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 cook-house, 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.

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 any one's attention; and Margery delighted 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?" 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.

"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 SOME, not all of my present guests. If I could have my pick, pretty Margery, the present company would give me ALL 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."

Margery blushed, and looked down—then she raised her eyes, smiled, and seemed grateful as well as pleased. By this time she had become accustomed to such remarks, and she had no difficulty in discovering her lover's wishes, though he had never been more explicit. The reflections natural to her situation threw a shade of gentle seriousness over her countenance, rendering her more charming than ever, and causing the youth to plunge deeper and deeper into the meshes that female influence had cast around him, In all this, however, one of the parties was governed by a manly sincerity, and the other by girlish artlessness. Diffidence, one of the most certain attendants of a pure passion, alone kept le Bourdon from asking Margery to become his wife; while Margery herself sometimes doubted whether it were possible that any reputable man could wish to connect himself and his fortunes with a family that had sunk as low as persons could well sink, in this country, and not lose their characters altogether. With these doubts and distrusts, so naturally affecting the mind of each, these young people were rapidly becoming more and more enamored; the bee-hunter betraying his passion in the close, absorbed attentions that more properly belong to his sex, while that of Margery was to be seen in sudden blushes, the thoughtful brow, the timid glance, and a cast of tenderness that came over her whole manner, and, as it might be, her whole being.

While our young folk were thus employed, now conversing cheerfully, now appearing abstracted and lost in thought, though seated side by side, le Bourdon happened to look behind him, and saw that Peter was regarding them with one of those intense, but mysterious expressions of the countenance, that had, now, more than once attracted his attention; giving reason, each time, for a feeling in which doubt, curiosity, and apprehension were singularly mingled, even in himself.

At the customary hour, which was always early, in that party of simple habits, the whole family sought its rest; the females withdrew within the chiente, while the males arranged their skins without. Ever since the erection of the palisades, le Bourdon had been in the habit of calling Hive within the defences, leaving him at liberty to roam about inside, at pleasure. Previously to this new arrangement, the dog had been shut up in his kennel, in order to prevent his getting on the track of a deer, or in close combat with some bear, when his master was not present to profit by his efforts. As the palisades were too high for his leap, this putting him at liberty within them answered the double purpose of giving the mastiff room for healthful exercise, and of possessing a most vigilant sentinel against dangers of all sorts. On the present occasion, however, the dog was missing, and after calling and whistling 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 was soon 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 an instant 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 low as 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 soon hear it again."

"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."

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.

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.

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 MUSKET being the weapon he chose to carry, while the bee-hunter himself was armed with a long western RIFLE.



CHAPTER XVI.

The raptures of a conqueror's mood Rushed burning through his frame; The depths of that green solitude Its torrents could not tame, Though stillness lay, with eve's last smile, Round those far fountains of the Nile —MRS HEMANS.

When the bee-hunter and Corporal Flint thus went forth in midnight, from the "garrison" of Castle Meal (Chateau au Miel), as the latter would have expressed it, it was with no great apprehension of meeting any other than a four-footed enemy, notwithstanding the blast of the horn the worthy corporal supposed he had heard. The movements of the dog seemed to announce such a result rather than any other, for Hive was taken along as a sort of guide. Le Bourdon, however, did not permit his mastiff to run off wide, but, having the animal at perfect command, it was kept close to his own person.

The two men first moved toward the grove of the Kitchen, much to Hive's discontent. The dog several times halted, and he whined, and growled, and otherwise manifested his great dislike to proceed in that direction. At length so decided did his resistance become, that his master said to his companion:

"It seems to me best, corporal, to let the mastiff lead us. I have never yet seen him so set on not going in one way, and on going in another. Hive has a capital nose, and we may trust him."

"Forward," returned the corporal, wheeling short in the direction of the dog; "one thing should be understood, however, Bourdon, which is this—you must act as light troops in this sortie, and I as the main body. If we come on the inimy, it will be your duty to skrimmage in front as long as you can, and then fall back on your resarves. I shall depend chiefly on the baggonet, which is the best tool to put an Injin up with; and as he falls back, before my charge, we must keep him under as warm a fire as possible. Having no cavalry, the dog might be made useful in movements to the front and on our flanks."

"Pooh, pooh, corporal, you're almost as much set in the notions of your trade as Parson Amen is set in his idees about the lost tribes. In my opinion there'll be more tribes FOUND in these openings before the summer is over than we shall wish to meet. Let us follow the dog, and see what will turn up." Hive WAS followed, and he took a direction that led to a distant point in the openings, where not only the trees were much thicker than common, but where a small tributary of the Kalamazoo ran through a ravine, from the higher lands adjacent into the main artery of all the neighboring watercourses. The bee-hunter knew the spot well, having often drank at the rivulet, and cooled his brow in the close shades of the ravine, when heated by exertions in the more open grounds. In short, the spot was one of the most eligible for concealment, coolness, and pure water, within several miles of Castle Meal. The trees formed a spacious grove around it, and, by means of the banks, their summits and leaves answered the purpose of a perfect screen to those who might descend into the ravine, or, it would be better to say, to the bottom. Le Bourdon was no sooner satisfied that his mastiff was proceeding toward the great spring which formed the rivulet at the head of the ravine mentioned, than he suspected Indians might be there. He had seen signs about the spot, which wore an appearance of its having been used as a place of encampment—or for "camping out," as it is termed in the language of the west—and, coupling the sound of the horn with the dog's movements, his quick apprehension seized on the facts as affording reasonable grounds of distrust. Consequently he resorted to great caution, as he and the corporal entered the wood which surrounded the spring, and the small oval bit of bottom that lay spread before it, like a little lawn. Hive was kept close at his master's side, though he manifested a marked impatience to advance. "Now, corporal," said the bee-hunter in a low tone, "I think we have lined some savages to their holes. We will go round the basin and descend to the bottom, in a close wood which grows there. Did you see that?"

"I suppose I did," answered the corporal, who was as firm as a rock. "You meant to ask me if I saw fire?"

"I did. The red men have lighted their council fire in this spot, and have met to talk around it. Well, let 'em hearken to each other's thoughts, if they will; we shall be neither the better nor the worse for it."

"I don't know that. When the commander-in-chief calls together his principal officers, something usually comes of it. Who knows but this very council is called in order to take opinions on the subject of besieging or of storming our new garrison? Prudent soldiers should always be ready for the worst."

"I have no fear, so long as Peter is with us. That chief is listened to by every red-skin; and while we have him among us there will be little to care for. But we are getting near to the bottom and must work our way through these bushes with as little noise as possible. I will keep the dog quiet."

The manner in which that sagacious animal now behaved was truly wonderful. Hive appeared to be quite as much aware of the necessity of extreme caution as either of the men, and did not once attempt to precede his master his own length. On one or two occasions he actually discovered the best passages, and led his companions through them with something like the intelligence of a human being. Neither growl nor bark escaped him; on the contrary, even the hacking breathing of an impatient dog was suppressed, precisely as if the animal knew how near he was getting to the most watchful ears in the world.

