"Can't all go on same path this war. Hatchets, somehow, got two
handle--one strike Yankee; one strike King George."

"But what is your business here, and where are you now going if you
are friendly to the Americans? I make no secret of my feelings--I am
for my own people, and I wish proof that you are a friend, and not
an enemy."

"Too many question, one time," returned the Chippewa, a little
distastefully. "No good have so long tongue. Ask one question, answer
him--ask anoder, answer HIM, too."

"Well, then, what is your business, here?"

"Go to Chicago, for gen'ral."

"Do you mean that you bear a message from some American general to
the commandant at Chicago?"

"Just so--dat my business. Guess him, right off; he, he, he!"

It is so seldom that an Indian laughs that the bee-hunter was
startled.

"Where is the general who has sent you on this errand?" he demanded.

"He at Detroit--got whole army dere--warrior plenty as oak in
opening."

All this was news to the bee-hunter, and it caused him to muse a