CHAPTER XV.
None knows his lineage, age, or name; His looks are like the snows of Caucasus; his eyes Beam with the wisdom of collected ages In green, unbroken years he sees, 'tis said, The generations pass like autumn fruits, Garner'd, consumed, and springing fresh to life, Again to perish-- --HILLHOUSE
No further disturbance took place that night, and the men set aboutfilling up the trenches in the morning steadily, as if nothing hadhappened. They talked a little of the extraordinary occurrence, but morewas THOUGHT than SAID. Le Bourdon observed, however, that Pigeonswingwent earlier than usual to the hunt, and that he made his preparationsas if he expected to be absent more than the customary time.
As there were just one hundred feet of ditch to fill with dirt, the taskwas completed, and that quite thoroughly, long ere the close of the day.The pounding down of the earth consumed more time, and was much morelaborious than the mere tumbling of the earth back into its former bed;but even this portion of the work was sufficiently attended to. When allwas done, the corporal himself, a very critical sort of person in whathe called "garrisons," was fain to allow that it was as "pretty a pieceof palisading" as he had ever laid eyes on. The "garrison" wanted onlyone thing, now, to render it a formidable post--and that was water--nospring or well existing within its narrow limit; however, he procuredtwo or three empty barrels, portions of le Bourdon's effects, placedthem within the works, and had them filled with sweet water. By emptyingthis water two or three times a week, and refilling the barrels, it wasthought that a sufficient provision of that great necessary would bemade and kept up. Luckily the corporal's "garrison" did not drink, andthe want was so much the more easily supplied for the moment.
In truth, the chiente was now converted into a place of some strength,when it is considered that artillery had never yet penetrated to thosewilds. More than half the savages of the west fought with arrowsand spears in that day, as most still do when the great prairies arereached. A rifleman so posted as to have his body in a great measurecovered by the trunk of a burr-oak tree, would be reasonably secureagainst the missives of an Indian, and, using his own fatal instrumentof death, under a sense of personal security, he would become aformidable opponent to dislodge. Nor was the smallness of the work anyobjection to its security. A single well-armed man might sufficeto defend twenty-five feet of palisades, when he would have beeninsufficient to make good his position with twice the extent. Then leBourdon had cut loops on three sides of the hut itself, in order to fireat the bears, and sometimes at the deer, which had often approachedthe building in its days of solitude and quiet, using the window onthe fourth side for the same purpose. In a word, a sense of increasedsecurity was felt by the whole party when this work was completed,though one arrangement was still wanting to render it perfect. Byseparating the real garrison from the nominal garrison during the night,there always existed the danger of surprise; and the corporal, now thathis fortifications were finished, soon devised a plan to obviate thislast-named difficulty. His expedient was very simple, and had somewhatof barrack-life about it.
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 onpoles, and prairie grass, aided by skins, formed very comfortablebarrack-beds beneath. As the men were expected to lie with their headsto the wall of the hut, and their feet outward, there was ample spacefor twice their number. Thither, then, were all the homely provisionsfor the night transported; and when Margery closed the door of thechiente, after returning the bee-hunter's cordial good night, it waswith no further apprehension for the winding of the mysterious horn.
The first night that succeeded the new arrangement passed without anydisturbance. Pigeonswing did not return, as usual, at sunset, anda little uneasiness was felt on his account; but, as he made hisappearance quite early in the morning, this source of concern ceased.Nor did the Chippewa come in empty-handed; he had killed not only abuck, but he had knocked over a bear in his rambles, besides taking amess of famously fine trout from a brawling stream at no great distance.The fish were eaten for breakfast, and immediately after that meal wasended, a party.
"I know no more than he has himself told me. By his account there isto be a great council of red men on the prairie, a few miles from thisspot; he is waiting for the appointed day to come, in order to go andmake one of the chiefs that will be there. Is not this true, Chippewa?"
"Yes, dat true--what dat council smoke round fire for, eh? You know?"
"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 mindswhich side they ought to take in this war."
"Not dat nudder. Know well 'nough which side take. Got message andwampum from Canada fadder, and most all Injin up this-a way look forYankee scalp. Not dat nudder."
