"
Gershom made a wry face, but he did not move.
"Is there any news stirring among the tribes?" asked the bee-hunter,
waiting, however, a decent interval, lest he might be supposed to
betray a womanly curiosity.
Elksfoot puffed away some time before he saw fit to answer,
reserving a salvo in behalf of his own dignity. Then he removed the
pipe, shook off the ashes, pressed down the fire a little, gave a
reviving draught or two, and quietly replied:
"Ask my young brother--he runner--he know."
But Pigeonswing seemed to be little more communicative than the
Pottawattamie. He smoked on in quiet dignity, while the bee-hunter
patiently waited for the moment when it might suit his younger guest
to speak. That moment did not arrive for some time, though it came
at last. Almost five minutes after Elksfoot had made the allusion
mentioned, the Ojebway, or Chippewa, removed his pipe also, and
looking courteously round at his host, he said with emphasis:
"Bad summer come soon. Pale-faces call young men togedder, and dig
up hatchet."
"I had heard something of this," answered le Bourdon, with a
saddened countenance, "and was afraid it might happen.
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