There was great judgment displayed on the part of the bee-hunter in
selecting the wild rice as a place of shelter. At that season it was
sufficiently grown to afford a complete screen to everything within
it that did not exceed the height of a man, or which was not seen
from some adjacent elevation. Most of the land near the mouth of the
river was low, and the few spots which formed exceptions had been
borne in mind when the canoes were taken into the field. But just as
Gershom was on the point of putting a foot into his own canoe, with
a view to arrange it for the reception of his wife, he drew back,
and exclaimed after the manner of one to whom a most important idea
suddenly occurs:
"Land's sake! I've forgotten all about them barrels! They'll fall
into the hands of the savages, and an awful time they'll make with
them! Let me pass, Dolly; I must look after the barrels this
instant."
While the wife gently detained her eager husband, the bee-hunter
quietly asked to what barrels he alluded.
"The whiskey casks," was the answer. "There's two on 'em in the shed
behind the hut, and whiskey enough to set a whole tribe in
commotion.
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