"Then I have no notion what is at the bottom of this council. Peterseems to expect great things from it; that I can see by his way oftalking and looking whenever he speaks of it."
"Peter want to see him very much. Smoke at great many sich councilfire."
"Do you intend to be present at this council on Prairie Round?" askedthe bee-hunter, innocently enough. Pigeonswing turned to look at hiscompanion, in a way that seemed to inquire how far he was really thedupe of the mysterious Indian's wiles. Then, suddenly aware of theimportance of not betraying all he himself knew, until the proper momenthad arrived, he bent his eyes forward again, continuing onward andanswering somewhat evasively.
"Don't know," he replied. "Hunter nebber tell. Chief want venison, andhe must hunt. Just like squaw in pale-face wigwam--work,work--sweep, sweep--cook, cook--never know when work done. So hunterhunt--hunt--hunt."
"And for that matter, Chippewa, just like squaw in the red man'svillage, too. Hoe, hoe--dig, dig--carry, carry--so that she never knowswhen she may sit down to rest."
"Yes," returned Pigeonswing, coolly nodding his assent as he movedsteadily forward. "Dat do right way wid squaw--juss what he goodfor--juss what he MADE for--work for warrior and cook his dinner.Pale-face make too much of squaw."
"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 ofthem. Where does Peter keep HIS squaw?"
"Don't know," answered the Chippewa. "Nobody know. Don't know where histribe even."
"This is very extraor'nary, considering the influence the man seems toenjoy. How is it that he has so completely got the ears of all the redmen, far and near?"
To this question Pigeonswing gave no answer. His own mind was so farunder Peter's control that he did not choose to tell more than might beprudent. He was fully aware of the mysterious chief's principal design,that of destroying the white race altogether, and of restoring the redmen to their ancient rights, but several reasons prevented his enteringinto the plot heart and hand. In the first place, he was friendly tothe "Yankees," from whom he, personally, had received many favors andno wrongs; then, the tribe, or half-tribe, to which he belonged hadbeen employed, more or less, by the agents of the American governmentas runners, and in other capacities, ever since the peace of '83; and,lastly, he himself had been left much in different garrisons, wherehe had not only acquired his English, but a habit of thinking of theAmericans as his friends. It might also be added that Pigeonswing,though far less gifted by nature than the mysterious Peter, had formeda truer estimate of the power of the "Yankees," and did not believe theywere to be annihilated so easily. How it happened that this Indian hadcome to a conclusion so much safer than that of Peter's, a man of twicehis capacity, is more than we can explain; though it was probably owingto the accidental circumstances of his more intimate associations withthe whites.
The bee-hunter was by nature a man of observation, a faculty that hishabits had both increased and stimulated. Had it not been for the mannerin which he was sub
mitting to the influence of Margery, he would longbefore have seen that in the deportment of the Chippewa which would haveawakened his distrust; not that Margery in any way endeavored to blindhim to what was passing before his face, but that he was fast getting tohave eyes only for her. By this time she filled not only his waking, butmany 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 haveenumerated. When a man is thoroughly in love, he is quite apt to befit for very little else but to urge his suit. Such, in a certainway, proved to be the case with le Bourdon, who allowed things to passunheeded directly before his eyes that previously to his acquaintancewith Margery would not only have been observed, but which would havemost probably led to some practical results. The conduct of Pigeonswingwas among the circumstances that were thus over-looked by our hero. Inpoint of fact, Peter was slowly but surely working on the mind of theChippewa, changing all his opinions radically, and teaching him toregard every pale-face as an enemy. The task, in this instance, was noteasy; for Pigeonswing, in addition to his general propensities in favorof the "Yankees," the result of mere accident, had conceived a realpersonal regard for le Bourdon, and was very slow to admit any viewsthat tended to his injury. The struggle in the mind of the young warriorwas severe; and twenty times was he on the point of warning his friendof the danger which impended over the whole party, when a sense of goodfaith toward Peter, who held his word to the contrary, prevented his sodoing. This conflict of feeling was now constantly active in the breastof the young savage.
