He turned him round, and fled amain With hurry and dash to the beach
again; He twisted over from side to side, And laid his cheek to the
cleaving tide; The strokes of his plunging arms are fleet, And with all
his might he flings his feet, But the water-sprites are round him still,
To cross his path and work him ill.
--The Culprit Fay.
The first step in the conjuration of the bee-hunter was, to produce an
impression on the minds of his untutored observers, by resorting to a
proper amount of mummery and mystical action. This he was enabled to do
with some effect, in consequence of having practised as a lad in similar
mimicry, by way of pastime. The Germans, and the descendants of Germans
in America, are not of a very high class, as respects education,
taken as a body, and they retain many of the most inveterate of the
superstitions of their Teutonic ancestors. Although the bee-hunter
himself was of purely English descent, he came from a State that was in
part peopled by these Germans and their descendants; and, by intercourse
with them, he had acquired a certain knowledge of their notions on the
subject of necromancy, that he now found was of use. So far as gravity
of mien, solemn grimaces, and unintelligible mutterings were concerned,
le Bourdon played his part to admiration; and by the time he had led
the party half the distance he intended to go, our necromancer, or
“medicine-man,” had complete possession of the imaginations of all the
savages, the two or three chiefs already mentioned alone excepted. At
this stage of the proceedings occurred a little incident, which goes
to prove the disposition of the common mind to contribute in deceiving
itself, and which was of considerable assistance to le Bourdon, in
maintaining his assumed character.
It will be remembered that the place where the Indians had found their
strongest scent was on the hill-side, or the spot where the half-filled
barrel had let out most of its contents. Near this spot their new fire
was still brightly blazing, and there Wolfseye remained, regaling one of
his senses, at least, with an odor that he found so agreeable. But
the bee-hunter knew that he should greatly increase the wonder of the
savages by leading them to a NEW scent-spot, one to which there was no
visible clew, and where the odor was probably much stronger than on the
hill-side. Accordingly he did not approach the fire, but kept around the
base of the hill, just enough within the influence of the light to pick
his way readily, and yet so distant from it as to render his countenance
indistinct and mysterious. No sooner, however, had he got abreast of the
scent-spot known to the savages, than the crowd endeavored to lead him
toward it, by gestures and hints, and, finally, by direct intimations
that he was going astray. All this our “medicine-man” disregarded; he
held his way steadily and solemnly toward that place at the foot of the
hill where he knew that the filled barrel had let out its contents, and
where he, reasonably enough, expected to find sufficient traces of the
whiskey to answer his purposes. At first, this pertinacity provoked
the crowd, which believed he was going wrong; but a few words from
Crowsfeather, the principal chief, caused the commotion to cease. In a
few more minutes le Bourdon stopped, near the place of his destination.
As a fresh scent of whiskey was very perceptible here, a murmur of
admiration, not unmixed with delight, passed among the attendants.
“Now, let the young men build a fire for ME” said the bee-hunter,
solemnly--“not such a fire as that which is burning on the hill, but a
medicine-fire. I SMELL the whiskey spring, and want a medicine-light to
SEE it.”
A dozen young men began to collect the brush; in a minute a pile of some
size had been accumulated on a flat rock, within twenty feet of the spot
where le Bourdon knew that the cask had been dashed to pieces. When he
thought the pile sufficiently large, he told Crowsfeather that it might
be lighted by bringing a brand from the other fire.
“This will not be a medicine-light, for that can come only from
'medicine-matches,'” he added; “but I want a fire to see the shape of
the ground. Put in the brand, brothers; let us have a flame.”
The desire of the bee-hunter was gratified, and the whole of the base
of the hill around the spot where the filled cask had broken, was
illuminated.
“Now, let all the Pottawattamies stand back,” added le Bourdon,
earnestly. “It might cost a warrior his life to come forward too
soon--or, if not his life, it might give a rheumatism that can never be
cured, which is worse. When it is time for my red brothers to advance,
they will be called.”
As the bee-hunter accompanied this announcement by suitable gestures,
he succeeded in ranging all of the silent, but excited savages on three
sides of his fire, leaving that next his mysterious spring to
himself, alone. When all was arranged, le Bourdon moved slowly, but
unaccompanied, to the precise spot where the cask had broken. Here he
found the odor of the whiskey so strong, as to convince him that some
of the liquor must yet remain. On examining more closely, he ascertained
that several shallow cavities of the flat rock, on which the cask had
been dashed, still contained a good deal of the liquor; enough to prove
of great assistance to his medicine character.
