Savages are always distrustful and cautious when
on a war-path; and these seem to be scenting about like so many
hounds which are nosing for a trail. They are now gathering sticks
to light a fire, which is better than burning the chiente."
"THAT they will not be likely to do until they have no further need
of it. Tell me, Bourdon, do any go near the thicket of alders where
we have hidden our goods?"
"Not as yet; though there is a sudden movement and many loud yells
among them!"
"Heaven send that it may not be at having discovered anything we
have forgotten. The sight of even a lost dipper or cup would set
them blood-hounds on our path, as sure as we are white and they are
savages!"
"As I live, they scent the whiskey! There is a rush toward, and a
pow-wow in and about the shed--yes, of a certainty they smell the
liquor! Some of it has escaped in rolling down the hill, and their
noses are too keen to pass over a fragrance that to them equals that
of roses. Well, let them SCENT as they may--even an Injin does not
get drunk through his NOSE."
"You are quite right, Bourdon: but is not this a most unhappy scent
for us, since the smell of whiskey can hardly be there without their
seeing it did not grow in the woods of itself, like an oak or a
beech?"
"I understand you, Margery, and there is good sense in what you say.
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