Pigeonswing had another source of uneasiness, to which his companionswere entirely strangers. While hunting, his keen eyes had detected thepresence of warriors in the openings. It is true he had not seen evenone, 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 nothave departed many hours when it came under his own notice. By means ofthat attentive sagacity which forms no small portion of the educationof an American Indian, Pigeonswing was enabled to ascertain that thisparty, of itself, numbered seventeen, all of whom were men and warriors.The first fact was easily enough to be seen, perhaps, there being justseventeen different impressions left in the grass; but that all thesepersons were armed men, was learned by Pigeonswing through evidence thatwould have been overlooked by most persons. By the length of the lairshe was satisfied none but men of full stature had been there; and heeven examined sufficiently close to make out the proofs that all butfour of these men carried firearms. Strange as it may seem to those whodo not know how keen the senses become when whetted by the apprehensionsand wants of savage life, Pigeonswing was enabled to discover signswhich showed that the excepted were provided with bows and arrows, andspears.
When the bee-hunter and his companion came in sight of the carcase ofthe bear, which they did shortly after the last remark which we havegiven in the dialogue recorded, the former exclaimed with a littlesurprise:
"How's this, Chippewa! You have killed this beast with your bow! Did younot hunt with the rifle yesterday?"
"Bad fire rifle off now-a-day," answered Pigeonswing, sententiously."Make noise--noise no good."
"Noise!" repeated the perfectly unsuspecting bee-hunter. "Little goodor little harm can noise do in these openings, where there is neithermountain to give back an echo, or ear to be startled. The crack of myrifle has rung through these groves a hundred times and no harm come ofit."
"Forget war-time now. Bess nebber fire, less can't help him.Pottawattamie hear great way off."
"Oh! That's it, is it! You're afraid our old friends the Pottawattamiesmay find us out, and come to thank us for all that happened down atthe river's mouth. Well," continued le Bourdon, laughing, "if they wishanother whiskey-spring, I have a small jug left, safely hid against awet day; a very few drops will answer to make a tolerable spring. Youredskins don't know everything, Pigeonswing, though you are so keen andquick-witted on a trail."
"Bess not tell Pottawattamie any more 'bout springs," answered theChippewa, gravely; for by this time he regarded the state of things inthe 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? Bessfor pale-face to be wid pale-face when red man go on war-path. Colorbess keep wid color."
"I see you want to be rid of us, Pigeonswing; but the parson has nothought of quitting this part of the world until he has convinced allthe red-skins that they are Jews."
"What he mean, eh?" demanded the Chippewa, with more curiosity than itwas usual for an Indian warrior to betray. "What sort of a man Jew, eh?Why call red man Jew?"
"I know very little more about it than you do yourself, Pigeonswing; butsuch as my poor knowledge is, you're welcome to it. You've heard of theBible, I dare say?"
"Sartain--med'cine-man read him Sunday. Good book to read, some t'ink."
"Yes, it's all that, and a great companion have I found my Bible, whenI've been alone with the bees out here in the openings. It tells us ofour God, Chippewa; and teaches us how we are to please him, and how wemay offend. It's a great loss to you red-skins not to have such a bookamong you."
"Med'cine-man bring him--don't do much good, yet; some day, p'r'aps, dobetter. How dat make red man Jew?"
"Why, this is a new idea to me, though Parson Amen seems fully possessedwith it. I suppose you know what a Jew is?"
"Don't know anything 'bout him. Sort o' nigger, eh?"
"No, no, Pigeonswing, you're wide of the mark this time. But, that wemay understand each other, we'll begin at the beginning like, which willlet you into the whole history of the pale-face religion. As we've had asmart walk, however, and here is the bear's meat safe and sound, just asyou left it, let us sit down a bit on this trunk of a tree, while I giveyou our tradition from beginning to end, as it might be. In the firstplace, Chippewa, the earth was made without creatures of any sort tolive on it--not so much as a squirrel or a woodchuck."
"Poor country to hunt in, dat," observed the Chippewa quietly, while leBourdon was wiping his forehead after removing his cap. "Ojebways stayin it very little time."
"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 fashionedand living all around us."
"Yes," answered the Chippewa, nodding his head in assent. "Den Manitouput plenty blood in him--dat make red warrior. Bible good book, if telldat tradition."