After using the greatest care, the bee-hunter and the corporal got just such a station as they desired. It was within a very few feet of the edge of the cover, but perfectly concealed, while small openings enabled them to see all that was passing in their front. A fallen tree, a relic of somewhat rare occurrence in the openings of Michigan, even furnished them with a seat, while it rendered their position less exposed. Hive placed himself at his master's side, apparently trusting to other senses than that of sight for his information, since he could see nothing of what was going on in front.

As soon as the two men had taken their stations, and began to look about them, a feeling of awe mingled with their curiosity. Truly, the scene was one so very remarkable and imposing that it might have filled more intellectual and better fortified minds with some such sensation. The fire was by no means large, nor was it particularly bright; but sufficient to cast a dim light on the objects within reach of its rays. It was in the precise centre of a bit of bottom land of about half an acre in extent, which was so formed and surrounded, as to have something of the appearance of the arena of a large amphitheatre. There was one break in the encircling rise of ground, it is true, and that was at a spot directly opposite the station of le Bourdon and his companion, where the rill which flowed from the spring found a passage out toward the more open ground. Branches shaded most of the mound, but the arena itself was totally free from all vegetation but that which covered the dense and beautiful sward with which it was carpeted. Such is a brief description of the natural accessories of this remarkable scene.

But it was from the human actors, and their aspects, occupations, movements, dress, and appearance generally, that the awe which came over both the bee-hunter and the corporal had its origin. Of these, near fifty were present, offering a startling force by their numbers alone. Each man was a warrior, and each warrior was in his paint. These were facts that the familiarity of the two white men with Indian customs rendered only too certain. What was still more striking was the fact that all present appeared to be chiefs; a circumstance which went to show that an imposing body of red men was most likely somewhere in the openings, and that too at no great distance. It was while observing and reflecting on all these things, a suspicion first crossed the mind of le Bourdon that this great council was about to be held, at that midnight hour, and so near his own abode, for the purpose of accommodating Peter, whose appearance in the dark crowd, from that instant, he began to expect.

The Indians already present were not seated. They stood in groups conversing, or stalked across the arena, resembling so many dark and stately spectres. No sound was heard among them, a circumstance that added largely to the wild and supernatural aspect of the scene. If any spoke, it was in a tone so low and gentle, as to carry the sound no farther than to the ears that were listening; two never spoke at the same time and in the same group, while the moccasin permitted no footfall to be audible. Nothing could have been more unearthly than the picture presented in that little, wood-circled arena, of velvet- like grass and rural beauty. The erect, stalking forms, half naked, if not even more; the swarthy skins; the faces fierce in the savage conceits which were intended to strike terror into the bosoms of enemies, and the glittering eyes that fairly sparkled in their midst, all contributed to the character of the scene, which le Bourdon rightly enough imagined was altogether much the most remarkable of any he had ever been in the way of witnessing.

Our two spectators might have been seated on the fallen tree half an hour, all of which time they had been gazing at what was passing before their eyes; with positively not a human sound to relieve the unearthly nature of the picture. No one spoke, coughed, laughed, or exclaimed, in all that period. Suddenly, every chief stood still, and all the faces turned in the same direction. It was toward the little gateway of the rill, which being the side of the arena most remote from the bee-hunter and the corporal, lay nearly in darkness as respected them. With the red men it must have been different, for THEY all appeared to be in intent expectation of some one from that quarter. Nor did they have to wait long; for, in half a minute, two forms came out of the obscurity, advancing with a dignified and deliberate tread to the centre of the arena. As these newcomers got more within the influence of the flickering light, le Bourdon saw that they were Peter and Parson Amen. The first led, with a slow, imposing manner, while the other followed, not a little bewildered with what he saw. It may be as well to explain here, that the Indian was coming alone to this place of meeting, when he encountered the missionary wandering among the oaks, looking for le Bourdon and the corporal, and, instead of endeavoring to throw off this unexpected companion, he quietly invited him to be of his own party.

It was evident to le Bourdon, at a glance, that Peter was expected, though it was not quite so clear that such was the fact as regarded his companion. Still, respect for the great chief prevented any manifestations of surprise or discontent, and the medicine-man of the pale-faces was received with as grave a courtesy as if he had been an invited guest. Just as the two had entered the dark circle that formed around them, a young chief threw some dry sticks on the fire, which blazing upward, cast a stronger light on a row of as terrifically looking countenances as ever gleamed on human forms. This sudden illumination, with its accompanying accessories, had the effect to startle all the white spectators, though Peter looked on the whole with a calm like that of the leafless tree, when the cold is at its height, and the currents of the wintry air are death-like still Nothing appeared to move HIM, whether expected or not; though use had probably accustomed his eye to all the aspects in which savage ingenuity could offer savage forms. He even smiled, as he made a gesture of recognition, which seemed to salute the whole group. It was just then, when the fire burned brightest, and when the chiefs pressed most within its influence, that le Bourdon perceived that his old acquaintances, the head-men of the Pottawattamies, were present, among the other chiefs so strangely and portentously assembled in these grounds, which he had so long possessed almost entirely to himself.

A few of the oldest of the chiefs now approached Peter, and a low conversation took place between them. What was said did not reach le Bourdon, of course; for it was not even heard in the dark circle of savages who surrounded the fire. The effect of this secret dialogue, however, was to cause all the chiefs to be seated, each taking his place on the grass; the whole preserving the original circle around the fire. Fortunately, for the wishes of le Bourdon, Peter and his companions took their stations directly opposite to his own seat, thus enabling him to watch every lineament of that remarkable chief's still more remarkable countenance. Unlike each and all of the red men around him, the face of Peter was not painted, except by the tints imparted by nature; which, in his case, was that of copper a little tarnished, or rendered dull by the action of the atmosphere. The bee-hunter could distinctly trace every lineament; nor was the dark roving eye beyond the reach of his own vision. Some attention was given to the fire, too, one of the younger chiefs occasionally throwing on it a few dried sticks, more to keep alive the flame, and to renew the light, than from any need of warmth. One other purpose, however, this fire DID answer; that of enabling the young chiefs to light the pipes that were now prepared; it seldom occurring that the chiefs thus assembled without SMOKING around their council-fire.

As this smoking was just then more a matter of ceremony than for any other purpose, a whiff or two suffices for each chief; the smoker passing the pipe to his neighbor as soon as he had inhaled a few puffs. The Indians are models of propriety, in their happiest moods, and every one in that dark and menacing circle was permitted to have his turn with the pipe, before any other step was taken. There were but two pipes lighted, and mouths being numerous, some time was necessary in order to complete this ceremony. Still, no sign of impatience was seen, the lowest chief having as much respect paid to his feelings, as related to his attention, as the highest. At length the pipes completed their circuit, even Parson Amen getting, and using, his turn, when a dead pause succeeded. The silence resembled that of a Quaker meeting, and was broken only by the rising of one of the principal chiefs, evidently about to speak. The language of the great Ojebway nation was used on this occasion, most of the chiefs present belonging to some one of the tribes of that stock, though several spoke other tongues, English and French included. Of the three whites present, Parson Amen alone fully comprehended all that was said, he having qualified himself in this respect, to preach to the tribes of that people; though le Bourdon understood nearly all, and even the corporal comprehended a good deal. The name of the chief who first spoke at this secret meeting, which was afterward known among the Ojebways by the name of the "Council of the Bottom Land, near to the spring of gushing water," was Bear's Meat, an appellation that might denote a distinguished hunter, rather than an orator of much renown.

