“Sartain—work long as can 'member. ALWAY somebody talkin' for great Montreal Fadder among red men.”
“It must be as you say, Chippewa—but, here are our visitors—let us see what we can make of THEM!”
By this time, the canoe was so near as to render it easy to distinguish countenances and dress, without the aid of the glass—so near, indeed, that a swift-moving boat, like the canoe, might be expected soon to reach the shore. The truth of the observation of the bee-hunter was confirmed, as the strangers approached. The individual in the bows of the canoe was clearly a soldier, in a fatigue-dress, and the musket between his legs was one of those pieces that government furnishes to the troops of the line. The man in the middle of the boat could no more be mistaken than he in its bows. Each might be said to be in uniform—the well-worn, nay, almost threadbare black coat of the “minister,” as much denoting him to be a man of peace, as the fatigue-jacket and cap on the person of his hard-featured and weather-beaten companion indicated that the last was a man of war. As for the red man, Pigeonswing declared that he could not yet tell his tribe, though there was that about his air, attire and carriage, that proclaimed him a chief—and, as the Chippewa fancied, a chief of note. In another minute, the bows of the light craft grated gently on the shingle of the beach.
“Sago, sago,” said the soldier, rising to step ashore--“sago all, friends, and I hope we come to a welcome camp.”
“You are welcome,” returned the bee-hunter. “Welcome as strangers met in the wilderness, but more welcome, as I see by your dress that you are a veteran of one of Uncle Sam's regiments.”
“Quite true, Mr. Bee-hunter; for such I see is _your_ callin', by the honey vessel and glass you carry, and by the other signs about you. We are travelling toward Mackinaw, and hope to fere as friends, while we stay in your good company.”
“In going to Mackinaw, do you expect to meet with an _American or an English_ garrison ?”
“One of our own, to be sure,” returned the soldier, looking up from his work, like one struck by the question.
“Mackinaw has fallen, and is now an English post, as well as Chicago.”
“This, then, must alter our plans, Mr. Amen !” exclaimed the soldier, addressing the minister. “If the enemy has Mackinaw, it will not do for us to trust ourselves on the island.”