reviving draught or two, and quietly replied:

"Ask my young brother--he runner--he know."

But Pigeonswing seemed to be little more communicative than the
Pottawattamie. He smoked on in quiet dignity, while the bee-hunter
patiently waited for the moment when it might suit his younger guest
to speak. That moment did not arrive for some time, though it came
at last. Almost five minutes after Elksfoot had made the allusion
mentioned, the Ojebway, or Chippewa, removed his pipe also, and
looking courteously round at his host, he said with emphasis:

"Bad summer come soon. Pale-faces call young men togedder, and dig
up hatchet."

"I had heard something of this," answered le Bourdon, with a
saddened countenance, "and was afraid it might happen."

"My brother dig up hatchet too, eh?" demanded Pigeonswing.

"Why should I? I am alone here, on the Openings, and it would seem
foolish in me to wish to fight."

"Got no tribe--no Ojebway--no Pottawattamie, eh?"

"I have my tribe, as well as another, Chippewa, but can see no use I
can be to it, here. If the English and Americans fight, it must be a
long way from this wilderness, and on or near the great salt lake."

"Don't know--nebber know, 'till see. English warrior plenty in