The bee-hunter, quick-witted, and managing for his
life, was not slow to perceive the advantage he had gained, and he
proceeded at once to clinch the nail he had so skilfully driven.
Turning from Cloud to the head-chief of the party, a warrior whom he
had no difficulty in recognizing, after having so long watched his
movements in the earlier part of the night, he pushed the same
subject a little further.
"Yes; this place is called by the whites Whiskey Centre," he added--
"which means that it is the centre of all the whiskey of the country
round about."
"Dat true," said Cloud, quickly--"I hear so'ger at Fort Dearborn
call him Whiskey Centre!"
This little circumstance greatly complicated the mystery, and le
Bourdon perceived that he had hit on a lucky explanation.
"Soldiers far and near--soldiers drunk or sober--soldiers with
scalps, and soldiers without scalps--all know the place by that
name. But you need not believe with your eyes shut and noses
stopped, chief, since you have the means of learning for yourselves
the truth of what I tell you. Come with me, and I will tell you
where to dig in the morning for a whiskey spring.
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