"The Bible says nothing about any colors; but we suppose the man firstmade to have been a pale-face. At any rate, the pale-faces have gotpossession of the best parts of the earth, as it might be, and Ithink they mean to keep them. First come, first served, you know. Thepale-faces are many, and are strong."
"Stop!" exclaimed Pigeonswing, in a way that was very unusual for anIndian to interrupt another when speaking; "want to ask question--howmany pale-face you t'ink is dere? Ebber count him?"
"Count him!--Why, Chippewa, you might as well count the bees, asthey buzz around a fallen tree. You saw me cut down the tree I lastdiscovered, and saw the movement of the little animals, and may judgewhat success tongue or eye would have in counting THEM; now, just astrue would it be to suppose that any man could count the pale-faces onthis earth."
"Don't want count ALL," answered Pigeonswing. "Want to know how many disside of great salt lake."
"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 wecall America?"
"Juss so," returned Pigeonswing, nodding in assent. "Dat juss it--jusswhat Injin want to know."
"Well, we do have a count of our own people, from time to time, andI suppose come about as near to the truth as men can come in such amatter. There must be about eight millions of us altogether; that is,old and young, big
and little, male and female."
"How many warrior you got?--don't want hear about squaw and pappoose."
"No, I see you're warlike this morning, and want to see how we arelikely to come out of this struggle with your great Canada father.Counting all round, I think we might muster hard on upon a million offighting men--good, bad, and indifferent; that is to say, there must bea million of us of proper age to go into the wars."
Pigeonswing made no answer for near a minute. Both he and the bee-hunterhad come to a halt alongside of the bear's meat, and the latter wasbeginning 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, bysaying:
"What million mean, Bourdon? How many time so'ger at Detroit, and so'geron lakes?"
"A million is more than the leaves on all the trees in theseopenings"--le Bourdon's notions were a little exaggerated, perhaps, butthis was what he SAID--"yes, more than the leaves on all these oaks, farand near. A million is a countless number, and I suppose would make arow of men as long as from this spot to the shores of the great saltlake, if not farther."
It is probable that the bee-hunter himself had no very clear notionof the distance of which he spoke, or of the number of men it wouldactually require to fill the space he mentioned; but his answer sufficeddeeply to impress the imagination of the Indian, who now helped leBourdon to secure his load to his back, in silence, receiving the sameservice in return. When the meat of the bear was securely bestowed, eachresumed his rifle, and the friends commenced their march in, toward thechiente; conversing, as they went, on the matter which still occupiedtheir minds. When the bee-hunter again took up the history of thecreation, it was to speak of our common mother.
"You will remember, Chippewa," he said, "that I told you nothing on thesubject of any woman. What I have told you, as yet, consarned only thefirst MAN, who was made out of clay, into whom God breathed the breathof life."
"Dat good--make warrior fuss. Juss right. When breat' in him, fit totake scalp, eh?"
"Why, as to that, it is not easy to see whom he was to scalp, seeingthat he was quite alone in the world, until it pleased his Creator togive him a woman for a companion."
"Tell 'bout dat," returned Pigeonswing, with interest--"tell how he gotsquaw."
"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, inwhich all things excellent and pleasant was to be found--some such placeas these openings, I reckon."
"Any bee dere?" asked the Indian, quite innocently. "Plenty honey, eh?"
"That will I answer for! It could hardly be otherwise, when it was theintention to make the first man and first woman perfectly happy. I daresay, Chippewa, if the truth was known, it would be found that bees was asipping at every flower in that most delightful garden!"
"Why pale-face quit dat garden, eh? Why come here to drive poor Injin'way from game? Tell me dat, Bourdon, if he can? Why pale-face everleave DAT garden, when he so han'some, eh?"
"God turned him out of it, Chippewa--yes, he was turned OUT of it, withshame on his face, for having disobeyed the commandments of his Creator.Having left the garden, his children have scattered over the face of theearth."
"So come here to drive off Injin! Well, dat 'e way wid pale-face I Didever hear of red man comin' to drive off pale-face?"
