery, by giving her at once to her lover. Right or wrong, such was the impression taken up by le Bourdon, and he was glad when the missionary urged his request to be permitted to pronounce the nuptial benediction on the spot.</p>
 			<p>Little ceremony is generally used in an American marriage. In a vast many cases no clergyman is employed at all; and where there is, most of the sects have no ring, no giving away, nor any of those observances which were practised in the churches of old. There existed no impediment, therefore; and after a decent interval spent in persuasions, Margery consented to plight her vows to the man of her heart before they left the spot. She would fain have had Dorothy present, for woman loves to lean on her own sex on such occasions, but submitted to the necessity of proceeding at once, as the bee-hunter and the missionary chose to term it.</p>
-			<p>A better altar could not have been selected in all that vast region. It was one of nature’s own erecting; and le Bourdon and his pretty bride placed themselves before it, with feelings suited to the solemnity of the occasion. The good missionary stood within the shade of a burr oak in the centre of those park-like Openings, every object looking fresh, and smiling, and beautiful. The sward was gieen, and short as that of a well-tended lawn; the flowers were, like the bride herself, soft, modest, and sweet; while charming rural vistas stretched through the trees, much as if art had been summoned in aid of the great mistress who had designed the landscape. When the parties knelt in prayer⁠—which all present did, not excepting the worthy corporal⁠—it was on the verdant ground, with first the branches of the trees, and then the deep, fathomless vault of heaven for a canopy. In this manner was the marriage benediction pronounced on the bee-hunter and Margery Waring, in the venerable Oak Openings. No gothic structure, with its fretted aisles and clustered columns, could have been onehalf as appropriate for the union of such a couple.</p>
+			<p>A better altar could not have been selected in all that vast region. It was one of nature’s own erecting; and le Bourdon and his pretty bride placed themselves before it, with feelings suited to the solemnity of the occasion. The good missionary stood within the shade of a burr oak in the centre of those park-like Openings, every object looking fresh, and smiling, and beautiful. The sward was gieen, and short as that of a well-tended lawn; the flowers were, like the bride herself, soft, modest, and sweet; while charming rural vistas stretched through the trees, much as if art had been summoned in aid of the great mistress who had designed the landscape. When the parties knelt in prayer⁠—which all present did, not excepting the worthy corporal⁠—it was on the verdant ground, with first the branches of the trees, and then the deep, fathomless vault of heaven for a canopy. In this manner was the marriage benediction pronounced on the bee-hunter and Margery Waring, in the venerable Oak Openings. No gothic structure, with its fretted aisles and clustered columns, could have been one-half as appropriate for the union of such a couple.</p>
 		</section>
 	</body>
 </html>

src/epub/text/chapter-22.xhtml

@@ -32,13 +32,13 @@
 			<p>On the other hand, Ungque appeared to have no particular cause of concern. His manner was as much unoccupied as usual; and to his habit of referring all his influence to sudden and powerful bursts of eloquence, if design of any sort was entertained, he left his success.</p>
 			<p>We pass over the details of assembling the council. The spot was not exactly on the prairie, but in a bit of lovely “Opening” on its margin, where the eye could roam over a wide extent of that peculiar natural meadow, while the body enjoyed the shades of the wood. The chiefs alone were in the circle, while the “braves” and the “young men” generally formed a group on the outside; near enough to hear what passed, and to profit by it, if so disposed. The pipe was smoked, and all the ordinary customs observed, when Bear’s Meat arose, the first speaker on that momentous occasion.</p>
 			<p>“Brothers,” he said, “this is the great council on Prairie Round to which we have been called. We have met before, but not here. This is our first meeting here. We have travelled a long path to get here. Some of our brethren have travelled farther. They are at Detroit. They went there to meet our great Canada father, and to take Yankee scalps. How many scalps they have taken I do not know, or I would tell you. It is pleasant to me to count Yankee scalps. I would rather count them, than count the scalps of red men. There are still a great many left. The Yankees are many, and each Yankee has a scalp. There should not be so many. When the buffaloes came in the largest droves, our fathers used to go out to hunt them in the strongest parties. Their sons should do the same. We are the sons of those fathers. They say we look like them, talk like them, live like them⁠—we should <em>act</em> like them. Let another speak, for I have done.”</p>
-			<p>After this brief address, which bore some resemblance to a chairman’s calling a meeting of civilized men to order, there was more smoking. It was fully expected that Peter would next arise, but he did not. Perceiving this, and willing to allow time to that great chief to arrange his thoughts, Crowsfeather assumed the office of filling the gap. He was far more of a warrior than of an orator, and was listened to respectfully, but less for what he said, than for what he had done. A good deal of Indian boasting, quite naturally, was blended with <em>his</em> discourse.</p>
-			<p>“My brother has told you of the Yankee scalps,” he commenced. “He says they are many. He says there ought to be fewer. He did not remember who sat so near him. Perhaps he does not know that there are three less now than there were a moon since. Crowsfeather took three at Chicago. Many scalps were taken there. The Yankees must be plentier than the buffaloes on the great prairies, if they can lose so many scalps often, and send forth their warriors. I am a Pottawattamie. My brothers know that tribe. It is not a tribe of Jews, but a tribe of Injins. It is a great tribe. It never was <em>lost</em>. It <em>cannot</em> be lost. No tribe better knows all the paths, and all the best routes to every point where it wishes to go. It is foolish to say you can lose a Pottawattamie. A duck would be as likely to lose itself as a Pottawattamie. I do not speak for the Ottawas: I speak for the Pottawattamies. We are not Jews. We do not wish to be Jews; and what we do not wish to be, we will not be. Our father who has come so far to tell us that we are not Injins, but Jews, is mistaken. I never heard of these Jews before. I do not wish to hear of them again. When a man has heard enough, he does not keep his ears open willingly. It is then best for the speaker to sit down. The Pottawattamies have shut their ears to the great medicine-priest of the palefaces. What he says may be true of other tribes, but it is not true of the Pottawatttamies. We are not lost; we are not Jews. I have done.”</p>
-			<p>This speech was received with general favor. The notion that the Indians were not Indians, but Jews, was far from being agreeable to those who had heard what had been said on the subject; and the opinions of Crowsfeather possessed the great advantage of reflecting the common sentiment on this interesting subject. When this is the case, a very little eloquence or logic goes a great way; and, on the whole, the address of the last speaker was somewhat better received than that of the first.</p>
+			<p>After this brief address, which bore some resemblance to a chairman’s calling a meeting of civilized men to order, there was more smoking. It was fully expected that Peter would next arise, but he did not. Perceiving this, and willing to allow time to that great chief to arrange his thoughts, Crows-feather assumed the office of filling the gap. He was far more of a warrior than of an orator, and was listened to respectfully, but less for what he said, than for what he had done. A good deal of Indian boasting, quite naturally, was blended with <em>his</em> discourse.</p>
+			<p>“My brother has told you of the Yankee scalps,” he commenced. “He says they are many. He says there ought to be fewer. He did not remember who sat so near him. Perhaps he does not know that there are three less now than there were a moon since. Crows-feather took three at Chicago. Many scalps were taken there. The Yankees must be plentier than the buffaloes on the great prairies, if they can lose so many scalps often, and send forth their warriors. I am a Pottawattamie. My brothers know that tribe. It is not a tribe of Jews, but a tribe of Injins. It is a great tribe. It never was <em>lost</em>. It <em>cannot</em> be lost. No tribe better knows all the paths, and all the best routes to every point where it wishes to go. It is foolish to say you can lose a Pottawattamie. A duck would be as likely to lose itself as a Pottawattamie. I do not speak for the Ottawas: I speak for the Pottawattamies. We are not Jews. We do not wish to be Jews; and what we do not wish to be, we will not be. Our father who has come so far to tell us that we are not Injins, but Jews, is mistaken. I never heard of these Jews before. I do not wish to hear of them again. When a man has heard enough, he does not keep his ears open willingly. It is then best for the speaker to sit down. The Pottawattamies have shut their ears to the great medicine-priest of the palefaces. What he says may be true of other tribes, but it is not true of the Pottawatttamies. We are not lost; we are not Jews. I have done.”</p>
+			<p>This speech was received with general favor. The notion that the Indians were not Indians, but Jews, was far from being agreeable to those who had heard what had been said on the subject; and the opinions of Crows-feather possessed the great advantage of reflecting the common sentiment on this interesting subject. When this is the case, a very little eloquence or logic goes a great way; and, on the whole, the address of the last speaker was somewhat better received than that of the first.</p>
 			<p>It was now confidently believed that Peter would rise. But he did not. That mysterious chief was not yet prepared to speak, or he was judiciously exciting expectation by keeping back. There were at least ten minutes of silent smoking, ere a chief, whose name rendered into English was Bough of the Oak, arose, evidently with a desire to help the time along. Taking his cue from the success of Crows-feather, he followed up the advantage obtained by that chief, assailing the theory of the missionary from another quarter.</p>
 			<p>“I am an Injin,” said Bough of the Oak; “my father was an Injin, and my mother was the daughter of an Injin. All my fathers were red men, and all their sons. Why should I wish to be anything else? I asked my brother, the medicine-priest, and he owned that Jews are palefaces. This he should not have owned if he wished the Injins to be Jews. My skin is red. The Manitou of my fathers so painted it, and their child will not try to wash out the color. Were the color washed out of my face, I should be a paleface! There would not be paint enough to hide my shame. No; I was born red, and will die a red man. It is not good to have two faces. An Injin is not a snake, to cast his skin. The skin in which he was born he keeps. He plays in it when a child; he goes in it to his first hunt; the bears and the deer know him by it; he carries it with him on the warpath, and his enemies tremble at the sight of it; his squaw knows him by that skin when he comes back to his wigwam; and when he dies, he is put aside in the same skin in⁠—which he was born. There is but one skin, and it has but one color. At first, it is little. The pappoose that wears it is little. There is not need of a large skin. But it grows with the pappoose, and the biggest warrior finds his skin around him. This is because the Great Spirit fitted it to him. Whatever the Manitou does is good.</p>
 			<p>“My brothers have squaws⁠—they have pappooses. When the pappoose is put into their arms, do they get the paint-stones, and paint it red? They do not. It is not necessary. The Manitou painted it red before it was born. How this was done I do not know. I am nothing but a poor Injin, and only know what I see. I have seen that the pappooses are red when they are born, and that the warriors are red when they die. They are also red while living. It is enough. Their fathers could never have been palefaces, or we should find some white spots on their children. There are none.</p>
-			<p>“Crowsfeather has spoken of the Jews as lost. I am not surprised to hear it. It seems to me that all palefaces get lost. They wander from their own hunting-grounds into those of other people. It is not so with Injins. The Pottawattamie does not kill the deer of the Iowa, nor the Ottawa the deer of the Menomenees. Each tribe knows its own game. This is because they are not lost. My paleface father appears to wish us well. He has come on a long and weary path to tell us about his Manitou. For this I thank him. I thank all who wish to do me good. Them that wish to do me harm I strike from behind. It is our Injin custom. I do not wish to hurt the medicine-priest, because I think he wishes to do me good, and not to do me harm. He has a strange law. It is to do good to them that do harm to you. It is not the law of the red men. It is not good law. I do not wonder that the tribes which follow such a law get lost. They cannot tell their friends from their enemies. They can have no people to scalp. What is a warrior if he cannot find someone to scalp? No; such a law would make women of the bravest braves in the Openings, or on the prairie. It may be a good law for Jews, who get lost; but it is a bad law for Injins, who know the paths they travel. Let another speak.”</p>
+			<p>“Crows-feather has spoken of the Jews as lost. I am not surprised to hear it. It seems to me that all palefaces get lost. They wander from their own hunting-grounds into those of other people. It is not so with Injins. The Pottawattamie does not kill the deer of the Iowa, nor the Ottawa the deer of the Menomenees. Each tribe knows its own game. This is because they are not lost. My paleface father appears to wish us well. He has come on a long and weary path to tell us about his Manitou. For this I thank him. I thank all who wish to do me good. Them that wish to do me harm I strike from behind. It is our Injin custom. I do not wish to hurt the medicine-priest, because I think he wishes to do me good, and not to do me harm. He has a strange law. It is to do good to them that do harm to you. It is not the law of the red men. It is not good law. I do not wonder that the tribes which follow such a law get lost. They cannot tell their friends from their enemies. They can have no people to scalp. What is a warrior if he cannot find someone to scalp? No; such a law would make women of the bravest braves in the Openings, or on the prairie. It may be a good law for Jews, who get lost; but it is a bad law for Injins, who know the paths they travel. Let another speak.”</p>
 			<p>This brief profession of faith, on the subject that had been so recently broached in the council, seemed to give infinite satisfaction. All present evidently preferred being red men, who knew where they were, than to be palefaces who had lost their road. Ignorance of his path is a species of disgrace to an American savage, and not a man there would have confessed that his particular division of the great human family was in that dilemma. The idea that the Yankees were “lost,” and had got materially astray, was very grateful to most who heard it; and Bough of the Oak gained a considerable reputation as an orator, in consequence of the lucky hits made on this occasion.</p>
 			<p>Another long, ruminating pause, and much passing of the pipe of peace succeeded. It was near half an hour after the last speaker had resumed his seat, ere Peter stood erect. In that long interval expectation had time to increase, and curiosity to augment itself. Nothing but a very great event could cause this pondering, this deliberation, and this unwillingness to begin. When, however, the time did come for the mysterious chief to speak, the man of many scalps to open his mouth, profound was the attention that prevailed among all present. Even after he had arisen, the orator stood silently looking around him, as if the throes of his thoughts had to be a little suppressed before he could trust his tongue to give them utterance.</p>
 			<p>“What is the earth?” commenced Peter, in a deep, guttural tone of voice, which the deathlike stillness rendered audible even to the outermost boundaries of the circle of admiring and curious countenances. “It is one plain adjoining another; river after river; lake after lake; prairie touching prairie; and pleasant woods, that seem to have no limits, all given to men to dwell in. It would seem that the Great Spirit parcelled out this rich possession into hunting-grounds for all. He colored men differently. His dearest children he painted red, which is his own color. Them that he loved less he colored less, and they had red only in spots. Them he loved least he dipped in a dark dye, and left them black. These are the colors of men. If there are more, I have not seen them. Some say there are. I shall think so, too, when I see them.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-23.xhtml

@@ -27,38 +27,38 @@
 				</blockquote>
 			</header>
 			<p>The family at Castle Meal saw nothing of any Indian until the day that succeeded the council. Gershom and Dorothy received the tidings of their sister’s marriage with very little emotion. It was an event they expected; and as for bride-cake and ceremonies, of one there was none at all, and of the other no more than has been mentioned. The relatives of Margery did not break their hearts on account of the neglect with which they had been treated, but received the young couple as if one had given her away, and the other “had pulled off her glove,” as young ladies now express it, in deference to the act that generally gives the coup de grace to youthful female friendships. On the Openings, neither time nor breath is wasted in useless compliments; and all was held to be well done on this occasion, because it was done legally. A question might have been raised, indeed, whether that marriage had taken place under the American, or under the English flag; for General Hull, in surrendering Detroit, had included the entire territory of Michigan, as well as troops present, troops absent, and troops on the march to join him. Had he been in possession of Peter’s ruthless secret, which we happen to know he was not, he could not have been more anxious to throw the mantle of British authority around all of his race on that remote frontier, than he proved himself to be. Still, it is to be presumed that the marriage would have been regarded as legal; conquered territories usually preserving their laws and usages for a time, at least. A little joking passed, as a matter of course; for this is de rigueur in all marriages, except in the cases of the most cultivated; and certainly neither the corporal nor Gershom belonged to the elite of human society.</p>
-			<p>About the hour of breakfast Pigeonswing came in, as if returning from one of his ordinary hunts. He brought with him venison, as well as several wild ducks that he had killed in the Kalamazoo, and three or four prairie hens. The Chippewa never betrayed exultation at the success of his exertions, but on this occasion he actually appeared sad. Dorothy received his game, and as she took the ducks and other fowls, she spoke to him.</p>
-			<p>“Thank you, Pigeonswing,” said the young matron. “No paleface could be a better provider, and many are not one-half as good.”</p>
+			<p>About the hour of breakfast Pigeons-wing came in, as if returning from one of his ordinary hunts. He brought with him venison, as well as several wild ducks that he had killed in the Kalamazoo, and three or four prairie hens. The Chippewa never betrayed exultation at the success of his exertions, but on this occasion he actually appeared sad. Dorothy received his game, and as she took the ducks and other fowls, she spoke to him.</p>
+			<p>“Thank you, Pigeons-wing,” said the young matron. “No paleface could be a better provider, and many are not one-half as good.”</p>
 			<p>“What provider mean, eh?” demanded the literal-minded savage. “Mean good; mean bad, eh?”</p>
 			<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>“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>“I get enough, Pigeons-wing, 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 paleface 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>
-			<p>Pigeonswing looked intently at the woman, as she carefully enumerated her favorites among the dishes of her home-kitchen. When she had ended, he raised a finger, looked still more significantly at her, and said:</p>
+			<p>“I thank you, Pigeons-wing, 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 paleface 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>
+			<p>Pigeons-wing looked intently at the woman, as she carefully enumerated her favorites among the dishes of her home-kitchen. When she had ended, he raised a finger, looked still more significantly at her, and said:</p>
 			<p>“Why don’t go back, get all dem good t’ings? Better for paleface to eat paleface food, and leave Injin Injin food.”</p>
-			<p>“For my part, Pigeonswing, I wish such had ever been the law. Venison, and prairie-fowls, and wild ducks, and trout, and bear’s meat, and wild pigeons, and the fish that are to be found in these western rivers, are all good for them that was brought up on ’em, but they tire an eastern palate dreadfully. Give me roast beef any day before buffalo’s hump, and a good barnyard fowl before all the game-birds that ever flew.”</p>
+			<p>“For my part, Pigeons-wing, I wish such had ever been the law. Venison, and prairie-fowls, and wild ducks, and trout, and bear’s meat, and wild pigeons, and the fish that are to be found in these western rivers, are all good for them that was brought up on ’em, but they tire an eastern palate dreadfully. Give me roast beef any day before buffalo’s hump, and a good barnyard fowl before all the game-birds that ever flew.”</p>
 			<p>“Yes; dat de way paleface squaw feel. Bess go back, and get what she like. Bess go quick as she can⁠—go today.”</p>
-			<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>“I’m in no such hurry, Pigeons-wing, 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 wartimes, 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 Pigeons-wing; 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, Pigeons-wing,” he said to the Chippewa, whom he had followed to the spring⁠—“I hope, Pigeons-wing, 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>“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>
-			<p>“Tell you he don’t care,” returned Pigeonswing, a little crustily. “Don’t care if Jew⁠—don’t care if Injin. Know dat make no difference. Hunting-ground just same⁠—game just same⁠—scalps just same. Make no difference, and don’t care.”</p>
+			<p>“Tell you he don’t care,” returned Pigeons-wing, a little crustily. “Don’t care if Jew⁠—don’t care if Injin. Know dat make no difference. Hunting-ground just same⁠—game just same⁠—scalps just same. Make no difference, and don’t care.”</p>
 			<p>“I am glad of this⁠—but why did you advise Dorothy to quit the Openings in the hasty manner you did, if all is right with the chiefs? It is not good to start on a journey without preparation and prayer. Why, then, did you give this advice to Dorothy to quit the Openings so soon?”</p>
 			<p>“Bess for squaw to go home, when Injin dig up hatchet. Openin’ full of warrior⁠—prairie full of warrior⁠—wood full of warrior. When dat so, bess for squaw to go home.”</p>
 			<p>“This would be true, were the Indians our enemies. Heaven be praised, they are our friends, and will not harm us. Peter is a great chief, and can make his young men do what he tells them; and Peter is our friend. With Peter to stand by us, and a merciful Providence to direct us where, when, and how to go, we can have nothing to fear. I trust in Divine Providence.”</p>
-			<p>“Who he be?” asked Pigeonswing, innocently, for his knowledge of English did not extend far enough to comprehend a phrase so complicated, though so familiar to ourselves. “He know all paths, eh?”</p>
+			<p>“Who he be?” asked Pigeons-wing, innocently, for his knowledge of English did not extend far enough to comprehend a phrase so complicated, though so familiar to ourselves. “He know all paths, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“Yes; and directs us on all paths⁠—more especially such as are for our good.”</p>
 			<p>“Bess get him to tell you path into Detroit. Dat good path, now, for all palefaces.”</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’re welcome back, Pigeons-wing,” 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 <em>can</em> 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>“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, Pigeons-wing, 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>
 			<p>“Yes; good squaw, dat. Like dat squaw pretty well. Nebber see better. Bess keep squaw alway in his own wigwam.”</p>
@@ -68,14 +68,14 @@
 			<p>The Indian appeared at a loss, now, how to express himself further. On one side was his faith to his color, and his dread of Peter and the great chiefs; on the other, his strong regard for the bee-hunter. He pondered a moment, and then took his own manner of communicating that which he wished to say. The fact that his friend was married made no great difference in his advice, for the Indian was much too shrewd an observer not to have detected the bee-hunter’s attachment. He had not supposed it possible to separate his friend from the family of Gershom, though he did suppose there would be less difficulty in getting him to go on a path different from that which the missionary and corporal might take. His own great purpose was to serve le Bourdon, and how many or how few might incidentally profit by it he did not care. The truth compels us to own, that even Margery’s charms, and nature, and warmhearted interest in all around her, had failed to make any impression on his marble-like feelings; while the bee-hunter’s habits, skill in his craft, and close connection with himself at the mouth of the river, and more especially in liberating him from his enemies, had united him in a comrade’s friendship with her husband. It was a little singular that this Chippewa did not fall into Peter’s superstitious dread of the bee-hunter’s necromancy, though he was aware of all that had passed the previous day on the prairie. Either on account of his greater familiarity with le Bourdon’s habits, or because he was in the secret of the trick of the whiskey-spring, or from a closer knowledge of white men and their ways, this young Indian was freer from apprehensions of this nature, perhaps, than anyone of the same color and origin within many miles of the spot. In a word, Pigeons-wing regarded the bee-hunter as his friend, while he looked upon the other palefaces as so many persons thrown by accident in his company. Now that Margery had actually become his friend’s squaw, his interest in her was somewhat increased; though she had never obtained that interest in his feelings that she had awakened in the breast of Peter, by her attentions to him, her gentleness, lighthearted gayety, and womanly care, and all without the least design on her own part.</p>
 			<p>“No,” answered the Chippewa, after a moment’s reflection, “no very safe for Yankee, or Yankee Injin. Don’t t’ink my scalp very safe, if chief know’d I’m Yankee runner. Bess alway to keep scalp safe. Dem Pottawattamie I take care not to see. Know all about ’em, too. Know what he <em>say</em>⁠—know what he <em>do</em>⁠—b’lieve I know what he T’<em>ink</em>.”</p>
 			<p>“I did not see you, Pigeon, among the red young men, yesterday, out on Prairie Round.”</p>
-			<p>“Know too much to go dere. Crowsfeather and Pottawattamie out dere. Bess not go near dem when dey have eye open. Take ’em asleep. Dat bess way wid sich Injin. Catch ’em some time! But your ear open, Bourdon?”</p>
+			<p>“Know too much to go dere. Crows-feather and Pottawattamie out dere. Bess not go near dem when dey have eye open. Take ’em asleep. Dat bess way wid sich Injin. Catch ’em some time! But your ear open, Bourdon?”</p>
 			<p>“Wide open, my good friend⁠—what have you to whisper in it?”</p>
 			<p>“You look hard at Peter when he come in. If he t’ink good deal, and don’t say much, when he <em>do</em> speak, mind what he say. If he smile, and very much friend, must hab his scalp.”</p>
 			<p>“Chippewa, Peter is my friend, lives in my cabin, and eats of my bread! The hand that touches him, touches me.”</p>
 			<p>“Which bess, eh⁠—<em>his</em> scalp, or your’n? If he <em>very</em> much friend when he comes in, his scalp muss come off, or your’n. Yes, juss so. Dat de way. Know Injin better dan you know him, Bourdon. You good bee-hunter, but poor Injin. Ebbery body hab his way⁠—Injin got his. Peter laugh and very much friend, when he come home, den he mean to hab <em>your</em> scalp. If don’t smile, and don’t seem very much friend, but look down, and t’ink, t’ink, t’ink, den he no mean to hurt you, but try to get you out of hand of chiefs. Dat all.”</p>
-			<p>As Pigeonswing concluded, he walked coolly away, leaving his friend to ruminate on the alternative of scalp or no scalp! The bee-hunter now understood the Chippewa perfectly. He was aware that this man had means of his own to ascertain what was passing around him in the Openings, and he had the utmost confidence in his integrity and good wishes. If a red man is slow to forget an injury, he never forgets a favor. In this he was as unlike as possible to most of the palefaces who were supplanting his race, for these last had, and have, as extraordinary a tenacity in losing sight of benefits, as they have in remembering wrongs.</p>
-			<p>By some means or other, it was now clear that Pigeonswing foresaw that a crisis was at hand. Had le Bourdon been as disconnected and solitary as he was when he first met the Chippewa, it is not probable that either the words or the manner of his friend would have produced much impression on him, so little accustomed was he to dwell on the hazards of his frontier position. But the case was now altogether changed. Margery and her claims stood foremost in his mind; and through Margery came Dolly and her husband. There was no mistaking Pigeonswing’s intention. It was to give warning of some immediate danger, and a danger that, in some way, was connected with the deportment of Peter. It was easy enough to comprehend the allusions to the mysterious chief’s smiles and melancholy; and the bee-hunter understood that he was to watch that Indian’s manner, and take the alarm or bestow his confidence accordingly.</p>
-			<p>Le Bourdon was not left long in doubt. Peter arrived about half-an-hour after Pigeonswing had gone to seek his rest; and from the instant he came in sight, our hero discerned the thoughtful eye and melancholy manner. These signs were still more obvious when the tribeless Indian came nearer; so obvious, indeed, as to strike more than one of those who were interested observers of all that this extraordinary being said and did. Among others, Margery was the first to see this change, and the first to let it influence her own manner. This she did, notwithstanding le Bourdon had said nothing to her on the subject, and in defiance of the bashful feelings of a bride; which, under circumstances less marked, might have induced her to keep more in the background. As Peter stopped at the spring to quench his thirst, Margery was, in truth, the first to approach and to speak to him.</p>
+			<p>As Pigeons-wing concluded, he walked coolly away, leaving his friend to ruminate on the alternative of scalp or no scalp! The bee-hunter now understood the Chippewa perfectly. He was aware that this man had means of his own to ascertain what was passing around him in the Openings, and he had the utmost confidence in his integrity and good wishes. If a red man is slow to forget an injury, he never forgets a favor. In this he was as unlike as possible to most of the palefaces who were supplanting his race, for these last had, and have, as extraordinary a tenacity in losing sight of benefits, as they have in remembering wrongs.</p>
+			<p>By some means or other, it was now clear that Pigeons-wing foresaw that a crisis was at hand. Had le Bourdon been as disconnected and solitary as he was when he first met the Chippewa, it is not probable that either the words or the manner of his friend would have produced much impression on him, so little accustomed was he to dwell on the hazards of his frontier position. But the case was now altogether changed. Margery and her claims stood foremost in his mind; and through Margery came Dolly and her husband. There was no mistaking Pigeons-wing’s intention. It was to give warning of some immediate danger, and a danger that, in some way, was connected with the deportment of Peter. It was easy enough to comprehend the allusions to the mysterious chief’s smiles and melancholy; and the bee-hunter understood that he was to watch that Indian’s manner, and take the alarm or bestow his confidence accordingly.</p>
+			<p>Le Bourdon was not left long in doubt. Peter arrived about half-an-hour after Pigeons-wing had gone to seek his rest; and from the instant he came in sight, our hero discerned the thoughtful eye and melancholy manner. These signs were still more obvious when the tribeless Indian came nearer; so obvious, indeed, as to strike more than one of those who were interested observers of all that this extraordinary being said and did. Among others, Margery was the first to see this change, and the first to let it influence her own manner. This she did, notwithstanding le Bourdon had said nothing to her on the subject, and in defiance of the bashful feelings of a bride; which, under circumstances less marked, might have induced her to keep more in the background. As Peter stopped at the spring to quench his thirst, Margery was, in truth, the first to approach and to speak to him.</p>
 			<p>“You seem weary, Peter,” said the young wife, somewhat timidly as to voice and air, but with a decided and honest manifestation of interest in what she was about. Nor had Margery gone empty-handed. She took with her a savory dish, one of those that the men of the woods love⁠—meat cooked in its own juices, and garnished with several little additions, that her skill in the arts of civilized life enabled her to supply.</p>
 			<p>“You seem tired, Peter, and if I did not fear to say it, I should tell you that you also seem sad,” said Margery, as she placed her dish on a rude table that was kept at the spot, for the convenience of those who seldom respected hours, or regularity of any sort in their meals. “Here is food that you like, which I have cooked with my own hands.”</p>
 			<p>The Indian looked intently at the timid and charming young creature, who came forward thus to contribute to his comforts, and the saddened expression of his countenance deepened. He was fatigued and hungry, and he ate for some time without speaking, beyond uttering a brief expression of his thanks. When his appetite was appeased, however, and she who had so sedulously attended to his wants was about to remove the remains of the dish, he signed with his finger for her to draw nearer, intimating that he had something to say. Margery obeyed without hesitation, though the color flitted in her face like the changes in an evening sky. But so much good will and confidence had been awakened between these two, that a daughter would not have drawn near to a father with more confidence than Margery stood before Peter.</p>
@@ -90,7 +90,7 @@
 			<p>Still no explanation passed between them. Margery remained near Peter for some time, administering to his wants, and otherwise demeaning herself much as a daughter might have done. At length le Bourdon joined them. The salutations were friendly, and the manner in which the mysterious chief regarded the equally mysterious bee-hunter, was not altogether without a certain degree of awe. Boden perceived this, and was not slow to comprehend that he owed this accession of influence to the scene which had occurred on the prairie.</p>
 			<p>“Is the great council ended, Peter?” asked the bee-hunter, when the little interval of silence had been observed.</p>
 			<p>“Yes, it over. No more council, now, on Prairie Round.”</p>
-			<p>“And the chiefs⁠—have they all gone on their proper paths? What has become of my old acquaintance, Crowsfeather? and all the rest of them⁠—Bear’s Meat, in particular?”</p>
+			<p>“And the chiefs⁠—have they all gone on their proper paths? What has become of my old acquaintance, Crows-feather? and all the rest of them⁠—Bear’s Meat, in particular?”</p>
 			<p>“All gone. No more council now. Agree what to do and so go away.”</p>
 			<p>“But are red men always as good as their words? do they <em>perform</em> always what they <em>promise</em>?”</p>
 			<p>“Sartain. Ebbery man ought do what he say. Dat Injin law⁠—no paleface law, eh?”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-24.xhtml