"Brothers of the many tribes of the Ojebways," commenced this personage, "the Great Spirit has permitted us to meet in council. The Manitou of our fathers is now among these oaks, listening to our words, and looking in at our hearts. Wise Indians will be careful what they say in such a presence, and careful of what they think. All should be said and thought for the best. We are a scattered nation, and the time is come when we must stop in our tracks, or travel beyond the sound of each other's cries. If we travel beyond the hearing of our people, soon will our children learn tongues that Ojebway ears cannot understand. The mother talks to her child, and the child learns her words. But no child can hear across a great lake. Once we lived near the rising sun. Where are we now? Some of our young men say they have seen the sun go down in the lakes of sweet water. There can be no hunting-grounds beyond THAT spot; and if we would live, we must stand still in our tracks. How to do this, we have met to consider.

"Brothers, many wise chiefs and braves are seated at this council- fire. It is pleasant to my eyes to look upon them. Ottawas, Chippeways, Pottawattamies, Menominees, Hurons, and all. Our father at Quebec has dug up the hatchet against the Yankees. The war-path is open between Detroit and all the villages of the red men. The prophets are speaking to our people, and we listen. One is here; he is about to speak. The council will have but a single sense, which will be that of hearing."

Thus concluding, Bear's Meat took his seat, in the same composed and dignified manner as that in which he had risen, and deep silence succeeded. So profound was the stillness, that, taken in connection with the dark lineaments, the lustrous eyeballs that threw back the light of the fire, the terrific paint and the armed hands of every warrior present, the picture might be described as imposing to a degree that is seldom seen in the assemblies of the civilized. In the midst of this general but portentous calm, Peter arose. The breathing of the circle grew deeper, so much so as to be audible, the only manner in which the intensity of the common expectation betrayed itself. Peter was an experienced orator, and knew how to turn every minutiae of his art to good account. His every movement was deliberate, his attitude highly dignified—even his eye seemed eloquent.

Oratory! what a power art thou, wielded, as is so often the case, as much for evil as for good. The very reasoning that might appear to be obtuse, or which would be over looked entirely when written and published, issuing from the mouth, aided by the feelings of sympathy and the impulses of the masses, seems to partake of the wisdom of divinity. Thus is it, also, with the passions, the sense of wrong, the appeals to vengeance, and all the other avenues of human emotion. Let them be addressed to the cold eye of reason and judgment, in the form of written statements, and the mind pauses to weigh the force of arguments, the justice of the appeals, the truth of facts: but let them come upon the ear aided by thy art, with a power concentrated by sympathy, and the torrent is often less destructive in its course, than that of the whirlwind that thou canst awaken!

"Chiefs of the great Ojebway nation, I wish you well," said Peter, stretching out his arms toward the circle, as if desirous of embracing all present. "The Manitou has been good to me. He has cleared a path to this spring, and to this council-fire. I see around it the faces of many friends. Why should we not all be friendly? Why should a red man ever strike a blow against a red man? The Great Spirit made us of the same color, and placed us on the same hunting-grounds. He meant that we should hunt in company; not take each other's scalps. How many warriors have fallen in our family wars? Who has counted them? Who can say? Perhaps enough, had they not been killed, to drive the pale-faces into the sea!"

Here Peter, who as yet had spoken only in a low and barely audible voice, suddenly paused, in order to allow the idea he had just thrown out to work on the minds of his listeners. That it was producing its effect was apparent by the manner in which one stern face turned toward another, and eye seemed to search in eye some response to a query that the mind suggested, though no utterance was given to it with the tongue. As soon, however, as the orator thought time sufficient to impress that thought on the memories of the listeners had elapsed, he resumed, suffering his voice gradually to increase in volume, as he warmed with his subject.

"Yes," he continued, "the Manitou has been very kind. Who is the Manitou? Has any Indian ever seen him? Every Indian has seen him. No one can look on the hunting-grounds, on the lakes, on the prairies, on the trees, on the game, without seeing his hand. His face is to be seen in the sun at noonday; his eyes in the stars at night. Has any Indian ever heard the Manitou? When it thunders, he speaks. When the crash is loudest, then he scolds. Some Indian has done wrong. Perhaps one red man has taken another red man's scalp!"

Another pause succeeded, briefer, and less imposing than the first, but one that sufficed to impress on the listeners anew, the great evil of an Indian's raising his hand against an Indian.

"Yes, there is no one so deaf as not to hear the voice of the Great Spirit when he is angry," resumed Peter. "Ten thousands of buffalo bulls, roaring together, do not make as much noise as his whisper. Spread the prairies, and the openings, and the lakes, before him, and he can be heard in all, and on all, at the same time.

"Here is a medicine-priest of the pale-faces; he tells me that the voice of the Manitou reaches into the largest villages of his people, beneath the rising sun, when it is heard by the red man across the great lakes, and near the rocks of the setting sun. It is a loud voice; woe to him who does not remember it. It speaks to all colors, and to every people, and tribe, and nation.

"Brothers, that is a lying tradition which says, there is one Manitou for a Sac, and another for the Ojebway—one Manitou for the red man, and another for the pale-face. In this, we are alike. One Great Spirit made all; governs all; rewards all; punishes all. He may keep the happy hunting-grounds of an Indian separate from the white man's heaven, for he knows that their customs are different, and what would please a warrior would displease a trader; and what would please a trader would displease a warrior. He has thought of these things, and has made several places for the spirits of the good, let their colors be what they may. Is it the same with the places of the spirits of the bad? I think not. To me it would seem best to let THEM go together, that they may torment one another. A wicked Indian and a wicked pale-face would make a bad neighborhood. I think the Manitou will let THEM go together.

"Brothers, if the Manitou keeps the good Indian and the good pale- face apart in another world, what has brought them together in this? If he brings the bad spirits of all colors together in another world, why should they come together here, before their time? A place for wicked spirits should not be found on earth. This is wrong; it must be looked into.

"Brothers, I have now done; this pale-face wishes to speak, and I have said that you would hear his words. When he has spoken his mind, I may have more to tell you. Now, listen to the stranger. He is a medicine-priest of the white men, and says he has a great secret to tell our people—when he has told it, I have another for their ears too. Mine must be spoken when there is no one near but the children of red clay."