All this while the bee-hunter kept one portion of his faculties on the
alert, in order to effect his escape. That he might deceive for a time,
aided as he was by so many favorable circumstances, he did not doubt;
but he dreaded the morning and the results of a night of reflection and
rest. Crowsfeather, in particular, troubled him; and he foresaw that
his fate would be terrible, did the savages once get an inkling of the
deception he was practising. As he stood there, bending over the little
pools of whiskey, he glanced his eyes toward the gloom which pervaded
the northern side of the hill, and calculated the chances of escape by
trusting to his speed. All of the Pottawattamies were on the opposite
side, and there was a thicket favorably placed for a cover, so near that
the rifle would scarce have time to perform its fatal office, ere
he might hope to bury himself within its leaves. So tempting did the
occasion appear, that, for a single instant, le Bourdon forgot his
caution, and his mummeries, and had actually advanced a step or two in
the direction toward which he contemplated flight, when, on glancing an
uneasy look behind him, he perceived Crowsfeather and his two intimate
counsellors stealthily preparing their rifles, as if they distrusted
his intentions. This at once induced a change of plan, and brought
the bee-hunter back to a sense of his critical position, and of the
indispensable necessity of caution to a man in his situation.
Le Bourdon now seemingly gave all his attention to the rocks where he
stood, and out of which the much-coveted liquor was expected to flow;
though his thoughts were still busily employed in considering the means
of escape, the whole time. While stooping over the different pools, and
laying his plans for continuing his medicine-charms, the bee-hunter saw
how near he had been to committing a great mistake. It was almost as
indispensable to carry off the canoe, as it was to carry off himself;
since, with the canoe, not only would all his own property, but
pretty Margery, and Gershom and his wife, be at the mercy of the
Pottawattamies; whereas, by securing the boat, the wide Kalamazoo would
serve as a nearly impassable barrier, until time was given to the whites
to escape. His whole plan was changed by this suggestion, and he no
longer thought of the thicket and of flight inland. At the same time
that the bee hunter was laying up in his mind ideas so important to his
future movements, he did not neglect the necessary examination of the
means that might be required to extend and prolong his influence over
the minds of the superstitious children of the forest on whom he was
required to practise his arts. His thoughts reverted to the canoe, and
he concocted a plan by which he believed it possible to get possession
of his little craft again. Once on board it, by one vigorous shove he
fancied he might push it within the cover of the rice-plants, where he
would be in reasonable safety against the bullets of the savages. Could
he only get the canoe on the outer side of the narrow belt of the plant,
he should deem himself safe!
Having arranged his course in his own mind, le Bourdon now beckoned to
Crowsfeather to draw near, at the same time inviting the whole party
to approach within a few feet of the spot where he himself stood. The
bee-hunter had brought with him from the boat a fragment of the larger
end of a cane fishing-rod, which he used as a sort of wand. Its size was
respectable, and its length about eight feet. With this wand he pointed
out the different objects he named, and it answered the very important
purpose of enabling him to make certain small changes in the formation
of the ground, that were of the greatest service to him, without
permitting curious eyes to come so near as to detect his artifices.
“Now open your ears, Crowsfeather; and you, Cloud; and all of you, young
braves,” commenced the bee-hunter, solemnly, and with a steadiness that
was admirable; “yes, open wide your ears. The Great Spirit has given
the red man a nose that he might smell--does the Cloud smell more than
common?”
“Sartain--smell whiskey--this Whiskey Centre dey say--nat'ral dat such
smell be here.”
“Do all the chiefs and warriors of the Pottawattamies who are present,
also smell the same?”
“S'pose so--why he don't, eh? Got nose--can smell whiskey good way, tell
you.”
“It is right they should smell the liquor here, for out of this rock a
whiskey spring will soon begin to run. It will begin with a very small
stream, but soon will there be enough to satisfy everybody. The
Great Manitou knows that his red children are dry; he has sent a
'medicine-man' of the pale-faces to find a spring for them. Now, look
at this piece of rock--it is dry--not even the dew has yet moistened it.
See--it is made like a wooden bowl, that it may hold the liquor of the
spring. Let Crowsfeather smell it--smell it, Cloud--let all my young men
smell it, too, that they may be certain that there is nothing there.”
