At any rate, the bee-hunter now led the
way into his cabin, whither he was followed without unnecessary
ceremony, by all three of his guests.
The interior of the "chiente," to use the most poetical, if not the
most accurate word, was singularly clean for an establishment set up
by a bachelor, in so remote a part of the world. The honey, in neat,
well-constructed kegs, was carefully piled along one side of the
apartment, in a way to occupy the minimum of room, and to be rather
ornamental than unsightly. These kegs were made by le Bourdon
himself, who had acquired as much of the art as was necessary to
that object. The woods always furnished the materials; and a pile of
staves that was placed beneath a neighboring tree sufficiently
denoted that he did not yet deem that portion of his task completed.
In one corner of the hut was a pile of well-dressed bearskins, three
in number, each and all of which had been taken from the carcasses
of fallen foes, within the last two months. Three more were
stretched on saplings, near by, in the process of curing. It was a
material part of the bee-hunter's craft to kill this animal, in
particular; and the trophies of his conflicts with them were
proportionably numerous.
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