Having thus opened the way for the missionary, Peter courteously took his seat, producing a little disappointment among his own admirers, though he awakened a lively curiosity to know what this medicine-priest might have to say on an occasion so portentous. The Indians in the regions of the great lakes had long been accustomed to missionaries, and it is probable that even some of their own traditions, so far as they related to religious topics, had been insensibly colored by, if not absolutely derived from, men of this character; for the first whites who are known to have penetrated into that portion of the continent were Jesuits, who carried the cross as their standard and emblem of peace. Blessed emblem! that any should so confound their own names and denunciatory practices with the revealed truth, as to imagine that a standard so appropriate should ever be out of season and place, when it is proper for man to use aught, at all, that is addressed to his senses, in the way of symbols, rites, and ceremonies! To the Jesuits succeeded the less ceremonious and less imposing priesthood of America, as America peculiarly was in the first years that followed the Revolution. There is reason to believe that the spirit of God, in a greater or less degree, accompanied all; for all were self- denying and zealous, though the fruits of near two centuries of labor have, as yet, amounted to little more than the promise of the harvest at some distant day. Enough, however, was known of the missionaries, and their views in general, to prepare the council, in some small degree, for the forthcoming exhibition.

Parson Amen had caught some of the habits of the Indians, in the course of years of communication and intercourse. Like them he had learned to be deliberate, calm, and dignified in his exterior; and, like them, he had acquired a sententious mode of speaking.

"My children," he said, for he deemed it best to assume the parental character, in a scene of so great moment, "as Peter has told you, the spirit of God is among you! Christians know that such has he promised to be always with his people, and I see faces in this circle that I am ready to claim as belonging to those who have prayed with me, in days that are long past. If your souls are not touched by divine love, it does not kill the hope I entertain of your yet taking up the cross, and calling upon the Redeemer's name. But, not for this have I come with Peter, this night. I am now here to lay before you an all-important fact, that Providence has revealed to me, as the fruit of long labor in the vineyard of study and biblical inquiry. It is a tradition—and red men love traditions—it is a tradition that touches your own history, and which it will gladden your hearts to hear, for it will teach you how much your nation and tribes have been the subject of the especial care and love of the Great Spirit. When my children say, speak, I shall be ready to speak."

Here the missionary took his seat, wisely awaiting a demonstration on the part of the council, ere he ventured to proceed any further. This was the first occasion on which he had ever attempted to broach, in a direct form, his favorite theory of the "lost tribes." Let a man get once fairly possessed of any peculiar notion, whether it be on religion, political economy, morals, politics, arts, or anything else, and he sees little beside his beloved principle, which he is at all times ready to advance, defend, demonstrate, or expatiate on. Nothing can be simpler than the two great dogmas of Christianity, which are so plain that all can both comprehend them and feel their truth. They teach us to love God, the surest way to obey him, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. Any one can understand this; all can see how just it is, and how much of moral sublimity it contains. It is Godlike, and brings us near the very essence of the Divinity, which is love, mercy, and truth. Yet how few are content to accept the teachings of the Saviour in this respect, without embarrassing them with theories that have so much of their origin in human fancies. We do not mean by this, however, that Parson Amen was so very wrong in bestowing a part of his attention on that wonderful people, who, so early set apart by the Creator as the creatures of his own especial ends, have already played so great a part in the history of nations, and who are designed, so far as we can penetrate revelation, yet to enact their share in the sublime drama of human events.

As for the council, its members were moved by more than ordinary curiosity to hear what further the missionary might have to say, though all present succeeded admirably in suppressing the exhibition of any interest that might seem weak and womanly. After a decent delay, therefore, Bear's Meat intimated to the parson that it would be agreeable to the chiefs present to listen to him further.

"My children, I have a great tradition to tell you," the missionary resumed, as soon as on his feet again; "a very great and divine tradition; not a tradition of man's, but one that came direct from the Manitou himself. Peter has spoken truth; there is but one Great Spirit; he is the Great Spirit of all colors, and tribes, and nations. He made all men of the same clay." Here a slight sensation was perceptible among the audience, most of whom were very decidedly of a different opinion, on this point of natural history. But the missionary was now so far warmed with his subject as to disregard any slight interruption, and proceeded as if his listeners had betrayed no feeling. "And he divided them afterward into nations and tribes. It was then he caused the color of his creatures to change. Some he kept white, as he had made them. Some he put behind a dark cloud, and they became altogether black. Our wise men think that this was done in punishment for their sins. Some he painted red, like the nations on this continent." Here Peter raised a finger, in sign that he would ask a question; for, without permission granted, no Indian would interrupt the speaker. Indeed, no one of less claims than Peter would hardly have presumed to take the step he now did, and that because he saw a burning curiosity gleaming in the bright eyes of so many in the dark circle.

"Say on, Peter," answered the missionary to this sign; "I will reply."

"Let my brother say WHY the Great Spirit turned the Indian to a red color. Was he angry with him? or did he paint him so out of love?"

"This is more than I can tell you, friends. There are many colors among men, in different parts of the world, and many shades among people of the same color. There are pale-faces fair as the lily, and there are pale-faces so dark, as scarcely to be distinguished from blacks. The sun does much of this; but no sun, nor want of sun, will ever make a pale-face a red-skin, or a red skin a pale-face."

"Good—that is what we Indians say. The Manitou has made us different; he did not mean that we should live on the same hunting- grounds," rejoined Peter, who rarely failed to improve every opportunity in order to impress on the minds of his followers the necessity of now crushing the serpent in its shell.

"No man can say that," answered Parson Amen. "Unless my people had come to this continent, the word of God could not have been preached by me, along the shores of these lakes. But I will now speak of our great tradition. The Great Spirit divided mankind into nations and tribes. When this was done, he picked out one for his chosen people. The pale-faces call that favorite, and for a long time much-favored people, Jews. The Manitou led them through a wilderness, and even through a salt lake, until they reached a promised land, where he permitted them to live for many hundred winters. A great triumph was to come out of that people—the triumphs of truth and of the law, over sin and death. In the course of time—"

Here a young chief rose, made a sign of caution, and crossing the circle rapidly, disappeared by the passage through which the rill flowed. In about a minute he returned, showing the way into the centre of the council to one whom all present immediately recognized as a runner, by his dress and equipments. Important news was at hand; yet not a man of all that crowd either rose or spoke, in impatience to learn what it was!



CHAPTER XVII.

Who will believe that, with a smile whose blessing Would, like the patriarch's, soothe a dying hour; With voice as low, as gentle, and caressing As e'er won maiden's lips in moonlight bower;

With look like patient Job's, eschewing evil; With motions graceful as the birds in air; Thou art, in sober truth, the veriest devil That e'er clinched fingers in a captive's hair? —HALLECK'S Red-Jacket.

Although the arrival of the runner was so totally unexpected, it scarcely disturbed the quiet of that grave assembly. His approaching step had been heard, and he was introduced in the manner mentioned, when the young chief resumed his seat, leaving the messenger standing near the centre of the circle, and altogether within the influence of the light. He was an Ottawa, and had evidently travelled far and fast. At length he spoke; no one having put a single question to him, or betrayed the least sign of impatient curiosity.

"I come to tell the chiefs what has happened," said the runner. "Our Great Father from Quebec has sent his young men against the Yankees. Red warriors, too, were there in hundreds—" here a murmur of interest was slightly apparent among the chiefs—"their path led them to Detroit; it is taken."

