Hurrying to a point
whence their visitor might be seen, le Bourdon soon perceived it was
no other than Pigeonswing. In a few minutes this Indian arrived, and
was gladly received by all four of the fugitives, who gathered
around him, eager to hear the news.
"You are welcome, Chippewa," cried le Bourdon, shaking his friend
cordially by the hand. "We were half afraid we might never see you
again. Do you bring us good or evil tidings?"
"Mustn't be squaw, and ask too much question, Bourdon," returned the
red-skin, carefully examining the priming of his rifle, in order to
make sure it was not wet. "Got plenty venison, eh?"
"Not much venison is left, but we have caught a good many fish,
which have helped us along. I have killed a dozen large squirrels,
too, with your bow and arrows, which I find you left in your canoe.
But--"
"Yes, he good bow, dat--might kill hummin'-bird wid dat bow. Fish
good here, eh?" "They are eatable, when a body can get no better.
But NOW, I should think, Pigeonswing, you might give us some of the
news."
"Mustn't be squaw, Bourdon--bad for warrior be squaw. Alway bess be
man, and be patient, like man. What you t'ink, Bourdon? Got him at
last!"
"Got WHAT my good fellow? I see nothing about you, but your arms and
ammunition.
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