@@ -43,10 +43,10 @@
 			<p>Thus pledged, the corporal no longer hesitated; but he accompanied Parson Amen, as the latter fell into the tracks of the chief, and proceeded rapidly in the direction of the spring in the piece of bottomland, where the council first described had been held. This spot was about two miles from the palisaded house, and quite out of view, as well as out of reach of sound. As they walked side by side, taking the footsteps of the great chief for their guides, the corporal, however, expressed to his companion his dislike of the whole movement.</p>
 			<p>“We ought to stand by our garrison in times like these, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Amen,” said the well-meaning soldier. “A garrison is a garrison; and Injins seldom do much on a well-built and boldly-defended spot of that natur’. They want artillery, without which their assaults are never very formidable.”</p>
 			<p>“Why talk you of warlike means, corporal, when we are in the midst of friends? Is not Peter our known and well-tried associate, one with whom you and I have travelled far; and do we not know that we have friends among these chiefs, whom we are now going to visit? The Lord has led me into these distant and savage regions, to carry his word, and to proclaim his name; and a most unworthy and unprofitable servant should I prove, were I to hesitate about approaching them I am appointed to teach. No, no; fear nothing. I will not say that you carry Caesar and his fortunes, as I have heard was once said of old, but I will say you follow one who is led of God, and who marches with the certainty of being divinely commanded.”</p>
-			<p>The corporal was ashamed to oppose so confident an enthusiasm, and he offered no further resistance. Together the two followed their leader, who, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, soon had them out of sight of the castle, and well on their way toward the spring. When about half the distance was made, the direction took the party through a little thicket, or rather along its margin, and the missionary, a good deal to his surprise, saw Pigeonswing within the cover, seemingly preparing for another hunt. This young warrior had so lately returned from one excursion of this nature, that he was not expected to go forth so soon on another. Nor was he accustomed to go out so early in the day. This was the hour in which he ordinarily slept; but there he was, beyond a question, and apparently looking at the party as it passed. So cold was his manner, however, and so indifferent did he seem, that no one would have suspected that he knew aught of what was in contemplation. Having satisfied himself that his friend, the bee-hunter, was not one of those who followed Peter, the Chippewa turned coldly away, and began to examine the flint of his rifle. The corporal noted this manner, and it gave him additional confidence to proceed; for he could not imagine that any human being would manifest so much indifference, when sinister designs existed.</p>
+			<p>The corporal was ashamed to oppose so confident an enthusiasm, and he offered no further resistance. Together the two followed their leader, who, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, soon had them out of sight of the castle, and well on their way toward the spring. When about half the distance was made, the direction took the party through a little thicket, or rather along its margin, and the missionary, a good deal to his surprise, saw Pigeons-wing within the cover, seemingly preparing for another hunt. This young warrior had so lately returned from one excursion of this nature, that he was not expected to go forth so soon on another. Nor was he accustomed to go out so early in the day. This was the hour in which he ordinarily slept; but there he was, beyond a question, and apparently looking at the party as it passed. So cold was his manner, however, and so indifferent did he seem, that no one would have suspected that he knew aught of what was in contemplation. Having satisfied himself that his friend, the bee-hunter, was not one of those who followed Peter, the Chippewa turned coldly away, and began to examine the flint of his rifle. The corporal noted this manner, and it gave him additional confidence to proceed; for he could not imagine that any human being would manifest so much indifference, when sinister designs existed.</p>
 			<p>Peter turned neither to the right hand nor to the left, until he had led the way down upon the little arena of bottomland already described, and which was found well sprinkled with savages. A few stood, or sat about in groups, earnestly conversing; but most lay extended at length on the green sward, in the indolent repose that is so grateful to an Indian warrior in his hours of inaction. The arrival of Peter, however, instantly put a new face on the appearance of matters. Every man started to his feet, and additions were made to those who were found in the arena by those who came out of the adjacent thickets, until some two or three hundred of the red men were assembled in a circle around the newly-arrived palefaces.</p>
 			<p>“There,” said Peter, sternly, fastening his eye with a hostile expression on Bough of the Oak and Ungque, in particular⁠—“there are your captives. Do with them as you will. As for them that have dared to question my faith, let them own that they are liars!”</p>
-			<p>This was not a very amicable salutation, but savages are accustomed to plain language. Bough of the Oak appeared a little uneasy, and Ungque’s countenance denoted dissatisfaction; but the last was too skilful an actor to allow many of the secrets of his plotting mind to shine through the windows of his face. As for the crowd at large, gleams of content passed over the bright red faces, illuminating them with looks of savage joy. Murmurs of approbation were heard, and Crowsfeather addressed the throng, there, where it stood, encircling the two helpless and as yet but half-alarmed victims of so fell a plot.</p>
+			<p>This was not a very amicable salutation, but savages are accustomed to plain language. Bough of the Oak appeared a little uneasy, and Ungque’s countenance denoted dissatisfaction; but the last was too skilful an actor to allow many of the secrets of his plotting mind to shine through the windows of his face. As for the crowd at large, gleams of content passed over the bright red faces, illuminating them with looks of savage joy. Murmurs of approbation were heard, and Crows-feather addressed the throng, there, where it stood, encircling the two helpless and as yet but half-alarmed victims of so fell a plot.</p>
 			<p>“My brothers and my young men can now see,” said this Pottawattamie, “that the tribeless chief has an Injin heart. His heart is <em>not</em> a paleface heart⁠—it is that of a red man. Some of our chiefs have thought that he had lived too much with the strangers, and that he had forgotten the traditions of our fathers, and was listening to the song of the medicine priest. Some thought that he believed himself lost, and a Jew, and not an Injin. This is not so. Peter knows the path he is on. He knows that he is a redskin, and he looks on the Yankees as enemies. The scalps he has taken are so numerous they cannot be counted. He is ready to take more. Here are two that he gives to us. When we have done with these two captives, he will bring us more. He will continue to bring them, until the palefaces will be as few as the deer in their own clearings. Such is the will of the Manitou.”</p>
 			<p>The missionary understood all that was said, and he was not a little appalled at the aspect of things. For the first time he began to apprehend that he was in danger. So much was this devout and well-intentioned servant of his church accustomed to place his dependence on a superintending Providence, that apprehension of personal suffering seldom had any influence on his exertions. He believed himself to be an object of especial care; though he was ever ready to admit that the wisdom which human minds cannot compass, might order events that, at first sight, would seem to be opposed to that which ought to be permitted to come to pass. In this particular Parson Amen was a model of submission, firmly believing that all that happened was in furtherance of the great scheme of man’s regeneration and eventual salvation.</p>
 			<p>With the corporal it was very different. Accustomed to war with red men, and most acquainted with them in their worst character, he ever suspected treachery, and had followed Peter with a degree of reluctance he had not cared to express. He now thoroughly took the alarm, however, and stood on his guard. Although he did not comprehend more than half of that which Peter had said, he understood quite enough to see that he and the missionary were surrounded by enemies, if not by executioners.</p>
@@ -60,7 +60,7 @@
 			<p>That good opening, however, was never made. The savages, though astonished, were by no means frightened, and had not the smallest idea of letting their captives escape. On the contrary, Bear’s Meat, who acted as commander-in-chief on this occasion, was quite self-possessed, and so far from being impressed with the missionary’s prayer, he listened to it only in the hope of hearing some admission of weakness escape. But the excitement of the corporal soon produced a crisis. His attempts to make a movement “by the left flank,” caused his column of defence to be broken, and obtaining no assistance from Parson Amen, who was still pouring out his soul in prayer, while endeavoring to bring things back to their original state, he suddenly found himself surrounded and disarmed. From that instant, the corporal changed his tactics. So long as he was armed, and comparatively free, he had bethought him only of the means of resistance; now that these were denied him, he submitted, and summoned all his resolution to bear the penalties of his captivity, in a manner that might not do discredit to his regiment. This was the third time that Corporal Flint had been a prisoner among the Indians, and he was not now to learn the nature of their tender mercies. His forebodings were not of the most pleasant character; but that which could not be helped, he was disposed to bear with manly fortitude. His greatest concern, at that fearful moment, was for the honor of his corps.</p>
 			<p>All this time, Parson Amen continued his prayer. So completely was his spirit occupied with the duty of offering up his petition, that he was utterly unconscious of what else had passed; nor had he heard one of the corporal’s appeals for “attention,” and to be “steady,” and to march “by the left flank.” In a word, the whole man was intent on prayer; and when thus employed, a six-pounder discharged in the circle would hardly have disconcerted him. He persevered, therefore, uninterrupted by his conquerors, until he concluded in his own way. Having thus fortified his soul, and asked for succor where he had now so long been accustomed to seek and to find it, the worthy missionary took his seat quietly on a log, on which the corporal had been previously placed by his captors.</p>
 			<p>The time had arrived for the chiefs to proceed in the execution of their purposes. Peter, profoundly struck with the prayers of the missionary in behalf of his enemies, had taken a station a little on one side, where he stood ruminating on what he had just heard. If ever precept bore the stamp of a divine origin, it is this. The more we reflect on it, the clearer do our perceptions of this truth become. The whole scheme of Christ’s redemption and future existence is founded in love, and such a system would be imperfect while any were excluded from its benefits. To love those who reciprocate our feelings is so very natural, that the sympathies which engender this feeling are soonest attracted by a knowledge of their existence, love producing love, as power increases power. But to love those who hate us, and to strive to do good to those who are plotting evil against ourselves, greatly exceeds the moral strength of man, unaided from above. This was the idea that puzzled Peter, and he now actually interrupted the proceedings, in order to satisfy his mind on a subject so totally new to him. Previously, however, to taking this step, he asked the permission of the principal chiefs, awakening in their bosoms by means of his explanations some of the interest in this subject that he felt himself.</p>
-			<p>“Brother medicine-man,” said the mysterious chief, drawing nearer to the missionary, accompanied himself by Bear’s Meat, Crowsfeather, and one or two more, “you have been talking to the Great Spirit o! the palefaces. We have heard your words, and think them well. They are good words for a man about to set out on the path that leads to the unknown lands. Thither we must all go some time, and it matters little when. We may not all travel the same path. I do not think the Manitou will crowd tribes of different colors together there, as they are getting to be crowded together here.</p>
+			<p>“Brother medicine-man,” said the mysterious chief, drawing nearer to the missionary, accompanied himself by Bear’s Meat, Crows-feather, and one or two more, “you have been talking to the Great Spirit o! the palefaces. We have heard your words, and think them well. They are good words for a man about to set out on the path that leads to the unknown lands. Thither we must all go some time, and it matters little when. We may not all travel the same path. I do not think the Manitou will crowd tribes of different colors together there, as they are getting to be crowded together here.</p>
 			<p>“Brother, you are about to learn how all these things really are. If red men, and palefaces, and black men are to live in the same land, after death, you will shortly know it. My brother is about to go there. He and his friend, this warrior of his people, will travel on that long path in company. I hope they will agree by the way, and not trouble each other. It will be convenient to my brother to have a hunter with him; the path is so long, he will be hungry before he gets to the end. This warrior knows how to use a musket, and we shall put his arms with him in his grave.</p>
 			<p>“Brother, before you start on this journey, from which no traveller ever returns, let his color be what it may, we wish to hear you speak further about loving our enemies. This is not the Indian rule. The red men hate their enemies, and love their friends. When they ask the Manitou to do anything to their enemies, it is to do them harm. This is what our fathers taught us: it is what we teach our children. Why should we love them that hate us: why should we do good to them that do us harm? Tell us now, or we may never hear the reason.”</p>
 			<p>“Tell you I will, Peter, and the Lord so bless my words that they may soften your hearts, and lead you all to the truth, and to dependence on the mediation of his blessed Son! We should do good to them that do evil to us, because the Great Spirit has commanded us so to do. Ask your own heart if this is not right. If they sound like words that are spoken by any but those who have been taught by the Manitou, himself. The devils tell us to revenge, but God commands us to forgive. It is easy to do good to them that do good to us; but it tries the heart sorely to do good to them that do us evil. I have spoken to you of the Son of the Great Spirit. He came on earth, and told us with his own mouth all these great truths. He said that next to the duty of loving the Manitou, was the duty of loving our neighbors. No matter whether friend or enemy, it was our duty to love them, and do them all the good we can. If there is no venison in their wigwams, we should take the deer off our own poles, and carry it and put on theirs. Why have I come here to tell you this? When at home, I lived under a good roof, eat of abundance, and slept in a soft and warm bed. You know how it is here. We do not know today what we shall eat tomorrow. Our beds are hard, and our roofs are of bark. I come, because the Son of the Manitou, he who came and lived among men, told us to do all this. His commands to his medicine-men were, to go forth, and tell all nations, and tribes, and colors, the truth⁠—to tell them to ‘love them that sought to do them harm, and to do good for evil.’ ”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-25.xhtml

@@ -30,7 +30,7 @@
 			<p>Perhaps it would not have been possible, in the whole range of human feelings, to find two men under influences more widely opposed to each other than were the missionary and the corporal, in this, their last scene on earth. The manner of Parson Amen’s death has been described. He died in humble imitation of his Divine Master, asking for blessings on those who were about to destroy him, with a heart softened by Christian graces, and a meekness that had its origin in the consciousness of his own demerits. On the other hand, the corporal thought only of vengeance. Escape he knew to be impossible, and he would fain take his departure like a soldier, or as he conceived a soldier should die, in the midst of fallen foes.</p>
 			<p>Corporal Flint had a salutary love of life, and would very gladly escape, did the means offer; but, failing of these, all his thoughts turned toward revenge. Some small impulses of ambition, or what it is usual to dignify with that term, showed themselves even at that serious moment. He had heard around the campfires, and in the garrisons, so many tales of heroism and of fortitude manifested by soldiers who had fallen into the hands of the Indians, that a faint desire to enroll his own name on the list of these worthies was beginning to arise in his breast. But truth compels us to add that the predominant feeling was the wish to revenge his own fate, by immolating as many of his foes as possible. To this last purpose, therefore, his thoughts were mainly directed, during that interval which his late companion had employed in prayers for those under whose blows he was about to fall. Such is the difference in man, with his heart touched, or untouched, by the power of the Holy Spirit.</p>
 			<p>It was, however, much easier for the corporal to entertain designs of the nature mentioned than to carry them out: unarmed, surrounded by watchful enemies, and totally without support of any sort, the chances of effecting his purpose were small indeed. Once, for a minute only, the veteran seriously turned his thoughts to escape. It occurred to him, that he might possibly reach the castle, could he get a little start; and should the Indians compel him to run the gauntlet, as was often their practice, he determined to make an effort for life in that mode. Agreeably to the code of frontier warfare, a successful flight of this nature was scarcely less creditable than a victory in the field.</p>
-			<p>Half an hour passed after the execution of the missionary before the chiefs commenced their proceedings with the corporal. The delay was owing to a consultation, in which The Weasel had proposed despatching a party to the castle, to bring in the family, and thus make a common destruction of the remaining palefaces known to be in that part of the Openings. Peter did not dare to oppose this scheme, himself; but he so managed as to get Crowsfeather to do it, without bringing himself into the foreground. The influence of the Pottawattamie prevailed, and it was decided to torture this one captive, and to secure his scalp, before they proceeded to work their will on the others. Ungque, who had gained ground rapidly by his late success, was once more commissioned to state to the captive the intentions of his captors.</p>
+			<p>Half an hour passed after the execution of the missionary before the chiefs commenced their proceedings with the corporal. The delay was owing to a consultation, in which The Weasel had proposed despatching a party to the castle, to bring in the family, and thus make a common destruction of the remaining palefaces known to be in that part of the Openings. Peter did not dare to oppose this scheme, himself; but he so managed as to get Crows-feather to do it, without bringing himself into the foreground. The influence of the Pottawattamie prevailed, and it was decided to torture this one captive, and to secure his scalp, before they proceeded to work their will on the others. Ungque, who had gained ground rapidly by his late success, was once more commissioned to state to the captive the intentions of his captors.</p>
 			<p>“Brother,” commenced The Weasel, placing himself directly in front of the corporal, “I am about to speak to you. A wise warrior opens his ears, when he hears the voice of his enemy. He may learn something it will be good for him to know. It will be good for you to know what I am about to say.</p>
 			<p>“Brother, you are a paleface, and we are Injins. You wish to get our hunting-grounds, and we wish to keep them. To keep them, it has become necessary to take your scalp. I hope you are ready to let us have it.”</p>
 			<p>The corporal had but an indifferent knowledge of the Indian language, but he comprehended all that was uttered on this occasion. Interest quickened his faculties, and no part of what was said was lost. The gentle, slow, deliberate manner in which The Weasel delivered himself, contributed to his means of understanding. He was fortunately prepared for what her heard, and the announcement of his approaching fate did not disturb him to the degree of betraying weakness. This last was a triumph in which the Indians delighted, though they ever showed the most profound respect for such of their victims as manifested a manly fortitude. It was necessary to reply, which the corporal did in English, knowing that several present could interpret his words. With a view to render this the more easy, he spoke in fragments of sentences, and with great deliberation.</p>
@@ -63,7 +63,7 @@
 			<p>“Warrior of the palefaces,” said Bough of the Oak, “we are going to cut the withe. You will then be where a brave man will want all his courage. If you are firm, we will do you honor; if you faint and screech, our young men will laugh at you. This is the way with Injins. They honor braves; they point the finger at cowards.”</p>
 			<p>Here a sign was made by Bear’s Meat, and a warrior raised the tomahawk that was to separate the fastenings, His hand was in the very act of descending, when the crack of a rifle was heard, and a little smoke rose out of the thicket, near the spot where the bee-hunter and the corporal, himself, had remained so long hid, on the occasion of the council first held in that place. The tomahawk fell, however, the withes were parted, and up flew the saplings, with a violence that threatened to tear the arms of the victim out of their sockets.</p>
 			<p>The Indians listened, expecting the screeches and groans;⁠—they gazed, hoping to witness the writhings of their captive. But they were disappointed. There hung the body, its arms distended, still holding the tops of the saplings bowed, but not a sign of life was seen. A small line of blood trickled down the forehead, and above it was the nearly imperceptible hole made by the passage of a bullet. The head itself had fallen forward, and a little on one shoulder. The corporal had escaped the torments reserved for him, by this friendly blow.</p>
-			<p>It was so much a matter of course for an Indian to revenge his own wounds⁠—to alleviate his smarts, by retaliating on those who inflicted them⁠—that the chiefs expressed neither surprise nor resentment at the manner of the corporal’s death. There was some disappointment, it is true; but no anger was manifested, since it was supposed that someone of those whom the prisoner had wounded had seen fit, in this mode, to revenge his own hurts. In this, however, the Indians deceived themselves. The well-intentioned and deadly shot that saved the corporal from hours of agony came from the friendly hand of Pigeonswing, who had no sooner discharged his rifle than he stole away through the thicket, and was never discovered. This he did, too, at the expense of Ungque’s scalp, on which he had set his heart.</p>
+			<p>It was so much a matter of course for an Indian to revenge his own wounds⁠—to alleviate his smarts, by retaliating on those who inflicted them⁠—that the chiefs expressed neither surprise nor resentment at the manner of the corporal’s death. There was some disappointment, it is true; but no anger was manifested, since it was supposed that someone of those whom the prisoner had wounded had seen fit, in this mode, to revenge his own hurts. In this, however, the Indians deceived themselves. The well-intentioned and deadly shot that saved the corporal from hours of agony came from the friendly hand of Pigeons-wing, who had no sooner discharged his rifle than he stole away through the thicket, and was never discovered. This he did, too, at the expense of Ungque’s scalp, on which he had set his heart.</p>
 			<p>As for the Indians, perceiving that their hopes of forcing a captive to confess his weakness were frustrated, they conferred together on the course of future proceedings. There was an inquiry for Peter, but Peter was not to be found. Bough of the Oak suggested that the mysterious chief must have gone to the palisaded hut, in order to get the remaining scalps, his passion for this symbol of triumphs over palefaces being well known. It was, therefore, incumbent on the whole band to follow, with the double view of sharing in the honor of the assault, and of rendering assistance.</p>
 			<p>Abandoning the body of the corporal where it hung, away went these savages, by this time keenly alive to the scent of blood. Something like order was observed, however, each chief leading his own particular part of the band, in his own way, but on a designated route. Bear’s Meat acted as commander-in-chief, the subordinate leaders following his instructions with reasonable obedience. Some went in one direction, others in another; until the verdant bottom near the sweet spring was deserted.</p>
 			<p>In less than half an hour the whole band was collected around Castle Meal, distant, however, beyond the range of a rifle. The different parties, as they arrived, announced their presence by whoops, which were intended to answer the double purpose of signals, and of striking terror to the hearts of the besieged; the North American Indians making ample use of this great auxiliary in war.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-26.xhtml

