“Dat bad--Great Spirit don't like dat,” returned Peter, looking grave, and slowly shaking his head. “Dat very bad. When Injin say he do it, den he do it, if he can. If can't, no help for it. Send squaw away now, Bourdon--bess not to let squaw hear what men say, or will always want to hear.” Le Bourdon laughed, as he turned to Margery and repeated these words. The young wife colored, but she took it in good part, and ran up toward the palisaded lodge, like one who was glad to be rid of her companions. Peter waited a few moments, then turning his head slowly in all directions, to make sure of not being overheard, he began to lay open his mind. “You been on Prairie Round, Bourdon--you see Injin dere--chief, warrior, young men, hunter, all dere.” “I saw them all, Peter, and a goodly sight it was--what between paint, and medals, and bows and arrows and tomahawks, and all your bravery!” “You like to see him, eh? Yes; he fine t'ing to look at. Well, dat council call togedder by ME--you know dat, too, Bourdon?” “I have heard you say that such was your intention, and I suppose you did it, chief. They tell me you have great power among your own people, and that they do very much as you tell them to do.” Peter looked graver than ever at this remark; and one of his startling gleams of ferocity passed over his dark countenance. Then he answered with his customary self-command. “Sometime so,” he said; “sometime not so. Yesterday, not so. Dere is chief dat want to put Peter under his foot! He try, but he no do it! I know Peter well, and know dat chief, too.” “This is news to me, Peter, and I am surprised to hear it. I did think that even the great Tecumthe was scarcely as big a chief as you are yourself.” “Yes, pretty big chief; dat true. But, among Injin, ebbery man can speak, and nebber know which way council go. Sometime he go one way; sometime he go tudder. You hear Bough of Oak speak, eh? Tell me dat?” “You will remember that I heard none of your speakers on Prairie Round, Peter. I do not remember any such orator as this Bough of Oak.” “He great rascal,” said Peter, who had picked up some of the garrison expressions among those from whom he acquired the knowledge of English he possessed, such as it was. “Listen, Bourdon. Nebber bess stand too much in Peter's way.” The bee-hunter laughed freely at this remark; for his own success the previous day, and the impression he had evidently made on that occasion, emboldened him to take greater liberties with the mysterious chief than had been his wont. “I should think that, Peter,” cried the young man, gayly--“I should think all that. For one, I should choose to get out of it. The path you travel is your own, and all wise men will leave you to journey along it in your own fashion.” “Yes; dat bess way,” answered the great chief, with admirable simplicity. “Don't like, when he says yes, to hear anudder chief say no. Dat an't good way to do business.”