On this invitation, accompanied as it was by divers flourishes of the
wand, and uttered in a deep, solemn tone of voice, the whole party of
the Indians gathered around the small hollow basin-like cavity pointed
out by the bee-hunter, in order both to see and to smell. Most knelt,
and each and all applied their noses to the rock, as near the bowl as
they could thrust them. Even the dignified and distrustful Crowsfeather
could not refrain from bending in the crowd. This was the moment for
which le Bourdon wished, and he instantly prepared to carry out his
design.
Previously, however, to completing the project originally conceived,
a momentary impulse prevailed which urged him to adopt a new mode of
effecting his escape. Now, that most of the savages were on their hands
and knees, struggling to get their noses as near as possible to the
bowl, and all were intent on the same object, it occurred to the
bee-hunter, who was almost as active as the panther of the American
forest, that he might dash on toward the canoe, and make his escape
without further mummery. Had it been only a question of human speed
perhaps such would have been the wisest thing he could do; but a
moment's reflection told him how much swifter than any foot of man was
the bullet of a rifle. The distance exceeded a hundred yards, and it
was altogether in bright light, by means of the two fires, Wolfseye
continuing to pile brush on that near which he still maintained
his post, as if afraid the precious liquor would start out of the
scent-spot, and be wasted should he abandon his ward. Happily,
therefore, le Bourdon relinquished his dangerous project almost as
soon as it was entertained, turning his attention immediately to the
completion of the plan originally laid.
It has been said that the bee-hunter made sundry flourishes with his
wand. While the savages were most eager in endeavoring to smell the
rock, he lightly touched the earth that confined the whiskey in the
largest pool, and opened a passage by which the liquor could trickle
down the side of the rock, selecting a path for itself, until it
actually came into the bowl, by a sinuous but certain channel.
Here was a wonder! Liquor could not only be smelled, but it could be
actually seen! As for Cloud, not satisfied with gratifying the two
senses connected with the discoveries named, he began to lap with his
tongue, like a dog, to try the effect of taste.
“The Manitou does not hide his face from the Pottawattamie!” exclaimed
this savage, rising to his feet in astonishment; “this is the
fire-water, and such as the pale-faces bring us for skins!”
Others imitated his example, and the exclamations of wonder and delight
flew from mouth to mouth, in a torrent of vehement assertions and
ejaculations. So great a “medicine” charm had never before been
witnessed in that tribe, or in that region, and a hundred more might
succeed, before another should equal this in its welcome character.
There was whiskey, of a certainty, not much in quantity, to be sure, but
of excellent quality, as several affirmed, and coming in a current that
was slowly increasing! This last sign was owing to the circumstance
that le Bourdon had deepened the outlet of the pool, permitting a larger
quantity to flow down the little channel.
The moment had now come for a decisive step. The bee-hunter knew that
his precious rivulet would soon cease to run, and that he must carry out
his design under the first impressions of his charm, or that he probably
would not be permitted to carry it out, at all. At this moment even
Crowsfeather appeared to be awed by what he had seen; but a chief so
sagacious might detect the truth, and disappointment would then be
certain to increase the penalties he would incur.
Making many sweeps of his wand, and touching various points of the rock,
both to occupy the attention of the savages, and to divert it from his
pool, the bee-hunter next felt in his pocket and drew out a small piece
of resin that he knew was there; the remains of a store with which
he resined the bow of his fiddle; for our hero had a violin among his
effects, and often used it in his solitary abodes in the openings.
Breaking this resin on a coal, he made it flash and blaze; but the
quantity was too small to produce the “medicine-fire” he wanted.
“I have more in my canoe,” he said, addressing himself to the
interpreter; “while I go for it, the red men must not stir, lest they
destroy a pale-face's doings. Least of all they must go near the spring.
It would be better for the chiefs to lead away their young men, and
make them stand under the oak, where nothing can be done to hurt the
'medicine-charm.'”
The bee-hunter pointed to a tree that stood in the direction of the
canoe, in order to prevent distrust, though he had taken care to select
a spot whence the little craft could not be seen, on account of an
intervening swell in the land, Crowsfeather led his warriors to the
indicated place, where they took their stations, in silent and grave
attention.
