"Bourdon, for many seasons I have thought of this. I have tried to
find a way to stop them. There is but one. That way must the Injins
try, or give up their hunting-grounds to the strangers. No nation
likes to give up its hunting-grounds. They come from the Manitou,
and one day he may ask to have them back again. What could the red
men say, if they let the pale-faces take them away? No; this we
cannot do. We will first try the one thing that is to be done."
"I believe I understand you, Peter," observed le Bourdon, finding
that his companion paused. "You mean war. War, in the Injin mode of
redressing all wrongs; war against man, woman, and child!"
Peter nodded in acquiescence, fixing his glowing eyes on the bee-
hunter's face, as if to read his soul.
"Am I to understand, then, that you and your friends, the chiefs and
their followers, that I saw on Prairie Round, mean to begin with US,
half-a-dozen whites, of whom two are women, who happen to be here in
your power--that OUR scalps are to be the first taken?"
"First!--no, Bourdon. Peter's hand has taken a great many, years
since. He has got a name for his deeds, and no longer dare go to the
white men's forts.
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