@@ -37,12 +37,12 @@
 			<p>“Can’t sit here lookin’ at young squaw,” said this literal being. “Get up, and put thing in canoe. Time come to go on path dat lead to paleface country.”</p>
 			<p>“What has happened, Peter?” demanded the bee-hunter, springing to his feet. “You come like a runner rushing in with his bad tidings. Has anything happened to give an alarm?”</p>
 			<p>“Up, and off, tell you. No use talkin’ now. Put all he can in canoe, and paddle away fast as can.” There was no mistaking Peter’s manner. The bee-hunter saw the uselessness of questioning such a man, at a time like that, and he called to Gershom to join him.</p>
-			<p>“Here is the chief, to warn us to move,” said the bee-hunter, endeavoring to appear calm, in order that he might not needlessly alarm the females, “and what he advises, we had better do. I know there is danger, by what has fallen from Pigeonswing as well as from himself; so let us lose no time, but stow the canoes, and do as he tells us.”</p>
+			<p>“Here is the chief, to warn us to move,” said the bee-hunter, endeavoring to appear calm, in order that he might not needlessly alarm the females, “and what he advises, we had better do. I know there is danger, by what has fallen from Pigeons-wing as well as from himself; so let us lose no time, but stow the canoes, and do as he tells us.”</p>
 			<p>As Gershom assented, it was not two minutes ere all were at work. For several days, each canoe had been furnished with provisions for a hasty flight. It remained only to add such of the effects as were too valuable and necessary to be abandoned, and which had not been previously exposed without the palisades. For half an hour le Bourdon and Gershom worked as for life. No questions were asked, nor was a single moment lost, in a desire to learn more. The manner in which Peter bore himself satisfied Boden that the emergency was pressing, and it is seldom that more was done by so few hands in so short a period. Fortunately, the previous preparation greatly aided the present object, and nearly everything of any value was placed in the canoes within the brief space mentioned. It then became necessary to decide concerning the condition in which Castle Meal was to be left. Peter advised closing every aperture, shutting the gate, and leaving the dog within. There is no doubt that these expedients prevented the parties falling early into the hands of their enemies; for the time lost by the savages in making their approaches to the hut was very precious to the fugitives.</p>
-			<p>Just as the canoes were loaded, Pigeonswing came in. He announced that the whole band was in motion, and might be expected to reach the grove in ten minutes. Placing an arm around the slender waist of Margery, le Bourdon almost carried her to his own canoe, Gershom soon had Dorothy in his little bark, while Peter entered that to the ownership of which he may be said to have justly succeeded by the deaths of the corporal and the missionary. Pigeonswing remained behind, in order to act as a scout, having first communicated to Peter the course the last ought to steer. Before the Chippewa plunged into the cover in which it was his intention to conceal himself, he made a sign that the band was already in sight.</p>
+			<p>Just as the canoes were loaded, Pigeons-wing came in. He announced that the whole band was in motion, and might be expected to reach the grove in ten minutes. Placing an arm around the slender waist of Margery, le Bourdon almost carried her to his own canoe, Gershom soon had Dorothy in his little bark, while Peter entered that to the ownership of which he may be said to have justly succeeded by the deaths of the corporal and the missionary. Pigeons-wing remained behind, in order to act as a scout, having first communicated to Peter the course the last ought to steer. Before the Chippewa plunged into the cover in which it was his intention to conceal himself, he made a sign that the band was already in sight.</p>
 			<p>The heart of le Bourdon sunk within him, when he learned how near were the enemy. To him, escape seemed impossible; and he now regretted having abandoned the defences of his late residence. The river was sluggish for more than a mile at that spot, and then occurred a rift, which could not be passed without partly unloading the canoes, and where there must necessarily be a detention of more than an hour. Thus, it was scarcely possible for canoes descending that stream to escape from so large a band of pursuers. The sinuosities, themselves, would enable the last to gain fifty points ahead of them, where ambushes, or even open resistance, must place them altogether at the mercy of the savages.</p>
-			<p>Peter knew all this, as well as the bee-hunter, and he had no intention of trusting his new friends in a flight down the river. Pigeonswing, with the sententious brevity of an Indian, had made an important communication to him, while they were moving, for the last time, toward the canoes, and he now determined to profit by it. Taking the lead, therefore, with his own canoe, Peter paddled <em>up</em>, instead of <em>down</em> the stream, going in a direction opposite to that which it would naturally be supposed the fugitives had taken. In doing this, also, he kept close under the bank which would most conceal the canoes from those who approached it on its southern side.</p>
-			<p>It will be remembered that the trees for the palisades had been cut from a swamp, a short distance above the bee-hunter’s residence. They had grown on the margin of the river, which had been found serviceable in floating the logs to their point of destination. The tops of many of these trees, resinuous, and suited by their nature to preserve their leaves for a considerable time, lay partly in the stream and partly on its banks; and Pigeonswing, foreseeing the necessity of having a place of refuge, had made so artful a disposition of several of them, that, while they preserved all the appearance of still lying where they had fallen, it was possible to haul canoes up beneath them, between the branches and the bank, in a way to form a place of perfect concealment. No Indian would have trusted to such a hiding-place, had it not been matter of notoriety that the trees had been felled for a particular purpose, or had their accidental disposition along the bank been discernibly deranged. But such was not the case, the hand of Pigeonswing having been so skilfully employed that what he had done could not be detected. He might be said to have assisted nature, instead of disturbing her.</p>
+			<p>Peter knew all this, as well as the bee-hunter, and he had no intention of trusting his new friends in a flight down the river. Pigeons-wing, with the sententious brevity of an Indian, had made an important communication to him, while they were moving, for the last time, toward the canoes, and he now determined to profit by it. Taking the lead, therefore, with his own canoe, Peter paddled <em>up</em>, instead of <em>down</em> the stream, going in a direction opposite to that which it would naturally be supposed the fugitives had taken. In doing this, also, he kept close under the bank which would most conceal the canoes from those who approached it on its southern side.</p>
+			<p>It will be remembered that the trees for the palisades had been cut from a swamp, a short distance above the bee-hunter’s residence. They had grown on the margin of the river, which had been found serviceable in floating the logs to their point of destination. The tops of many of these trees, resinuous, and suited by their nature to preserve their leaves for a considerable time, lay partly in the stream and partly on its banks; and Pigeons-wing, foreseeing the necessity of having a place of refuge, had made so artful a disposition of several of them, that, while they preserved all the appearance of still lying where they had fallen, it was possible to haul canoes up beneath them, between the branches and the bank, in a way to form a place of perfect concealment. No Indian would have trusted to such a hiding-place, had it not been matter of notoriety that the trees had been felled for a particular purpose, or had their accidental disposition along the bank been discernibly deranged. But such was not the case, the hand of Pigeons-wing having been so skilfully employed that what he had done could not be detected. He might be said to have assisted nature, instead of disturbing her.</p>
 			<p>The canoes were actually paddling close under the bank, in the Castle Meal reach of the river, when the band arrived at the grove, and commenced what might be called the investment of the place. Had not all the attention of the savages been drawn toward the hut, it is probable that some wandering eye might have caught a glimpse of some one of them, as inequalities in the bank momentarily exposed each, in succession, to view. This danger, however, passed away, and by turning a point, the fugitives were effectually concealed from all who did not actually approach the river at that particular point. Here it was, however, that the swamp commenced, and the ground being wet and difficult, no one would be likely to do this. The stream flowed through this swamp, having a dense wood on each side, though one of no great extent. The reach, moreover, was short, making a completely sheltered haven of the Kalamazoo, within its limits.</p>
 			<p>Once in this wooded reach, Peter tossed an arm, and assumed an air of greater security. He felt infinitely relieved, and knew that they were safe, for a time, unless some wanderer should have taken to the swamp⁠—a most improbable thing of itself. When high enough, he led the way across the stream, and entering below, he soon had all the canoes in their place of concealment.</p>
 			<p>“Dis good place,” observed the great chief, as soon as all were fast; “bess take care, dough. Bess not make track too much on land; Injin got sharp eye, and see ebbery t’ing. Now, I go and talk wid chief. Come back by-’em-by. You stay here. Goodbye.”</p>
@@ -58,7 +58,7 @@
 			<p>“Why, I’m no great scholar, Margery,” returned her husband, scratching his full, curling head of hair, out of pure awkwardness; “to please <em>you</em>, however, I’d undertake even a harder job. It was so with the bees, when I began; I thought I should never succeed in lining the first bee to his hive; but, since that time, I think I’ve lined a thousand!”</p>
 			<p>“It’s easy, it’s easy, dear Benjamin, if you will only make a beginning,” returned the much interested young wife. “When we get to a place of safety, if it be God’s will that we ever shall, I hope to have you join me in reading the good book, daily. See, Peter, I keep it in this little bag, where it is safe, and always at hand.”</p>
 			<p>“You read dem word for me, Blossom: I want to hear him, out of dis book, himself.”</p>
-			<p>Margery did as he desired. She was very familiar with the New Testament, and, turning to the well-known and Godlike passage, she read several verses, in a steady, earnest voice. Perhaps the danger they were in, and the recent communication of the death of their late companions, increased her earnestness and solemnity of manner, for the effect produced on Peter was scarcely less than that he had felt when he witnessed a practical obedience to these sublime principles, in the death of the missionary. Tears actually started to this stern savage’s eyes, and he looked back on his late projects and endeavors to immolate a whole race with a shudder. Taking Margery’s hand, he courteously thanked her, and prepared to quit the place. Previously to leaving his friends, however, Peter gave a brief account of the manner of the missionary’s death, and of the state in which he had left the corporal. Pigeonswing had told him of the fate of the last, as well as of the eagerness with which the band had set out in quest of more white scalps.</p>
+			<p>Margery did as he desired. She was very familiar with the New Testament, and, turning to the well-known and Godlike passage, she read several verses, in a steady, earnest voice. Perhaps the danger they were in, and the recent communication of the death of their late companions, increased her earnestness and solemnity of manner, for the effect produced on Peter was scarcely less than that he had felt when he witnessed a practical obedience to these sublime principles, in the death of the missionary. Tears actually started to this stern savage’s eyes, and he looked back on his late projects and endeavors to immolate a whole race with a shudder. Taking Margery’s hand, he courteously thanked her, and prepared to quit the place. Previously to leaving his friends, however, Peter gave a brief account of the manner of the missionary’s death, and of the state in which he had left the corporal. Pigeons-wing had told him of the fate of the last, as well as of the eagerness with which the band had set out in quest of more white scalps.</p>
 			<p>“Peter, we can count on you for a friend, I hope?” said the bee-hunter, as the two were about to part, on the bank of the river. “I fear you were, once, our enemy!”</p>
 			<p>“Bourdon,” said Peter, with dignity, and speaking in the language of his own people, “listen. There are Good Spirits, and there are Bad Spirits. Our traditions tell us this. Our own minds tell us this, too. For twenty winters a Bad Spirit has been whispering in my ear. I listened to him; and did what he told me to do. I believed what he said. His words were⁠—‘Kill your enemies⁠—scalp all the palefaces⁠—do not leave a squaw, or a pappoose. Make all their hearts heavy. This is what an Injin should do.’ So has the Bad Spirit been whispering to me, for twenty winters. I listened to him. What he said, I did. It was pleasant to me to take the scalps of the palefaces. It was pleasant to think that no more scalps would be left among them, to take. I was Scalping Peter.</p>
 			<p>“Bourdon, the Good Spirit has, at last, made himself heard. His whisper is so low, that at first my ears did not hear him. They hear him now. When he spoke loudest, it was with the tongue of the medicine-priest of your people. He was about to die. When we are about to die, our voices become strong and clear. So do our eyes. We see what is before, and we see what is behind. We feel joy for what is before⁠—we feel sorrow for what is behind. Your medicine-priest spoke well. It sounded in my ears as if the Great Spirit, himself, was talking. They say it was his Son. I believe them. Blossom has read to me out of the good book of your people, and I find it is so. I feel like a child, and could sit down, in my wigwam, and weep.</p>
@@ -70,13 +70,13 @@
 			<p>Having got out into the Openings, it was not difficult for Peter to join his late companions without attracting observation from whence he came. He kept as much under cover as was convenient, and reached the kitchen, just as the band broke into the defences, and burst open the door of the blazing and already roofless hut. Here Peter paused, unwilling to seem inactive in such a scene, yet averse to doing anything that a sensitively tender conscience might tell him was wrong. He knew there was no human being there to save, and cared little for the few effects that might be destroyed. He did not join the crowd, therefore, until it was ascertained that the bee-hunter and his companions had escaped.</p>
 			<p>“The palefaces have fled,” said Bear’s Meat to the great chief, when the last did approach him. “We have looked for their bones among the ashes, but there are none. That medicine-bee-hunter has told them that their scalps were wanted, and they have gone off!”</p>
 			<p>“Have any of the young men been down to the river, to look for their canoes?” quietly demanded Peter. “If the canoes are gone, too, they have taken the route toward the Great Lake.”</p>
-			<p>This was so obvious and probable, that a search was immediately set on foot. The report was soon made, and great was the eagerness to pursue. The Kalamazoo was so crooked, that no one there doubted of overtaking the fugitives, and parties were immediately organized for the chase. This was done with the customary intelligence and shrewdness of Indians. The canoes that belonged to Crowsfeather and his band had been brought up the river, and they lay concealed in rushes, not a mile from the hut. A party of warriors brought them to the landing, and they carried one division of the party to the opposite shore, it being the plan to follow each bank of the river, keeping close to the stream, even to its mouth, should it prove necessary. Two other parties were sent in direct lines, one on each side of the river, also, to lay in ambush at such distant points, ahead, as would be almost certain to anticipate the arrival of the fugitives. The canoes were sent down the stream, to close the net against return, while Bear’s Meat, Bough of the Oak, Crowsfeather, and several others of the leading chiefs, remained near the still burning hut, with a strong party, to examine the surrounding Openings for footprints and trails. It was possible that the canoes had been sent adrift, in order to mislead them, while the palefaces had fled by land.</p>
+			<p>This was so obvious and probable, that a search was immediately set on foot. The report was soon made, and great was the eagerness to pursue. The Kalamazoo was so crooked, that no one there doubted of overtaking the fugitives, and parties were immediately organized for the chase. This was done with the customary intelligence and shrewdness of Indians. The canoes that belonged to Crows-feather and his band had been brought up the river, and they lay concealed in rushes, not a mile from the hut. A party of warriors brought them to the landing, and they carried one division of the party to the opposite shore, it being the plan to follow each bank of the river, keeping close to the stream, even to its mouth, should it prove necessary. Two other parties were sent in direct lines, one on each side of the river, also, to lay in ambush at such distant points, ahead, as would be almost certain to anticipate the arrival of the fugitives. The canoes were sent down the stream, to close the net against return, while Bear’s Meat, Bough of the Oak, Crows-feather, and several others of the leading chiefs, remained near the still burning hut, with a strong party, to examine the surrounding Openings for footprints and trails. It was possible that the canoes had been sent adrift, in order to mislead them, while the palefaces had fled by land.</p>
 			<p>It has been stated that the Openings had a beautiful sward, near Castle Meal, This was true of that particular spot, and was the reason why le Bourdon had selected it for his principal place of residence. The abundance of flowers drew the bees there, a reason of itself why he should like the vicinity. Lest the reader should be misled, however, it may be well to explain that an absence of sward is characteristic of these Openings, rather than the reverse, it being, to a certain degree, a cause of complaint, now that the country is settled, that the lands of the Oak Openings are apt to be so light that the grasses do not readily form as firm a turf as is desirable for meadows and pastures. We apprehend this is true, however, less as a rule than as exceptions; there being variety in the soils of these Openings, as well as in other quarters.</p>
 			<p>Nevertheless, the savages were aware that the country around the burned hut, for a considerable extent, differed, in this particular, from most of that which lay farther east, or more inland. On the last a trail would be much more easily detected than on the first, and a party, under the direction of a particularly experienced leader, was dispatched several miles to the eastward, to look for the usual signs of the passage of any toward Detroit, taking that route. This last expedient troubled Peter exceedingly, since it placed a body of enemies in the rear of the fugitives; thereby rendering their position doubly perilous. There was no help for the difficulty, however; and the great chief saw the party depart without venturing on remonstrance, advice, or any other expedient to arrest the movement. Bear’s Meat now called the head chiefs, who remained, into a circle, and asked for opinions concerning the course that ought next to be taken.</p>
 			<p>“What does my brother, the tribeless chief, say?” he asked, looking at Peter, in a way to denote the expectation which all felt, that he ought to be able to give useful counsel in such a strait. “We have got but two scalps from six heads; and one of <em>them</em> is buried with the medicine-priest.”</p>
 			<p>“Scalps cannot be taken from them that get off,” returned Peter, evasively. “We must first catch these palefaces. When they are found it will be easy to scalp them. If the canoes are gone, I think the medicine-bee-hunter and his squaws have gone in them. We may find the whole down the river.”</p>
 			<p>To this opinion most of the chiefs assented, though the course of examining for a trail farther east was still approved. The band was so strong, while the palefaces were so few, that a distribution of their own force was of no consequence, and it was clearly the most prudent to send out young men in all directions. Everyone, however, expected that the fugitives would be overtaken on, or near, the river, and Bear’s Meat suggested the propriety of their moving down stream, themselves, very shortly.</p>
-			<p>“When did my brother last see the palefaces?” asked Crowsfeather. “This bee-hunter knows the river well, and may have started yesterday; or even after he came from the Great Council of the Prairie.”</p>
+			<p>“When did my brother last see the palefaces?” asked Crows-feather. “This bee-hunter knows the river well, and may have started yesterday; or even after he came from the Great Council of the Prairie.”</p>
 			<p>This was a new idea, but one that seemed probable enough. All eyes turned toward Peter, who saw, at once, that such a notion must greatly favor the security of the fugitives, and felt a strong desire to encourage it. He found evasion difficult, however, and well knew the danger of committing himself. Instead of giving a straightforward answer, therefore, he had recourse to circumlocution and subterfuge.</p>
 			<p>“My brother is right,” he answered. “The palefaces <em>have</em> had time to get far down the stream. As my brothers know, I slept among them at the Round Prairie. Today, they know I was with them at the council of the spring of gushing waters.”</p>
 			<p>All this was true, as far as it went, although the omissions were very material. No one seemed to suspect the great chief, whose fidelity to his own principles was believed to be of a character amounting to enthusiasm. Little did any there know of the power of the unseen Spirit of God to alter the heart, producing what religionists term the new birth. We do not wish, however, to be understood that Peter had, as yet, fully experienced this vast change. It is not often the work of a moment, though well-authenticated modern instances do exist, in which we have every reason to believe that men have been made to see and feel the truth almost as miraculously as was <abbr>St.</abbr> Paul himself. As for this extraordinary savage, he had entered into the strait and narrow way, though he was not far advanced on its difficult path.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-27.xhtml

@@ -31,36 +31,36 @@
 			</header>
 			<p>It can easily be understood that the party with the canoes were left by Peter in a state of great anxiety. The distance between the site of the hut and their place of concealment was but little more than a quarter of a mile, and the yell of the savages had often reached their ears, notwithstanding the cover of the woods. This proximity, of itself, was fearful; but the uncertainty that le Bourdon felt on the subject of Peter’s real intentions added greatly to his causes of concern. Of course, he knew but little of the sudden change that had come over this mysterious chief’s feelings; nor is it very likely that he would have been able to appreciate it, even had the fact been more fully stated. Our hero had very little acquaintance with the dogmas of Christianity, and would have, most probably, deemed it impossible that so great a revolution of purpose could have been so suddenly wrought in the mind of man, had the true state of the case been communicated to him. He would have been ready enough to allow that, with God, nothing is impossible; but might have been disposed to deny the influence of His Holy Spirit, as exhibited in this particular form, for a reason no better than the circumstance that he himself had never been the subject of such a power. All that Peter had said, therefore, served rather to mystify him, than to explain, in its true colors, what had actually occurred. With Margery it was different. Her schooling had been far better than that of any other of the party, and, while she admired the manly appearance, and loved the free, generous character of her husband, she had more than once felt pained at the passing thoughts of his great indifference to sacred things. This feeling in le Bourdon, however, was passive rather than active, and gave her a kind interest in his future welfare, rather than any present pain through acts and words.</p>
 			<p>But, as respects their confidence in Peter, this young couple were much farther apart than in their religious notions. The bee-hunter had never been without distrust, though his apprehensions had been occasionally so far quieted as to leave him nearly free of them altogether; while his wife had felt the utmost confidence in the chief, from the very commencement of their acquaintance. It would be useless, perhaps, to attempt to speculate on the causes; but it is certain that there are secret sources of sympathy that draw particular individuals toward each other and antipathies that keep them widely separated. Men shall meet for the first time, and feel themselves attracted toward each other, like two drops of water, or repelled, like the corks of an electric machine.</p>
-			<p>The former had been the case with Peter and Margery. They liked each other from the first, and kind orifices had soon come to increase this feeling. The girl had now seen so much of the Indians, as to regard them much as she did others, or with the discriminations, and tastes, or distastes, with which we all regard our fellow-creatures; feeling no particular cause of estrangement. It is true that Margery would not have been very likely to fall in love with a young Indian, had one come in her way of a suitable age and character; for her American notions on the subject of color might have interposed difficulties; but, apart from the tender sentiments, she could see good and bad qualities in one of the aborigines, as well as in a white man. As a consequence of this sympathy between Peter and Margery, the last had ever felt the utmost confidence in the protection and friendship of the first. This she did, even while the struggle was going on in his breast on the subject of including her in his fell designs, or of making an exception in her favor. It shows the waywardness of our feelings that Margery had never reposed confidence in Pigeonswing, who was devotedly the friend of le Bourdon, and who remained with them for no other reason than a general wish to be of use. Something <em>brusque</em> in his manner, which was much less courteous and polished than that of Peter, had early rendered her dissatisfied with him, and once estranged, she had never felt disposed to be on terms of intimacy sufficient to ascertain his good or bad qualities.</p>
+			<p>The former had been the case with Peter and Margery. They liked each other from the first, and kind orifices had soon come to increase this feeling. The girl had now seen so much of the Indians, as to regard them much as she did others, or with the discriminations, and tastes, or distastes, with which we all regard our fellow-creatures; feeling no particular cause of estrangement. It is true that Margery would not have been very likely to fall in love with a young Indian, had one come in her way of a suitable age and character; for her American notions on the subject of color might have interposed difficulties; but, apart from the tender sentiments, she could see good and bad qualities in one of the aborigines, as well as in a white man. As a consequence of this sympathy between Peter and Margery, the last had ever felt the utmost confidence in the protection and friendship of the first. This she did, even while the struggle was going on in his breast on the subject of including her in his fell designs, or of making an exception in her favor. It shows the waywardness of our feelings that Margery had never reposed confidence in Pigeons-wing, who was devotedly the friend of le Bourdon, and who remained with them for no other reason than a general wish to be of use. Something <em>brusque</em> in his manner, which was much less courteous and polished than that of Peter, had early rendered her dissatisfied with him, and once estranged, she had never felt disposed to be on terms of intimacy sufficient to ascertain his good or bad qualities.</p>
 			<p>The great change of feeling in Peter was not very clearly understood by Margery, any more than it was by her husband; though, had her attention been drawn more strictly to it, she would have best known how to appreciate it. But this knowledge was not wanting to put <em>her</em> perfectly at peace, so far as apprehension of his doing her harm was concerned. This sense of security she now manifested in a conversation with le Bourdon, that took place soon after Peter had left them.</p>
 			<p>“I wish we weren’t in the hands of this redskin, Margery,” said her husband, a little more off his guard than was his wont.</p>
-			<p>“Of Peter! You surprise me, Benjamin. I think we could not be in better hands, since we have got this risk to run with the savages. If it was Pigeonswing that you feared, I could understand it.”</p>
-			<p>“I will answer for Pigeonswing with my life.”</p>
+			<p>“Of Peter! You surprise me, Benjamin. I think we could not be in better hands, since we have got this risk to run with the savages. If it was Pigeons-wing that you feared, I could understand it.”</p>
+			<p>“I will answer for Pigeons-wing with my life.”</p>
 			<p>“I am glad to hear you say so, for <em>I</em> do not half like <em>him</em>. Perhaps I am prejudiced against him. The scalp he took down at the mouth of the river set me against him from the first.”</p>
 			<p>“Do you not know, Margery, that your great friend goes by the name of ‘Scalping Peter’?”</p>
 			<p>“Yes, I know it very well; but I do not believe he ever took a scalp in his life.”</p>
 			<p>“Did he ever tell you as much as that?”</p>
-			<p>“I can’t say that he did; but he has never paraded anything of the sort before my eyes, like Pigeonswing. I do not half like that Chippewa, dear Bourdon.”</p>
+			<p>“I can’t say that he did; but he has never paraded anything of the sort before my eyes, like Pigeons-wing. I do not half like that Chippewa, dear Bourdon.”</p>
 			<p>“No fear of him, Margery; nor, when I come to think it all over, do I see why Peter should have brought us here, if he means anything wrong. The man is so mysterious, that I cannot line him down to his hole.”</p>
 			<p>“My word for it, Bourdon, that when you <em>do</em>, it will take you to a friendly hive. I have put almost as much faith in Peter as in you or Gershom. You heard what he said about Parson Amen and the corporal.”</p>
 			<p>“And how coolly he took it all,” answered her husband, shaking his head. “It has been a sudden departure for them, and one would think even an Injin might have felt it more.”</p>
 			<p>Margery’s cheek grew pale, and her limbs trembled a little. It was a minute ere she could pursue the discourse.</p>
 			<p>“This is terrible, but I will not, cannot believe it,” she said. “I’m sure, Bourdon, we ought to be very thankful to Peter for having brought us here. Remember how earnestly he listened to the words of the Saviour.”</p>
-			<p>“If he has brought us here with a good intention, I thank him for it. But I scarce know what to think. Pigeonswing has given me many a hint, which I have understood to mean that we ought not to trust this unknown Injin too much.”</p>
+			<p>“If he has brought us here with a good intention, I thank him for it. But I scarce know what to think. Pigeons-wing has given me many a hint, which I have understood to mean that we ought not to trust this unknown Injin too much.”</p>
 			<p>“So has he given me some of his hints, though I would sooner trust Peter than trust him, any time.”</p>
 			<p>“Our lives are in the care of Providence, I see. If we can really rely on these two Injins, all may be well; for Peter has brought us to an admirable cover, and he says that the Chippewa prepared it.”</p>
 			<p>The young husband and his wife now landed, and began to examine more particularly into the state of the swamp, near their place of concealment. Just at that spot, the bank of the river was higher than in most of the low land, and was dry, with a soil that approached sand. This was the place where the few young pines had grown. The dry ground might have covered four or five acres, and so many trees having been felled, light and air were admitted, in a way to render the place comparatively cheerful. The branches of the felled trees made a sufficient cover in all directions, though the swamp itself was more than that, almost a defence, toward the Openings. The bee-hunter found it was possible, though it was exceedingly difficult, to make his way through it. He ascertained the fact, however, since it might be important to their future movements to know it.</p>
 			<p>In a word, le Bourdon made a complete <em>reconnaissance</em> of his position. He cleared a spot for the females, and made a sort of hut, that would serve as a protection against rain, and in which they all might sleep at night. There was little doubt that this place must be occupied for some days, if Peter was acting in good faith, since an early movement would infallibly lead to detection. Time must be given to the Indians to precede them, or the great numbers of the savages would scarce leave a hope of escape. A greater sense of security succeeded this examination, and these arrangements. The danger was almost entirely to be apprehended on the side of the river. A canoe passing upstream might, indeed, discover their place of concealment, but it was scarcely to be apprehended that one would wade through the mud and water of the swamp to approach them in any other direction.</p>
 			<p>Under these circumstances, le Bourdon began to feel more security in their position. Could he now be certain of Peter, his mind would be comparatively at ease, and he might turn his attention altogether to making the party comfortable. Margery, who seldom quitted his side, reasoned with him on the subject of the mysterious chief’s good faith, and by means of her own deep reliance on him, she came at last to the point of instilling some of her own confidence into the mind of her husband. From that time he worked at the shelter for the females, and the other little arrangements their situation rendered necessary, with greater zest, and with far more attention to the details. So long as we are in doubt of accomplishing good, we hesitate about employing our energies; but once let hope revive within us, in the shape of favorable results, and we become new men, bracing every nerve to the task, and working with redoubled spirit; even should it be at the pump of the sinking ship, which, we believe, ranks the highest among the toils that are inflicted on the unfortunate.</p>
-			<p>For three days and nights did le Bourdon and his friends remain on that dry land of the swamp, without hearing or seeing anything of either Peter or Pigeonswing. The time was growing long, and the party anxious; though the sense of security was much increased by this apparent exemption from danger. Still, uncertainty, and the wish to ascertain the precise state of things in the Openings, were gradually getting to be painful, and it was with great satisfaction that the bee-hunter met his young wife as she came running toward him, on the morning of the fourth day, to announce that an Indian was approaching, by wading in the margin of the river, keeping always in the water so as to leave no trail. Hurrying to a point whence their visitor might be seen, le Bourdon soon perceived it was no other than Pigeonswing. In a few minutes this Indian arrived, and was gladly received by all four of the fugitives, who gathered around him, eager to hear the news.</p>
+			<p>For three days and nights did le Bourdon and his friends remain on that dry land of the swamp, without hearing or seeing anything of either Peter or Pigeons-wing. The time was growing long, and the party anxious; though the sense of security was much increased by this apparent exemption from danger. Still, uncertainty, and the wish to ascertain the precise state of things in the Openings, were gradually getting to be painful, and it was with great satisfaction that the bee-hunter met his young wife as she came running toward him, on the morning of the fourth day, to announce that an Indian was approaching, by wading in the margin of the river, keeping always in the water so as to leave no trail. Hurrying to a point whence their visitor might be seen, le Bourdon soon perceived it was no other than Pigeons-wing. In a few minutes this Indian arrived, and was gladly received by all four of the fugitives, who gathered around him, eager to hear the news.</p>
 			<p>“You are welcome, Chippewa,” cried le Bourdon, shaking his friend cordially by the hand. “We were half afraid we might never see you again. Do you bring us good or evil tidings?”</p>
 			<p>“Mustn’t be squaw, and ask too much question, Bourdon,” returned the redskin, carefully examining the priming of his rifle, in order to make sure it was not wet. “Got plenty venison, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“Not much venison is left, but we have caught a good many fish, which have helped us along. I have killed a dozen large squirrels, too, with your bow and arrows, which I find you left in your canoe. But⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Yes, he good bow, dat⁠—might kill hummin’-bird wid dat bow. Fish good here, eh?”</p>
-			<p>“They are eatable, when a body can get no better. But <em>now</em>, I should think, Pigeonswing, you might give us some of the news.”</p>
+			<p>“They are eatable, when a body can get no better. But <em>now</em>, I should think, Pigeons-wing, you might give us some of the news.”</p>
 			<p>“Mustn’t be squaw, Bourdon⁠—bad for warrior be squaw. Alway bess be man, and be patient, like man. What you t’ink, Bourdon? Got him at last!”</p>
 			<p>“Got <em>what</em> my good fellow? I see nothing about you, but your arms and ammunition.”</p>
-			<p>“Got scalp of dat Weasel! Wasn’t dat well done? Nebber no young warrior take more scalp home dan Pigeonswing carry dis time! Got t’ree; all hid, where Bear’s Meat nebber know. Take ’em away, when he get ready to march.”</p>
+			<p>“Got scalp of dat Weasel! Wasn’t dat well done? Nebber no young warrior take more scalp home dan Pigeons-wing carry dis time! Got t’ree; all hid, where Bear’s Meat nebber know. Take ’em away, when he get ready to march.”</p>
 			<p>“Well, well, Chippewa⁠—I suppose it will not be easy to reason you out of this feelin’⁠—but what has become of the redskins who burned my cabin, and who killed the missionary and the corporal?”</p>
 			<p>“All about⁠—dough must go down river. Look here, Bourdon, some of dem chief fool enough to t’ink bee carry you off on his wing!”</p>
 			<p>Here the Chippewa looked his contempt for the credulity and ignorance of the others, though he did not express it after the boisterous manner in which a white man of his class might have indulged. To him le Bourdon was a good fellow, but no conjuror, and he understood the taking of the bee too well to have any doubts as to the character of that process. His friend had let him amuse himself by the hour in looking through his spyglass, so that the mind of this one savage was particularly well fortified against the inroads of the weaknesses that had invaded those of most of the members of the great council. Consequently, he was amused with the notion taken up by some of the others, that le Bourdon had been carried off by bees, though he manifested his amusement in a very Indian-like fashion.</p>
@@ -69,29 +69,29 @@
 			<p>“What are we then to do? We shall soon be in want of food. The fish do not bite as they did, and I have killed all the squirrels I can find. You know I dare not use a rifle.”</p>
 			<p>“Don’t be squaw, Bourdon. When Injin get marry he grows good deal like squaw at fuss; but dat soon go away. I spose it’s just so wid paleface. Mustn’t be squaw, Bourdon. Dat bad for warrior. What you do for eat? Why, see dere,” pointing to an object that was floating slowly down the river, the current of which was very sluggish just in that reach. “Dere as fat buck as ever did see, eh?”</p>
 			<p>Sure enough the Indian had killed a deer, of which the Openings were full, and having brought it to the river, he had constructed a raft of logs, and placing the carcase on it, he had set his game adrift, taking care to so far precede it as to be in readiness to tow it into port. When this last operation was performed, it was found that the Chippewa did not heedlessly vaunt the quality of his prize. What was more, so accurately had he calculated the time, and the means of subsistence in the possession of the fugitives, that his supply came in just as it was most needed. In all this he manifested no more than the care of an experienced and faithful hunter. Next to the warpath, the hunting-ground is the great field for an Indian’s glory; deeds and facts so far eclipsing purely intellectual qualifications with savages, as to throw oratory, though much esteemed by them, and wisdom at the Council Fires, quite into the shade. In all this, we find the same propensity among ourselves. The common mind, ever subject to these impulses, looks rather to such exploits as address themselves to the senses and the imagination, than to those qualities which the reason alone can best appreciate; and in this, ignorance asserts its negative power over all conditions of life.</p>
-			<p>Pigeonswing now condescended to enter on such explanations as the state of the case rendered necessary. His account was sufficiently clear, and it manifested throughout the sagacity and shrewdness of a practised hunter and scout. We shall not attempt to give his words, which would require too much space, but the substance of his story was briefly this:</p>
-			<p>As has been alluded to already, the principal chiefs, on a suggestion of Bear’s Meat, had followed the young men down the Kalamazoo, dividing themselves by a part of their body’s crossing the stream at the first favorable spot. In this way the Indians proceeded, sweeping the river before them, and examining every place that seemed capable of concealing a canoe. Runners were kept in constant motion between the several parties, in order to let the state of the search be known to all; and, feigning to be one of these very men, Pigeonswing had held communication with several whom he purposely met, and to whom he imparted such invented information as contributed essentially to send the young men forward on a false scent. In this way, the main body of the savages descended the river some sixty miles, following its windings, in the first day and a half. Here Pigeonswing left them, turning his own face up stream, in order to rejoin his friends. Of Peter he had no knowledge; neither knowing, nor otherwise learning, what had become of the great chief. On his way up stream, Pigeonswing met several more Indians; runners like himself, or as he seemed to be; or scouts kept on the lookout for the fugitives. He had no difficulty in deceiving these men. None of them had been of Crowsfeather’s party, and he was a stranger to them all. Ignorant of his real character, they received his information without distrust, and the orders he pretended to convey were obeyed by them without the smallest hesitation. In this way, then, Pigeonswing contrived to send all the scouts he met away from the river, by telling them that there was reason to think the palefaces had abandoned the stream, and that it was the wish of Bear’s Meat that their trail should be looked for in the interior. This was the false direction that he gave to all, thereby succeeding better even than he had hoped in clearing the banks of the Kalamazoo of observers and foes. Nevertheless, many of those whom he knew to be out, some quite in the rear of the party, and others in its front, and at no great distance from them, he did not meet; of course he could not get his false directions to their ears. There were, in fact, so many of the Indians and so few of the whites, that it was an easy matter to cover the path with young warriors, any one party of whom would be strong enough to capture two men and as many women.</p>
-			<p>Having told the tale of his own doings, Pigeonswing next came to his proposition for the mode of future proceeding. He proposed that the family should get into the canoes that very night, and commence its flight by going down the stream directly toward its foes! This sounded strangely, but there did not seem to be any alternative. A march across the peninsula would be too much for the females, and there was the certainty that their trail would be found. It may seem strange to those who are unacquainted with the American Indian, and his habits, to imagine that, in so large an expanse, the signs of the passage of so small a party might not escape detection; but such was the case. To one unaccustomed to the vigilance and intelligence of these savages, it must appear just as probable that the vessel could be followed through the wastes of the ocean, by means of its wake, as that the footprints should be so indelible as to furnish signs that can be traced for days. Such, however, is the fact, and no one understood it better than the Chippewa. He was also aware that the country toward Ohio, whither the fugitives would naturally direct their course, now that the English were in possession of Detroit, must soon be a sort of battleground, to which most of the warriors of that region would eagerly repair. Under all the circumstances, therefore, he advised the flight by means of the river. Le Bourdon reasoned on all he heard, and, still entertaining some of his latent distrust of Peter, and willing to get beyond his reach, he soon acquiesced in the proposition, and came fully into the plan.</p>
-			<p>It was now necessary to reload the canoes. This was done in the course of the day, and every arrangement was made, so as to be ready for a start as soon as the darkness set in. Everybody was glad to move, though all were aware of the extent of the hazard they ran. The females, in particular, felt their hearts beat, as each, in her husband’s canoe, issued out of the cover into the open river. Pigeonswing took the lead, paddling with a slow, but steady sweep of his arm, and keeping as close as was convenient to one bank. By adopting this precaution, he effectually concealed the canoes from the eyes of all on that side of the river, unless they stood directly on its margin, and had the aid of the shadows to help conceal them from any who might happen to be on the other. In this way, then, the party proceeded, passing the site of the hut, and the grove of Openings around it, undetected. As the river necessarily flowed through the lowest land, its banks were wooded much of the way, which afforded great protection to the fugitives; and this so much the more because these woods often grew in swamps where the scouts would not be likely to resort.</p>
+			<p>Pigeons-wing now condescended to enter on such explanations as the state of the case rendered necessary. His account was sufficiently clear, and it manifested throughout the sagacity and shrewdness of a practised hunter and scout. We shall not attempt to give his words, which would require too much space, but the substance of his story was briefly this:</p>
+			<p>As has been alluded to already, the principal chiefs, on a suggestion of Bear’s Meat, had followed the young men down the Kalamazoo, dividing themselves by a part of their body’s crossing the stream at the first favorable spot. In this way the Indians proceeded, sweeping the river before them, and examining every place that seemed capable of concealing a canoe. Runners were kept in constant motion between the several parties, in order to let the state of the search be known to all; and, feigning to be one of these very men, Pigeons-wing had held communication with several whom he purposely met, and to whom he imparted such invented information as contributed essentially to send the young men forward on a false scent. In this way, the main body of the savages descended the river some sixty miles, following its windings, in the first day and a half. Here Pigeons-wing left them, turning his own face up stream, in order to rejoin his friends. Of Peter he had no knowledge; neither knowing, nor otherwise learning, what had become of the great chief. On his way up stream, Pigeons-wing met several more Indians; runners like himself, or as he seemed to be; or scouts kept on the lookout for the fugitives. He had no difficulty in deceiving these men. None of them had been of Crows-feather’s party, and he was a stranger to them all. Ignorant of his real character, they received his information without distrust, and the orders he pretended to convey were obeyed by them without the smallest hesitation. In this way, then, Pigeons-wing contrived to send all the scouts he met away from the river, by telling them that there was reason to think the palefaces had abandoned the stream, and that it was the wish of Bear’s Meat that their trail should be looked for in the interior. This was the false direction that he gave to all, thereby succeeding better even than he had hoped in clearing the banks of the Kalamazoo of observers and foes. Nevertheless, many of those whom he knew to be out, some quite in the rear of the party, and others in its front, and at no great distance from them, he did not meet; of course he could not get his false directions to their ears. There were, in fact, so many of the Indians and so few of the whites, that it was an easy matter to cover the path with young warriors, any one party of whom would be strong enough to capture two men and as many women.</p>
+			<p>Having told the tale of his own doings, Pigeons-wing next came to his proposition for the mode of future proceeding. He proposed that the family should get into the canoes that very night, and commence its flight by going down the stream directly toward its foes! This sounded strangely, but there did not seem to be any alternative. A march across the peninsula would be too much for the females, and there was the certainty that their trail would be found. It may seem strange to those who are unacquainted with the American Indian, and his habits, to imagine that, in so large an expanse, the signs of the passage of so small a party might not escape detection; but such was the case. To one unaccustomed to the vigilance and intelligence of these savages, it must appear just as probable that the vessel could be followed through the wastes of the ocean, by means of its wake, as that the footprints should be so indelible as to furnish signs that can be traced for days. Such, however, is the fact, and no one understood it better than the Chippewa. He was also aware that the country toward Ohio, whither the fugitives would naturally direct their course, now that the English were in possession of Detroit, must soon be a sort of battleground, to which most of the warriors of that region would eagerly repair. Under all the circumstances, therefore, he advised the flight by means of the river. Le Bourdon reasoned on all he heard, and, still entertaining some of his latent distrust of Peter, and willing to get beyond his reach, he soon acquiesced in the proposition, and came fully into the plan.</p>
+			<p>It was now necessary to reload the canoes. This was done in the course of the day, and every arrangement was made, so as to be ready for a start as soon as the darkness set in. Everybody was glad to move, though all were aware of the extent of the hazard they ran. The females, in particular, felt their hearts beat, as each, in her husband’s canoe, issued out of the cover into the open river. Pigeons-wing took the lead, paddling with a slow, but steady sweep of his arm, and keeping as close as was convenient to one bank. By adopting this precaution, he effectually concealed the canoes from the eyes of all on that side of the river, unless they stood directly on its margin, and had the aid of the shadows to help conceal them from any who might happen to be on the other. In this way, then, the party proceeded, passing the site of the hut, and the grove of Openings around it, undetected. As the river necessarily flowed through the lowest land, its banks were wooded much of the way, which afforded great protection to the fugitives; and this so much the more because these woods often grew in swamps where the scouts would not be likely to resort.</p>
 			<p>About midnight the canoes reached the first rift. An hour was lost in unloading and in reloading the canoes, and in passing the difficulties at that point. As soon as this was done, the party re-embarked, and resorted once more to the use of the paddle, in order to gain a particular sheltered reach of the river previously to the return of light. This was effected successfully, and the party landed.</p>
-			<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 <em>that</em> as the abiding-place during the day. Glad enough was everyone 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>It now appeared that Pigeons-wing 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>Pigeons-wing forced his light boat up the shallow inlet, until he reached a bit of dry land, where he brought up, announcing <em>that</em> as the abiding-place during the day. Glad enough was everyone 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, Pigeons-wing, 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>“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>“I have enough for us all, Pigeons-wing, 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.<a href="endnotes.xhtml#note-11" id="noteref-11" epub:type="noteref">11</a> 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>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 cool, quiet manner in which Pigeons-wing 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>
+			<p>As soon as the party had broken their fast, arrangements were made for recruiting nature by sleep. As for Pigeons-wing, 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>
 			<p>The rest of the weary is sweet. Long hours passed, ere anyone there awoke; but no sooner did the Chippewa move than all the rest were afoot. It was now late in the day, and it was time to think of taking the meal that was to sustain them through the toil and fatigues of another arduous night. This was done; the necessary preparations being made for a start ere the sun had set. The canoes were then shoved as near the mouth of the inlet as it was safe to go, while the light remained. Here they stopped, and a consultation took place, as to the manner of proceeding.</p>
-			<p>No sooner did the shades of evening close around the place than the fugitives again put forth. The night was clouded and dark, and so much of the way now lay through forests that there was little reason to apprehend detection. The chief causes of delay were the rifts, and the portages, as had been the case the night before. Luckily, le Bourdon had been up and down the stream so often as to be a very tolerable pilot in its windings. He assumed the control, and by midnight the greatest obstacle to that evening’s progress was overcome. At the approach of day, Pigeonswing pointed out another creek, in another swamp, where the party found a refuge for the succeeding day. In this manner four nights were passed on the river, and as many days in swamps, without discovery. The Chippewa had nicely calculated his time and his distances, and not the smallest mistake was made. Each morning a place of shelter was reached in sufficient season; and each night the fugitives were ready for the start as the day shut in. In this manner, most of the river was descended, until a distance that could be easily overcome in a couple of hours of paddling alone remained between the party and the mouth of the stream. Extreme caution was now necessary, for signs of Indians in the neighborhood had been detected at several points in the course of the last night’s work. On one occasion, indeed, the escape was so narrow as to be worth recording.</p>
-			<p>It was at a spot where the stream flowed through a forest denser than common, that Pigeonswing heard voices on the river, ahead of him. One Indian was calling to another, asking to be set across the stream in a canoe. It was too late to retreat, and so much uncertainty existed as to the nearness, or distance, of the danger, that the Chippewa deemed it safest to bring all three of his canoes together, and to let them float past the point suspected, or rather <em>known</em>, to be occupied by enemies. This was done, with the utmost care. The plan succeeded, though not without running a very great risk. The canoes did float past unseen, though there was a minute of time when le Bourdon fancied by the sounds that savages were talking to each other, within a hundred feet of his ears. Additional security, however, was felt in consequence of the circumstance, since the pursuers must imagine the river below them to be free from the pursued.</p>
+			<p>No sooner did the shades of evening close around the place than the fugitives again put forth. The night was clouded and dark, and so much of the way now lay through forests that there was little reason to apprehend detection. The chief causes of delay were the rifts, and the portages, as had been the case the night before. Luckily, le Bourdon had been up and down the stream so often as to be a very tolerable pilot in its windings. He assumed the control, and by midnight the greatest obstacle to that evening’s progress was overcome. At the approach of day, Pigeons-wing pointed out another creek, in another swamp, where the party found a refuge for the succeeding day. In this manner four nights were passed on the river, and as many days in swamps, without discovery. The Chippewa had nicely calculated his time and his distances, and not the smallest mistake was made. Each morning a place of shelter was reached in sufficient season; and each night the fugitives were ready for the start as the day shut in. In this manner, most of the river was descended, until a distance that could be easily overcome in a couple of hours of paddling alone remained between the party and the mouth of the stream. Extreme caution was now necessary, for signs of Indians in the neighborhood had been detected at several points in the course of the last night’s work. On one occasion, indeed, the escape was so narrow as to be worth recording.</p>
+			<p>It was at a spot where the stream flowed through a forest denser than common, that Pigeons-wing heard voices on the river, ahead of him. One Indian was calling to another, asking to be set across the stream in a canoe. It was too late to retreat, and so much uncertainty existed as to the nearness, or distance, of the danger, that the Chippewa deemed it safest to bring all three of his canoes together, and to let them float past the point suspected, or rather <em>known</em>, to be occupied by enemies. This was done, with the utmost care. The plan succeeded, though not without running a very great risk. The canoes did float past unseen, though there was a minute of time when le Bourdon fancied by the sounds that savages were talking to each other, within a hundred feet of his ears. Additional security, however, was felt in consequence of the circumstance, since the pursuers must imagine the river below them to be free from the pursued.</p>
 			<p>The halt that morning was made earlier than had been the practice previously. This was done because the remaining distance was so small that, in continuing to advance, the party would have incurred the risk of reaching the mouth of the river by daylight. This was to be avoided on every account, but principally because it was of great importance to conceal from the savages the direction taken. Were the chiefs certain that their intended victims were on Lake Michigan, it would be possible for them to send parties across the isthmus, that should reach points on Lake Huron, days in advance of the arrival of the bee-hunter and his friends in the vicinity of Saginaw, or Pointe aux Barques, for instance, and where the canoes would be almost certain to pass near the shore, laying their ambushes to accomplish these ends. It was thought very material, therefore, to conceal the movements, even after the lake might be reached, though le Bourdon had not a doubt of his canoes much outsailing those of the savages. The Indians are not very skilful in the use of sails, while the bee-hunter knew how to manage a bark canoe in rough water, with unusual skill. In the common acceptation, he was no sailor; but, in his own peculiar craft, there was not a man living who could excel him in dexterity or judgment.</p>
 			<p>The halting-place that morning was not in a swamp, for none offered at a suitable distance from the mouth of the river. On the contrary, it was in a piece of Opening, that was tolerably well garnished with trees, however, and through which ran a small brook that poured its tribute into the Kalamazoo. The Chippewa had taken notice of this brook, which was large enough to receive the canoes, where they might be concealed in the rushes. A favorable copse, surrounded with elders, afforded a covered space on shore, and these advantages were improved for an encampment.</p>
-			<p>Instead of seeking his rest as usual, on reaching this cover, Pigeonswing left the party on a scout. He walked up the brook some distance, in order to conceal his trail, and then struck across the Opening, taking the direction westward, or toward the river’s mouth. As for le Bourdon and his friends, they ate and slept as usual, undisturbed; but arose some hours before the close of day.</p>
-			<p>Thus far, a great work had been accomplished. The canoes had descended the stream with a success that was only equalled by the hardihood of the measure, conducted by an intelligence that really seemed to amount to an instinct Pigeonswing carried a map of the Kalamazoo in his head, and seemed never at a loss to know where to find the particular place he sought. It is true, he had roamed through those Openings ever since he was a child; and an Indian seldom passes a place susceptible of being made of use to his habits, that he does not take such heed of its peculiarities, as to render him the master of all its facilities.</p>
+			<p>Instead of seeking his rest as usual, on reaching this cover, Pigeons-wing left the party on a scout. He walked up the brook some distance, in order to conceal his trail, and then struck across the Opening, taking the direction westward, or toward the river’s mouth. As for le Bourdon and his friends, they ate and slept as usual, undisturbed; but arose some hours before the close of day.</p>
+			<p>Thus far, a great work had been accomplished. The canoes had descended the stream with a success that was only equalled by the hardihood of the measure, conducted by an intelligence that really seemed to amount to an instinct Pigeons-wing carried a map of the Kalamazoo in his head, and seemed never at a loss to know where to find the particular place he sought. It is true, he had roamed through those Openings ever since he was a child; and an Indian seldom passes a place susceptible of being made of use to his habits, that he does not take such heed of its peculiarities, as to render him the master of all its facilities.</p>
 			<p>Margery was now full of hope, while the bee-hunter was filled with apprehensions. She saw all things couleur de rose, for she was young, happy, and innocent; but he better understood that they were just approaching the most serious moment of their flight. He knew the vigilance of the American savage, and could not deceive himself on the subject of the danger they must run. The mouth of the river was just the place that, of all others, would be the closest watched, and to pass it would require not only all their skill and courage, but somewhat of the fostering care of Providence. It might be done with success, though the chances were much against.</p>
 		</section>
 	</body>