A low murmur, expressive of satisfaction, passed round the circle, for Detroit was then the most important of all the posts held by the Americans, along the whole line of the great lakes. Eye met eye in surprise and admiration; then one of the older chiefs yielded to his interest in the subject, and inquired:

"Have our young men taken many pale-face scalps?"

"So few that they are not worth counting. I did not see one pole that was such as an Indian loves to look on."

"Did our young men keep back, and let the warriors from Quebec do all the fighting?"

"No one fought. The Yankees asked to be made prisoners, without using their rifles. Never before have so many captives been led into the villages with so little to make their enemies look on them with friendly eyes."

A gleam of fierce delight passed athwart the dark features of Peter. It is probable that he fell into the same error, on hearing these tidings, as that which so generally prevailed for a short time among the natives of the old world, at the commencement of both of the two last wars of the republic, when the disasters with which they opened induced so many to fall into the fatal error of regarding Jonathan as merely a "shopkeeper." A shopkeeper, in a certain sense, he may well be accounted; but among his wares are arms, that he has the head, the heart, and the hands to use, as man has very rarely been known to use them before. Even at this very instant, the brilliant success which has rendered the armed citizens of this country the wonder of Europe, is reacting on the masses of the old world, teaching them their power, and inciting them to stand up to the regularly armed bands of their rulers, with a spirit and confidence that, hitherto, has been little known in their histories. Happy, thrice happy will it be, if the conquerors use their success in moderation, and settle down into the ways of practical reason, instead of suffering their minds to be led astray in quest of the political jack-o'-lanterns, that are certain to conduct their followers into the quagmires of impracticable and visionary theories. To abolish abuses, to set in motion the car of state on the track of justice and economy, and to distinguish between that which is really essential to human happiness and human rights, and that which is merely the result of some wild and bootless proposition in political economy, are the great self-imposed tasks that the European people seem now to have assumed; and God grant that they may complete their labors with the moderation and success with which they would appear to have commenced them!

As for Peter, with the curse of ignorance weighing on his mind, it is to be presumed that he fancied his own great task of destroying the whites was so much the lighter, in consequence of the feeble defence of the Yankees at Detroit. The runner was now questioned by the different chiefs for details, which he furnished with sufficient intelligence and distinctness. The whole of that discreditable story is too prominent in history, and of too recent occurrence, to stand in need of repetition here. When the runner had told his tale, the chiefs broke the order of their circle, to converse the more easily concerning the great events which had just occurred. Some were not backward in letting their contempt for the "Yankees" be known. Here were three of their strong places taken, in quick succession, and almost without a blow. Detroit, the strongest of them all, and defended by an army, had fallen in a way to bring the blush to the American face, seemingly leaving the whole of the northwestern frontier of the country ravished from the red man, exposed to his incursions and depredations.

"What does my father think of this?" asked Bear's Meat of Peter, as the two stood apart, in a cluster of some three or four of the principal personages present. "Does the news make his heart stronger?"

"It is always strong when this business is before it. The Manitou has long looked darkly upon the red men, but now his face brightens. The cloud is passing from before his countenance, and we can begin again to see his smile. It will be with our sons as it was with our fathers. Our hunting-grounds will be our own, and the buffalo and deer will be plenty in our wigwams. The fire-water will flow after them that brought it into the country, and the red man will once more be happy, as in times past!"

The ignis fatuus of human happiness employs all minds, all faculties, all pens, and all theories, just at this particular moment. A thousand projects have been broached, will continue to be broached, and will fail, each in its time, showing the mistakes of men, without remedying the evils of which they complain. This is not because a beneficent Providence has neglected to enlighten their minds, and to show them the way to be happy, here and hereafter; but because human conceit runs, pari passu, with human woes, and we are too proud to look for our lessons of conduct, in that code in which they have been set before us by unerring wisdom and ceaseless love. If the political economists, and reformers, and revolutionists of the age, would turn from their speculations to those familiar precepts which all are taught and so few obey, they would find rules for every emergency; and, most of all, would they learn the great secret which lies so profoundly hid from them and their philosophy, in the contented mind. Nothing short of this will ever bring the mighty reform that the world needs. The press may be declared free, but a very brief experience will teach those who fancy that this one conquest will secure the victory, that they have only obtained King Stork in the lieu of King Log; a vulgar and most hideous tyrant for one of royal birth and gentle manners. They may set up the rule of patriots by profession, in place of the dominion of those who have so long pretended that the art of governing descends from male to male, according to the order of primogeniture, and live to wonder that love of country should have so many weaknesses in common with love of itself. They may rely on written charters for their liberties, instead of the divine right of kings, and come perchance to learn, that neither language, nor covenants, nor signatures, nor seals avail much, as against the necessities of nations, and the policy of rulers. Do we then regard reform as impossible, and society to be doomed to struggle on in its old sloughs of oppression and abuses? Far from it. We believe and hope, that at each effort of a sage character, something is gained, while much more than had been expected is lost; and such we think will continue to be the course of events, until men shall reach that period in their history when, possibly to their wonder, they will find that a faultless code for the government of all their affairs has been lying neglected, daily and hourly, in their very hands, for eighteen centuries and a half, without their perceiving the all-important truth. In due season this code will supersede all others, when the world will, for the first time, be happy and truly free.

There was a marked resemblance between the hopes and expectations of Peter, in reference to the overthrow of his pale-face enemies on the American continent, and those of the revolutionists of the old world in reference to the overthrow of their strong-intrenched foes on that of Europe. Each fancies success more easy of attainment than the end is likely to show; both overlook the terrible power of their adversaries; and both take the suggestions of a hope that is lively rather than enlightened, as the substitute for the lessons of wisdom.

It was some little time ere the council had so far regained its calm, as to think of inviting the missionary to resume his discourse. The last had necessarily heard the news, and was so much troubled by it, as to feel no great disposition to proceed; but Peter intimating that "the ears of his friends were open," he was of opinion it would be wisest to go on with his traditions.

"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.'"

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.

"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 any one present know aught of the ten lost tribes of whom I have spoken?"

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.

"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 LOST, at the same time, and no one know what has become of them! My brother asks us if WE 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."

"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!"

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 pale- faces 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.

"My brother has spoken a great tradition," said the Menominee. "Did he first hear it from his fathers?"

"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 pale-faces; the book that contains the word of the Great Spirit."

"Does the good book of the pale-faces say that the red men are the children of the people he has mentioned?"

"I cannot say that it does. While the good book tells us so much, it also leaves very much untold. It is best that we should look for ourselves, that we may find out some of its meanings. It is in thus looking, that many Christians see the great truth which makes the Indians of America and the Jews beyond the great salt lake, one and the same people."

"If this be so, let my brother tell us how far it is from our hunting-grounds to that distant land across the great salt lake."

"I cannot give you this distance in miles exactly; but I suppose it may be eleven or twelve times the length of Michigan."

"Will my brother tell us how much of this long path is water, and how much of it is dry land?"

