Canada."

"That may be; but American warriors are not plenty here. This
country is a wilderness, and there are no soldiers hereabouts, to
cut each other's throats."

"What you t'ink him?" asked Pigeonswing, glancing at Gershom; who,
unable to forbear any longer, had gone to the spring to mix a cup
from a small supply that still remained of the liquor with which he
had left home. "Got pretty good scalp?"

"I suppose it is as good as another's--but he and I are countrymen,
and we cannot raise the tomahawk on one another."

"Don't t'ink so. Plenty Yankee, him!"

Le Bourdon smiled at this proof of Pigeonswings sagacity, though he
felt a good deal of uneasiness at the purport of his discourse.

"You are right enough in THAT" he answered, "but I'm plenty of
Yankee, too."

"No, don't say so," returned the Chippewa--"no, mustn't say DAT.
English; no Yankee. HIM not a bit like you."

"Why, we are unlike each other, in some respects, it is true, though
we are countrymen, notwithstanding. My great father lives at
Washington, as well as his."

The Chippewa appeared to be disappointed; perhaps he appeared sorry,