src/epub/text/chapter-28.xhtml

@@ -34,14 +34,14 @@
 					<cite><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Hemans</cite>
 				</blockquote>
 			</header>
-			<p>It was probably that inherent disposition to pry into unknown things, which is said to mark her sex, and which was the weakness assailed by the serpent when he deluded Eve into disobedience, that now tempted Margery to go beyond the limits which Pigeonswing had set for her, with a view to explore and ascertain what might be found without. In doing this, however, she did not neglect a certain degree of caution, and avoided exposing her person as much as possible.</p>
-			<p>Margery had got to the very verge of prudence, so far as the cover was concerned, when her steps were suddenly arrested by a most unexpected and disagreeable sight. An Indian was seated on a rock within twenty feet of the place where she stood. His back was toward her, but she was certain it could not be Pigeonswing, who had gone in a contrary direction, while the frame of this savage was much larger and heavier than that of the Chippewa. His rifle leaned against the rock, near his arm, and the tomahawk and knife were in his belt; still Margery thought, so far as she could ascertain, that he was not in his war-paint, as she knew was the fact with those whom she had seen at Prairie Round. The attitude and whole deportment of this stranger, too, struck her as remarkable. Although our heroine stood watching him for several minutes, almost breathless with terror and anxiety to learn his object, he never stirred even a limb in all that time. There he sat, motionless as the rock on which he had placed himself; a picture of solitude and reflection.</p>
+			<p>It was probably that inherent disposition to pry into unknown things, which is said to mark her sex, and which was the weakness assailed by the serpent when he deluded Eve into disobedience, that now tempted Margery to go beyond the limits which Pigeons-wing had set for her, with a view to explore and ascertain what might be found without. In doing this, however, she did not neglect a certain degree of caution, and avoided exposing her person as much as possible.</p>
+			<p>Margery had got to the very verge of prudence, so far as the cover was concerned, when her steps were suddenly arrested by a most unexpected and disagreeable sight. An Indian was seated on a rock within twenty feet of the place where she stood. His back was toward her, but she was certain it could not be Pigeons-wing, who had gone in a contrary direction, while the frame of this savage was much larger and heavier than that of the Chippewa. His rifle leaned against the rock, near his arm, and the tomahawk and knife were in his belt; still Margery thought, so far as she could ascertain, that he was not in his war-paint, as she knew was the fact with those whom she had seen at Prairie Round. The attitude and whole deportment of this stranger, too, struck her as remarkable. Although our heroine stood watching him for several minutes, almost breathless with terror and anxiety to learn his object, he never stirred even a limb in all that time. There he sat, motionless as the rock on which he had placed himself; a picture of solitude and reflection.</p>
 			<p>It was evident, moreover, that this stranger also sought a species of concealment, as well as the fugitives. It is true he had not buried himself in a cover of bushes; but his seat was in a hollow of the ground where no one could have seen him, from the rear or on either side, at a distance a very little greater than that at which Margery stood, while his front was guarded from view by a line of bushes that fringed the margin of the stream. Marius, pondering on the mutations of fortune, amid the ruins of Carthage, could scarcely have presented a more striking object than the immovable form of this stranger. At length the Indian slightly turned his head, when his observer, to her great surprise, saw the hard, red, but noble and expressive profile of the well-known features of Peter.</p>
 			<p>In an instant all Margery’s apprehensions vanished, and her hand was soon lightly laid on the shoulder of her friend. Notwithstanding the suddenness of this touch, the great chief manifested no alarm. He turned his head slowly, and when he saw the bright countenance of the charming bride, his smile met hers in pleased recognition. There was no start, no exclamation, no appearance of surprise; on the contrary, Peter seemed to meet his pretty young friend much as a matter of course, and obviously with great satisfaction.</p>
 			<p>“How lucky this is, Peter!” exclaimed the breathless Margery. “Bourdon’s mind will now be at rest, for he was afraid you had gone to join our enemies, Bear’s Meat and his party.”</p>
 			<p>“Yes; go and stay wid ’em. So bess. Now dey t’ink Peter all on deir side. But never forget you, young Blossom.”</p>
 			<p>“I believe you, Peter; for I <em>feel</em> as if you are a true friend. How lucky that we should meet here!”</p>
-			<p>“No luck at all. Come a purpose. Pigeonswing tell me where you be, so come here. Juss so.”</p>
+			<p>“No luck at all. Come a purpose. Pigeons-wing tell me where you be, so come here. Juss so.”</p>
 			<p>“Then you expected to find us in this cover! and what have you to tell us of our enemies?”</p>
 			<p>“Plenty of <em>dem</em>. All about mout’ of river. All about woods and Openings here. More dan you count. T’ink of nuttin’ but get your scalp.”</p>
 			<p>“Ah! Peter;⁠—why is it that you red men wish so much to take our lives?⁠—and why have you destroyed the missionary, a pious Christian, who wished for nothing but your good?”</p>
@@ -51,7 +51,7 @@
 			<p>“But this feeling has left you, Peter, and you no longer wish Bourdon’s scalp,” said Margery, hastily. “Now he is my husband, he is your son.”</p>
 			<p>“Dat good, p’raps,” answered the Injin, “but dat not a reason, nudder, Blossom. You right, too. Don’t want Bourdon scalp any longer. Dat true. But don’t want <em>any</em> scalp, any more. Heart grow soft⁠—an’t hard, now.”</p>
 			<p>“I wish I could let you understand, Peter, how much I rejoice to hear this! I have never felt afraid of you, on my own account, though I will own that I have sometimes feared that the dreadful cruel stories which are told of your enmity to my color are not altogether without truth. Now, you tell me you are the white man’s friend, and that you no longer wish to injure him. These are blessed words, Peter; and humbly do I thank God, through his blessed Son, that I have lived to hear them!”</p>
-			<p>“Dat Son make me feel so,” returned the Indian, earnestly. “Yes, juss so. My heart was hard, till medicinepriest tell dat tradition of Son of Great Spirit⁠—how he die for all tribes and nations, and ask his fader to do good to dem dat take his life⁠—dat won’erful tradition, Blossom! Sound like song of wren in my ear⁠—sweeter dan mockingbird when he do his bess. Yes, dat won’erful. He true, too; for medicine-priest ask his Manitou to bless Injin, juss as Injins lift tomahawk to take his life. I see’d and heard dat, myself. All, won’erful, won’erful!”</p>
+			<p>“Dat Son make me feel so,” returned the Indian, earnestly. “Yes, juss so. My heart was hard, till medicine-priest tell dat tradition of Son of Great Spirit⁠—how he die for all tribes and nations, and ask his fader to do good to dem dat take his life⁠—dat won’erful tradition, Blossom! Sound like song of wren in my ear⁠—sweeter dan mockingbird when he do his bess. Yes, dat won’erful. He true, too; for medicine-priest ask his Manitou to bless Injin, juss as Injins lift tomahawk to take his life. I see’d and heard dat, myself. All, won’erful, won’erful!”</p>
 			<p>“It was the Spirit of God that enabled poor Amen to do that, Peter; and it is the Spirit of God that teaches you to see and feel the beauty of such an act. Without the aid of that Spirit, we are helpless as children; with it, strong as giants. I do not wonder, at all, that the good missionary was able to pray for his enemies with his dying breath. God gave him strength to do so.”</p>
 			<p>Margery spoke as she felt, earnestly, and with emphasis. Her cheeks flushed with the strength of her feelings, and Peter gazed on her with a species of reverence and wonder. The beauty of this charming young woman was pleasing rather than brilliant, depending much on expression for its power. A heightened color greatly increased it, and when, as in this instance, the eyes reflected the tints of the cheeks, one might have journeyed days in older regions, without finding her equal in personal attractions. Much as he admired her, however, Peter had now that on his mind which rendered her beauty but a secondary object with him. His soul had been touched by the unseen, but omnipresent, power of the Holy Spirit, and his companion’s language and fervor contributed largely in keeping alive his interest in what he felt.</p>
 			<p>“Nebber know Injin do dat,” said Peter, in a slow, deliberative sort of way; “no, nebber know Injin do so. Always curse and hate his enemy, and most when about to lose his scalp. Den, feelin’s hottest. Den, most want to use tomahawk on his enemy. Den, most feel dat he hate him. But not so wid medicine-priest. Pray for Injin; ask Great Spirit to do him all ’e good he can; juss as Injin was goin’ to strike. Won’erful⁠—most won’erful <em>dat</em>, in my eyes. Blossom, you know Peter. He your fader. He take you, and make you his da’ghter. His heart is soft to you, Blossom. But, he nuttin’ but poor Injin, dough a great chief. What he know? Paleface pappoose know more dan Injin chief. Dat come from Great Spirit too. He wanted it so, and it is so. Our chiefs say dat Great Spirit love Injin. May be so. T’ink he love ebbery body; but he can’t love Injin as much as he love paleface, or he wouldn’t let red man know so little. Don’t count wigwams, and canoes, and powder, and lead, as proof of Great Spirit’s love. Paleface got more of dese dan Injin. Dat I see and know, and dat I feel. But it no matter. Injin used to be poor, and don’t care. When used to be poor, den used to it. When used to be rich, den it hard not to be rich. All use. Injin don’t care. But it bad not to know. I’m warrior⁠—I’m hunter⁠—I’m great chief. You squaw⁠—you young⁠—you know so much as squaw of chief. But you know most. I feel ashamed to know so little. Want to know more. Want to know most how ’e Son of Great Spirit die for all tribe, and pray to his fader to bless ’em dat kill him. Dat what Peter now want most to know!”</p>
@@ -72,12 +72,12 @@
 			<p>“Juss so. Pottawattamie see squaw, and go and tell his chief. Dat sartain,” answered Peter.</p>
 			<p>“What is there to be done?⁠—Fight for our lives, or fly?”</p>
 			<p>“Get in canoe quick as can. It take dem young men half-hour to reach place where chief be. In dat half-hour we muss go as far as we can. No good to stay here. Injin come in about one hour.”</p>
-			<p>Le Bourdon knew his position well enough to understand this. Nevertheless, there were several serious objections to an immediate flight. Pigeonswing was absent, and the bee-hunter did not like the notion of leaving him behind, for various reasons. Then it was not yet dark; and to descend the river by daylight, appeared like advancing into the jaws of the lion designedly. Nor was le Bourdon at his ease on the subject of Peter. His sudden appearance, the insufficient and far from clear account of Margery, and the extraordinary course advised, served to renew ancient distrusts, and to render him reluctant to move. But of one thing there could be no doubt. Their present position must be known, for Margery had seen the two strange Indians with her own eyes, and a search might soon be expected. Under all the circumstances, therefore, our hero reluctantly complied with Margery’s reiterated solicitations, and they all got into the canoes.</p>
+			<p>Le Bourdon knew his position well enough to understand this. Nevertheless, there were several serious objections to an immediate flight. Pigeons-wing was absent, and the bee-hunter did not like the notion of leaving him behind, for various reasons. Then it was not yet dark; and to descend the river by daylight, appeared like advancing into the jaws of the lion designedly. Nor was le Bourdon at his ease on the subject of Peter. His sudden appearance, the insufficient and far from clear account of Margery, and the extraordinary course advised, served to renew ancient distrusts, and to render him reluctant to move. But of one thing there could be no doubt. Their present position must be known, for Margery had seen the two strange Indians with her own eyes, and a search might soon be expected. Under all the circumstances, therefore, our hero reluctantly complied with Margery’s reiterated solicitations, and they all got into the canoes.</p>
 			<p>“I do not like this movement, Peter,” said le Bourdon, as he shoved his own light craft down the brook, previously to entering the river. “I hope it may turn out to be better than it looks, and that you can keep us out of the hands of our enemies. Remember, it is broad daylight, and that red men are plenty two or three miles below us.”</p>
 			<p>“Yes, know dat; but muss go. Injin too plenty here, soon. Yes, muss go. Bourdon, why you can’t ask bee, now, what bess t’ing for you to do, eh? Good time, now, ask bee to tell what he know.”</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter made no reply, but his pretty wife raised her hand, involuntarily, as if to implore the Indian to forbear. Peter was a little bewildered; for as yet, he did not understand that a belief in necromancy was not exactly compatible with the notions of the Christian Providence. In his ignorance, how much was he worse off than the wisest of our race? Will any discreet man who has ever paid close attention to the power of the somnambule, deny that there is a mystery about such a person that exceeds all our means of explanation? That there are degrees in the extent of this power⁠—that there are false, as well as true somnambules⁠—all who have attended to the subject must allow; but, a deriding disbeliever in our own person once, we have since seen that which no laws, known to us, can explain, and which we are certain is not the subject of collusion, as we must have been a party to the fraud ourselves, were any such practised. To deny the evidence of our senses is an act of greater weakness than to believe that there are mysteries connected with our moral and physical being that human sagacity has not yet been able to penetrate; and we repudiate the want of manliness that shrinks from giving its testimony when once convinced, through an apprehension of being derided, as weaker than those who withhold their belief. We <em>know</em> that our own thoughts have been explained and rendered, by a somnambule, under circumstances that will not admit of any information by means known to us by other principles; and whatever others may think on the subject, we are perfectly conscious that no collusion did or could exist. Why, then, are we to despise the poor Indian because he still fancied le Bourdon could hold communication with his bees? We happen to be better informed, and there may be beings who are aware of the as yet hidden laws of animal magnetism⁠—hidden as respects ourselves, though known to them⁠—and who fully comprehend various mistakes and misapprehensions connected with our impressions on this subject, that escape our means of detection. It is not surprising, therefore, that Peter, in his emergency, turned to those bees, in the hope that they might prove of assistance, or that Margery silently rebuked him for the weakness, in the manner mentioned.</p>
 			<p>Although it was still light, the sun was near setting when the canoes glided into the river. Fortunately for the fugitives, the banks were densely wooded, and the stream of great width⁠—a little lake, in fact⁠—and there was not much danger of their being seen until they got near the mouth; nor then, even, should they once get within the cover of the wild rice, and of the rushes. There was no retreat, however; and after paddling some distance, in order to get beyond the observation of any scout who might approach the place where they had last been seen, the canoes were brought close together, and suffered to float before a smart breeze, so as not to reach the mouth of the stream before the night closed around them. Everything appeared so tranquil, the solitude was so profound, and their progress so smooth and uninterrupted, that a certain amount of confidence revived in the breasts of all, and even the bee-hunter had hopes of eventual escape.</p>
-			<p>A conversation now occurred, in which Peter was questioned concerning the manner in which he had been occupied during his absence; an absence that had given le Bourdon so much concern. Had the chief been perfectly explicit, he would have confessed that fully one-half of his waking thoughts had been occupied in thinking of the death of the Son of God, of the missionary’s prayer for his enemies, and of the sublime morality connected with such a religion. It is true Peter did not⁠—could not, indeed⁠—enter very profoundly into the consideration of these subjects; nor were his notions either very clear or orthodox; but they were sincere, and the feelings to which they gave birth were devout. Peter did not touch on these circumstances, however, confining his explanations to the purely material part of his proceedings. He had remained with Bear’s Meat, Crowsfeather, and the other leading chiefs, in order to be at the fountainhead of information, and to interpose his influence should the palefaces unhappily fall into the hands of those who were so industriously looking for them. Nothing had occurred to call his authority out, but a strange uncertainty seemed to reign among the warriors, concerning the manner in which their intended victims eluded their endeavors to overtake them. No trail had been discovered, scout after scout coming in to report a total want of success in their investigations inland. This turned the attention of the Indians still more keenly on the river’s mouth, it being certain that the canoes could not have passed out into the lake previously to the arrival of the two or three first parties of their young men, who had been sent so early to watch that particular outlet.</p>
+			<p>A conversation now occurred, in which Peter was questioned concerning the manner in which he had been occupied during his absence; an absence that had given le Bourdon so much concern. Had the chief been perfectly explicit, he would have confessed that fully one-half of his waking thoughts had been occupied in thinking of the death of the Son of God, of the missionary’s prayer for his enemies, and of the sublime morality connected with such a religion. It is true Peter did not⁠—could not, indeed⁠—enter very profoundly into the consideration of these subjects; nor were his notions either very clear or orthodox; but they were sincere, and the feelings to which they gave birth were devout. Peter did not touch on these circumstances, however, confining his explanations to the purely material part of his proceedings. He had remained with Bear’s Meat, Crows-feather, and the other leading chiefs, in order to be at the fountainhead of information, and to interpose his influence should the palefaces unhappily fall into the hands of those who were so industriously looking for them. Nothing had occurred to call his authority out, but a strange uncertainty seemed to reign among the warriors, concerning the manner in which their intended victims eluded their endeavors to overtake them. No trail had been discovered, scout after scout coming in to report a total want of success in their investigations inland. This turned the attention of the Indians still more keenly on the river’s mouth, it being certain that the canoes could not have passed out into the lake previously to the arrival of the two or three first parties of their young men, who had been sent so early to watch that particular outlet.</p>
 			<p>Peter informed le Bourdon that his cache had been discovered, opened, and rifled of its stores. This was a severe loss to our hero, and one that would have been keenly felt at any other time; but just then he had interests so much more important to protect, that he thought and said little about this mishap. The circumstance which gave him the most concern was this: Peter stated that Bear’s Meat had directed about a dozen of his young men to keep watch, day and night, in canoes, near the mouth of the river, lying in wait among the wild rice, like so many snakes in the grass.</p>
 			<p>The party was so much interested in this conversation that, almost insensibly to themselves, they had dropped down to the beginning of the rushes and rice, and had got rather dangerously near to the critical point of their passage. As it was still daylight, Peter now proposed pushing the canoes in among the plants, and there remaining until it might be safer to move. This was done accordingly, and in a minute or two all three of the little barks were concealed within the cover.</p>
 			<p>The question now was whether the fugitives had been observed, but suffered to advance, as every foot they descended the stream was taking them nearer to their foes. Peter did not conceal his apprehension on this point, since he deemed it improbable that any reach near the mouth of the Kalamazoo was without its lookouts, at a moment so interesting. Such was, indeed, the fact, as was afterward ascertained; but the young men who had seen Peter and Margery had given the alarm, passing the word where the fugitives were to be found, and the sentinels along this portion of the stream had deserted their stations, in order to be in at the capture. By such delicate and unforeseen means does Providence often protect those who are the subjects of its especial care, baffling the calculations of art by its own quiet control of events.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-29.xhtml

