The reader may smile at the word trade, and ask where were those to be found who could be parties to the traffic. The vast lakes and innumerable rivers of that region, however, remote as it then was from the ordinary abodes of civilized man, offered facilities for communication that the active spirit of trade would be certain not to neglect. In the first place, there were always the Indians to barter skins and furs against powder, lead, rifles, blankets, and unhappily fire-water. Then, the white men who penetrated to those semi-wilds were always ready to dicker and to swap, and to trade rifles, and watches, and whatever else they might happen to possess, almost to their wives and Children.
But we should be doing injustice to le Bourdon, were we in any manner to confound him with the dickering race. He was a bee-hunter quite as much through love of the wilderness and love of adventure, as through love of gain. Profitable he had certainly found the employment, or he probably would not have pursued it; but there was many a man who nay, most men, even in his own humble class in life-would have deemed his liberal earnings too hardly obtained, when gained at the expense of all intercourse with their own kind. But Buzzing Ben loved the solitude of his situation, its hazards, its quietude, relieved by passing moments of high excitement; and, most of all, the self-reliance that was indispensable equally to his success and his happiness. Woman, as yet, had never exercised her witchery over him, and every day was his passion for dwelling alone, and for enjoying the strange, but certainly most alluring, pleasures of the woods, increasing and gaining strength in his bosom. It was seldom, now, that he held intercourse even with the Indian tribes that dwelt near his occasional places of hunting; and frequently had he shifted his ground in order to avoid collision, however friendly, with whites who, like himself, were pushing their humble fortunes along the shores of those inland seas, which, as yet, were rarely indeed whitened by a sail. In this respect, Boden and Waring were the very antipodes of each other; Gershom being an inveterate gossip, in despite of his attachment to a vagrant and border life.
The duties of hospitality are rarely forgotten among border men. The inhabitant of a town may lose his natural disposition to receive all who offer at his board, under the pressure of society; but it is only in most extraordinary exceptions that the frontier man is ever known to be inhospitable. He has little to offer, but that little is seldom withheld, either through prudence or niggardliness. Under this feeling we might call it habit also le Bourdon now set himself at work to place on the table such food as he had at command and ready cooked. The meal which he soon pressed his guests to share with him was composed of a good piece of cold boiled pork, which Ben had luckily cooked the day previously, some bears meat roasted, a fragment of venison steak, both lean and cold, and the remains of a duck that had been shot the day before, in the Kalamazoo, with bread, salt, and, what was somewhat unusual in the wilderness, two or three onions, raw. The last dish was highly relished by Gershom, and was slightly honored by Ben; but the Indians passed it over with cold indifference. The dessert consisted of bread and honey, which were liberally partaken of by all at table.
Little was said by either host or guests, until the supper was finished, when the whole party left the chiente, to enjoy their pipes in the cool evening air, beneath the oaks of the grove in which the dwelling stood. Their conversation began to let the parties know something of each others movements and characters.
YOU are a Pottawattamie, and YOU a Chippewa, said le Bourdon, as he courteously handed to his two red guests pipes of theirs, that he had just stuffed with some of his own tobacco I believe you are a sort of cousins, though your tribes are called by different names.
Nation, Ojebway, returned the elder Indian, holding up a finger, by way of enforcing attention.
Tribe, Pottawattamie, added the runner, in the same sententious manner.
Baccy, good put in the senior, by way of showing he was well contented with his comforts.
Have you nothin to drink? demanded Whiskey Centre, who saw no great merit in anything but firewater.
There is the spring, returned le Bourdon, gravely; a gourd hangs against the tree.
Gershom made a wry face, but he did not move.
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.
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:
Ask my young brother he runner he know.
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:
Bad summer come soon. Pale-faces call young men togedder, and dig up hatchet.
I had heard something of this, answered le Bourdon, with a saddened countenance, and was afraid it might happen.
My brother dig up hatchet too, eh? demanded Pigeonswing.
Why should I? I am alone here, on the Openings, and it would seem foolish in me to wish to fight.
Got no tribe no Ojebway no Pottawattamie, eh?
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.
Dont know nebber know, till see. English warrior plenty in Canada.
That may be; but American warriors are not plenty here. This country is a wilderness, and there are no soldiers hereabouts, to cut each others throats.
What you tink 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?
I suppose it is as good as anothers but he and I are countrymen, and we cannot raise the tomahawk on one another.
Dont tink so. Plenty Yankee, him!
Le Bourdon smiled at this proof of Pigeonswings sagacity, though he felt a good deal of uneasiness at the purport of his discourse.
You are right enough in THAT he answered, but Im plenty of Yankee, too.
No, dont say so, returned the Chippewa no, mustnt say DAT. English; no Yankee. HIM not a bit like you.
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.
The Chippewa appeared to be disappointed; perhaps he appeared sorry, too; for le Bourdons 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.
Plenty Breetish in woods, he said, with marked deliberation and point. Yankee no come yet.