“What Christians DO, eh?” returned the Indian, with a sneer, “get drunk like Whiskey Centre, dere? Cheat poor red man; den get down on knee and look up at Manitou? DAT what Christian do, eh?”
“They who do such things are Christian but in name—you must think better of such as are Christians in fact.”
“Ebberybody call himself Christian, tell you—all pale-face Christian, dey say. Now, listen to Chippewa. Once talk long talk wit' missionary—tell all about Christian—what Christian do—what Christian say—how he eat, how he sleep, HOW he drink!—all good—wish Pigeonwing Christian—den 'member so'ger at garrison—no eat, no sleep, no drink Christian fashion—do ebbery t'ing so'ger fashion—swear, fight, cheat, get drunk—wuss dan Injin—dat Christian, eh?”
“No, that is not acting like a Christian; and I fear very few of us who call ourselves by that name, act as if we were Christians, in truth,” said le Bourdon, conscious of the justice of the Chippewa's accusation.
“Just dat—now, I get him—ask missionary, one day, where all Christian go to, so dat Injin can't find him—none in woods—none on prairie—none in garrison—none in Mack'naw—none at Detroit—where all go to, den, so Injin can't find him, on'y in missionary talk?”
“I am curious to know what answer your missionary made to that question.”
“Well, tell you—say, on'y one in ten t'ousant RAAL Christians 'mong pale-face, dough all call himself Christian! DAT what Injin t'ink queer, eh?”
“It is not easy to make a red man understand all the ways of the pale-faces, Pigeonswing; but we will talk of these things another time, when we are more at our ease. Just now, I wish to learn all I can of the manner in which you fell into the hands of the Pottawattamies.”
“Dat plain 'nough—wish Christian talk half as plain. You see, Bourdon, dat Elksfoot on scout, when we meet in openin', up river. I know'd his ar'nd, and so took scalp. Dem Pottawattamie his friend—when dey come to meet ole chief, no find him; but find Pigeonwing; got me when tired and 'sleep; got Elkfoot scalp wid me—sorry for dat—know scalp by scalp-lock, which had gray hair, and some mark. So put me in canoe, and meant to take Chippewa to Chicago to torture him—but too much wind. So, when meet friend in t'odder canoe, come back here to wait little while.”
This was the simple explanation of the manner in which Pigeonswing had fallen into the hands of his enemies. It would seem that Elksfoot had come in a canoe from the mouth of the St. Joseph's to a point about half-way between that river and the mouth of the Kalamazoo, and there landed. What the object of the party was, does not exactly appear, though it is far from being certain that it was not to seize the bee-hunter, and confiscate his effects. Although le Bourdon was personally a stranger to Elksfoot, news flies through the wilderness in an extraordinary manner; and it was not at all unlikely that the fact of a white American's being in the openings should soon spread, along with the tidings that the hatchet was dug up, and that a party should go out in quest of his scalp and the plunder. It would seem that the savage tact of the Chippewa detected that in the manner of the Pottawattamie chief, which assured him the intentions of the old warrior were not amicable; and that he took the very summary process which has been related, not only to secure HIS scalp, but effectually to put it out of his power to do any mischief to one who was an ally, and by means of recent confidence, now a friend. All this the Indian explained to his companion, in his usual clipped English, but with a clearness sufficient to make it perfectly intelligible to his listener. The bee-hunter listened with the most profound attention, for he was fully aware of the importance of comprehending all the hazards of his own situation.