@@ -40,20 +40,20 @@
 			<p>In this manner several more hours were passed, and six times as many more miles were made in distance. When le Bourdon again landed, which he did shortly before the sun set, he calculated his distance from the mouth of the Kalamazoo to be rather more than a hundred miles. His principal object was to ascend a bluff and to take a look at the coast, in order to examine it for canoes. This his glass enabled him to do with some accuracy, and when he rejoined the party, he was rejoiced to have it in his power to report that the coast was clear. After refreshing themselves, the canoes were again brought together, in order to divide the watches, and a new start was made for the night. In this manner did our adventurers make their way to the northward for two nights and days, landing often, to fish, hunt, rest, and cook, as well as to examine the coast. At the end of the time mentioned, the celebrated straits of the Michillimackinac, or Mackinaw, as they are almost universally termed, came in sight. The course had been gradually changing toward the eastward, and, luckily for the progress of the fugitives, the wind with it, leaving them always a favorable breeze. But it was felt to be no longer safe to use a sail, and recourse was had to the paddles, until the straits and island were passed. This caused some delay, and added a good deal to the labor; but it was deemed so dangerous to display their white cotton sails, objects that might be seen for a considerable distance, that it was thought preferable to adopt this caution. Nor was it useless. In consequence of this foresight, a fleet of canoes was passed in safety, which were crossing from the post at Mackinaw to ward the main land of Michigan. The number of the canoes in this fleet could not have been less than fifty, but getting a timely view of them, le Bourdon hid his own craft in a cove, and remained there until the danger was over.</p>
 			<p>The course now changed still more, while the wind got quite round to the westward. This made a fair wind at first, and gave the canoes a good lee as they advanced. Lake Huron, which was the water the fugitives were now on, lies nearly parallel to Michigan, and the course was southeasterly. As le Bourdon had often passed both ways on these waters, he had his favorite harbors, and knew those signs which teach navigators how to make their prognostics of the weather. On the whole, the fugitives did very well, though they lost two days between Mackinaw and Saginaw Bay; one on account of the strength of the wind, and one on account of rain. During the last, they remained in a hut that le Bourdon had himself constructed in one of his many voyages, and which he had left standing. These empty cabins, or chientes, are of frequent occurrence in new countries, being used, like the Refuges in the Alps, by every traveller as he has need of them.</p>
 			<p>The sight of the fleet of canoes, in the straits of Michillimackinac, caused the fugitives the only real trouble they had felt, between the time when they left the mouth of the Kalamazoo, and the ten days that succeeded. By the end of that period the party had crossed Saginaw, and was fast coming up with Point au Barques, a landmark for all who navigate the waters of Huron, when a canoe was seen coming out from under the land, steering as if to intercept them. This sight gave both concern and pleasure; concern, as it might lead to a hostile encounter, and pleasure, because the bee-hunter hoped for information that might be useful in governing his future course. Here his glass came in play, with good effect. By means of that instrument, it was soon ascertained that the strange canoe contained but two men, both Indians, and as that was just their own force no great danger was apprehended from the meeting. The craft, therefore, continued to approach each other, le Bourdon keeping his glass levelled on the strangers much of the time.</p>
-			<p>“As I live, yonder are Peter and Pigeonswing,” suddenly exclaimed our hero. “They have crossed the Peninsula, and have come out from the point, in that canoe, to meet us.”</p>
+			<p>“As I live, yonder are Peter and Pigeons-wing,” suddenly exclaimed our hero. “They have crossed the Peninsula, and have come out from the point, in that canoe, to meet us.”</p>
 			<p>“With important news, then, depend on it, Benjamin,” answered the wife. “Tell this to brother, that he and Dolly may not feel more alarm than is necessary.”</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter called out to his friends in the other canoe, and communicated the discovery just made, the two craft keeping always within hailing distance of each other.</p>
 			<p>“Them Injins are not here for nothing,” answered Dorothy. “You will find they have something serious to say.”</p>
 			<p>“We shall soon know,” called out le Bourdon. “Ten minutes will bring us alongside of them.”</p>
-			<p>The ten minutes did that much, and before the expiration of the short space, the three canoes were fastened together, that of Peter being in the centre. The bee-hunter saw, at a glance, that the expedition of the Indians had been hurried; for their canoe, besides being of very indifferent qualities, was not provided with the implements and conveniences usual to a voyage of any length. Still, he would not ask a question, but lighting his pipe, after a few puffs, he passed it courteously over to Peter. The great chief smoked a while, and gave it to Pigeonswing, in his turn, who appeared to enjoy it quite as much as any of the party.</p>
+			<p>The ten minutes did that much, and before the expiration of the short space, the three canoes were fastened together, that of Peter being in the centre. The bee-hunter saw, at a glance, that the expedition of the Indians had been hurried; for their canoe, besides being of very indifferent qualities, was not provided with the implements and conveniences usual to a voyage of any length. Still, he would not ask a question, but lighting his pipe, after a few puffs, he passed it courteously over to Peter. The great chief smoked a while, and gave it to Pigeons-wing, in his turn, who appeared to enjoy it quite as much as any of the party.</p>
 			<p>“My father does not believe he is a Jew?” said le Bourdon, smiling; willing to commence a discourse, though still determined not to betray a womanish curiosity.</p>
 			<p>“We are poor Injins, Bourdon; just as the Great Spirit made us. Dat bess. Can’t help what Manitou do. If he don’t make us Jew, can’t be Jew. If he make us Injin, muss be Injin. For my part, b’lieve I’m Injin, and don’t want to be paleface. Can love paleface, now, juss as well as love Injin.”</p>
 			<p>“Oh, I hope this is true, Peter,” exclaimed Margery, her handsome face flushing with delight, at hearing these words. “So long as your heart tells you this, be certain that the Spirit of God is in you.”</p>
 			<p>Peter made no answer, but he looked profoundly impressed with the novel feeling that had taken possession of his soul. As for the bee-hunter, he did not meddle with Margery’s convictions or emotions on such subjects, resembling, in this particular, most men, who, however indifferent to religion in their own persons, are never sorry to find that their wives profoundly submit to its influence. After a short pause, a species of homage involuntarily paid to the subject, he thought he might now inquire into the circumstances that brought the Indians on their route, without incurring the imputation of a weak and impatient curiosity. In reply, Peter’s story was soon told. He had rejoined the chiefs without exciting distrust, and all had waited for the young men to bring in the captives. As soon as it was ascertained that the intended victims had escaped, and by water, parties proceeded to different points, in order to intercept them. Some followed in canoes, but, being less bold in their navigation than the bee-hunter, they did not make the straits until some time after the fugitives had passed. Peter, himself, had joined Bear’s Meat and some twenty warriors who had crossed the Peninsula, procured canoes at the head of Saginaw Bay, and had come out at Point au Barques, the very spot our party was now approaching, three days before its arrival.</p>
-			<p>Tired with waiting, and uncertain whether his enemies had not got the start of him, Bear’s Meat had gone into the river below, intending to keep his watch there, leaving Peter at the Point, with three young men and one canoe, to have a lookout. These young men the great chief had found an excuse for sending to the head of the Bay, in quest of another canoe, which left him, of course, quite alone on the Point. Scarce had the young man got out of sight, ere Pigeonswing joined his confederate, for it seems that this faithful friend had kept on the skirts of the enemy the whole time, travelling hundreds of miles, and enduring hunger and fatigue, besides risking his life at nearly every step, in order to be of use to those whom he considered himself pledged to serve.</p>
-			<p>Of course, Peter and Pigeonswing understood each other. One hour after they joined company, the canoes of the fugitives came in sight, and were immediately recognized by their sails. They were met, as has been mentioned, and the explanations that we have given were made before the party landed at the Point.</p>
+			<p>Tired with waiting, and uncertain whether his enemies had not got the start of him, Bear’s Meat had gone into the river below, intending to keep his watch there, leaving Peter at the Point, with three young men and one canoe, to have a lookout. These young men the great chief had found an excuse for sending to the head of the Bay, in quest of another canoe, which left him, of course, quite alone on the Point. Scarce had the young man got out of sight, ere Pigeons-wing joined his confederate, for it seems that this faithful friend had kept on the skirts of the enemy the whole time, travelling hundreds of miles, and enduring hunger and fatigue, besides risking his life at nearly every step, in order to be of use to those whom he considered himself pledged to serve.</p>
+			<p>Of course, Peter and Pigeons-wing understood each other. One hour after they joined company, the canoes of the fugitives came in sight, and were immediately recognized by their sails. They were met, as has been mentioned, and the explanations that we have given were made before the party landed at the Point.</p>
 			<p>It was something to know where the risk was to be apprehended; but le Bourdon foresaw great danger. He had brought his canoes, already, quite five hundred miles, along a hazardous coast⁠—though a little craft, like one of those he navigated, ran less risk, perhaps, than a larger vessel, since a shelter might, at any time, be found within a reasonable distance for it. From Pointe au Barques to the outlet of the lake was less than a hundred miles more. This outlet was a river, as it is called⁠—a strait, in fact⁠—which communicates with the small shallow lake of <abbr>St.</abbr> Clair, by a passage of some thirty miles in length. Then the lake <abbr>St.</abbr> Clair was to be crossed about an equal distance, when the canoes would come out in what is called the Detroit River, a strait again, as its name indicates. Some six or eight miles down this passage, and on its western side, stands the city of Detroit, then a village of no great extent, with a fort better situated to repel an attack of the savages, than to withstand a siege of white men. This place was now in the possession of the British, and, according to le Bourdon’s notion, it was scarcely less dangerous to him than the hostility of Bear’s Meat and his companions.</p>
-			<p>Delay, however, was quite as dangerous as anything else. After cooking and eating, therefore, the canoes continued their course, Peter and Pigeonswing accompanying them, though they abandoned their own craft. Peter went with the bee-hunter and Margery, while the Chippewa took a seat and a paddle in the canoe of Gershom. This change was made in order to put a double power in each canoe, since it was possible that downright speed might become the only means of safety.</p>
+			<p>Delay, however, was quite as dangerous as anything else. After cooking and eating, therefore, the canoes continued their course, Peter and Pigeons-wing accompanying them, though they abandoned their own craft. Peter went with the bee-hunter and Margery, while the Chippewa took a seat and a paddle in the canoe of Gershom. This change was made in order to put a double power in each canoe, since it was possible that downright speed might become the only means of safety.</p>
 			<p>The wind still stood at the westward, and the rate of sailing was rapid. About the close of the day the party drew near to the outlet, when Peter directed the sails to be taken in. This was done to prevent their being seen, a precaution that was now aided by keeping as near to the shore as possible, where objects so small and low would be very apt to be confounded with others on the land.</p>
 			<p>It was quite dark when the canoes entered the <abbr>St.</abbr> Clair river. Favored by the current and the wind, their progress was rapid, and ere the day returned, changing his direction from the course ordinarily taken, Peter entered the lake by a circuitous passage; one of the many that lead from the river to the lake, among aquatic plants that form a perfect shelter. This detour saved the fugitives from falling into the hands of one party of their enemies, as was afterward ascertained by the Indians. Bear’s Meat had left two canoes, each manned by five warriors, to watch the principal passages into Lake <abbr>St.</abbr> Clair, not anticipating that any particular caution would be used by the bee-hunter and his friends, at this great distance from the place where they had escaped from their foes. But the arrival of Peter, his sagacity, and knowledge of Indian habits, prevented the result that was expected. The canoes got into the lake unseen, and crossed it a little diagonally, so as to reach the Canada shore in the middle of the afternoon of the succeeding day, using their sails only when far from land, and not exposed to watchful eyes.</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter and his friends landed that afternoon at the cabin of a Canadian Frenchman, on the shore of the lake, and at a safe distance from the outlet which led still farther south. Here the females were hospitably received, and treated with that kindness which marks the character of the Canadian French. It mattered little to these simple people, whether the travellers were of the hostile nation or not. It is true, they did not like the “Yankees,” as all Americans are termed by them, but they were not particularly in love with their English masters. It was well enough to be repossessed of both banks of the Detroit, for both banks were then peopled principally by their own race, the descendants of Frenchmen of the time of Louis <span epub:type="z3998:roman"><em>XIV</em></span>, and who still preserved much of the language, and many of the usages, of the French of that period. They spoke then, as now, only the language of their fathers.</p>
@@ -62,8 +62,8 @@
 			<p>It was by no means a difficult thing to go down the river, now that so many canoes were in motion on it, at all hours. The bee-hunter knew what points were to be avoided, and took care not to approach a sentinel. The river, or strait, is less than a mile wide, and by keeping in the centre of the passage, the canoes, favored by both wind and current, drove by the town, then an inconsiderable village, without detection. As soon as far enough below, the canoes were again cast loose from each other, and sail was made on each. The water was smooth, and some time before the return of light the fugitives were abreast of Malden, but in the American channel. Had it been otherwise, the danger could not have been great. So completely were the Americans subdued by Hull’s capitulation, and so numerous were the Indian allies of the British, that the passage of a bark canoe, more or less, would hardly have attracted attention. At that time, Michigan was a province of but little more than a name. The territory was wide, to be sure, but the entire population was not larger than that of a moderately sized English market town, and Detroit was then regarded as a distant and isolated point. It is true that Mackinac and Chicago were both more remote, and both more isolated, but an English force, in possession of Detroit, could be approached by the Americans on the side of the land only by overcoming the obstacles of a broad belt of difficult wilderness. This was done the succeeding year, it is true, but time is always necessary to bring out Jonathan’s latent military energies. When aroused, they are not trifling, as all his enemies have been made to feel; but a good deal of miscalculation, pretending ignorance, and useless talking must be expended, before the really efficient are allowed to set about serving the country in their own way.</p>
 			<p>In this respect, thanks to West Point, a well-organized staff, and well-educated officers, matters are a little improving. Congress has not been able to destroy the army, in the present war, though it did its best to attain that end; and all because the nucleus was too powerful to be totally eclipsed by the gas of the usual legislative tail of the Great National Comet, of which neither the materials nor the orbit can any man say he knows. One day, it declares war with a hurrah; the next, it denies the legislation necessary to carry it on, as if it distrusted its own acts, and already repented of its patriotism. And this is the body, soulless, the very school of faction, as a whole of very questionable quality in the outset, that, according to certain expounders of the constitution, is to perform all the functions of a government; which is not only to pass laws, but is to interpret them; which is to command the army, aye, even to wheeling its platoons; which reads the constitution as an abbe mumbles his aves and paters, or looking at everything but his texts; and which is never to have its acts vetoed, unless in cases where the Supreme Court would spare the Executive that trouble. We never yet could see either the elements or the fruits of this great sanctity in the National Council. In our eyes it is scarcely ever in its proper place on the railway of the Union, has degenerated into a mere electioneering machine, performing the little it really does convulsively, by sudden impulses, equally without deliberation or a sense of responsibility. In a word, we deem it the power of all others in the state that needs the closest watching, and were we what is termed in this country “politicians,” we should go for the executive who is the most ready to apply the curb to these vagaries of faction and interested partisans! Vetoes. Would to Heaven we could see the days of Good Queen Bess revived for one session of Congress at least, and find that more laws were sent back for the second thoughts of their framers than were approved! Then, indeed, might the country be brought back to a knowledge of the very material constitutional facts that the legislature is not commander-in-chief, does not negotiate or make treaties, and has no right to do that which it has done so often⁠—appoint to office by act of Congress.</p>
 			<p>As a consequence of the little apprehension entertained by the English of being soon disturbed in their new conquests, le Bourdon and his friends got out of the Detroit River, and into Lake Erie, without discovery or molestation. There still remained a long journey before them. In that day the American side of the shores of all the Great Lakes was little more than a wilderness. There were exceptions at particular points, but these were few and far asunder. The whole coast of Ohio⁠—for Ohio has its coast as well as Bohemia<a href="endnotes.xhtml#note-12" id="noteref-12" epub:type="noteref">12</a> —was mostly in a state of nature, as was much of those of Pennsylvania and New York, on the side of the fresh water. The port which the bee-hunter had in view was Presque Isle, now known as Erie, a harbor in Pennsylvania, that has since become somewhat celebrated in consequence of its being the port out of which the American vessels sailed, about a year later than the period of which we are writing, to fight the battle that gave them the mastery of the lake. This was a little voyage of itself, of near two hundred miles, following the islands and the coast, but it was safely made in the course of the succeeding week. Once in Lake Erie and on the American side, our adventurers felt reasonably safe against all dangers but those of the elements. It is true that a renowned annalist, whose information is sustained by the collected wisdom of a State Historical Society, does tell us that the enemy possessed both shores of Lake Erie in 1814; but this was so small a mistake, compared with some others that this Nestor in history had made, that we shall not stop to explain it. Le Bourdon and his party found all the south shore of Lake Erie in possession of the Americans, so far as it was in the possession of anyone, and consequently ran no risks from this blunder of the historian and his highly intelligent associates!</p>
-			<p>Peter and Pigeonswing left their friends before they reached Presque Isle. The bee-hunter gave them his own canoe, and the parting was not only friendly, but touching. In the course of their journey, and during their many stops, Margery had frequently prayed with the great chief. His constant and burning desire, now, was to learn to read, that he might peruse the word of the Great Spirit, and regulate his future life by its wisdom and tenets. Margery promised, should they ever meet again, and under circumstances favorable to such a design, to help him attain his wishes.</p>
-			<p>Pigeonswing parted from his friend with the same lighthearted vivacity as he had manifested in all their intercourse. Le Bourdon gave him his own rifle, plenty of ammunition, and various other small articles that were of value to an Indian, accepting the Chippewa’s arms in return. The exchange, however, was greatly to the advantage of the savage. As for Peter, he declined all presents. He carried weapons now, indeed, merely for the purpose of hunting; but the dignity of his character and station would have placed him above such compensations, had the fact been otherwise.</p>
+			<p>Peter and Pigeons-wing left their friends before they reached Presque Isle. The bee-hunter gave them his own canoe, and the parting was not only friendly, but touching. In the course of their journey, and during their many stops, Margery had frequently prayed with the great chief. His constant and burning desire, now, was to learn to read, that he might peruse the word of the Great Spirit, and regulate his future life by its wisdom and tenets. Margery promised, should they ever meet again, and under circumstances favorable to such a design, to help him attain his wishes.</p>
+			<p>Pigeons-wing parted from his friend with the same lighthearted vivacity as he had manifested in all their intercourse. Le Bourdon gave him his own rifle, plenty of ammunition, and various other small articles that were of value to an Indian, accepting the Chippewa’s arms in return. The exchange, however, was greatly to the advantage of the savage. As for Peter, he declined all presents. He carried weapons now, indeed, merely for the purpose of hunting; but the dignity of his character and station would have placed him above such compensations, had the fact been otherwise.</p>
 		</section>
 	</body>
 </html>

src/epub/text/chapter-3.xhtml

@@ -22,10 +22,10 @@
 			</header>
 			<p>Not another syllable did le Bourdon utter to the Chippewa, or the Chippewa to him, in that sitting, touching the important event just communicated. Each carefully avoided manifesting any further interest in the subject, but the smoking continued for some time after the sun had set. As the shades of evening began to gather, the Pottawattamie arose, shook the ashes from his pipe, gave a grunt, and uttered a word or two, by way of announcing his disposition to retire. On this hint, Ben went into the cabin, spread his skins, and intimated to his guests that their beds were ready for them. Few compliments pass among border men on such occasions, and one after another dropped off, until all were stretched on the skins but the master of the place. He remained up two hours later, ruminating on the state of things; when, perceiving that the night was wearing on, he also found a nest, and sought his repose.</p>
 			<p>Nothing occurred to disturb the occupants of “Castle Meal,” as le Bourdon laughingly called his cabin, until the return of day. If there were any bears scenting around the place, as often occurred at night, their instinct must have apprised them that a large reinforcement was present, and caused them to defer their attack to a more favorable opportunity. The first afoot next morning was the bee-hunter himself, who arose and left his cabin just as the earliest streaks of day were appearing in the east. Although dwelling in a wilderness, the “openings” had not the character of ordinary forests. The air circulates freely beneath their oaks, the sun penetrates in a thousand places, and grass grows, wild but verdant. There was little of the dampness of the virgin woods; and the morning air, though cool, as is ever the case, even in midsummer, in regions still covered with trees, was balmy; and, at that particular spot, it came to the senses of le Bourdon loaded with the sweets of many a wide glade of his favorite white clover. Of course, he had placed his cabin near those spots where the insect he sought most abounded; and a fragrant site it proved to be, in favorable conditions of the atmosphere. Ben had a taste for all the natural advantages of his abode, and was standing in enjoyment of its placid beauties when someone touched his elbow. Turning, quick as thought, he perceived the Chippewa at his side. That young Indian had approached with the noiseless tread of his people, and was now anxious to hold a private communication with him.</p>
-			<p>“Pottawattamie got long ear⁠—come fudder⁠—” said Pigeonswing; “go cookhouse⁠—t’ink we want breakfast.”</p>
+			<p>“Pottawattamie got long ear⁠—come fudder⁠—” said Pigeons-wing; “go cookhouse⁠—t’ink we want breakfast.”</p>
 			<p>Ben did as desired; and the two were soon side by side at the spring, in the outlet of which they made their ablutions⁠—the redskin being totally without paint. When this agreeable office was performed, each felt in better condition for a conference.</p>
 			<p>“Elkfoot got belt from Canada fadder,” commenced the Chippewa, with a sententious allusion to the British propensity to keep the savages in pay. “<em>know</em> he got him <em>know</em> he keep him.”</p>
-			<p>“And you, Pigeonswing⁠—by your manner of talking I had set you down for a king’s Injin, too.”</p>
+			<p>“And you, Pigeons-wing⁠—by your manner of talking I had set you down for a king’s Injin, too.”</p>
 			<p>“<em>talk</em> so⁠—no <em>feel</em> bit so. <em>My</em> heart Yankee.”</p>
 			<p>“And have you not had a belt of wampum sent you, as well as the rest of them?”</p>
 			<p>“Dat true⁠—got him⁠—don’t keep him.”</p>
@@ -33,7 +33,7 @@
 			<p>“Ain’t fool, dough young. Keep him; no keep him. Keep him for Canada fadder; no keep him for Chippewa brave.”</p>
 			<p>“What have you then done with your belt?”</p>
 			<p>“Bury him where nobody find him dis war. No⁠—Waubkenewh no hole in heart to let king in.”</p>
-			<p>Pigeonswing, as this young Indian was commonly called in his tribe, in consequence of the rapidity of his movement when employed as a runner, had a much more respectable name, and one that he had fairly earned in some of the forays of his people, but which the commonalty had just the same indisposition to use as the French have to call Marshal Soult the Duc de Dalmatie. The last may be the most honorable title, but it is not that by which he is the best known to his countrymen. Waubkenewh was an appellation, notwithstanding, of which the young Chippewa was justly proud; and he often asserted his right to use it, as sternly as the old hero of Toulouse asserted his right to his duchy, when the Austrians wished to style him “le Marechal <em>duc</em> Soult.”</p>
+			<p>Pigeons-wing, as this young Indian was commonly called in his tribe, in consequence of the rapidity of his movement when employed as a runner, had a much more respectable name, and one that he had fairly earned in some of the forays of his people, but which the commonalty had just the same indisposition to use as the French have to call Marshal Soult the Duc de Dalmatie. The last may be the most honorable title, but it is not that by which he is the best known to his countrymen. Waubkenewh was an appellation, notwithstanding, of which the young Chippewa was justly proud; and he often asserted his right to use it, as sternly as the old hero of Toulouse asserted his right to his duchy, when the Austrians wished to style him “le Marechal <em>duc</em> Soult.”</p>
 			<p>“And you are friendly to the Yankees, and an enemy to the redcoats?”</p>
 			<p>Waubkenewh grasped the hand of le Bourdon, and squeezed it firmly. Then he said, warily:</p>
 			<p>“Take care⁠—Elkfoot friend of Blackbird; like to look at Canada belt. Got medal of king, too. Have Yankee scalp, bye’m by. Take care⁠—must speak low, when Elkfoot near.”</p>
@@ -42,7 +42,7 @@
 			<p>“But is it true, or false, that Mackinaw is taken by the British?”</p>
 			<p>“Dat true too⁠—gone, and warrior all prisoner. Plenty Winnebago, plenty Pottawatamie, plenty Ottowa, plenty redskin, dere.”</p>
 			<p>“And the Chippewas?”</p>
-			<p>“Some Ojebway, too”⁠—answered Pigeonswing, after a reluctant pause. “Can’t all go on same path this war. Hatchets, somehow, got two handle⁠—one strike Yankee; one strike King George.”</p>
+			<p>“Some Ojebway, too”⁠—answered Pigeons-wing, after a reluctant pause. “Can’t all go on same path this war. Hatchets, somehow, got two handle⁠—one strike Yankee; one strike King George.”</p>
 			<p>“But what is your business here, and where are you now going if you are friendly to the Americans? I make no secret of my feelings⁠—I am for my own people, and I wish proof that you are a friend, and not an enemy.”</p>
 			<p>“Too many question, one time,” returned the Chippewa, a little distastefully. “No good have so long tongue. Ask one question, answer him⁠—ask anoder, answer <em>him</em>, too.”</p>
 			<p>“Well, then, what is your business, here?”</p>
@@ -64,7 +64,7 @@
 			<p>“Now, Chippewa, answer me one thing to my likin’, or I shall set you down as a man with a forked tongue, though you do call yourself a friend of the Yankees. If you have been sent from Detroit to Chicago, why are you so far north as this? Why are you here, on the banks of the Kalamazoo, when your path ought to lead you more toward the <abbr>St.</abbr> Joseph’s?”</p>
 			<p>“Been to Mackinaw. Gen’ral says, first go to Mackinaw and see wid own eye how garrison do⁠—den go to Chicago, and tell warrior dere what happen, and how he best manage. Understan’ dat, Bourdon?”</p>
 			<p>“Aye, it all sounds well enough, I will acknowledge. You have been to Mackinaw to look about you, there, and having seen things with your own eyes, have started for Chicago to give your knowledge to the commandant at that place. Now, redskin, have you any proof of what you say?”</p>
-			<p>For some reason that the bee-hunter could not yet fathom, the Chippewa was particularly anxious either to obtain his confidence, or to deceive him. Which he was attempting, was not yet quite apparent; but that one or other was uppermost in his mind, Ben thought was beyond dispute. As soon as the question last named was put, however, the Indian looked cautiously around him, as if to be certain there were no spectators. Then he carefully opened his tobacco-pouch, and extricated from the centre of the cut weed a letter that was rolled into the smallest compass to admit of this mode of concealment, and which was encircled by a thread. The last removed, the letter was unrolled, and its superscription exposed. The address was to “Captain⁠—Heald, U. S. Army, commanding at Chicago.” In one corner were the words “On public service, by Pigeonswing.” All this was submitted to the bee-hunter, who read it with his own eyes.</p>
+			<p>For some reason that the bee-hunter could not yet fathom, the Chippewa was particularly anxious either to obtain his confidence, or to deceive him. Which he was attempting, was not yet quite apparent; but that one or other was uppermost in his mind, Ben thought was beyond dispute. As soon as the question last named was put, however, the Indian looked cautiously around him, as if to be certain there were no spectators. Then he carefully opened his tobacco-pouch, and extricated from the centre of the cut weed a letter that was rolled into the smallest compass to admit of this mode of concealment, and which was encircled by a thread. The last removed, the letter was unrolled, and its superscription exposed. The address was to “Captain⁠—Heald, U. S. Army, commanding at Chicago.” In one corner were the words “On public service, by Pigeons-wing.” All this was submitted to the bee-hunter, who read it with his own eyes.</p>
 			<p>“Dat good”⁠—asked the Chippewa, pointedly⁠—“dat tell trut’-b’lieve <em>him</em>?”</p>
 			<p>Le Bourdon grasped the hand of the Indian, and gave it a hearty squeeze. Then he said frankly, and like a man who no longer entertained any doubts:</p>
 			<p>“I put faith in all you say, Chippewa. That is an officer’s letter, and I now see that you are on the right side. You play’d so deep a game, at first, hows’ever, that I didn’t know exactly what to make of you. Now, as for the Pottawattamie⁠—do you set him down as friend or foe, in reality?”</p>
@@ -88,13 +88,13 @@
 			<p>Le Bourdon had been busy with his pots, during the whole time this discourse was going on, and had warmed up a sufficiency of food to supply the wants of all his guests. In a few minutes each was busy quietly eating his morning’s meal, Gershom having taken his bitters aside, and, as he fancied, unobserved. This was not so much owing to niggardliness, as to a distrust of his having a sufficient supply of the liquor, that long indulgence had made, in a measure, necessary to him, to last until he could get back to the barrels that were still to be found in his cabin, down on the shore of the lake.</p>
 			<p>During the breakfast little was said, conversation forming no material part of the entertainment, at the meals of any but the cultivated. When each had risen, however, and by certain preliminary arrangements it was obvious that the two Indians intended to depart, the Pottawatamie advanced to le Bourdon, and thrust out a hand.</p>
 			<p>“Thankee”⁠—he said, in the brief way in which he clipped his English⁠—“good supper⁠—good sleep⁠—good breakfast. Now go. Thankee⁠—when any friend come to Pottawatamie village, good wigwam dere, and no door.”</p>
-			<p>“I thank you, Elksfoot⁠—and should you pass this way, ag’in, soon, I hope you’ll just step into this chiente and help yourself it I should happen to be off on a hunt. Good luck to you, and a happy sight of home.”</p>
+			<p>“I thank you, Elks-foot⁠—and should you pass this way, ag’in, soon, I hope you’ll just step into this chiente and help yourself it I should happen to be off on a hunt. Good luck to you, and a happy sight of home.”</p>
 			<p>The Pottawatamie then turned and thrust out a hand to each of the others, who met his offered leave-taking with apparent friendship. The bee-hunter observed that neither of the Indians said anything to the other touching the path he was about to travel, but that each seemed ready to pursue his own way as if entirely independent, and without the expectation of having a companion.</p>
-			<p>Elksfoot left the spot the first. After completing his adieus, the Pottawattamie threw his rifle into the hollow of his arm, felt at his belt, as if to settle it into its place, made some little disposition of his light summer covering, and moved off in a southwesterly direction, passing through the open glades, and almost equally unobstructed groves, as steady in his movements as if led by an instinct.</p>
+			<p>Elks-foot left the spot the first. After completing his adieus, the Pottawattamie threw his rifle into the hollow of his arm, felt at his belt, as if to settle it into its place, made some little disposition of his light summer covering, and moved off in a southwesterly direction, passing through the open glades, and almost equally unobstructed groves, as steady in his movements as if led by an instinct.</p>
 			<p>“There he goes, on a beeline,” said le Bourdon, as the straight form of the old savage disappeared at length, behind a thicket of trees. “On a beeline for the <abbr>St.</abbr> Joseph’s river, where he will shortly be, among friends and neighbors, I do not doubt. What, Chippewa! are you in motion too?”</p>
-			<p>“Must go, now,” returned Pigeonswing, in a friendly way. “Bye’m by come back and eat more honey-bring sweet news, hope-no Canada here,” placing a finger on his heart⁠—“all Yankee.”</p>
+			<p>“Must go, now,” returned Pigeons-wing, in a friendly way. “Bye’m by come back and eat more honey-bring sweet news, hope-no Canada here,” placing a finger on his heart⁠—“all Yankee.”</p>
 			<p>“God be with you, Chippewa-God be with you. We shall have a stirring summer of it, and I expect to hear of your name in the wars, as of a chief who knows no fear.”</p>
-			<p>Pigeonswing waved his hand, cast a glance, half friendly half contemptuously, at Whiskey Centre, and glided away. The two who remained standing near the smouldering fire remarked that the direction taken by the Chippewa was toward the lake, and nearly at right angles to that taken by the Pottawattamie. They also fancied that the movement of the former was about half as fast again as that of the latter. In less than three minutes the young Indian was concealed in the “openings,” though he had to cross a glade of considerable width in order to reach them.</p>
+			<p>Pigeons-wing waved his hand, cast a glance, half friendly half contemptuously, at Whiskey Centre, and glided away. The two who remained standing near the smouldering fire remarked that the direction taken by the Chippewa was toward the lake, and nearly at right angles to that taken by the Pottawattamie. They also fancied that the movement of the former was about half as fast again as that of the latter. In less than three minutes the young Indian was concealed in the “openings,” though he had to cross a glade of considerable width in order to reach them.</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter was now alone with the only one of his guests who was of the color and race to which he himself belonged. Of the three, he was the visitor he least respected; but the dues of hospitality are usually sacred in a wilderness, and among savages, so that he could do nothing to get rid of him. As Gershom manifested no intention to quit the place, le Bourdon set about the business of the hour, with as much method and coolness as if the other had not been present. The first thing was to bring home the honey discovered on the previous day; a task of no light labor, the distance it was to be transported being so considerable, and the quantity so large. But our bee-hunter was not without the means of accomplishing such an object, and he now busied himself in getting ready. As Gershom volunteered his assistance, together they toiled in apparent amity and confidence.</p>
 			<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 firearms; one of which was, to use the language of the west, a double-barrelled “shotgun.” 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>