"Perhaps one-fourth is land, as the traveller may choose; the rest must be water, if the journey be made from the rising toward the setting sun, which is the shortest path; but, let the journey be made from the setting toward the rising sun, and there is little water to cross; rivers and lakes of no great width, as is seen here, but only a small breadth of salt lake."

"Are there, then, two roads to that far-off land, where the red men are thought to have once lived?

"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."

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.

"My brother is a medicine-man of the pale-faces; 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 red-skins. 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 fire- water 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 GOOD medicine-man. All he says may not be just as he thinks, but he BELIEVES 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."

"I believe I understand what it is that my children would know. They think the earth is flat, but the pale-faces 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."

"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."

"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."

"If the Manitou so well loves the Indians, why has he permitted the pale-faces to take away their hunting-grounds? Why has he made the red man poor, and the white man rich? Brother, I am afraid your tradition is a lying tradition, or these things would not be so."

"It is not given to men to understand the wisdom that cometh from above. That which seemeth so strange to us may be right. The lost tribes had offended God; and their scattering, and captivity, and punishment, are but so many proofs of his displeasure. But, if lost, we have reason to believe that one day they will be found. Yes, my children, it will be the pleasure of the Great Spirit, one day, to restore you to the land of your fathers, and make you again, what you once were, a great and glorious people!"

As the well-meaning but enthusiastic missionary spoke with great fervor, the announcement of such an event, coming as it did from one whom they respected, even while they could not understand him, did not fail to produce a deep sensation. If their fortunes were really the care of the Great Spirit, and justice was to be done to them by his love and wisdom, then would the projects of Peter, and those who acted and felt with him, be unnecessary, and might lead to evil instead of to good. That sagacious savage did not fail to discover this truth; and he now believed it might be well for him to say a word, in order to lessen the influence Parson Amen might otherwise obtain among those whom it was his design to mould in a way entirely to meet his own wishes. So intense was the desire of this mysterious leader to execute vengeance on the pale-faces, that the redemption of the tribes from misery and poverty, unaccompanied by this part of his own project, would have given him pain in lieu of pleasure. His very soul had got to be absorbed in this one notion of retribution, and of annihilation for the oppressors of his race; and he regarded all things through a medium of revenge, thus created by his feelings, much as the missionary endeavored to bend every fact and circumstance, connected with the Indians, to the support of his theory touching their Jewish origin.

When Peter arose, therefore, fierce and malignant passions were at work in his bosom; such as a merciful and a benignant deity never wishes to see in the breast of man, whether civilized or savage. The self-command of the Tribeless, however, was great, and he so far succeeded in suppressing the volcano that was raging within, as to speak with his usual dignity and an entire calmness of exterior.

"My brothers have heard what the medicine-man had to say," Peter commenced. "He has told them that which was new to them. He has told them an Indian is not an Indian. That a red man is a pale-face, and that we are not what we thought we were. It is good to learn. It makes the difference between the wise and the foolish. The palefaces learn more than the red-skins. That is the way they have learned how to get our hunting-grounds. That is the way they have learned to build their villages on the spots where our fathers killed the deer. That is the way they have learned how to come and tell us that we are not Indians, but Jews. I wish to learn. Though old, my mind craves to know more. That I may know more, I will ask this medicine- man questions, and my brothers can open their ears, and learn a little, too, by what he answers. Perhaps we shall believe that we are not red-skins, but pale-faces. Perhaps we shall believe that our true hunting-grounds are not near the great lakes of sweet water, but under the rising sun. Perhaps we shall wish to go home, and to leave these pleasant openings for the pale faces to put their cabins on them, as the small-pox that they have also given to us, puts its sores on our bodies. Brother—" turning toward the missionary— "listen. You say we are no longer Indians, but Jews: is this true of ALL red men, or only of the tribes whose chiefs are HERE?"

"Of ALL red men, as I most sincerely believe. You are now red, but once all of your people were fairer than the fairest of the pale- faces. It is climate, and hardships, and sufferings that have changed your color."

"If suffering can do THAT," returned Peter, with emphasis, "I wonder we are not BLACK. When ALL our hunting-grounds are covered with the farms of your people, I think we shall be BLACK."

Signs of powerful disgust were now visible among the listeners, an Indian having much of the contempt that seems to weigh so heavily on that unfortunate class, for all of the color mentioned. At the south, as is known, the red man has already made a slave of the descendants of the children of Africa, but no man has ever yet made a slave of a son of the American forests! THAT is a result which no human power has yet been able to accomplish. Early in the settlement of the country, attempts were indeed MADE, by sending a few individuals to the islands; but so unsuccessful did the experiment turn out to be, that the design was soon abandoned. Whatever may be his degradation, and poverty, and ignorance, and savage ferocity, it would seem to be the settled purpose of the American Indians of our own territories—unlike the aborigines who are to be found farther south—to live and die free men.

"My children," answered the missionary, "I pretend not to say what will happen, except as it has been told to us in the word of God. You know that we pale-faces have a book, in which the Great Spirit has told us his laws, and foretold to us many of the things that are to happen. Some of these things HAVE happened, while some remain TO happen. The loss of the ten tribes was foretold, and HAS happened; but their being FOUND again, has not YET happened, unless indeed I am so blessed as to be one of those who have been permitted to meet them in these openings. Here is the book—it goes where I go, and is my companion and friend, by day and by night; in good and evil; in season and out of season. To this book I cling as to my great anchor, that is to carry me through the storms in safety! Every line in it is precious; every word true!"

Perhaps half the chiefs present had seen books before, while those who now laid eyes on one for the first time, had heard of this art of the pale-faces, which enabled them to set down their traditions in a way peculiar to themselves. Even the Indians have their records, however, though resorting to the use of natural signs, and a species of hieroglyphics, in lieu of the more artistical process of using words and letters, in a systemized written language. The Bible, too, was a book of which all had heard, more or less; though not one of those present had ever been the subject of its influence. A Christian Indian, indeed—and a few of those were to be found even at that day—would hardly have attended a council convened for the objects which had caused this to be convened. Still, a strong but regulated curiosity existed, to see, and touch, and examine the great medicine-book of the pale-faces. There was a good deal of superstition blended with the Indian manner of regarding the sacred volume; some present having their doubts about touching it, even while most excited by admiration, and a desire to probe its secrets.

Peter took the little volume, which the missionary extended as if inviting any one who might so please, to examine it also. It was the first time the wary chief had ever suffered that mysterious book to touch him. Among his other speculations on the subject of the manner in which the white men were encroaching, from year to year, on the lands of the natives, it had occurred to his mind that this extraordinary volume, which the pale-faces all SEEMED to reverence, even to the drunkards of the garrisons, might contain the great elements of their power. Perhaps he was not very much out of the way in this supposition; though they who use the volume habitually, are not themselves aware, one-half the time, why it is so.