In the mean while, le Bourdon continued his incantations aloud;
walking toward his canoe, waving his hand, and uttering a great deal of
gibberish as he slowly proceeded. In passing the tree, our hero, though
he did not turn his head, was sensible that he was followed by the
chiefs, a movement against which he did not dare to remonstrate, though
it sadly disappointed him. Neither hastening nor retarding his steps,
however, in consequence of this unpleasant circumstance, the young man
continued on; once or twice sweeping the wand behind him, in order to
ascertain if he could reach his followers. But Crowsfeather and his
companions stopped when they reached the swell of land which concealed
the canoe, suffering the “medicine-man” to move on alone. Of this
fact le Bourdon became aware, by turning three times in a circle, and
pointing upward at the heavens with his wand, as he did so.
It was a nervous moment when the bee-hunter reached the canoe. He did
not like to look behind him again, lest the chiefs should suspect his
motive, and, in shoving off from the shore, he might do so within a
few yards of the muzzle of a hostile rifle. There was no time to lose,
however, for any protracted delay on his part would certainly cause the
savages to approach, through curiosity, if not through distrust of his
motives. He stepped into his light craft, therefore, without any delay,
still flourishing his wand, and muttering his incantations. The first
thing was to walk to the stern of the canoe, that his weight might
raise the bow from the shore, and also that he might have an excuse for
turning round, and thus get another look at the Indians. So critical was
his situation, and so nervous did it make our young hero, that he took
no heed of the state of matters in the canoe, until the last moment.
When he had turned, however, he ascertained that the two principal
chiefs had drawn so near as to be within twenty yards of him, though
neither held his rifle at “ready,” but each leaned on it in a careless
manner, as if in no anticipation of any necessity to make a speedy
use of the weapon. This state of things could not last, and le Bourdon
braced his nerves for the final trial. On looking for his paddle,
however, he found that of three which the canoe had contained when he
left it, not even one was to be seen! These wily savages had, out of all
question, taken their opportunity to remove and secrete these simple,
but almost indispensable, means of motion.
At the instant when first apprised of the loss just mentioned, the
bee-hunter's heart sunk within him, and he fell into the seat in the
stern of the canoe, nearly with the weight of so much lead. Then a
species of desperation came over him, and putting an end of his cane
wand upon the bottom, with a vigorous shove he forced the canoe swiftly
astern and to windward. Sudden as was this attempt, and rapid as was
the movement, the jealous eyes and ready hands of the chiefs seemed to
anticipate it. Two shots were fired within a few seconds after the canoe
had quitted the shore. The reports of the rifles were a declaration of
hostilities, and a general yell, accompanied by a common rush toward the
river, announced that the whole band now understood that some deception
had been practised at their expense.
Although the two chiefs in advance had been so very prompt, they were
not quick enough for the rapid movement of the canoe. The distance
between the stern of the boat and the rice-plants was so small, that
the single desperate shove given by the bee-hunter sufficed to bury
his person in the cover, before the leaden messengers reached him.
Anticipating this very attempt, and knowing that the savages might
get their range from the part of the canoe that was still in sight, le
Bourdon bent his body far over the gunwale, grasping the rice-plants
at the same time, and hauling his little craft through them, in the way
that sailors call “hand over hand.” This expedient most probably saved
his life. While bending over the gunwale, he heard the crack of the
rifles, and the whizzing of two bullets that appeared to pass just
behind him. By this time the whole of the canoe was within the cover.
In a moment like that we are describing, incidents pass so rapidly as
almost to defy description. It was not twenty seconds from the instant
when le Bourdon first put his wand down to push the canoe from the land,
ere he found his person emerging from the cover, on its weather side.
Here he was effectually concealed from his enemies, not only on account
of the cover made by the rice-plants, but by reason of the darkness; the
light not extending far enough from the fire to illumine objects on the
river. Nevertheless, new difficulties presented themselves. When clear
of the rice, the wind, which still blew strong, pressed upon his canoe
to such a degree as not only to stop its further movement from the
shore, but so as to turn it broadside to, to its power. Trying with
his wand, the bee-hunter ascertained that it would no longer reach the
bottom. Then he attempted to use the cane as a paddle, but soon found
it had not sufficient hold of the water to answer for such an implement.
The most he could effect with it, in that way, was to keep the canoe for
a short distance along the outer edge of the rice, until it reached a
spot where the plant extended a considerable distance farther toward the
middle of the river. Once within this little forest of the wild rice, he
was enabled to drag the canoe farther and farther from the north shore,
though his progress was both slow and laborious, on account of the
resistance met.