src/epub/text/chapter-30.xhtml

@@ -74,7 +74,7 @@
 			<p>The peculiar ingenuity of the American has supplied the want of laborers, in a country where agriculture is carried on by wholesale, especially in the cereals, by an instrument of the most singular and elaborate construction. This machine is drawn by sixteen or eighteen horses, attached to it laterally, so as to work clear of the standing grain, and who move the whole fabric on a moderate but steady walk. A path is first cut with the cradle on one side of the field, when the machine is dragged into the open place. Here it enters the standing grain, cutting off its heads with the utmost accuracy as it moves. Forks beneath prepare the way, and a rapid vibratory motion of a great number of two-edged knives effect the object. The stalks of the grain can be cut as low or as high as one pleases, but it is usually thought best to take only the heads. Afterward the standing straw is burned, or fed off, upright.</p>
 			<p>The impelling power which causes the great fabric to advance also sets in motion the machinery within it As soon as the heads of the grain are severed from the stalks, they pass into a receptacle, where, by a very quick and simple process, the kernels are separated from the husks. Thence all goes into a fanning machine, where the chaff is blown away. The clean grain falls into a small bin, whence it is raised by a screw elevator to a height that enables it to pass out at an opening to which a bag is attached. Wagons follow the slow march of the machine, and the proper number of men are in attendance. Bag after bag is renewed, until a wagon is loaded, when it at once proceeds to the mill, where the grain is soon converted into flour. Generally the husbandman sells to the miller, but occasionally he pays for making the flour, and sends the latter off, by railroad, to Detroit, whence it finds its way to Europe, possibly, to help feed the millions of the old world. Such, at least, was the course of trade the past season. As respects this ingenious machine, it remains only to say that it harvests, cleans, and bags from twenty to thirty acres of heavy wheat, in the course of a single summer’s day! Altogether it is a gigantic invention, well adapted to meet the necessities of a gigantic country.</p>
 			<p>Old Peter went afield with us that day. There he stood, like a striking monument of a past that was still so recent and wonderful. On that very prairie, which was now teeming with the appliances of civilization, he had hunted and held his savage councils. On that prairie had he meditated, or consented to the deaths of the young couple, whose descendants were now dwelling there, amid abundance, and happy. Nothing but the prayers of the dying missionary, in behalf of his destroyers, had prevented the dire consummation.</p>
-			<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>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 Pigeons-wing, 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 beehives, 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 everyday 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 paleface⁠—t’ink tomahawk, and warpath, 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>

src/epub/text/chapter-4.xhtml

@@ -29,12 +29,12 @@
 			<p>“I believe this must be the last hive I line, this summer,” said le Bourdon, while eating his supper. “My luck has been good so far, but in troublesome times one had better not be too far from home. I am surprised, Waring, that you have ventured so far from your family, while the tidings are so gloomy.”</p>
 			<p>“That’s partly because you don’t know <em>me</em>, and partly because you don’t know <em>dolly</em>. As for leaving hum, with anybody to kear for it, I should like to know who is more to the purpose than Dolly Waring? I haven’t no idee that even bees would dare get upon <em>her</em>! If they did, they’d soon get the worst on’t Her tongue is all-powerful, to say nawthin’ of her arms; and if the so’gers can only handle their muskets as she can handle a broom, there is no need of new regiments to carry on this war.”</p>
 			<p>Now, nothing could be more false than this character; but a drunkard has little regard to what he says.</p>
-			<p>“I am glad your garrison is so strong,” answered the beehunter, thoughtfully; “but mine is too weak to stay any longer, out here in the openings. Whiskey Centre, I intend to break up, and return to the settlement, before the redskins break loose in earnest. If you will stay and lend me a hand to embark the honey and stores, and help to carry the canoe down the river, you shall be well paid for your trouble.”</p>
+			<p>“I am glad your garrison is so strong,” answered the bee-hunter, thoughtfully; “but mine is too weak to stay any longer, out here in the openings. Whiskey Centre, I intend to break up, and return to the settlement, before the redskins break loose in earnest. If you will stay and lend me a hand to embark the honey and stores, and help to carry the canoe down the river, you shall be well paid for your trouble.”</p>
 			<p>“Waal, I’d about as lief do that, as do anything else. Good jobs is scarce, out here in the wilderness, and when a body lights of one, he ought to profit by it. I come up here thinkin’ to meet you, for I heer’n tell from a voyager that you was a-beeing it, out in the openin’s, and there’s nawthin’ in natur’ that Dolly takes to with a greater relish than good wild honey. ‘Try whiskey,’ I’ve told her a thousand times, ‘and you’ll soon get to like <em>that</em> better than all the rest of creation’; but not a drop could I ever get her, or Blossom, to swallow. It’s true, that leaves so much the more for me; but I’m a companionable crittur, and don’t think I’ve drunk as much as I want, unless I take it society-like. That’s one reason I’ve taken so mightily to you, Bourdon; you’re not much at a pull, but you an’t downright afeared of a jug, neither.”</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter was glad to hear that all the family had not this man’s vice, for he now plainly foresaw that the accidents of his position must bring him and these strangers much in contact, for some weeks, at least. Le Bourdon, though not absolutely “afraid of a jug,” as Whiskey Centre had expressed it, was decidedly a temperate man; drinking but seldom, and never to excess. He too well knew the hazards by which he was surrounded, to indulge in this way, even had he the taste for it; but he had no taste that way, one small jug of brandy forming his supply for a whole season. In these days of exaggeration in all things, exaggeration in politics, in religion, in temperance, in virtue, and even in education, by putting “new wine into old bottles,” that one little jug might have sufficed to give him a bad name; but five-and-thirty years ago men had more real independence than they now possess, and were not as much afraid of that croquemitaine, public opinion, as they are today. To be sure, it was little to le Bourdon’s taste to make a companion of such a person as Whiskey Centre; but there was no choice. The man was an utter stranger to him; and the only means he possessed of making sure that he did not carry off the property that lay so much at his mercy, was by keeping near him. With many men, the bee-hunter would have been uneasy at being compelled to remain alone with them in the woods; for cases in which one had murdered another, in order to get possession of the goods, in these remote regions, were talked of, among the other rumors of the borders; but Gershom had that in his air and manner that rendered Ben confident his delinquencies, at the most, would scarcely reach bloodshed. Pilfer he might; but murder was a crime which he did not appear at all likely to commit.</p>
 			<p>After supping in company, our two adventurers secured everything; and, retiring to the chiente, they went to sleep. No material disturbance occurred, but the night passed in tranquillity; the bee-hunter merely experiencing some slight interruption to his slumbers, from the unusual circumstance of having a companion. One as long accustomed to be alone as himself would naturally submit to some such sensation, our habits getting so completely the mastery as often to supplant even nature.</p>
 			<p>The following morning the bee-hunter commenced his preparations for a change of residence. Had he not been discovered, it is probable that the news received from the Chippewa would not have induced him to abandon his present position, so early in the season; but he thought the risk of remaining was too great under all the circumstances. The Pottawattamie, in particular, was a subject of great distrust to him, and he believed it highly possible some of that old chief’s tribe might be after his scalp ere many suns had risen. Gershom acquiesced in these opinions, and, as soon as his brain was less under the influence of liquor than was common with him, he appeared to be quite happy in having it in his power to form a species of alliance, offensive and defensive, with a man of his own color and origin. Great harmony now prevailed between the two, Gershom improving vastly in all the better qualities, the instant his intellect and feelings got to be a little released from the thraldom of the jug. His own immediate store of whiskey was quite exhausted, and le Bourdon kept the place in which his own small stock of brandy was secured a profound secret. These glimmerings of returning intellect, and of reviving principles, are by no means unusual with the sot, thus proving that “so long as there is life, there is hope,” for the moral, as well as for the physical being. What was a little remarkable, Gershom grew less vulgar, even in his dialect, as he grew more sober, showing that in all respects he was becoming a greatly improved person.</p>
-			<p>The men were several hours in loading the canoe, not only all the stores and ammunition, but all the honey being transferred to it. The bee-hunter had managed to conceal his jug of brandy, reduced by this time to little more than a quart, within an empty powder-keg, into which he had crammed a beaver-skin or two, that he had taken, as it might be incidentally, in the course of his rambles. At length everything was removed and stowed in its proper place, on board the capacious canoe, and Gershom expected an announcement on the part of Ben of his readiness to embark. But there still remained one duty to perform. The beehunter had killed a buck only the day before the opening of our narrative, and shouldering a quarter, he had left the remainder of the animal suspended from the branches of a tree, near the place where it had been shot and cleaned. As venison might be needed before they could reach the mouth of the river, Ben deemed it advisable that he and Gershom should go and bring in the remainder of the carcass. The men started on this undertaking accordingly, leaving the canoe about two in the afternoon.</p>
+			<p>The men were several hours in loading the canoe, not only all the stores and ammunition, but all the honey being transferred to it. The bee-hunter had managed to conceal his jug of brandy, reduced by this time to little more than a quart, within an empty powder-keg, into which he had crammed a beaver-skin or two, that he had taken, as it might be incidentally, in the course of his rambles. At length everything was removed and stowed in its proper place, on board the capacious canoe, and Gershom expected an announcement on the part of Ben of his readiness to embark. But there still remained one duty to perform. The bee-hunter had killed a buck only the day before the opening of our narrative, and shouldering a quarter, he had left the remainder of the animal suspended from the branches of a tree, near the place where it had been shot and cleaned. As venison might be needed before they could reach the mouth of the river, Ben deemed it advisable that he and Gershom should go and bring in the remainder of the carcass. The men started on this undertaking accordingly, leaving the canoe about two in the afternoon.</p>
 			<p>The distance between the spot where the deer had been killed, and the chiente, was about three miles; which was the reason why the bee-hunter had not brought home the entire animal the day he killed it; the American woodsman often carrying his game great distances in preference to leaving it any length of time in the forest. In the latter case there is always danger from beasts of prey, which are drawn from afar by the scent of blood. Le Bourdon thought it possible they might now encounter wolves; though he had left the carcass of the deer so suspended as to place it beyond the reach of most of the animals of the wilderness. Each of the men, however, carried a rifle: and Hive was allowed to accompany them, by an act of grace on the part of his master.</p>
 			<p>For the first half-hour, nothing occurred out of the usual course of events. The bee-hunter had been conversing freely with his companion, who, he rejoiced to find, manifested far more common sense, not to say good sense, than he had previously shown; and from whom he was deriving information touching the number of vessels, and the other movements on the lakes, that he fancied might be of use to himself when he started for Detroit. While thus engaged, and when distant only a hundred rods from the place where he had left the venison, le Bourdon was suddenly struck with the movements of the dog. Instead of doubling on his own tracks, and scenting right and left, as was the animal’s wont, he was now advancing cautiously, with his head low, seemingly feeling his way with his nose, as if there was a strong taint in the wind.</p>
 			<p>“Sartain as my name is Gershom,” exclaimed Waring, just after he and Ben had come to a halt, in order to look around them⁠—“yonder is an Injin! The crittur’ is seated at the foot of the large oak⁠—hereaway, more to the right of the dog, and Hive has struck his scent. The fellow is asleep, with his rifle across his lap, and can’t have much dread of wolves or bears!”</p>
@@ -44,9 +44,9 @@
 			<p>“The crittur’ sleeps soundly!” exclaimed Gershom, stopping within ten yards of the Indian, to take another look at him.</p>
 			<p>“He’ll never awake,” put in the bee-hunter, solemnly⁠—“the man is dead. See; there is blood on the side of his head, and a rifle-bullet has left its hole there.”</p>
 			<p>Even while speaking, the bee-hunter advanced, and raising a sort of shawl, that once had been used as an ornament, and which had last been thrown carelessly over the head of its late owner, he exposed the well-known features of Elks-foot, the Pottawattamie, who had left them little more than twenty-four hours before! The warrior had been shot by a rifle-bullet directly through the temple, and had been scalped. The powder had been taken from his horn, and the bullets from his pouch; but, beyond this, he had not been plundered. The body was carefully placed against a tree, in a sitting attitude, the rifle was laid across its legs, and there it had been left, in the centre of the openings, to become food for beasts of prey, and to have its bones bleached by the snows and the rains!</p>
-			<p>The bee-hunter shuddered, as he gazed at this fearful memorial of the violence against which even a wilderness could afford no sufficient protection. That Pigeonswing had slain his late fellow-guest, le Bourdon had no doubt, and he sickened at the thought. Although he had himself dreaded a good deal from the hostility of the Pottawattamie, he could have wished this deed undone. That there was a jealous distrust of each other between the two Indians had been sufficiently apparent; but the bee-hunter could not have imagined that it would so soon lead to results as terrible as these!</p>
+			<p>The bee-hunter shuddered, as he gazed at this fearful memorial of the violence against which even a wilderness could afford no sufficient protection. That Pigeons-wing had slain his late fellow-guest, le Bourdon had no doubt, and he sickened at the thought. Although he had himself dreaded a good deal from the hostility of the Pottawattamie, he could have wished this deed undone. That there was a jealous distrust of each other between the two Indians had been sufficiently apparent; but the bee-hunter could not have imagined that it would so soon lead to results as terrible as these!</p>
 			<p>After examining the body, and noting the state of things around it, the men proceeded, deeply impressed with the necessity, not only of their speedy removal, but of their standing by each other in that remote region, now that violence had so clearly broken out among the tribes. The bee-hunter had taken a strong liking to the Chippewa, and he regretted so much the more to think that he had done this deed. It was true, that such a state of things might exist as to justify an Indian warrior, agreeably to his own notions, in taking the life of anyone of a hostile tribe; but le Bourdon wished it had been otherwise. A man of gentle and peaceable disposition himself, though of a profoundly enthusiastic temperament in his own peculiar way, he had ever avoided those scenes of disorder and bloodshed, which are of so frequent occurrence in the forest and on the prairies; and this was actually the first instance in which he had ever beheld a human body that had fallen by human hands. Gershom had seen more of the peculiar life of the frontiers than his companion, in consequence of having lived so closely in contact with the “firewater”; but even <em>he</em> was greatly shocked with the suddenness and nature of the Pottawattamie’s end.</p>
-			<p>No attempt was made to bury the remains of Elksfoot, inasmuch as our adventurers had no tools fit for such a purpose, and any merely superficial interment would have been a sort of invitation to the wolves to dig the body up again.</p>
+			<p>No attempt was made to bury the remains of Elks-foot, inasmuch as our adventurers had no tools fit for such a purpose, and any merely superficial interment would have been a sort of invitation to the wolves to dig the body up again.</p>
 			<p>“Let him lean ag’in’ the tree,” said Waring, as they moved on toward the spot where the carcass of the deer was left, “and I’ll engage nothin’ touches him. There’s that about the face of man, Bourdon, that skears the beasts; and if a body can only muster courage to stare them full in the eye, one single human can drive before him a whull pack of wolves.”</p>
 			<p>“I’ve heard as much,” returned the bee-hunter, “but should not like to be the ‘human’ to try the experiment That the face of man may have terrors for a beast, I think likely; but hunger would prove more than a match for such fear. Yonder is our venison, Waring; safe where I left it.”</p>
 			<p>The carcass of the deer was divided, and each man shouldering his burden, the two returned to the river, taking care to avoid the path that led by the body of the dead Indian. As both labored with much earnestness, everything was soon ready, and the canoe speedily left the shore. The Kalamazoo is not in general a swift and turbulent stream, though it has a sufficient current to carry away its waters without any appearance of sluggishness. Of course, this character is not uniform, reaches occurring in which the placid water is barely seen to move; and others, again, are found, in which something like rapids, and even falls, appear. But on the whole, and more especially in the part of the stream where it was, the canoe had little to disturb it, as it glided easily down, impelled by a light stroke of the paddle.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-5.xhtml

@@ -23,7 +23,7 @@
 				</blockquote>
 			</header>
 			<p>The canoe did not reach the mouth of the river until near evening of the third day of its navigation. It was not so much the distance, though that was considerable, as it was the obstacles that lay in the way, which brought the travellers to the end of their journey at so late a period. As they drew nearer and nearer to the place where Gershom had left his wife and sister, le Bourdon detected in his companion signs of an interest in the welfare of the two last, as well as a certain feverish uneasiness lest all might not be well with them, that said something in favor of his heart, whatever might be urged against his prudence and care in leaving them alone in so exposed a situation.</p>
-			<p>“I’m afeard a body don’t think as much as he ought to do, when liquor is in him,” said Whiskey Centre, just as the canoe doubled the last point, and the hut came into view; “else I never could have left two women by them-selves in so lonesome a place. God be praised! there is the chiente at any rate; and there’s a smoke comin’ out of it, if my eyes don’t deceive me! Look, Bourdon, for I can scarcely see at all.”</p>
+			<p>“I’m afeard a body don’t think as much as he ought to do, when liquor is in him,” said Whiskey Centre, just as the canoe doubled the last point, and the hut came into view; “else I never could have left two women by themselves in so lonesome a place. God be praised! there is the chiente at any rate; and there’s a smoke comin’ out of it, if my eyes don’t deceive me! Look, Bourdon, for I can scarcely see at all.”</p>
 			<p>“There is the house; and, as you say, there is certainly a smoke rising from it.”</p>
 			<p>“There’s comfort in that!” exclaimed the truant husband and brother, with a sigh that seemed to relieve a very loaded breast. “Yes, there’s comfort in that! If there’s a fire, there must be them that lighted it; and a fire at this season, too, says that there’s somethin’ to eat, I should be sorry, Bourdon, to think I’d left the women folks without food; though, to own the truth, I don’t remember whether I did or not.”</p>
 			<p>“The man who drinks, Gershom, has commonly but a very poor memory.”</p>
@@ -59,7 +59,7 @@
 			<p>“Either it was so, or my fears made it <em>seem</em> so. The two canoes that passed first were well filled with Injins, each having eight in it; while the one that came last held but four warriors. They were a mile apart, and the last canoe seemed to be trying to overtake the others. I did think that nothing but their haste prevented the men in the last canoe from landing; but my fears may have made that seem so that was not so.”</p>
 			<p>As the cheek of the charming girl flushed with excitement, and her race became animated, Margery appeared marvellously handsome; more so, the bee-hunter fancied, than any other female he had ever before seen. But her words impressed him quite as much as her looks; for he at once saw the importance of such an event, to persons in their situation. The wind was rising on the lake, and it was ahead for the canoes; should the savages feel the necessity of making a harbor, they might return to the mouth of the Kalamazoo; a step that would endanger all their lives, in the event of these Indians proving to belong to those, whom there was now reason to believe were in British pay. In times of peace, the intercourse between the whites and the red men was usually amicable, and seldom led to violence, unless through the effects of liquor; but, a price being placed on scalps, a very different state of things might be anticipated, as a consequence of the hostilities. This was then a matter to be looked to; and, as evening was approaching, no time was to be lost.</p>
 			<p>The shores of Michigan are generally low, nor are harbors either numerous, or very easy of access. It would be difficult, indeed, to find in any other part of the world, so great an extent of coast that possesses so little protection for the navigator, as that of this very lake. There are a good many rivers, it is true, but usually they have bars, and are not easy of entrance. This is the reason why that very convenient glove, the Constitution, which can be made to fit any hand, has been discovered to have an extra finger in it, which points out a mode by which the federal government can create ports wherever nature has forgotten to perform this beneficent office. It is a little extraordinary that the fingers of so many of the great “expounders” turn out to be “thumbs,” however, exhibiting clumsiness, rather than that adroit lightness which usually characterizes the dexterity of men who are in the habit of rummaging other people’s pockets, for their own especial purposes. It must be somewhat uphill work to persuade any disinterested and clearheaded man, that a political power to “regulate commerce” goes the length of making harbors; the one being in a great measure a moral, while the other is exclusively a physical agency; any more than it goes the length of making warehouses, and cranes, and carts, and all the other physical implements for carrying on trade. Now, what renders all this “thumbing” of the Constitution so much the more absurd, is the fact, that the very generous compact interested does furnish a means, by which the poverty of ports on the great lakes may be remedied, without making any more unnecessary rents in the great national glove. Congress clearly possesses the power to create and maintain a navy, which includes the power to create all sorts of necessary physical appliances; and, among others, places of refuge for that navy, should they be actually needed. As a vessel of war requires a harbor, and usually a better harbor than a merchant-vessel, it strikes us the “expounders” would do well to give this thought a moment’s attention. Behind it will be found the most unanswerable argument in favor of the lighthouses, too.</p>
-			<p>But, to return to the narrative: the Kalamazoo could be entered by canoes, though it offered no very available shelter for a vessel of any size. There was no other shelter for the savages for several miles to the southward; and, should the wind increase, of which there were strong indications, it was not only possible, but highly probable, that the canoes would return. According to the account of the females, they had passed only two hours before, and the breeze had been gradually gathering strength ever since. It was not unlikely, indeed, that the attention paid to the river by the warrior in the last canoe may have had reference to this very state of the weather; and his haste to overtake his companions been connected with a desire to induce them to seek a shelter. All this presented itself to the beehunter’s mind, at once; and it was discussed between the members of the party, freely, and not without some grave apprehensions.</p>
+			<p>But, to return to the narrative: the Kalamazoo could be entered by canoes, though it offered no very available shelter for a vessel of any size. There was no other shelter for the savages for several miles to the southward; and, should the wind increase, of which there were strong indications, it was not only possible, but highly probable, that the canoes would return. According to the account of the females, they had passed only two hours before, and the breeze had been gradually gathering strength ever since. It was not unlikely, indeed, that the attention paid to the river by the warrior in the last canoe may have had reference to this very state of the weather; and his haste to overtake his companions been connected with a desire to induce them to seek a shelter. All this presented itself to the bee-hunter’s mind, at once; and it was discussed between the members of the party, freely, and not without some grave apprehensions.</p>
 			<p>There was one elevated point⁠—elevated comparatively, if not in a very positive sense⁠—whence the eye could command a considerable distance along the lake shore. Thither Margery now hastened to look after the canoes. Boden accompanied her; and together they proceeded, side by side, with a newborn but lively and increasing confidence, that was all the greater, in consequence of their possessing a common secret.</p>
 			<p>“Brother must be much better than he was,” the girl observed, as they hurried on, “for he has not once been into the shed to look at the barrels! Before he went into the openings, he never entered the house without drinking; and sometimes he would raise the cup to his mouth as often as three times in the first half-hour. Now, he does not seem even to think of it!”</p>
 			<p>“It may be well that he can find nothing to put into his cup, should he fall into his old ways. One is never sure of a man of such habits, until he is placed entirely out of harm’s way.”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-6.xhtml

