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"Yes; I know your customs in this respect, Pigeonswing, but ours are different. We are satisfied if we can keep out of harm's way, when we have our squaws and pappooses with us." "No pappooses here," returned the Indian, looking around him "dat your squaw, eh?"
I have killed a dozen large squirrels, too, with your bow and arrows, which I find you left in your canoe. But " "Yes, he good bow, dat might kill hummin'-bird wid dat bow. Fish good here, eh?" "They are eatable, when a body can get no better. But NOW, I should think, Pigeonswing, you might give us some of the news." "Mustn't be squaw, Bourdon bad for warrior be squaw.
On uttering this advice, which he did also somewhat pointedly, the Chippewa left the spring, and walked toward the kennel of Hive, where the bee-hunter was busy feeding his old companion. "You're welcome back, Pigeonswing," the last cordially remarked, without pausing in his occupation, however. "I saw that you came in loaded, as usual.
The well-intentioned and deadly shot that saved the corporal from hours of agony came from the friendly hand of Pigeonswing, who had no sooner discharged his rifle than he stole away through the thicket, and was never discovered. This he did, too, at the expense of Ungque's scalp, on which he had set his heart.
"Them dogs are very likely to scent us here in the canoes, we are so near them," whispered le Bourdon. "S'pose he do, can't catch us," coolly answered the Chippewa "beside, shoot him, don't take care bad for dog to chase warrior too much." "There is one speaking now, who seems to have authority." "Yes he chief know he voice hear him too often he mean to put Pigeonswing to torture.
Well, let him catch Pigeonswing fust swift bird do that, eh?" "But what says he? it may be of importance to learn what the chief says, just now." "Who care what he say can't do nuttin' if get good chance, take HIS scalp, too." "Aye, that I dare say but he is speaking earnestly and in a low voice; listen, and let us know what he says. I do not well understand at this distance."
If the enemy could seize it, he was welcome to the prize; but if he could seize that of the enemy, no scruples on the score of refinement, or delicacy, would be apt to interfere with his movements. It was in this spirit, then, that Pigeonswing came to the canoe, where le Bourdon was holding a little private discourse with Margery, and gave utterance to what was passing in his mind.
Where does Peter keep HIS squaw?" "Don't know," answered the Chippewa. "Nobody know. Don't know where his tribe even." "This is very extraor'nary, considering the influence the man seems to enjoy. How is it that he has so completely got the ears of all the red men, far and near?" To this question Pigeonswing gave no answer.
"S'pose don't know den, can't tell? Only tell what he know." "Sometimes an Injin GUESSES, and comes as near the truth as a white man who has seen the thing with his own Pigeonswing made no answer; though le Bourdon fancied, from his manner, that he had really something on his mind, and that, too, of importance, which he wished to communicate.
No Waubkenewh no hole in heart to let king in." Pigeonswing, as this young Indian was commonly called in his tribe, in consequence of the rapidity of his movement when employed as a runner, had a much more respectable name, and one that he had fairly earned in some of the forays of his people, but which the commonalty had just the same indisposition to use as the French have to call Marshal Soult the Duc de Dalmatie.
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