American fiction -- 19th century; Historical fiction; Indians of North America -- Fiction
Le Bourdon, it will be remembered, had, with his own hands, rolled the
two barrels of whiskey down the declivity. Feeling the great importance
of effectually destroying them, he had watched their descent, from
the top to the bottom of the hill, and the final disappearance of the
staves, etc., into the torrent which brawled at its foot. It had so
happened that the half-filled cask broke and let out its liquor at a
point much more remote from the stream, than the filled. The latter
had held together until it went over the low rocky precipice, already
mentioned, and was stove at its base, within two yards of the torrent,
which received all its fragments and swept them away, including most
of the liquor itself; but not until the last had been spilled. Now,
the odorous spot which had attracted the noses of the savages, and near
which they had built their fire, was that where the smallest quantity
of the whiskey had fallen. Le Bourdon reasoned on these circumstances
in this wise:--if half a barrel of the liquor can produce so strong a
scent, a barrel filled ought to produce one still stronger; and I will
manifest my medicine-character, by disregarding for the present moment
the spot on the hill-side, and proceed at once to that at the foot
of the rocks. To this latter point, therefore, did he direct all
the ceremony, as well as his own footsteps, when he yielded to the
solicitations of the Pottawattamies, and undertook to point out the
position of the whiskey spring.
The bee-hunter understood the Indian character too well to forget to
embellish his work with a proper amount of jugglery and acting. Luckily,
he had left in the canoe a sort of frock of mottled colors that he had
made himself, to wear in the woods in the autumn as a hunting-dress,
under the notion that such a covering would conceal his approach from
his game, by blending its hues with those of the autumn leaf. This dress
he now assumed, extorting a good deal of half-suppressed admiration from
the younger warriors, by the gay appearance he made. Then he drew out
his spy-glass to its greatest length, making various mysterious signs
and gestures as he did so. This glass proved to be a great auxiliary,
and possibly alone kept the doubters in awe. Le Bourdon saw at once that
it was entirely new, even to the oldest chief, and he felt how much
it might be made to assist him. Beckoning to Cloud, and adjusting the
focus, he directed the small end of his glass to the fire, and placed
the large end to that Indian's eye. A solitary savage, who loved the
scent of whiskey too much to tear himself away from the spot, was
lingering within the influence of the rays, and of course was seen by
the chief, with his person diminished to that of a dwarf, and his form
thrown to a seeming distance.
An eloquent exclamation followed this exhibition of the medicine-man's
power; and each of the chiefs, and most of the other warriors, were
gratified with looks through the glass.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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