@@ -49,17 +49,17 @@
 			<p>“You may remember, Blossom, that your brother and I spoke of the two Injins who visited me in the Openings. One was a Pottawattamie and the other a Chippewa. The first we found dead and scalped, after he had left us; and the last is now in yonder hut, bound and a prisoner. He has taken to the lake on his way to Fort Dearborn, and has, with all his craft and resolution, fallen into enemies’ hands. Well will it be for him if his captors do not learn what befell the warrior who was slain near my cabin, and left seated against a tree!”</p>
 			<p>“Do you think these savages mean to revenge the death of their brother on this unfortunate wretch?”</p>
 			<p>“I know that he is in the pay of our general at Detroit, while the Pottawattamies are in the pay of the English. This of itself would make them enemies, and has no doubt been the cause of his being taken; but I do not well see how Injins on the lake here can know anything of what happened some fifty miles or so up in the Openings.”</p>
-			<p>“Perhaps the savages in the canoes belong to the same party as the warrior you call Elksfoot, and that they have had the means of learning his death, and by whose hand he fell.”</p>
+			<p>“Perhaps the savages in the canoes belong to the same party as the warrior you call Elks-foot, and that they have had the means of learning his death, and by whose hand he fell.”</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter was surprised at the quickness of the girl’s wit, the suggestion being as discreet as it was ingenious. The manner in which intelligence flies through the wilderness had often surprised him, and certainly it was possible that the party now before him might have heard of the fate of the chief whose body he had found in the Openings, short as was the time for the news to have gone so far. The circumstance that the canoes had come from the northward was against the inference, however, and after musing a minute on the facts, le Bourdon mentioned this objection to his companion.</p>
 			<p>“Are we certain these are the same canoes as those which I saw pass this afternoon?” asked Margery, who comprehended the difficulty in an instant. “Of those I saw, two passed first, and one followed; while here are <em>four</em> that have landed.”</p>
-			<p>“What you say may be true enough. We are not to suppose that the canoes you saw pass are all that are on the lake. But let the savages be whom they may, prudence tells us to keep clear of them if we can; and this more so than ever, now I can see that Pigeonswing, who I know to be an American Injin, is treated by them as an enemy.”</p>
+			<p>“What you say may be true enough. We are not to suppose that the canoes you saw pass are all that are on the lake. But let the savages be whom they may, prudence tells us to keep clear of them if we can; and this more so than ever, now I can see that Pigeons-wing, who I know to be an American Injin, is treated by them as an enemy.”</p>
 			<p>“How are the savages employed now, Bourdon? Do they prepare to eat, or do they torture their prisoner?”</p>
-			<p>“No fear of their attempting the last tonight. There is an uneasiness about them, as if they still smelt the liquor; but some are busy cooking at the fire. I would give all my honey, pretty Margery, to be able to save Pigeonswing! He is a good fellow for a savage, and is heart and hand with us in this new war, that he tells me has begun between us and the English!”</p>
+			<p>“No fear of their attempting the last tonight. There is an uneasiness about them, as if they still smelt the liquor; but some are busy cooking at the fire. I would give all my honey, pretty Margery, to be able to save Pigeons-wing! He is a good fellow for a savage, and is heart and hand with us in this new war, that he tells me has begun between us and the English!”</p>
 			<p>“You surely would not risk your own life to save a savage, who kills and scalps at random, as this man has done!”</p>
 			<p>“In that he has but followed the habits of his color and race. I dare say <em>we</em> do things that are quite as bad, according to Injin ways of thinking. I <em>do</em> believe, Margery, was that man to see <em>me</em> in the hands of the Pottawattamies, as I now see <em>him</em>, he would undertake something for my relief.”</p>
 			<p>“But what can you, a single man, do when there are twenty against you?” asked Margery, a little reproachfully as to manner, speaking like one who had more interest in the safety of the young bee-hunter than she chose very openly to express.</p>
 			<p>“No one can say what he can do till he tries. I do not like the way they are treating that Chippewa, for it looks as if they meant to do him harm. He is neither fed, nor suffered to be with his masters; but there the poor fellow is, bound hand and foot near the cabin door, and lashed to a tree. They do not even give him the relief of suffering him to sit down.”</p>
-			<p>The gentle heart of Margery was touched by this account of the manner in which the captive was treated, and she inquired into other particulars concerning his situation, with a more marked interest than she had previously manifested in his state. The bee-hunter answered her questions as they were put; and the result was to place the girl in possession of a minute detail of the true manner in which Pigeonswing was treated.</p>
+			<p>The gentle heart of Margery was touched by this account of the manner in which the captive was treated, and she inquired into other particulars concerning his situation, with a more marked interest than she had previously manifested in his state. The bee-hunter answered her questions as they were put; and the result was to place the girl in possession of a minute detail of the true manner in which Pigeons-wing was treated.</p>
 			<p>Although there was probably no intention on the part of the captors of the Chippewa to torture him before his time, tortured he must have been by the manner in which his limbs and body were confined. Not only were his arms fastened behind his back at the elbows, but the hands were also tightly bound together in front. The legs had ligatures in two places, just above the knees and just below the ankles. Around the body was another fastening; which secured the captive to a beech that stood about thirty feet from the door of the cabin, and so nearly in a line with the fire within and the lookout of le Bourdon, as to enable the last distinctly to note these particulars, aided as he was by his glass. Relying on the manner in which they secured their prisoner, the savages took little heed of him; but each appeared bent on attending to his own comfort, by means of a good supper, and by securing a dry lair in which to pass the night. All this le Bourdon saw and noted too, ere he dropped lightly on his feet by the side of Margery, at the root of the tree.</p>
 			<p>Without losing time that was precious, the bee-hunter went at once to the canoes and communicated his intention to Waring. The moon had now set, and the night was favorable to the purpose of le Bourdon. At the first glance it might seem wisest to wait until sleep had fallen upon the savages, ere any attempt were made to approach the hut; but Boden reasoned differently. A general silence would succeed as soon as the savages disposed of themselves to sleep, which would be much more likely to allow his footsteps to be overheard, than when tongues and bodies and teeth were all in active movement. A man who eats after a long march, or a severe paddling, usually concentrates his attention on his food, as le Bourdon knew by long experience; and it is a much better moment to steal upon the hungry and weary, to do so when they feed, than to do so when they sleep, provided anything like a watch be kept. That the Pottawattamie would neglect this latter caution le Bourdon did not believe; and his mind was made up, not only to attempt the rescue of his Chippewa friend, but to attempt it at once.</p>
 			<p>After explaining his plan in a few words, and requesting Waring’s assistance, le Bourdon took a solemn leave of the party, and proceeded at once toward the hut. In order to understand the movements of the bee-hunter, it may be well now briefly to explain the position of the chiente, and the nature of the ground on which the adventurer was required to act. The hut stood on a low and somewhat abrupt swell, being surrounded on all sides by land so low as to be in many places wet and swampy. There were a good many trees on the knoll, and several thickets of alders and other bushes on the lower ground; but on the whole, the swamps were nearly devoid of what is termed “timber.” Two sides of the knoll were abrupt; that on which the casks had been rolled into the lake, and that opposite, which was next to the tree where Boden had so long been watching the proceedings of the savages. The distance between the hut and this tree was somewhat less than a mile. The intervening ground was low, and most of it was marshy; though it was possible to cross the marsh by following a particular course. Fortunately this course, which was visible to the eye by daylight, and had been taken by the fugitives on quitting the hut, might be dimly traced at night, by one who understood the ground, by means of certain trees and bushes, that formed so many finger-posts for the traveller. Unless this particular route were taken, however, a circuit of three or four miles must be made, in order to pass from the chiente to the spot where the family had taken refuge. As le Bourdon had crossed this firm ground by daylight and had observed it well from his tree, he thought himself enough of a guide to find his way through it in the dark, aided by the marks just mentioned.</p>
@@ -78,10 +78,10 @@
 			<p>When le Bourdon left his companion, now so intensely interested in his success, to pick his way in the darkness across the remainder of the marsh, Margery retired behind the tree, where the first thing she did was to examine her lantern, and to see that its light was ready to perform the very important office which might so speedily be required of it. Satisfied on this point, she turned her eyes anxiously in the direction of the hut. By this time every trace of the bee-hunter was lost, the hillock in his front forming too dark a background to admit of his being seen. But the fire still blazed in the chiente, the savages not having yet finished their cooking, though several had satisfied their appetites, and had already sought places where they might stretch themselves for the night. Margery was glad to see that these last individuals bestowed themselves within the influence of the fire, warm as was the night. This was done most probably to escape from the annoyance of the mosquitos, more or less of which are usually found in the low lands of the new countries, and near the margins of rivers.</p>
 			<p>Margery could distinctly see the Chippewa, erect and bound to his tree. On him she principally kept her looks riveted, for near his person did she expect first again to find the bee-hunter. Indeed, there was no chance of seeing one who was placed beneath the light of the fire, since the brow of the acclivity formed a complete cover, throwing all below it into deep shade. This circumstance was of the greatest importance to the adventurer, however, enabling him to steal quite near to his friend, favored by a darkness that was getting to be intense. Quitting Margery, we will now rejoin le Bourdon, who by this time was approaching his goal.</p>
 			<p>The bee-hunter had some difficulty in finding his way across the marsh; but floundering through the impediments, and on the whole preserving the main direction, he got out on the firm ground quite as soon as he had expected to do. It was necessary for him to use extreme caution. The Indians according to their custom had dogs, two of which had been in sight, lying about halfway between the prisoner and the door of the hut. Boden had seen a savage feeding these dogs; and it appeared to him at the time as if the Indian had been telling them to be watchful of the Chippewa. He well knew the services that the red men expected of these animals, which are kept rather as sentinels than for any great use they put them to in the hunts. An Indian dog is quick enough to give the alarm, and he will keep on a trail for a long run and with considerable accuracy, but it is seldom that he closes and has his share in the death, unless in the case of very timid and powerless creatures.</p>
-			<p>Nevertheless, the presence of these dogs exacted extra caution in the movements of the bee-hunter. He had ascended the hill a little out of the stream of light which still issued from the open door of the hut, and was soon high enough to get a good look at the state of things on the bit of level land around the cabin. Fully one-half of the savages were yet up and in motion; though the processes of cooking and eating were by this time nearly ended. These men had senses almost as acute as those of their dogs, and it was very necessary to be on his guard against them also. By moving with the utmost caution, le Bourdon reached the edge of the line of light, where he was within ten yards of the captive. Here he placed his rifle against a small tree, and drew his knife, in readiness to cut the prisoner’s thongs. Three several times, while the bee-hunter was making these preparations, did the two dogs raise their heads and scent the air; once, the oldest of the two gave a deep and most ominous growl. Singular as it may seem, this last indication of giving the alarm was of great service to le Bourdon and the Chippewa. The latter heard the growl, and saw two of the movements of the animals’ heads, from all which he inferred that there was some creature, or some danger behind him. This naturally enough induced him to bestow a keen attention in that direction, and being unable to turn body, limbs, or head, the sense of hearing was his only means of watchfulness. It was while in this state of profound listening that Pigeonswing fancied he heard his own name, in such a whisper as one raises when he wishes to call from a short distance with the least possible expenditure of voice. Presently the words “Pigeonswing,” and “Chippewa,” were succeeded by those of “bee-hunter,” “Bourdon.” This was enough: the quick-witted warrior made a low ejaculation, such as might be mistaken for a half-suppressed murmur that proceeded from pain, but which one keenly on the watch, and who was striving to communicate with him, would be apt to understand as a sign of attention. The whispering then ceased altogether, and the prisoner waited the result with the stoic patience of an American Indian. A minute later the Chippewa felt the thongs giving way, and his arms were released at the elbows. An arm was next passed round his body, and the fastenings at the wrist were cut. At this instant a voice whispered in his ear⁠—“Be of good heart, Chippewa⁠—your friend, Bourdon, is here. Can you stand?”</p>
+			<p>Nevertheless, the presence of these dogs exacted extra caution in the movements of the bee-hunter. He had ascended the hill a little out of the stream of light which still issued from the open door of the hut, and was soon high enough to get a good look at the state of things on the bit of level land around the cabin. Fully one-half of the savages were yet up and in motion; though the processes of cooking and eating were by this time nearly ended. These men had senses almost as acute as those of their dogs, and it was very necessary to be on his guard against them also. By moving with the utmost caution, le Bourdon reached the edge of the line of light, where he was within ten yards of the captive. Here he placed his rifle against a small tree, and drew his knife, in readiness to cut the prisoner’s thongs. Three several times, while the bee-hunter was making these preparations, did the two dogs raise their heads and scent the air; once, the oldest of the two gave a deep and most ominous growl. Singular as it may seem, this last indication of giving the alarm was of great service to le Bourdon and the Chippewa. The latter heard the growl, and saw two of the movements of the animals’ heads, from all which he inferred that there was some creature, or some danger behind him. This naturally enough induced him to bestow a keen attention in that direction, and being unable to turn body, limbs, or head, the sense of hearing was his only means of watchfulness. It was while in this state of profound listening that Pigeons-wing fancied he heard his own name, in such a whisper as one raises when he wishes to call from a short distance with the least possible expenditure of voice. Presently the words “Pigeons-wing,” and “Chippewa,” were succeeded by those of “bee-hunter,” “Bourdon.” This was enough: the quick-witted warrior made a low ejaculation, such as might be mistaken for a half-suppressed murmur that proceeded from pain, but which one keenly on the watch, and who was striving to communicate with him, would be apt to understand as a sign of attention. The whispering then ceased altogether, and the prisoner waited the result with the stoic patience of an American Indian. A minute later the Chippewa felt the thongs giving way, and his arms were released at the elbows. An arm was next passed round his body, and the fastenings at the wrist were cut. At this instant a voice whispered in his ear⁠—“Be of good heart, Chippewa⁠—your friend, Bourdon, is here. Can you stand?”</p>
 			<p>“No stand,” answered the Indian in a low whisper⁠—“too much tie.”</p>
-			<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>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. Pigeons-wing 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 Pigeons-wing 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>“What think you⁠—shall we wait till the warriors are asleep, or try to be off before the sentinel comes?”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-7.xhtml

@@ -23,8 +23,8 @@
 				</blockquote>
 			</header>
 			<p>As soon as le Bourdon reached the commencement of that which might be called his path across the marsh, he stopped and looked backward. He was now sufficiently removed from the low acclivity to see objects on its summit, and had no difficulty in discerning all that the waning fire illuminated. There stood the Chippewa erect against the tree as if still bound with thongs, while the sentinel was slowly approaching him. The dogs were on their feet, and gave two or three sharp barks, which had the effect to cause five or six of the savages to lift their heads in their lairs. One arose even and threw an armful of dried branches on the fire, producing a bright blaze, that brought everything around the hut, and which the light could touch, into full view.</p>
-			<p>The bee-hunter was astonished at the immovable calmness with which Pigeonswing still stood to his tree, awaiting the approach of the sentinel. In a few moments the latter was at his side. At first the Pottawattamie did not perceive that the prisoner was unbound. He threw him into shadow by his own person, and it required a close look to note the circumstance. Boden was too far from the spot to see all the minor movements of the parties, but there was soon a struggle that could not be mistaken. As the Pottawattamie was examining the prisoner, an exclamation that escaped him betrayed the sudden consciousness that the Chippewa was unbound. The sound was no sooner uttered than Pigeonswing made a grasp at the sentinel’s knife, which however he did not obtain, when the two closed and fell, rolling down the declivity into the darkness. When the Pottawattamie seized the Chippewa, he uttered a yell, which instantly brought every man of his party to his feet. As the savages now united in the whoops, and the dogs began to bark wildly, an infernal clamor was made.</p>
-			<p>At first, le Bourdon did not know how to act. He greatly feared the dogs, and could not but think of Margery, and the probable consequences, should those sagacious animals follow him across the marsh. But he did not like the idea of abandoning Pigeonswing, when a single blow of his arm, or a kick of his foot, might be the cause of his escape. While deliberating in painful uncertainty, the sounds of the struggle ceased, and he saw the sentinel rising again into the light, limping like one who had suffered by a fall. Presently he heard a footstep near him, and, calling in a low voice, he was immediately joined by Pigeonswing. Before the bee-hunter was aware of his intention, the Chippewa seized his rifle, and levelling at the sentinel, who still stood on the brow of the hill, drawn in all his savage outlines distinctly in the light of the flames, he fired. The cry, the leap into the air, and the fall, announced the unerring character of the aim. In coming to the earth, the wounded man fell over the brow of the sharp acclivity, and was heard rolling toward its base.</p>
+			<p>The bee-hunter was astonished at the immovable calmness with which Pigeons-wing still stood to his tree, awaiting the approach of the sentinel. In a few moments the latter was at his side. At first the Pottawattamie did not perceive that the prisoner was unbound. He threw him into shadow by his own person, and it required a close look to note the circumstance. Boden was too far from the spot to see all the minor movements of the parties, but there was soon a struggle that could not be mistaken. As the Pottawattamie was examining the prisoner, an exclamation that escaped him betrayed the sudden consciousness that the Chippewa was unbound. The sound was no sooner uttered than Pigeons-wing made a grasp at the sentinel’s knife, which however he did not obtain, when the two closed and fell, rolling down the declivity into the darkness. When the Pottawattamie seized the Chippewa, he uttered a yell, which instantly brought every man of his party to his feet. As the savages now united in the whoops, and the dogs began to bark wildly, an infernal clamor was made.</p>
+			<p>At first, le Bourdon did not know how to act. He greatly feared the dogs, and could not but think of Margery, and the probable consequences, should those sagacious animals follow him across the marsh. But he did not like the idea of abandoning Pigeons-wing, when a single blow of his arm, or a kick of his foot, might be the cause of his escape. While deliberating in painful uncertainty, the sounds of the struggle ceased, and he saw the sentinel rising again into the light, limping like one who had suffered by a fall. Presently he heard a footstep near him, and, calling in a low voice, he was immediately joined by Pigeons-wing. Before the bee-hunter was aware of his intention, the Chippewa seized his rifle, and levelling at the sentinel, who still stood on the brow of the hill, drawn in all his savage outlines distinctly in the light of the flames, he fired. The cry, the leap into the air, and the fall, announced the unerring character of the aim. In coming to the earth, the wounded man fell over the brow of the sharp acclivity, and was heard rolling toward its base.</p>
 			<p>Le Bourdon felt the importance of now improving the precious moments, and was in the act of urging his companion to follow, when the latter passed an arm around his body, whipped his knife from the girdle and sheath, and dropping the rifle into his friend’s arms, bounded away in the darkness, taking the direction of his fallen enemy. There was no mistaking all this; Chippewa, led by his own peculiar sense of honor, risking everything to obtain the usual trophy of victory. By this time, a dozen of the savages stood on the brow of the hill, seemingly at a loss to understand what had become of the combatants. Perceiving this, the bee-hunter profited by the delay and reloaded his rifle. As everything passed almost as swiftly as the electric spark is known to travel, it was but a moment after the Pottawattamie fell ere his conqueror was through with his bloody task. Just as le Bourdon threw his rifle up into the hollow of his arm, he was rejoined by his red friend, who bore the reeking scalp of the sentinel at his belt; though fortunately the bee-hunter did not see it on account of the obscurity, else might he not have been so willing to continue to act with so ruthless an ally.</p>
 			<p>Further stay was out of the question; for the Indians were now collected in a body on the brow of the hill, where the chief was rapidly issuing his orders. In a minute the band dispersed, every man bounding into the darkness, as if aware of the danger of remaining within the influence of the bright light thrown from the fire. Then came such a clamor from the dogs, as left no doubt in the mind of the bee-hunter that they had scented and found the remains of the fallen man. A fierce yell came from the same spot, the proof that some of the savages had already discovered the body; and le Bourdon told his companion to follow, taking his way across the marsh as fast as he could overcome the difficulties of the path.</p>
 			<p>It has already been intimated that it was not easy, if indeed it were possible, to cross that piece of low wet land in a direct line. There was tolerably firm ground on it, but it lay in an irregular form, its presence being generally to be noted by the growth of trees. Le Bourdon had been very careful in taking his landmarks, foreseeing the probability of a hasty retreat, and he had no difficulty for some time in keeping in the right direction. But the dogs soon left the dead body, and came bounding across the marsh, disregarding its difficulties; though their plunges and yells soon made it apparent that even they did not escape altogether with dry feet. As for the savages, they poured down the declivity in a stream, taking the dogs as their guides; and safe ones they might well be accounted, so far as the <em>scent</em> was concerned, though they did not happen to be particularly well acquainted with all the difficulties of the path.</p>
@@ -33,7 +33,7 @@
 			<p>“<em>here</em> 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>“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>“Bess shoot Pottawattamie,” coolly returned Pigeons-wing. “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>
 			<p>The tree was reached, and the bee-hunter proceeded to make sure of his course from that point. Removing from his pouch a small piece of moistened powder that he had prepared ere he liberated the Chippewa, he stuck it on a low branch of the tree he was under, and on the side next the spot where he had stationed Margery. When this was done, he made his companion stand aside, and lighting some spunk with his flint and steel, he fired his powder. Of course, this little preparation burned like the fireworks of a boy, making sufficient light, however, to be seen in a dark night for a mile or more. No sooner was the wetted powder hissing and throwing off its sparks, than the bee-hunter gazed intently into the now seemingly tangible obscurity of the marsh. A bright light appeared and vanished. It was enough; the bee-hunter threw down his own signal and extinguished it with his foot; and, as he wished, the lantern of Margery appeared no more. Assured now of the accuracy of his position, as well as of the course he was to pursue, le Bourdon bade his companion follow, and pressed anew across the marsh. A tree was soon visible, and toward that particular object the fugitives steadily pressed, until it was reached. At the next instant Margery was joined; and the bee-hunter could not refrain from kissing her, in the excess of his pleasure.</p>
 			<p>“There is a dreadful howling of dogs,” said Margery, feeling no offence at the liberty taken, in a moment like that, “and it seems to me that a whole tribe is following at their heels. For Heaven’s sake, Bourdon, let us hasten to the canoes; brother and sister must think us lost!”</p>
@@ -51,35 +51,35 @@
 			<p>“Them dogs are very likely to scent us here in the canoes, we are so near them,” whispered le Bourdon.</p>
 			<p>“S’pose he do, can’t catch us,” coolly answered the Chippewa⁠—“beside, shoot him, don’t take care⁠—bad for dog to chase warrior too much.”</p>
 			<p>“There is one speaking now, who seems to have authority.”</p>
-			<p>“Yes⁠—he chief⁠—know he voice⁠—hear him too often⁠—he mean to put Pigeonswing to torture. Well, let him catch Pigeonswing fust⁠—swift bird do that, eh?”</p>
+			<p>“Yes⁠—he chief⁠—know he voice⁠—hear him too often⁠—he mean to put Pigeons-wing to torture. Well, let him catch Pigeons-wing fust⁠—swift bird do that, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“But what says he?⁠—it may be of importance to learn what the chief says, just now.”</p>
 			<p>“Who care what he say⁠—can’t do nuttin’⁠—if get good chance, take <em>his</em> scalp, too.”</p>
 			<p>“Aye, that I dare say⁠—but he is speaking earnestly and in a low voice; listen, and let us know what he says. I do not well understand at this distance.”</p>
 			<p>The Chippewa complied, and maintained an attentive silence until the chief ceased to speak. Then he rendered what had been said into such English as he could command, accompanying the translation by the explanations that naturally suggested themselves to one like himself.</p>
-			<p>“Chief talk to young men,” said the Chippewa⁠—“all chief talk to young men⁠—tell him dat Pigeonswing must get off in canoe⁠—don’t see canoe, nudder⁠—but, muss be canoe, else he swim. T’ink more than one Injin here⁠—don’t know, dough⁠—maybe, maybe not⁠—can’t tell, till see trail, morrow morning⁠—”</p>
+			<p>“Chief talk to young men,” said the Chippewa⁠—“all chief talk to young men⁠—tell him dat Pigeons-wing must get off in canoe⁠—don’t see canoe, nudder⁠—but, muss be canoe, else he swim. T’ink more than one Injin here⁠—don’t know, dough⁠—maybe, maybe not⁠—can’t tell, till see trail, morrow morning⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Well, well; but what does he tell his young men to <em>do</em>?” demanded the bee-hunter, impatiently.</p>
 			<p>“Don’t be squaw, Bourdon⁠—tell all by’em bye. Tell young men s’pose he get canoe, den he may get <em>our</em> canoe, and carry ’em off⁠—s’pose he swim; dat Chippewa devil swim down stream and get <em>our</em> canoe dat fashion⁠—bess go back, some of you, and see arter <em>our</em> canoe⁠—dat what he tell young men most.”</p>
 			<p>“That is a lucky thought!” exclaimed le Bourdon⁠—“let us paddle down, at once, and seize all their canoes before they can get there. The distance by water, owing to this bend in the river, is not half as great as that by land, and the marsh will double the distance to them.”</p>
-			<p>“Dat good counsel,” said Pigeonswing⁠—“you go⁠—I follow.”</p>
+			<p>“Dat good counsel,” said Pigeons-wing⁠—“you go⁠—I follow.”</p>
 			<p>This was no sooner said, than the canoes again got in motion. The darkness might now have been a sufficient protection had there been no rice, but the plant would have concealed the movement, even at noonday. The fire in the hut served as a beacon, and enabled le Bourdon to find the canoes. When he reached the landing, he could still hear the dogs barking on the marsh, and the voices of those with them, calling in loud tones to two of the savages who had remained at the chiente, as a sort of camp-guard.</p>
 			<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 <em>dem</em>⁠—got good scalp, them two rascal Pottawattamie!”</p>
-			<p>“No⁠—no⁠—Pigeonswing⁠—we must have no more of that work tonight, 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>“No⁠—no⁠—Pigeons-wing⁠—we must have no more of that work tonight, 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>“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>As le Bourdon was much in earnest, Pigeons-wing 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 <em>all</em> 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 goodbye 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>“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>“I am aware of all that, Pigeons-wing, and wish it had not been so. I found the body of Elks-foot 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>
 			<p>“How you make him, den⁠—want, to hear. Go kiss, and give venison to inimy, or go get his scalp, eh? Which bess fashion to make him afeard, and own you master?”</p>
-			<p>“All that may be done without killing single travellers, or murdering women and children. The peace will be made none the sooner between England and America, because you have got the scalp of Elksfoot.”</p>
-			<p>“No haben’t got him any longer; wish had⁠—Pottawattamie take him away, and say he bury him. Well, let him hide him in a hole deep as white man’s well, can’t hide Pigeonswing honor dere, too. Dat is safe as notch cut on stick can make him!”</p>
-			<p>This notch on a stick was the Indian mode of gazetting a warrior; and a certain number of these notches was pretty certain to procure for him a sort of savage brevet, which answered his purpose quite as well as the modern mode of brevetting at Washington answers our purpose. Neither brings any pay, we believe, nor any command, except in such cases as rarely occur, and then only to the advantage of government. There are varieties in honor, as in any other human interest: so are there many moral degrees in warfare. Thus, the very individual who admires the occupation of Algiers, or that of Tahiti, or the attack on Canton, together with the long train of Indian events which have dyed the peninsulas of the East in the blood of their people, sees an alarming enormity in the knocking down of the walls of Vera Cruz, though the breach opened a direct road into San Juan de Ulloa. In the eyes of the same profound moralists, the garitas of Mexico ought to have been respected, as so many doors opening into the boudoirs of the beautiful dames of that fine capital; it being a monstrous thing to fire a shot into the streets of a town, no matter how many came out of them. We are happy, therefore, to have it in our power to add these touches of philosophy that came from Pigeonswing to those of the sages of the old world, by way of completing a code of international morals on this interesting subject, in which the student shall be at a loss to say which he most admires⁠—that which comes from the schools, or that which comes direct from the wilderness.</p>
+			<p>“All that may be done without killing single travellers, or murdering women and children. The peace will be made none the sooner between England and America, because you have got the scalp of Elks-foot.”</p>
+			<p>“No haben’t got him any longer; wish had⁠—Pottawattamie take him away, and say he bury him. Well, let him hide him in a hole deep as white man’s well, can’t hide Pigeons-wing honor dere, too. Dat is safe as notch cut on stick can make him!”</p>
+			<p>This notch on a stick was the Indian mode of gazetting a warrior; and a certain number of these notches was pretty certain to procure for him a sort of savage brevet, which answered his purpose quite as well as the modern mode of brevetting at Washington answers our purpose. Neither brings any pay, we believe, nor any command, except in such cases as rarely occur, and then only to the advantage of government. There are varieties in honor, as in any other human interest: so are there many moral degrees in warfare. Thus, the very individual who admires the occupation of Algiers, or that of Tahiti, or the attack on Canton, together with the long train of Indian events which have dyed the peninsulas of the East in the blood of their people, sees an alarming enormity in the knocking down of the walls of Vera Cruz, though the breach opened a direct road into San Juan de Ulloa. In the eyes of the same profound moralists, the garitas of Mexico ought to have been respected, as so many doors opening into the boudoirs of the beautiful dames of that fine capital; it being a monstrous thing to fire a shot into the streets of a town, no matter how many came out of them. We are happy, therefore, to have it in our power to add these touches of philosophy that came from Pigeons-wing to those of the sages of the old world, by way of completing a code of international morals on this interesting subject, in which the student shall be at a loss to say which he most admires⁠—that which comes from the schools, or that which comes direct from the wilderness.</p>
 			<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 <em>do</em>, 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? <em>dat</em> 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>
@@ -88,9 +88,9 @@
 			<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 <em>raal</em> Christians ’mong paleface, dough all call himself Christian! <em>dat</em> what Injin t’ink queer, eh?”</p>
-			<p>“It is not easy to make a red man understand all the ways of the palefaces, 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>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 <abbr>St.</abbr> Joseph’s to a point about halfway 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 <em>his</em> 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>“It is not easy to make a red man understand all the ways of the palefaces, Pigeons-wing; 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 Elks-foot 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 Pigeons-wing had fallen into the hands of his enemies. It would seem that Elks-foot had come in a canoe from the mouth of the <abbr>St.</abbr> Joseph’s to a point about halfway 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 Elks-foot, 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 <em>his</em> 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>
 		</section>

src/epub/text/chapter-8.xhtml

@@ -53,7 +53,7 @@
 			<p>“Why do it, eh? Why come here to take Pottawattamia scalp, when no warpath open, eh?”</p>
 			<p>“Pottawattamie, the truth must always be said to a medicine-man. There is no use in trying to hide truth from <em>him</em>. There <em>is</em> a warpath 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 <em>dat</em>⁠—but who enemy? paleface or redskin?”</p>
-			<p>“This time it was a redskin⁠—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>“This time it was a redskin⁠—a Chippewa⁠—one of your own nation, though not of your own tribe. A warrior called Pigeons-wing, 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>“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 <em>grows</em> 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 paleface 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>

