“Nebber mind him—­if go, go; if stay, stay.  Always good for warrior to bring home scalp.”

“Yes; I know your customs in this respect, Pigeonswing, but ours are different.  We are satisfied if we can keep out of harm’s way, when we have our squaws and pappooses with us.”

“No pappooses here,” returned the Indian, looking around him—­“dat your squaw, eh?”

The reader can readily imagine that this abrupt question brought blushes into the cheeks of pretty Margery, making her appear ten times more handsome than before; while even le Bourdon did not take the interrogatory wholly undisturbed.  Still, the latter answered manfully, as became his sex.

“I am not so fortunate as to have a squaw, and least of all to have this” said le Bourdon.

“Why no hab her—­she good squaw,” returned the literalminded Indian--han’some ’nough for chief.  You ask; she hab—­now squaw well—­always like warrior to ask him fuss; den say, yes.”

“Aye, that may do with your red-skin squaws,” le Bourdon hastily replied; for he saw that Margery was not only distressed, but a little displeased—­“but not with the young women of the pale-faces.  I never saw Margery before last evening; and it takes time for a pale-face girl to know a youth.”

“Just so wid red-skin—­sometime don’t know, till too late!  See plenty dat, in wigwam.”

“Then it is very much in the wigwams as it is in the houses.  I have heard this before.”

“Why not same?—­skin make no difference—­pale-face spile squaw, too--make too much of her.”

“That can never be!” exclaimed le Bourdon, earnestly.  “When a pretty, modest, warm-hearted young woman accepts a youth for a husband, he can never make enough of her!”

On hearing sentiments so agreeable to a woman’s ears, Margery looked down, but she looked pleased.  Pigeonswing viewed the matter very differently; and being somewhat of a partisan in matters relating to domestic economy, he had no thought of leaving a point of so much importance in so bad a way.  Accordingly, it is not surprising that, in pursuing the subject, he expressed opinions in several essentials diametrically the reverse of those of the bee-hunter.

’"Easy ’nough spile squaw,” rejoined the Chippewa.  “What she good for, don’t make her work?  Can’t go on the warpath—­can’t take scalp--can’t shoot deer—­can’t hunt—­can’t kill warrior—­so muss work.  Dat what squaw good for.”

“That may do among red men, but we pale-faces find squaws good for something else—­we love them and take care of them—­keep them from the cold in winter, and from the heat in summer; and try to make them as comfortable and happy as we can.”

“Dat good talk for young squaw’s ears,” returned the Chippewa, a little contemptuously as to manner; though his real respect for the bee-hunter, of whose prowess he had so lately been a witness, kept him a little within bounds “but it bess not take nobody in.  What Injin say to squaw, he do—­what pale-face say, he no do.”