"What has become of brother? Where is Gershom?" demanded the
sensitive girl, at once.
The answer was given in a low voice, and in that sort of manner with
which woman struggles to the last to conceal the delinquencies of
him she loves.
"Gershom is not himself, just now," half whispered the wife--"he has
fallen into one of his old ways, ag'in."
"Old ways?" slowly repeated the sister, dropping her own voice to
tones similar to those in which the unpleasant news had just been
communicated. "How is that possible, now that all the whiskey is
emptied?"
"It seems that Bourdon had a jug of brandy among his stores, and
Gershom found it out. I blame no one; for Bourdon, who never abuses
the gifts of Providence, had a right to his comforts at least; but
it IS a pity that there was anything of the sort in the canoes!"
The bee-hunter was greatly concerned at this unwelcome intelligence,
feeling all its importance far more vividly than either of his
companions. They regretted as women; but he foresaw the danger, as a
man accustomed to exertion in trying scenes. If Whiskey Centre had
really fallen into his old ways, so as to render himself an
incumbrance, instead of being an assistant at such a moment, the
fact was to be deplored, but it could only be remedied by time.
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