src/epub/text/chapter-9.xhtml

@@ -31,39 +31,39 @@
 				</blockquote>
 			</header>
 			<p>The first step in the conjuration of the bee-hunter was, to produce an impression on the minds of his untutored observers, by resorting to a proper amount of mummery and mystical action. This he was enabled to do with some effect, in consequence of having practised as a lad in similar mimicry, by way of pastime. The Germans, and the descendants of Germans in America, are not of a very high class, as respects education, taken as a body, and they retain many of the most inveterate of the superstitions of their Teutonic ancestors. Although the bee-hunter himself was of purely English descent, he came from a State that was in part peopled by these Germans and their descendants; and, by intercourse with them, he had acquired a certain knowledge of their notions on the subject of necromancy, that he now found was of use. So far as gravity of mien, solemn grimaces, and unintelligible mutterings were concerned, le Bourdon played his part to admiration; and by the time he had led the party half the distance he intended to go, our necromancer, or “medicine-man,” had complete possession of the imaginations of all the savages, the two or three chiefs already mentioned alone excepted. At this stage of the proceedings occurred a little incident, which goes to prove the disposition of the common mind to contribute in deceiving itself, and which was of considerable assistance to le Bourdon, in maintaining his assumed character.</p>
-			<p>It will be remembered that the place where the Indians had found their strongest scent was on the hillside, or the spot where the half-filled barrel had let out most of its contents. Near this spot their new fire was still brightly blazing, and there Wolfseye remained, regaling one of his senses, at least, with an odor that he found so agreeable. But the bee-hunter knew that he should greatly increase the wonder of the savages by leading them to a <em>new</em> scent-spot, one to which there was no visible clue, and where the odor was probably much stronger than on the hillside. Accordingly he did not approach the fire, but kept around the base of the hill, just enough within the influence of the light to pick his way readily, and yet so distant from it as to render his countenance indistinct and mysterious. No sooner, however, had he got abreast of the scent-spot known to the savages, than the crowd endeavored to lead him toward it, by gestures and hints, and, finally, by direct intimations that he was going astray. All this our “medicine-man” disregarded; he held his way steadily and solemnly toward that place at the foot of the hill where he knew that the filled barrel had let out its contents, and where he, reasonably enough, expected to find sufficient traces of the whiskey to answer his purposes. At first, this pertinacity provoked the crowd, which believed he was going wrong; but a few words from Crowsfeather, the principal chief, caused the commotion to cease. In a few more minutes le Bourdon stopped, near the place of his destination. As a fresh scent of whiskey was very perceptible here, a murmur of admiration, not unmixed with delight, passed among the attendants.</p>
+			<p>It will be remembered that the place where the Indians had found their strongest scent was on the hillside, or the spot where the half-filled barrel had let out most of its contents. Near this spot their new fire was still brightly blazing, and there Wolfseye remained, regaling one of his senses, at least, with an odor that he found so agreeable. But the bee-hunter knew that he should greatly increase the wonder of the savages by leading them to a <em>new</em> scent-spot, one to which there was no visible clue, and where the odor was probably much stronger than on the hillside. Accordingly he did not approach the fire, but kept around the base of the hill, just enough within the influence of the light to pick his way readily, and yet so distant from it as to render his countenance indistinct and mysterious. No sooner, however, had he got abreast of the scent-spot known to the savages, than the crowd endeavored to lead him toward it, by gestures and hints, and, finally, by direct intimations that he was going astray. All this our “medicine-man” disregarded; he held his way steadily and solemnly toward that place at the foot of the hill where he knew that the filled barrel had let out its contents, and where he, reasonably enough, expected to find sufficient traces of the whiskey to answer his purposes. At first, this pertinacity provoked the crowd, which believed he was going wrong; but a few words from Crows-feather, the principal chief, caused the commotion to cease. In a few more minutes le Bourdon stopped, near the place of his destination. As a fresh scent of whiskey was very perceptible here, a murmur of admiration, not unmixed with delight, passed among the attendants.</p>
 			<p>“Now, let the young men build a fire for <em>me</em>” said the bee-hunter, solemnly⁠—“not such a fire as that which is burning on the hill, but a medicine-fire. I <em>smell</em> the whiskey spring, and want a medicine-light to <em>see</em> it.”</p>
-			<p>A dozen young men began to collect the brush; in a minute a pile of some size had been accumulated on a flat rock, within twenty feet of the spot where le Bourdon knew that the cask had been dashed to pieces. When he thought the pile sufficiently large, he told Crowsfeather that it might be lighted by bringing a brand from the other fire.</p>
+			<p>A dozen young men began to collect the brush; in a minute a pile of some size had been accumulated on a flat rock, within twenty feet of the spot where le Bourdon knew that the cask had been dashed to pieces. When he thought the pile sufficiently large, he told Crows-feather that it might be lighted by bringing a brand from the other fire.</p>
 			<p>“This will not be a medicine-light, for that can come only from ‘medicine-matches,’ ” he added; “but I want a fire to see the shape of the ground. Put in the brand, brothers; let us have a flame.”</p>
 			<p>The desire of the bee-hunter was gratified, and the whole of the base of the hill around the spot where the filled cask had broken, was illuminated.</p>
 			<p>“Now, let all the Pottawattamies stand back,” added le Bourdon, earnestly. “It might cost a warrior his life to come forward too soon⁠—or, if not his life, it might give a rheumatism that can never be cured, which is worse. When it is time for my red brothers to advance, they will be called.”</p>
 			<p>As the bee-hunter accompanied this announcement by suitable gestures, he succeeded in ranging all of the silent, but excited savages on three sides of his fire, leaving that next his mysterious spring to himself, alone. When all was arranged, le Bourdon moved slowly, but unaccompanied, to the precise spot where the cask had broken. Here he found the odor of the whiskey so strong, as to convince him that some of the liquor must yet remain. On examining more closely, he ascertained that several shallow cavities of the flat rock, on which the cask had been dashed, still contained a good deal of the liquor; enough to prove of great assistance to his medicine character.</p>
-			<p>All this while the bee-hunter kept one portion of his faculties on the alert, in order to effect his escape. That he might deceive for a time, aided as he was by so many favorable circumstances, he did not doubt; but he dreaded the morning and the results of a night of reflection and rest. Crowsfeather, in particular, troubled him; and he foresaw that his fate would be terrible, did the savages once get an inkling of the deception he was practising. As he stood there, bending over the little pools of whiskey, he glanced his eyes toward the gloom which pervaded the northern side of the hill, and calculated the chances of escape by trusting to his speed. All of the Pottawattamies were on the opposite side, and there was a thicket favorably placed for a cover, so near that the rifle would scarce have time to perform its fatal office, ere he might hope to bury himself within its leaves. So tempting did the occasion appear, that, for a single instant, le Bourdon forgot his caution, and his mummeries, and had actually advanced a step or two in the direction toward which he contemplated flight, when, on glancing an uneasy look behind him, he perceived Crowsfeather and his two intimate counsellors stealthily preparing their rifles, as if they distrusted his intentions. This at once induced a change of plan, and brought the bee-hunter back to a sense of his critical position, and of the indispensable necessity of caution to a man in his situation.</p>
+			<p>All this while the bee-hunter kept one portion of his faculties on the alert, in order to effect his escape. That he might deceive for a time, aided as he was by so many favorable circumstances, he did not doubt; but he dreaded the morning and the results of a night of reflection and rest. Crows-feather, in particular, troubled him; and he foresaw that his fate would be terrible, did the savages once get an inkling of the deception he was practising. As he stood there, bending over the little pools of whiskey, he glanced his eyes toward the gloom which pervaded the northern side of the hill, and calculated the chances of escape by trusting to his speed. All of the Pottawattamies were on the opposite side, and there was a thicket favorably placed for a cover, so near that the rifle would scarce have time to perform its fatal office, ere he might hope to bury himself within its leaves. So tempting did the occasion appear, that, for a single instant, le Bourdon forgot his caution, and his mummeries, and had actually advanced a step or two in the direction toward which he contemplated flight, when, on glancing an uneasy look behind him, he perceived Crows-feather and his two intimate counsellors stealthily preparing their rifles, as if they distrusted his intentions. This at once induced a change of plan, and brought the bee-hunter back to a sense of his critical position, and of the indispensable necessity of caution to a man in his situation.</p>
 			<p>Le Bourdon now seemingly gave all his attention to the rocks where he stood, and out of which the much-coveted liquor was expected to flow; though his thoughts were still busily employed in considering the means of escape, the whole time. While stooping over the different pools, and laying his plans for continuing his medicine-charms, the bee-hunter saw how near he had been to committing a great mistake. It was almost as indispensable to carry off the canoe, as it was to carry off himself; since, with the canoe, not only would all his own property, but pretty Margery, and Gershom and his wife, be at the mercy of the Pottawattamies; whereas, by securing the boat, the wide Kalamazoo would serve as a nearly impassable barrier, until time was given to the whites to escape. His whole plan was changed by this suggestion, and he no longer thought of the thicket and of flight inland. At the same time that the bee hunter was laying up in his mind ideas so important to his future movements, he did not neglect the necessary examination of the means that might be required to extend and prolong his influence over the minds of the superstitious children of the forest on whom he was required to practise his arts. His thoughts reverted to the canoe, and he concocted a plan by which he believed it possible to get possession of his little craft again. Once on board it, by one vigorous shove he fancied he might push it within the cover of the rice-plants, where he would be in reasonable safety against the bullets of the savages. Could he only get the canoe on the outer side of the narrow belt of the plant, he should deem himself safe!</p>
-			<p>Having arranged his course in his own mind, le Bourdon now beckoned to Crowsfeather to draw near, at the same time inviting the whole party to approach within a few feet of the spot where he himself stood. The bee-hunter had brought with him from the boat a fragment of the larger end of a cane fishing-rod, which he used as a sort of wand. Its size was respectable, and its length about eight feet. With this wand he pointed out the different objects he named, and it answered the very important purpose of enabling him to make certain small changes in the formation of the ground, that were of the greatest service to him, without permitting curious eyes to come so near as to detect his artifices.</p>
-			<p>“Now open your ears, Crowsfeather; and you, Cloud; and all of you, young braves,” commenced the bee-hunter, solemnly, and with a steadiness that was admirable; “yes, open wide your ears. The Great Spirit has given the red man a nose that he might smell⁠—does the Cloud smell more than common?”</p>
+			<p>Having arranged his course in his own mind, le Bourdon now beckoned to Crows-feather to draw near, at the same time inviting the whole party to approach within a few feet of the spot where he himself stood. The bee-hunter had brought with him from the boat a fragment of the larger end of a cane fishing-rod, which he used as a sort of wand. Its size was respectable, and its length about eight feet. With this wand he pointed out the different objects he named, and it answered the very important purpose of enabling him to make certain small changes in the formation of the ground, that were of the greatest service to him, without permitting curious eyes to come so near as to detect his artifices.</p>
+			<p>“Now open your ears, Crows-feather; and you, Cloud; and all of you, young braves,” commenced the bee-hunter, solemnly, and with a steadiness that was admirable; “yes, open wide your ears. The Great Spirit has given the red man a nose that he might smell⁠—does the Cloud smell more than common?”</p>
 			<p>“Sartain⁠—smell whiskey⁠—this Whiskey Centre dey say⁠—nat’ral dat such smell be here.”</p>
 			<p>“Do all the chiefs and warriors of the Pottawattamies who are present, also smell the same?”</p>
 			<p>“S’pose so⁠—why he don’t, eh? Got nose⁠—can smell whiskey good way, tell you.”</p>
-			<p>“It is right they should smell the liquor here, for out of this rock a whiskey spring will soon begin to run. It will begin with a very small stream, but soon will there be enough to satisfy everybody. The Great Manitou knows that his red children are dry; he has sent a ‘medicine-man’ of the palefaces to find a spring for them. Now, look at this piece of rock⁠—it is dry⁠—not even the dew has yet moistened it. See⁠—it is made like a wooden bowl, that it may hold the liquor of the spring. Let Crowsfeather smell it⁠—smell it, Cloud⁠—let all my young men smell it, too, that they may be certain that there is nothing there.”</p>
-			<p>On this invitation, accompanied as it was by divers flourishes of the wand, and uttered in a deep, solemn tone of voice, the whole party of the Indians gathered around the small hollow basin-like cavity pointed out by the bee-hunter, in order both to see and to smell. Most knelt, and each and all applied their noses to the rock, as near the bowl as they could thrust them. Even the dignified and distrustful Crowsfeather could not refrain from bending in the crowd. This was the moment for which le Bourdon wished, and he instantly prepared to carry out his design.</p>
+			<p>“It is right they should smell the liquor here, for out of this rock a whiskey spring will soon begin to run. It will begin with a very small stream, but soon will there be enough to satisfy everybody. The Great Manitou knows that his red children are dry; he has sent a ‘medicine-man’ of the palefaces to find a spring for them. Now, look at this piece of rock⁠—it is dry⁠—not even the dew has yet moistened it. See⁠—it is made like a wooden bowl, that it may hold the liquor of the spring. Let Crows-feather smell it⁠—smell it, Cloud⁠—let all my young men smell it, too, that they may be certain that there is nothing there.”</p>
+			<p>On this invitation, accompanied as it was by divers flourishes of the wand, and uttered in a deep, solemn tone of voice, the whole party of the Indians gathered around the small hollow basin-like cavity pointed out by the bee-hunter, in order both to see and to smell. Most knelt, and each and all applied their noses to the rock, as near the bowl as they could thrust them. Even the dignified and distrustful Crows-feather could not refrain from bending in the crowd. This was the moment for which le Bourdon wished, and he instantly prepared to carry out his design.</p>
 			<p>Previously, however, to completing the project originally conceived, a momentary impulse prevailed which urged him to adopt a new mode of effecting his escape. Now, that most of the savages were on their hands and knees, struggling to get their noses as near as possible to the bowl, and all were intent on the same object, it occurred to the bee-hunter, who was almost as active as the panther of the American forest, that he might dash on toward the canoe, and make his escape without further mummery. Had it been only a question of human speed perhaps such would have been the wisest thing he could do; but a moment’s reflection told him how much swifter than any foot of man was the bullet of a rifle. The distance exceeded a hundred yards, and it was altogether in bright light, by means of the two fires, Wolfseye continuing to pile brush on that near which he still maintained his post, as if afraid the precious liquor would start out of the scent-spot, and be wasted should he abandon his ward. Happily, therefore, le Bourdon relinquished his dangerous project almost as soon as it was entertained, turning his attention immediately to the completion of the plan originally laid.</p>
 			<p>It has been said that the bee-hunter made sundry flourishes with his wand. While the savages were most eager in endeavoring to smell the rock, he lightly touched the earth that confined the whiskey in the largest pool, and opened a passage by which the liquor could trickle down the side of the rock, selecting a path for itself, until it actually came into the bowl, by a sinuous but certain channel.</p>
 			<p>Here was a wonder! Liquor could not only be smelled, but it could be actually seen! As for Cloud, not satisfied with gratifying the two senses connected with the discoveries named, he began to lap with his tongue, like a dog, to try the effect of taste.</p>
 			<p>“The Manitou does not hide his face from the Pottawattamie!” exclaimed this savage, rising to his feet in astonishment; “this is the firewater, and such as the palefaces bring us for skins!”</p>
 			<p>Others imitated his example, and the exclamations of wonder and delight flew from mouth to mouth, in a torrent of vehement assertions and ejaculations. So great a “medicine” charm had never before been witnessed in that tribe, or in that region, and a hundred more might succeed, before another should equal this in its welcome character. There was whiskey, of a certainty, not much in quantity, to be sure, but of excellent quality, as several affirmed, and coming in a current that was slowly increasing! This last sign was owing to the circumstance that le Bourdon had deepened the outlet of the pool, permitting a larger quantity to flow down the little channel.</p>
-			<p>The moment had now come for a decisive step. The bee-hunter knew that his precious rivulet would soon cease to run, and that he must carry out his design under the first impressions of his charm, or that he probably would not be permitted to carry it out, at all. At this moment even Crowsfeather appeared to be awed by what he had seen; but a chief so sagacious might detect the truth, and disappointment would then be certain to increase the penalties he would incur.</p>
+			<p>The moment had now come for a decisive step. The bee-hunter knew that his precious rivulet would soon cease to run, and that he must carry out his design under the first impressions of his charm, or that he probably would not be permitted to carry it out, at all. At this moment even Crows-feather appeared to be awed by what he had seen; but a chief so sagacious might detect the truth, and disappointment would then be certain to increase the penalties he would incur.</p>
 			<p>Making many sweeps of his wand, and touching various points of the rock, both to occupy the attention of the savages, and to divert it from his pool, the bee-hunter next felt in his pocket and drew out a small piece of resin that he knew was there; the remains of a store with which he resined the bow of his fiddle; for our hero had a violin among his effects, and often used it in his solitary abodes in the openings. Breaking this resin on a coal, he made it flash and blaze; but the quantity was too small to produce the “medicine-fire” he wanted.</p>
 			<p>“I have more in my canoe,” he said, addressing himself to the interpreter; “while I go for it, the red men must not stir, lest they destroy a paleface’s doings. Least of all they must go near the spring. It would be better for the chiefs to lead away their young men, and make them stand under the oak, where nothing can be done to hurt the ‘medicine-charm.’ ”</p>
-			<p>The bee-hunter pointed to a tree that stood in the direction of the canoe, in order to prevent distrust, though he had taken care to select a spot whence the little craft could not be seen, on account of an intervening swell in the land, Crowsfeather led his warriors to the indicated place, where they took their stations, in silent and grave attention.</p>
-			<p>In the mean while, le Bourdon continued his incantations aloud; walking toward his canoe, waving his hand, and uttering a great deal of gibberish as he slowly proceeded. In passing the tree, our hero, though he did not turn his head, was sensible that he was followed by the chiefs, a movement against which he did not dare to remonstrate, though it sadly disappointed him. Neither hastening nor retarding his steps, however, in consequence of this unpleasant circumstance, the young man continued on; once or twice sweeping the wand behind him, in order to ascertain if he could reach his followers. But Crowsfeather and his companions stopped when they reached the swell of land which concealed the canoe, suffering the “medicine-man” to move on alone. Of this fact le Bourdon became aware, by turning three times in a circle, and pointing upward at the heavens with his wand, as he did so.</p>
+			<p>The bee-hunter pointed to a tree that stood in the direction of the canoe, in order to prevent distrust, though he had taken care to select a spot whence the little craft could not be seen, on account of an intervening swell in the land, Crows-feather led his warriors to the indicated place, where they took their stations, in silent and grave attention.</p>
+			<p>In the mean while, le Bourdon continued his incantations aloud; walking toward his canoe, waving his hand, and uttering a great deal of gibberish as he slowly proceeded. In passing the tree, our hero, though he did not turn his head, was sensible that he was followed by the chiefs, a movement against which he did not dare to remonstrate, though it sadly disappointed him. Neither hastening nor retarding his steps, however, in consequence of this unpleasant circumstance, the young man continued on; once or twice sweeping the wand behind him, in order to ascertain if he could reach his followers. But Crows-feather and his companions stopped when they reached the swell of land which concealed the canoe, suffering the “medicine-man” to move on alone. Of this fact le Bourdon became aware, by turning three times in a circle, and pointing upward at the heavens with his wand, as he did so.</p>
 			<p>It was a nervous moment when the bee-hunter reached the canoe. He did not like to look behind him again, lest the chiefs should suspect his motive, and, in shoving off from the shore, he might do so within a few yards of the muzzle of a hostile rifle. There was no time to lose, however, for any protracted delay on his part would certainly cause the savages to approach, through curiosity, if not through distrust of his motives. He stepped into his light craft, therefore, without any delay, still flourishing his wand, and muttering his incantations. The first thing was to walk to the stern of the canoe, that his weight might raise the bow from the shore, and also that he might have an excuse for turning round, and thus get another look at the Indians. So critical was his situation, and so nervous did it make our young hero, that he took no heed of the state of matters in the canoe, until the last moment. When he had turned, however, he ascertained that the two principal chiefs had drawn so near as to be within twenty yards of him, though neither held his rifle at “ready,” but each leaned on it in a careless manner, as if in no anticipation of any necessity to make a speedy use of the weapon. This state of things could not last, and le Bourdon braced his nerves for the final trial. On looking for his paddle, however, he found that of three which the canoe had contained when he left it, not even one was to be seen! These wily savages had, out of all question, taken their opportunity to remove and secrete these simple, but almost indispensable, means of motion.</p>
 			<p>At the instant when first apprised of the loss just mentioned, the bee-hunter’s heart sunk within him, and he fell into the seat in the stern of the canoe, nearly with the weight of so much lead. Then a species of desperation came over him, and putting an end of his cane wand upon the bottom, with a vigorous shove he forced the canoe swiftly astern and to windward. Sudden as was this attempt, and rapid as was the movement, the jealous eyes and ready hands of the chiefs seemed to anticipate it. Two shots were fired within a few seconds after the canoe had quitted the shore. The reports of the rifles were a declaration of hostilities, and a general yell, accompanied by a common rush toward the river, announced that the whole band now understood that some deception had been practised at their expense.</p>
 			<p>Although the two chiefs in advance had been so very prompt, they were not quick enough for the rapid movement of the canoe. The distance between the stern of the boat and the rice-plants was so small, that the single desperate shove given by the bee-hunter sufficed to bury his person in the cover, before the leaden messengers reached him. Anticipating this very attempt, and knowing that the savages might get their range from the part of the canoe that was still in sight, le Bourdon bent his body far over the gunwale, grasping the rice-plants at the same time, and hauling his little craft through them, in the way that sailors call “hand over hand.” This expedient most probably saved his life. While bending over the gunwale, he heard the crack of the rifles, and the whizzing of two bullets that appeared to pass just behind him. By this time the whole of the canoe was within the cover.</p>
 			<p>In a moment like that we are describing, incidents pass so rapidly as almost to defy description. It was not twenty seconds from the instant when le Bourdon first put his wand down to push the canoe from the land, ere he found his person emerging from the cover, on its weather side. Here he was effectually concealed from his enemies, not only on account of the cover made by the rice-plants, but by reason of the darkness; the light not extending far enough from the fire to illumine objects on the river. Nevertheless, new difficulties presented themselves. When clear of the rice, the wind, which still blew strong, pressed upon his canoe to such a degree as not only to stop its further movement from the shore, but so as to turn it broadside to, to its power. Trying with his wand, the bee-hunter ascertained that it would no longer reach the bottom. Then he attempted to use the cane as a paddle, but soon found it had not sufficient hold of the water to answer for such an implement. The most he could effect with it, in that way, was to keep the canoe for a short distance along the outer edge of the rice, until it reached a spot where the plant extended a considerable distance farther toward the middle of the river. Once within this little forest of the wild rice, he was enabled to drag the canoe farther and farther from the north shore, though his progress was both slow and laborious, on account of the resistance met.</p>
-			<p>All this time, the savages were not idle. Until the canoe got within its new cover, it was at no instant fifty yards from the beach, and the yells, and orders, and whoopings sounded as if uttered directly in le Bourdon’s ear. A splashing in the water soon announced that our fugitive was pursued by swimmers. As the savages knew that the beehunter was without a paddle, and that the wind blew fresh, the expectation of overtaking their late captive, in this manner, was by no means chimerical. Half a dozen active young men would prove very formidable to one in such a situation, more especially while entangled in the mazes of the rice-plant. The bee-hunter was so well convinced of this circumstance, that no sooner did he hear the splashes of the swimmers, than he redoubled his exertions to pull his canoe farther from the spot. But his progress was slow, and he was soon convinced that his impunity was more owing to the fact that his pursuers did not know where to find him, than to the rapidity of his flight.</p>
+			<p>All this time, the savages were not idle. Until the canoe got within its new cover, it was at no instant fifty yards from the beach, and the yells, and orders, and whoopings sounded as if uttered directly in le Bourdon’s ear. A splashing in the water soon announced that our fugitive was pursued by swimmers. As the savages knew that the bee-hunter was without a paddle, and that the wind blew fresh, the expectation of overtaking their late captive, in this manner, was by no means chimerical. Half a dozen active young men would prove very formidable to one in such a situation, more especially while entangled in the mazes of the rice-plant. The bee-hunter was so well convinced of this circumstance, that no sooner did he hear the splashes of the swimmers, than he redoubled his exertions to pull his canoe farther from the spot. But his progress was slow, and he was soon convinced that his impunity was more owing to the fact that his pursuers did not know where to find him, than to the rapidity of his flight.</p>
 			<p>Notwithstanding his exertions, and the start obtained, le Bourdon soon felt assured that the swimmers were within a hundred feet of him, their voices coming from the outer margin of the cover in which he now lay, stationary. He had ceased dragging the canoe ahead, from an apprehension of being heard, though the rushing of the wind and the rustling of the rice might have assured him that the slight noises made by his own movements would not be very likely to rise above those sounds. The splashing of the swimmers, and their voices, gradually drew nearer, until the bee-hunter took up his rifle, determined to sacrifice the first savage who approached; hoping, thereby, to intimidate the others. For the first time, it now occurred to him that the breech of his rifle might be used as a paddle, and he was resolved to apply it to that service, could he once succeed in extricating himself from the enemies by whom he was nearly environed, and from the rice.</p>
-			<p>Just as le Bourdon fancied that the crisis had arrived, and that he should soon be called on to kill his man, a shout was given by a savage at some distance in the river, and presently calls passed from mouth to mouth, among the swimmers. Our hero now listened to a degree that kept his faculty of hearing at a point of painful attention. The voices and plashes on the water receded, and what was startling, a sound was heard resembling that which as produced by a paddle when struck incautiously against the side of a canoe. Was it then possible that the Chippewa was out, or had the Pottawattamies one boat that had escaped his attention? The last was not very probable, as he had several times counted their little fleet, and was pretty sure of having taken it all to the other side of the river. The sound of the paddle was repeated, however; then it occurred to the bee-hunter, that Pigeonswing might be on the scent for another scalp.</p>
+			<p>Just as le Bourdon fancied that the crisis had arrived, and that he should soon be called on to kill his man, a shout was given by a savage at some distance in the river, and presently calls passed from mouth to mouth, among the swimmers. Our hero now listened to a degree that kept his faculty of hearing at a point of painful attention. The voices and plashes on the water receded, and what was startling, a sound was heard resembling that which as produced by a paddle when struck incautiously against the side of a canoe. Was it then possible that the Chippewa was out, or had the Pottawattamies one boat that had escaped his attention? The last was not very probable, as he had several times counted their little fleet, and was pretty sure of having taken it all to the other side of the river. The sound of the paddle was repeated, however; then it occurred to the bee-hunter, that Pigeons-wing might be on the scent for another scalp.</p>
 			<p>Although the conjecture just mentioned was exceedingly unpleasant to le Bourdon, the chase of the strange canoe gave him an opportunity to drag his own light craft ahead, penetrating deeper and deeper among the wild rice, which now spread itself to a considerable distance from the shore, and grew so thick as to make it impossible to get through the waving mass. At length, wearied with his exertions, and a little uncertain as to his actual position, our hero paused, listening intently, in order to catch any sounds that might direct his future movements.</p>
 			<p>By this time the savages ceased to call to each other; most probably conscious of the advantage it gave the fugitive. The bee-hunter perfectly understood that his pursuers must be aware of its being entirely out of his power to get to windward, and that they would keep along the shore of the river, as he did himself, expecting to see his canoe sooner or later driven by the wind on the beach. This had made him anxious to drag his boat as much toward the outer edge of the rice as he could get it, and by the puffs of wind that he occasionally felt, he hoped he had, in a great measure, effected his purpose. Still he had his apprehensions of the savages; as some would be very apt to swim quite out into the stream, not only to look for him, but to avoid being entangled among the plants. It was only in the natural channels of the rice, of which there were a good many, that a swimmer could very readily make his way, or be in much safety. By waiting long enough, moreover, the bee-hunter was sure he should tire out his pursuers, and thus get rid of them.</p>
 			<p>Just as le Bourdon began to think this last-mentioned purpose had been accomplished, he heard low voices directly to windward, and the splashing of water, as if more than one man was coming down upon him, forcing the stalks of the plants aside. He grasped the rifle, and let the canoe drift, which it did slowly, under the power of the wind, notwithstanding the protection of the cover. The swimmers forced their way through the stalks; but it was evident, just then, that they were more occupied by their present pursuit than in looking for him. Presently a canoe came brushing through the rice, forced by the wind, and dragged by two savages, one of whom swam on each bow. The last did not see the bee-hunter, or his canoe, the one nearest having his face turned in the opposite direction; but they were distinctly seen by the former. Surprised that a seizure should be made with so little fracas, le Bourdon bent forward to look the better, and, as the stern of the strange canoe came almost under his eyes, he saw the form of Margery lying in its bottom. His blood curdled at this sight; for his first impression was, that the charming young creature had been killed and scalped; but there being no time to lose, he sprang lightly from one canoe to the other, carrying the rifle in his hand. As he struck in the bottom of the boat of Gershom, he heard his name uttered in a sweet female voice, and knew that Margery was living. Without stopping, however, to inquire more, he moved to the head of the canoe, and, with a sharp blow on the fingers, made each of the savages release his grasp. Then, seizing the rice-plants, he dragged the little craft swiftly to windward again. All this was done, as it might be, in an instant; the savages and the canoe being separated some twenty feet, in much less time than is required to relate the occurrence.</p>
@@ -73,7 +73,7 @@
 			<p>“God be praised! Is there any paddle in the canoe?”</p>
 			<p>“There are several⁠—one is at your feet, Bourdon⁠—and here, I have another.”</p>
 			<p>“Then, let us search for my canoe, and get out of the rice. If we can but find my canoe, we shall be safe enough, for the savages have nothing in which to cross the river. Keep your eyes about you, Margery, and look among the rice for the other boat.”</p>
-			<p>The search was not long, but it was intently anxious. At length Margery saw the lost canoe just as it was drifting past them, and it was secured immediately. In a few minutes, le Bourdon succeeded in forcing the two craft into open water, when it was easy for him to paddle both to windward. The reader can readily imagine that our hero did not permit many minutes to elapse, ere he questioned his companion on the subject of her adventures. Nor was Margery reluctant to tell them. She had become alarmed at le Bourdon’s protracted absence, and taking advantage of Pigeonswing lying down, she unloaded her brother’s canoe, and went out into the river to look for the absent one. As a matter of course⁠—though so feminine and far removed from all appearance of coarseness, a true American girl in this respect⁠—Margery knew perfectly well how to manage a bark canoe. The habits of her life for the last few years, made her acquainted with this simple art; and strength being much less needed than skill, she had no difficulty in going whither she wished. The fires served as beacons, and Margery had been a distant witness of the bee-hunter’s necromancy as well as of his escape. The instant the latter was effected, she endeavored to join him; and it was while incautiously paddling along the outer edge of the rice, with this intention, that her canoe was seized by two of the swimmers. As soon as these last ascertained that they had captured a “squaw,” they did not give themselves the trouble to get into the canoe⁠—a very difficult operation with one made of bark, and which is not loaded⁠—but they set about towing the captured craft to the shore, swimming each with a single hand and holding on by the other.</p>
+			<p>The search was not long, but it was intently anxious. At length Margery saw the lost canoe just as it was drifting past them, and it was secured immediately. In a few minutes, le Bourdon succeeded in forcing the two craft into open water, when it was easy for him to paddle both to windward. The reader can readily imagine that our hero did not permit many minutes to elapse, ere he questioned his companion on the subject of her adventures. Nor was Margery reluctant to tell them. She had become alarmed at le Bourdon’s protracted absence, and taking advantage of Pigeons-wing lying down, she unloaded her brother’s canoe, and went out into the river to look for the absent one. As a matter of course⁠—though so feminine and far removed from all appearance of coarseness, a true American girl in this respect⁠—Margery knew perfectly well how to manage a bark canoe. The habits of her life for the last few years, made her acquainted with this simple art; and strength being much less needed than skill, she had no difficulty in going whither she wished. The fires served as beacons, and Margery had been a distant witness of the bee-hunter’s necromancy as well as of his escape. The instant the latter was effected, she endeavored to join him; and it was while incautiously paddling along the outer edge of the rice, with this intention, that her canoe was seized by two of the swimmers. As soon as these last ascertained that they had captured a “squaw,” they did not give themselves the trouble to get into the canoe⁠—a very difficult operation with one made of bark, and which is not loaded⁠—but they set about towing the captured craft to the shore, swimming each with a single hand and holding on by the other.</p>
 			<p>“I shall not soon forget this kindness of yours, Margery,” said le Bourdon, with warmth, when the girl had ended her simple tale, which had been related in the most artless and ingenuous manner. “No man could forget so generous a risk on the part of a young woman in his behalf.”</p>
 			<p>“I hope you do not think it wrong, Bourdon⁠—I should be sorry to have you think ill of me!”</p>
 			<p>“Wrong, dear Margery!⁠—but no matter. Let us get ourselves out of present difficulties, and into a place of safety; then I will tell you honestly what I think of it, and of you, too. Was your brother awake, dear Margery, when you left the family?”</p>