"I have heard of your red warriors often coming to take our scalps,Chippewa. More or less of this has been done every year, since ourpeople have landed in America. More than that they have not done, forwe are too many to be driven very far in, by a few scattering tribes ofInjins."
"T'ink, den, more pale-face dan Injin, eh?" asked the Chippewa, with aninterest so manifest that he actually stopped in his semi-trot, in orderto put the question. "More pale-face warrior dan red men?"
"More! Aye, a thousand times more, Chippewa. Where you could show onewarrior, we could show a thousand!"
Now, this was not strictly true, perhaps, but it answered the purposeof deeply impressing the Chippewa with the uselessness of Peter's plans,and sustained as it was by his early predilections, it served tokeep him on the right side, in the crisis which was approaching. Thediscourse continued, much in the same strain, until the men got in withtheir bear's meat, having been preceded some time by the others, withthe venison.
It is a little singular that neither the questions, nor the manner ofPigeonswing, awakened any distrust in the bee-hunter. So far from this,the latter regarded all that had passed as perfectly natural, and aslikely to arise in conversation, in the way of pure speculation, as inany other manner. Pigeonswing intended to be guarded in what he said anddid, for, as yet, he had not made up his mind which side he would reallyespouse, in the event of the great project coming to a head. He had thedesire, natural to a red man, to avenge the wrongs committed againsthis race; but this desire existed in a form a good deal mitigated by hisintercourse with the "Yankees," and his regard for individuals. It had,nevertheless, strangely occurred to the savage reasoning of this youngwarrior that possibly some arrangement might be effected, by means ofwhich he should take scalps from the Canadians, while Peter and hisother followers were working their will on the Americans. In thisconfused condition was the mind of the Chippewa, when he and hiscompanion threw down their loads, near the place where the provision ofgame was usually kept. This was beneath the tree, near the spring andthe cook-house, in order that no inconvenience should arise from itsproximity 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; ofthe latter of which the missionary had brought a considerable supplyin his own canoe. Among these stores were a few dozen of buffaloes'or bisons' tongues, a delicacy that would honor the best table in thecivilized world, though then so common among the western hunters, asscarce to be deemed food as good as the common salted pork and beef ofthe settlements.
The evening that followed proved to be one of singular softness andsweetness. The sun went down in a cloudless sky, and gentle airs fromthe southwest fanned the warm cheeks of Margery, as she sat, restingfrom the labors of the day, with le Bourdon at her side, speaking of thepleasures of a residence in such a spot. The youth was eloquent, for hefelt all that he said, and the maiden was pleased. The young man couldexpatiate on bees in a way to arrest any one's attention; and Margerydelighted to hear him relate his adventures with these little creatures;his successes, losses, and journeys.
"But are you not often lonely, Bourdon, living here in the openings,whole summers at a time, without a living soul to speak to?" demandedMargery, coloring to the eyes, the instant the question was asked,lest it should subject her to an imputation against which her modestyrevolted, that of wishing to draw the discourse to a discussion on themeans of preventing this solitude in future.
"I have not been, hitherto," answered le Bourdon, so frankly as at onceto quiet his companion's sensitiveness, "though I will not answer forthe future. Now that I have so many with me, we may make some of themnecessary. Mind--I say SOME, not all of my present guests. If I couldhave my pick, pretty Margery, the present company would give me ALL Ican desire, and more too. I should not think of going to Detroit forthat companion, since she is to be found so much nearer."
Margery blushed, and looked down--then she raised her eyes, smiled,and seemed grateful as well as pleased. By this time she had becomeaccustomed to such remarks, and she had no difficulty in discovering herlover's wishes, though he had never been more explicit. The reflectionsnatural to her situation threw a shade of gentle seriousness over hercountenance, rendering her more charming than ever, and causing theyouth to plunge deeper and deeper into the meshes that female influencehad cast around him, In all this, however, one of the parties wasgoverned by a manly sincerity, and the other by girlish artl
essness.Diffidence, one of the most certain attendants of a pure passion, alonekept le Bourdon from asking Margery to become his wife; while Margeryherself sometimes doubted whether it were possible that any reputableman could wish to connect himself and his fortunes with a family thathad sunk as low as persons could well sink, in this country, and notlose their characters altogether. With these doubts and distrusts, sonaturally affecting the mind of each, these young people were rapidlybecoming more and more enamored; the bee-hunter betraying his passionin the close, absorbed attentions that more properly belong to his sex,while that of Margery was to be seen in sudden blushes, the thoughtfulbrow, the timid glance, and a cast of tenderness that came over herwhole manner, and, as it might be, her whole being.