All this time, the savages were not idle. Until the canoe got within
its new cover, it was at no instant fifty yards from the beach, and the
yells, and orders, and whoopings sounded as if uttered directly in le
Bourdon's ear. A splashing in the water soon announced that our fugitive
was pursued by swimmers. As the savages knew that the beehunter was
without a paddle, and that the wind blew fresh, the expectation
of overtaking their late captive, in this manner, was by no means
chimerical. Half a dozen active young men would prove very formidable to
one in such a situation, more especially while entangled in the mazes
of the rice-plant. The bee-hunter was so well convinced of this
circumstance, that no sooner did he hear the splashes of the swimmers,
than he redoubled his exertions to pull his canoe farther from the spot.
But his progress was slow, and he was soon convinced that his impunity
was more owing to the fact that his pursuers did not know where to find
him, than to the rapidity of his flight.
Notwithstanding his exertions, and the start obtained, le Bourdon soon
felt assured that the swimmers were within a hundred feet of him, their
voices coming from the outer margin of the cover in which he now lay,
stationary. He had ceased dragging the canoe ahead, from an apprehension
of being heard, though the rushing of the wind and the rustling of
the rice might have assured him that the slight noises made by his
own movements would not be very likely to rise above those sounds. The
splashing of the swimmers, and their voices, gradually drew nearer,
until the bee-hunter took up his rifle, determined to sacrifice the
first savage who approached; hoping, thereby, to intimidate the others.
For the first time, it now occurred to him that the breech of his rifle
might be used as a paddle, and he was resolved to apply it to that
service, could he once succeed in extricating himself from the enemies
by whom he was nearly environed, and from the rice.
Just as le Bourdon fancied that the crisis had arrived, and that he
should soon be called on to kill his man, a shout was given by a savage
at some distance in the river, and presently calls passed from mouth to
mouth, among the swimmers. Our hero now listened to a degree that kept
his faculty of hearing at a point of painful attention. The voices and
plashes on the water receded, and what was startling, a sound was heard
resembling that which as produced by a paddle when struck incautiously
against the side of a canoe. Was it then possible that the Chippewa was
out, or had the Pottawattamies one boat that had escaped his attention?
The last was not very probable, as he had several times counted their
little fleet, and was pretty sure of having taken it all to the other
side of the river. The sound of the paddle was repeated, however; then
it occurred to the bee-hunter, that Pigeonswing might be on the scent
for another scalp.
Although the conjecture just mentioned was exceedingly unpleasant to le
Bourdon, the chase of the strange canoe gave him an opportunity to drag
his own light craft ahead, penetrating deeper and deeper among the wild
rice, which now spread itself to a considerable distance from the shore,
and grew so thick as to make it impossible to get through the waving
mass. At length, wearied with his exertions, and a little uncertain as
to his actual position, our hero paused, listening intently, in order to
catch any sounds that might direct his future movements.
By this time the savages ceased to call to each other; most probably
conscious of the advantage it gave the fugitive. The bee-hunter
perfectly understood that his pursuers must be aware of its being
entirely out of his power to get to windward, and that they would keep
along the shore of the river, as he did himself, expecting to see his
canoe sooner or later driven by the wind on the beach. This had made him
anxious to drag his boat as much toward the outer edge of the rice as
he could get it, and by the puffs of wind that he occasionally felt, he
hoped he had, in a great measure, effected his purpose. Still he had his
apprehensions of the savages; as some would be very apt to swim quite
out into the stream, not only to look for him, but to avoid being
entangled among the plants. It was only in the natural channels of the
rice, of which there were a good many, that a swimmer could very readily
make his way, or be in much safety. By waiting long enough, moreover,
the bee-hunter was sure he should tire out his pursuers, and thus get
rid of them.
Just as le Bourdon began to think this last-mentioned purpose had
been accomplished, he heard low voices directly to windward, and the
splashing of water, as if more than one man was coming down upon him,
forcing the stalks of the plants aside. He grasped the rifle, and let
the canoe drift, which it did slowly, under the power of the wind,
notwithstanding the protection of the cover. The swimmers forced their
way through the stalks; but it was evident, just then, that they
were more occupied by their present pursuit than in looking for him.