On the present occasion, Peter saw the great importance of not betraying apprehension, and he turned over the pages awkwardly, as one would be apt to handle a book for the first time, but boldly and without hesitation. Encouraged by the impunity that accompanied this hardihood, Peter shook the leaves open, and held the volume on high, in a way that told his own people that he cared not for its charms or power. There was more of seeming than of truth, however, in this bravado; for never before had this extraordinary being made so heavy a draft on his courage and self-command, as in the performance of this simple act. He did not, could not know what were the virtues of the book, and his imagination very readily suggested the worst. As the great medicine-volume of the pale-faces, it was quite likely to contain that which was hostile to the red men; and this fact, so probable to his eyes, rendered it likely that some serious evil to himself might follow from the contact. It did not, however; and a smile of grim satisfaction lighted his swarthy countenance, as, turning to the missionary, he said with point—

"Let my brother open his eyes. I have looked into his medicine-book, but do not see that the red man is anything but a red man. The Great Spirit made him; and what the Great Spirit makes, lasts. The pale- faces have made their book, and it lies."

"No, no—Peter, Peter, thou utterest wicked words. But the Lord will pardon thee, since thou knowest not what thou sayest. Give me the sacred volume, that I may place it next my heart, where I humbly trust so many of its divine precepts are already entrenched."

This was said in English, under the impulse of feeling, but being understood by Peter, the latter quietly relinquished the Bible, preparing to follow up the advantage he perceived he had gained, on the spot.

"My brother has his medicine-book, again," said Peter, "and the red men live. This hand is not withered like the dead branch of the hemlock; yet it has held his word of the Great Spirit! It may be that a red-skin and a pale-face book cannot do each other harm. I looked into my brother's great charm, but did not see or hear a tradition that tells me we are Jews. There is a bee-hunter in these openings. I have talked with him. He has told me who these Jews are. He says they are people who do not go with the pale-faces, but live apart from them, like men with the small-pox. It is not right for my brother to come among the red men, and tell them that their fathers were not good enough to live, and eat, and go on the same paths as his fathers."

"This is all a mistake, Peter—a great and dangerous mistake. The bee-hunter has heard the Jews spoken of by those who do not sufficiently read the good book. They have been, and are still, the chosen people of the Great Spirit, and will one day be received back to his favor. Would that I were one of them, only enlightened by the words of the New Testament! No real Christian ever can, or does now despise a son of Israel, whatever has been done in times past. It is an honor, and not a disgrace, to be what I have said my friends are."

"If this be so, why do not the pale-faces let us keep out hunting- grounds to ourselves? We are content. We do not wish to be Jews. Our canoes are too small to cross the great salt lake. They are hardly large enough to cross the great lakes of sweet water. We should be tired of paddling so far. My brother says there is a rich land under the rising sun, which the Manitou gave to the red men. Is this so?"

"Beyond all doubt. It was given to the children of Israel, for a possession forever; and though you have been carried away from it for a time, there the land still is, open to receive you, and waiting the return of its ancient masters. In good season that return must come; for we have the word of God for it, in our Christian Bible."

"Let my brother open his ears very wide, and hear what I have to say. We thank him for letting us know that we are Jews. We believe that he thinks what he says. Still, we think we are red men, and Injins, and not Jews. We never saw the place where the sun rises. We do not wish to see it. Our hunting-grounds are nearer to the place where he sets. If the pale-faces believe we have a right to that distant land, which is so rich in good things, we will give it to them, and keep these openings, and prairies, and woods. We know the game of this country, and have found out how to kill it. We do not know the game under the rising sun, which may kill us. Go to your friends and say, 'The Injins will give you that land near the rising sun, if you will let them alone on their hunting-grounds, where they have so long been. They say that your canoes are larger than their canoes, and that one can carry a whole tribe. They have seen some of your big canoes on the great lakes, and have measured them. Fill all you have got with your squaws and pappooses, put your property in them, and go back by the long path through which you came. Then will the red man thank the pale-face and be his friend. The white man is welcome to that far-off land. Let him take it, and build his villages on it, and cut down its trees. This is all the Injins ask. If the pale-faces can take away with them the small-pox and the fire-water, it will be better still. They brought both into this country, it is right that they should take them away.' Will my brother tell this to his people?"

"It would do no good. They know that the land of Judea is reserved by God for his chosen people, and they are not Jews. None but the children of Israel can restore that land to its ancient fertility. It would be useless for any other to attempt it. Armies have been there, and it was once thought that a Christian kingdom was set up on the spot; but neither the time nor the people had come. Jews alone can make Judea what it was, and what it will be again. If my people owned that land, they could not use it. There are also too many of us now, to go away in canoes."

"Did not the fathers of the pale-faces come in canoes?" demanded Peter, a little sternly.

"They did; but since that time their increase has been so great, that canoes enough to hold them could not be found. No; the Great Spirit, for his own wise ends, has brought my people hither; and here must they remain to the end of time. It is not easy to make the pigeons fly south in the spring."

This declaration, quietly but distinctly made, as it was the habit of the missionary to speak, had its effect. It told Peter, and those with him, as plainly as language could tell them, that there was no reason to expect the pale-faces would ever willingly abandon the country, and seemed the more distinctly, in all their uninstructed minds, to place the issue on the armed hand. It is not improbable that some manifestation of feeling would have escaped the circle, had not an interruption to the proceedings occurred, which put a stop to all other emotions but those peculiar to the lives of savages.



CHAPTER XVIII.

Nearer the mount stood Moses; in his hand The rod which blasted with strange plagues the realm Of Misraim, and from its time-worn channels Upturned the Arabian sea. Fair was his broad High front, and forth from his soul-piercing eye Did legislation look; which full he fixed Upon the blazing panoply undazzled. —HILLHOUSE.

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 bottom- land. 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 bottom-land 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, etc. No rifle was used, probably from a wish not to give an alarm.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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."

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.

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.

"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 pale-faces 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 pale- faces, 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."

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.

"I wish my children to understand," resumed the missionary, "that it is an honor to be a Jew. I have not come here to lessen the red men in their own eyes, but to do them honor. I see that Bear's Meat wishes to say something; my ears are open, and my tongue is still."

"I thank my brother for the opportunity to say what is on my mind," returned the chief mentioned. "It is true I have something to say; it is this: I wish to ask the medicine-man if the pale-faces honor and show respect to the Jews?"

This was rather an awkward question for the missionary, but he was much too honest to dissemble. With a reverence for truth that proceeded from his reverence for the Father of all that is true, he replied honestly, though not altogether without betraying how much he regretted the necessity of answering at all. Both remained standing while the dialogue proceeded; or in parliamentary language, each may be said to have had the floor at the same time.

"My brother wishes to know if the pale-faces honor the Jews," returned the missionary. "I wish I could answer 'yes'; but the truth forces me to say 'no.' The pale-faces have traditions that make against the Jews, and the judgments of God weigh heavy on the children of Israel. But all good Christians, now, look with friendly eyes on this dispersed and persecuted people, and wish them well. It will give the white men very great pleasure to learn that I have found the lost tribes of Israel in the red men of America."

