“You tell him ag'in go dere?” asked Peter, whose interest by this time was so manifest, as to defy all attempts at concealment.
“To be sure I did. The bees obey ME, as your young men obey YOU. I am their chief, and they KNOW me. I will give you further proof of this. We will now go to that little bit of wood, when you shall all see what it contains. I have sent three of my bees there; and here, one of them is already back, to let me know what he has seen.”
Sure enough, a bee was buzzing around the head of le Bourdon, probably attracted by some fragment of comb, and he cunningly converted it into a messenger from the copse! All this was wonderful to the crowd, and it even greatly troubled Peter. This man was much less liable to the influence of superstition than most of his people; but he was very far from being altogether above it. This is the fact with very few civilized men; perhaps with no man whatever, let his philosophy and knowledge be what they may; and least of all, is it true with the ignorant. There is too much of the uncertain, of the conjectural in our condition as human beings, to raise us altogether above the distrusts, doubts, wonder, and other weaknesses of our present condition. To these simple savages, the manner in which the bees flew, seemingly at le Bourdon's bidding, to this or that thicket, was quite as much a matter of astonishment, as any of our most elaborate deceptions are wonders to our own ignorant and vulgar. Ignorant! And where is the line to be drawn that is to place men beyond the pale of ignorance? Each of us fails in some one, if not in very many of the important branches of the knowledge that is even reduced to rules Among us. Here is seen the man of books, so ignorant of the application of his own beloved theories, as to be a mere child in practice; and there, again, can be seen the expert in practice, who is totally unacquainted with a single principle of the many that lie at the root of his very handicraft. Let us not, then, deride these poor children of the forest, because that which was so entirely new to them, should also appear inexplicable and supernatural.
As for Peter, he was more confounded than convinced. His mind was so much superior to those of the other chiefs, as to render him far more difficult to mislead; though even he was not exempt from the great weaknesses of ignorance, superstition, and its concomitants—credulity, and a love of the marvellous. His mind was troubled, as was quite apparent to Ben, who watched HIM quite as narrowly as he was observed himself, in all he did. Willing to deepen the impression, our artist now determined to exhibit some of the higher fruits of his skill. The production of a considerable quantity of honey would of itself be a sort of peace-offering, and he now prepared to turn the certainty of there being a hive in the little wood to account—certainty, because three bees had taken wing for it, and a very distinct angle had been made with two of them.
“Does my brother wish any honey?” asked le Bourdon carelessly; “or shall I send a bee across Lake Michigan, to tell the Injins further west that Detroit is taken?”
“Can Bourdon find honey, NOW?” demanded Peter.
“Easily. Several hives are within a mile of us. The bees like this prairie, which is so well garnished with flowers, and I am never at a loss for work, in this neighborhood. This is my favorite bee-ground; and I have got all the little creatures so that they know me, and are ready to do everything that I tell them. As I see that the chiefs love honey, and wish to eat some, we will now go to one of my hives.”
Thus saying, le Bourdon prepared for another march. He moved with all his appliances, Margery keeping close at his side, carrying the honey-comb and honey. As the girl walked lightly, in advance of the Indians, some fifteen or twenty bees, attracted by the flavor of what she carried, kept circling around her head, and consequently around that of Boden; and Peter did not fail to observe the circumstance. To him it appeared as if these bees were so many accompanying agents, who attended their master in order to do his bidding. In a word, Peter was fast getting into that frame of mind, when all that is seen is pressed into the support of the theory we have adopted. The bee-hunter had some mysterious connection with, and control over the bees, and this was one among the many other signs of the existence of his power. All this, however, Boden himself disregarded. His mind was bent on throwing dust into the eyes of the Indians; and he was cogitating the means of so doing, on a much larger scale than any yet attempted.
“Why dem bee fly 'round young squaw?” demanded Peter—“and fly round you, too?”
“They know us, and go with us to their hive; just as Injins would come out of their villages to meet and honor visitors.”