While our young folk were thus employed, now conversing cheerfully, nowappearing abstracted and lost in thought, though seated side by side,le Bourdon happened to look behind him, and saw that Peter was regardingthem with one of those intense, but mysterious expressions of thecountenance, that had, now, more than once attracted his attention;giving reason, each time, for a feeling in which doubt, curiosity, andapprehension were singularly mingled, even in himself.
At the customary hour, which was always early, in that party of simplehabits, the whole family sought its rest; the females withdrew withinthe chiente, while the males arranged their skins without. Ever sincethe erection of the palisades, le Bourdon had been in the habit ofcalling Hive within the defences, leaving him at liberty to roam aboutinside, at pleasure. Previously to this new arrangement, the dog hadbeen shut up in his kennel, in order to prevent his getting on the trackof a deer, or in close combat with some bear, when his master was notpresent to profit by his efforts. As the palisades were too high forhis leap, this putting him at liberty within them answered the doublepurpose of giving the mastiff room for healthful exercise, and ofpossessing a most vigilant sentinel against dangers of all sorts. On thepresent occasion, however, the dog was missing, and after calling andwhistling for him some time, the bee-hunter was fain to bar the gate,and leave him on the outside. This done, he sought his skin, and wassoon asleep.
It was midnight, when the bee-hunter felt a hand laid on his own arm.It was the corporal, making this movement, in order to awake him. In aninstant the young man was on his feet, with his rifle in his hand.
"Did you not hear it, Bourdon?" demanded the corporal, in a tone so lowas scarce to exceed a whisper.
"Hear what! I've been sleeping, sound as a bee in winter."
"The horn!--The horn has been blown twice, and, I think, we shall soonhear it again."
"The horn was hanging at the door of the chiente, and the conch, too. Itwill be easy to see if they are in their places."
It was only necessary to walk around the walls of the hut, to itsopposite side, in order to ascertain this fact. Le Bourdon did so,accompanied by the corporal, and just as each laid a hand on theinstruments, which were suspended in their proper places, a heavy rushwas made against the gate, as if to try its fastenings. These pusheswere repeated several times, with a violence that menaced the bars. Ofcourse, the two men stepped to the spot, a distance of only a fewpaces, the gateway of the palisades and the door of the chiente beingcontiguous to each other, and immediately ascertained that it was themastiff, endeavoring to force his way in. The bee-hunter admitted thedog, which had been trained to suppress his bark, though this animal wastoo brave and large to throw away his breath when he had better rely onhis force. Powerful animals, of this race, are seldom noisy, it beingthe province of the cur, both among dogs and men, to be blustering andspitting out their venom, at all hours and seasons. Hive, however, inaddition to his natural disposition, had been taught, from the time hewas a pup, not to betray his presence unnecessarily by a bark; and itwas 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.
Hive was no sooner admitted to the "garrison," than he manifested justas strong a desire to get out, as a moment before he had manifestedto get in. This, le Bourdon well knew, indicated the presence of something, or creature, that did not properly belong to the vicinity. Afterconsulting with the corporal, Pigeonswing was called; and leaving him asa sentinel at the gate, the two others made a sortie. The corporalwas as brave as a lion, and loved all such movements, though he fullyanticipated encountering savages, while his companion expected aninterview with bears.
As this movement was made at the invitation of the dog, it wasjudiciously determined to let him act as pioneer, on the advance.Previously to quitting the defences, however, the two adventurers lookedclosely to their arms. Each examined the priming, saw that his hornand pouch were accessible, and loosened his knife in its sheath. Thecorporal, moreover, fixed his "baggonet," as he called the formidable,glittering instrument that usually embellished the end of his musket--aMUSKET being the weapon he chose to carry, while the bee-hunter himselfwas armed with a long western RIFLE.