"Will my brother tell us WHY this will give his people pleasure? Is it because they will be glad to find old enemies, poor, living on narrow hunting-grounds, off which the villages and farms of the pale-faces begin to push them still nearer to the setting sun; and toward whom the small-pox has found a path to go, but none to come from?"

"Nay, nay, Bear's Meat, think not so unkindly of us of the white race! In crossing the great salt lake, and in coming to this quarter of the world, our fathers were led by the finger of God. We do but obey the will of the Great Spirit, in pressing forward into this wilderness, directed by his wisdom how to spread the knowledge of his name among those who, as yet, have never heard it; or, having heard, have not regarded it. In all this, the wisest men are but babes; not being able to say whither they are to go, or what is to be done."

"This is strange," returned the unmoved Indian. "It is not so with the red men. Our squaws and pappooses do know the hunting-ground of one tribe from the hunting-ground of another. When they put their feet on strange hunting-grounds, it is because they INTENDED to go there, and to steal game. This is sometimes right. If it is right to take the scalp of an enemy, it is right to get his deer and his buffalo, too. But we never do this without knowing it. If we did, we should be unfit to go at large, unfit to sit in council. This is the first time I have heard that the pale-faces are so weak, and they have such feeble minds, too, that they do not know where they go."

"My brother does not understand me. No man can see into the future— no man can say what will happen to-morrow. The Great Spirit only can tell. It is for him, then, to guide his children in their wanderings. When our fathers first came out of their canoes upon the land, on this side of the great salt lake, not one among them knew anything of this country between the great lakes of sweet water. They did not know that red men lived here. The Great Spirit did know, and intended then, that I should this night stand up in this council, and speak of his power and of his name, and do him reverence. It was the Great Spirit that put it into my mind to come among the Indians; and it is the Great Spirit who has led me, step by step, as warriors move toward the graves of their fathers, to make the discovery, that the Indians are, in truth, the children of Israel, a part of his own chosen and once much-favored people. Let me ask my friends one or two questions. Do not your traditions say that your fathers once came from a far-off land?"

Bear's Meat now took his seat, not choosing to answer a question of this nature, in the presence of a chief so much respected as Peter. He preferred to let the last take up the dialogue where he now saw fit to abandon it. As the other very well understood the reason of this sudden movement, he quietly assumed the office of spokesman; the whole affair proceeding much as if there had been no change.

"Our traditions DO tell us that our fathers came from a far-off land," answered Peter, without rising.

"I thought so!—I thought so!" exclaimed the simple-minded and confiding missionary. "How wonderful are the ways of God! Yes, my brother, Judea is a far-off land, and your traditions say that your fathers came from such a distance! This, then, is something proved. Do not your traditions say, that once your tribes were more in favor with the Great Spirit than they are now?"

"Our traditions do say this: once our tribes did not see the face of the Manitou looking dark upon them, as it now does. That was before the pale-faces came in their big canoes, across the great salt lake, to drive the Indians from their hunting-grounds. It was when the small-pox had not found the path to their villages. When fire-water was unknown to them, and no Indian had ever burned his throat with it."

"Oh, but I speak of a time much more distant than that. Of a time when your prophets stood face to face with God, and talked with the Creator. Since that day a great change has come over your people. Then your color was light, like that of the fairest and handsomest of the Circassian race; now, it has become red. When even the color is changed, it is not wonderful that men should no longer be the same in other particulars. Yes; once all the races of men were of the same color and origin."

"This is not what our traditions say. We have heard from our fathers that the Great Spirit made men of different colors; some he made light, like the pale-faces; some red, like the Injins; some black, like the pale-faces' slaves. To some he gave high noses; to some low noses: to some flat noses. To the pale-faces he gave eyes of many colors. This is the reason why they see so many things, and in so many different ways. To the red men he gave eyes of the same color, and they always see things of the same color. To a red man there is no change. Our fathers have always been red. This we know. If them Jews, of whom my brother speaks, were ever white, they have not been our fathers. We tell this to the medicine-man, that he may know it, too. We do not wish to lead him on a crooked path, or to speak to him with a forked tongue. What we have said, is so. Now, the road is open to the wigwam of the pale-faces, and we wish them safe on their journey home. We Injins have a council to hold around this fire, and will stay longer."

At this plain intimation that their presence was no longer desirable, it became necessary for them to depart. The missionary, filled with zeal, was reluctant to go, for, in his eyes, the present communications with the savages promised him not only the conversion of pagans, but the restoration of the Jews! Nevertheless, he was compelled to comply; and when le Bourdon and the corporal took their departure, he turned, and pronounced in solemn tone the Christian benediction on the assembly. The meaning of this last impressive office was understood by most of the chiefs, and they rose as one man, in acknowledgment.

The three white men, on retiring from the circle, held their way toward Castle Meal. Hive followed his master, having come out of the combat but little injured. As they got to a point where a last look could be had of the bottom-land of the council, each turned to see what was now in the course of proceeding. The fire glimmered just enough to show the circlet of dark faces, but not an Indian spoke or moved. There they all sat, patiently waiting for the moment when the "strangers" might "withdraw" to a sufficient distance, to permit them to proceed with their own private affairs without fear of interruption.

"This has been to me a most trying scene," observed the missionary, as the three pursued their way toward the garrison. "How hard it is to convince men against their wishes. Now, I am as certain as a man can be, that every one of these Injins is in fact a Jew; and yet, you have seen how small has been my success in persuading them to be of the right way of thinking, on this subject."

"I have always noticed that men stick even to their defects, when they're nat'ral," returned the bee-hunter. "Even a nigger will stand up for his color, and why shouldn't an Injin? You began wrong, parson. Had you just told these chiefs that they were Jews, they might have stood THAT, poor creatures, for they hardly know how mankind looks upon a Jew; but you went to work to skin them, in a lump, making so many poor, wishy-washy pale-faces of all the red- skins, in a body. You and I may fancy a white face better than one of any other color; but nature colors the eye when it colors the body, and there's not a nigger in America who doesn't think black the pink of beauty."

"Perhaps it was proceeding too fast to say anything about the change of color, Bourdon. But what can a Christian minister do, unless he tell the truth? Adam could have been but of one color; and all the races on earth, one excepted, must have changed from that one color."

"Aye, and my life on it, that all the races on 'arth believe that one color to have been just that which has fallen to the luck of each partic'lar shade. Hang me if I should like to be persuaded out of my color, any more than these Injins. In America, color goes for a great deal; and it may count for as much with an Injin as among us whites. No, no, parson; you should have begun with persuading these savages into the notion that they're Jews; if you could get along with THAT, the rest might be all the easier."

"You speak of the Jews, not as if you considered them a chosen people of the Lord, but as a despised and hateful race. This is not right, Bourdon. I know that Christians are thus apt to regard them; but it does not tell well for their charity or their knowledge."

"I know very little about them, Parson Amen; not being certain of ever having seen a Jew in my life. Still, I will own that I have a sort of grudge against them, though I can hardly tell you why. Of one thing I feel certain—no man breathing should ever persuade me into the notion that I'M a Jew, lost or found; ten tribes or twenty. What say you, corporal, to this idea?"