It cannot have gone far since
the Great Spirit lifted his hand off it. If it move, the hunting-
grounds move with it, and the tribes move with their own hunting-
grounds. It may be that some of the pale-faces are lost, but no
Injin is lost--the medicine-priest is mistaken. He has looked so
often in his book, that he sees nothing but what is there. He does
not see what is before his eyes, at his side, behind his back, ail
around him. I have known such Injins. They see but one thing; even
the deer jump across their paths, and are not seen.
"Such are our traditions. They tell us that this land was given to
the red men, and not to pale-faces. That none but red men have any
right to hunt here. The Great Spirit has laws. He has told us these
laws. They teach us to love our friends, and to hate our enemies.
You don't believe this, Bourdon?" observing the bee-hunter to wince
a little, as if he found the doctrine bad.
"This is not what our priests tell US," answered le Bourdon. "They
tell us that the white man's God commands us to love all alike--to
do GOOD to our enemies, to LOVE them that wish us HARM, and to treat
all men as we would wish men to treat us.
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