Presently a canoe came brushing through the rice, forced by the wind,
and dragged by two savages, one of whom swam on each bow. The last did
not see the bee-hunter, or his canoe, the one nearest having his face
turned in the opposite direction; but they were distinctly seen by the
former. Surprised that a seizure should be made with so little fracas,
le Bourdon bent forward to look the better, and, as the stern of the
strange canoe came almost under his eyes, he saw the form of Margery
lying in its bottom. His blood curdled at this sight; for his first
impression was, that the charming young creature had been killed and
scalped; but there being no time to lose, he sprang lightly from one
canoe to the other, carrying the rifle in his hand. As he struck in
the bottom of the boat of Gershom, he heard his name uttered in a
sweet female voice, and knew that Margery was living. Without stopping,
however, to inquire more, he moved to the head of the canoe, and, with
a sharp blow on the fingers, made each of the savages release his grasp.
Then, seizing the rice-plants, he dragged the little craft swiftly to
windward again. All this was done, as it might be, in an instant; the
savages and the canoe being separated some twenty feet, in much less
time than is required to relate the occurrence.
“Bourdon, are you injured?” asked Margery, her voice trembling with
anxiety.
“Not in the least, dear Margery--and you, my excellent girl?”
“They caught my canoe, and I almost died of fright; but they have only
dragged it toward the shore.”
“God be praised! Is there any paddle in the canoe?”
“There are several--one is at your feet, Bourdon--and here, I have
another.”
“Then, let us search for my canoe, and get out of the rice. If we can
but find my canoe, we shall be safe enough, for the savages have nothing
in which to cross the river. Keep your eyes about you, Margery, and look
among the rice for the other boat.”
The search was not long, but it was intently anxious. At length Margery
saw the lost canoe just as it was drifting past them, and it was secured
immediately. In a few minutes, le Bourdon succeeded in forcing the
two craft into open water, when it was easy for him to paddle both to
windward. The reader can readily imagine that our hero did not permit
many minutes to elapse, ere he questioned his companion on the subject
of her adventures. Nor was Margery reluctant to tell them. She had
become alarmed at le Bourdon's protracted absence, and taking advantage
of Pigeonswing lying down, she unloaded her brother's canoe, and
went out into the river to look for the absent one. As a matter of
course--though so feminine and far removed from all appearance of
coarseness, a true American girl in this respect--Margery knew perfectly
well how to manage a bark canoe. The habits of her life for the last few
years, made her acquainted with this simple art; and strength being
much less needed than skill, she had no difficulty in going whither
she wished. The fires served as beacons, and Margery had been a distant
witness of the bee-hunter's necromancy as well as of his escape. The
instant the latter was effected, she endeavored to join him; and it was
while incautiously paddling along the outer edge of the rice, with this
intention, that her canoe was seized by two of the swimmers. As soon as
these last ascertained that they had captured a “squaw,” they did not
give themselves the trouble to get into the canoe--a very difficult
operation with one made of bark, and which is not loaded--but they
set about towing the captured craft to the shore, swimming each with a
single hand and holding on by the other.
“I shall not soon forget this kindness of yours, Margery,” said le
Bourdon, with warmth, when the girl had ended her simple tale, which
had been related in the most artless and ingenuous manner. “No man could
forget so generous a risk on the part of a young woman in his behalf.”
“I hope you do not think it wrong, Bourdon--I should be sorry to have
you think ill of me!”
“Wrong, dear Margery!--but no matter. Let us get ourselves out of
present difficulties, and into a place of safety; then I will tell you
honestly what I think of it, and of you, too. Was your brother awake,
dear Margery, when you left the family?”
“I believe not--he sleeps long and heavily after drinking. But he can
now drink no more, until he reaches the settlements.”
“Not unless he finds the whiskey spring,” returned the bee-hunter,
laughing.
The young man then related to his wondering companion the history of the
mummery and incantations of which she had been a distant spectator. Le
Bourdon's heart was light, after his hazards and escape, and his spirits
rose as his narrative proceeded. Nor was pretty Margery in a mood to
balk his humor. As the bee-hunter recounted his contrivances to elude
the savages, and most especially when he gave the particulars of the
manner in which he managed to draw whiskey out of the living rock, the
girl joined in his merriment, and filled the boat with that melody of
the laugh of her years and sex, which is so beautifully described by
Halleck.