Pigeonswing had another source of uneasiness, to which his companions were entirely strangers.  While hunting, his keen eyes had detected the presence of warriors in the openings.  It is true he had not seen even one, but he knew that the signs he had discovered could not deceive him.  Not only were warriors at hand, but warriors in considerable numbers.  He had found one deserted lair, from which its late occupants could not have departed many hours when it came under his own notice.  By means of that attentive sagacity which forms no small portion of the education of an American Indian, Pigeonswing was enabled to ascertain that this party, of itself, numbered seventeen, all of whom were men and warriors.  The first fact was easily enough to be seen, perhaps, there being just seventeen different impressions left in the grass; but that all these persons were armed men, was learned by Pigeonswing through evidence that would have been overlooked by most persons.  By the length of the lairs he was satisfied none but men of full stature had been there; and he even examined sufficiently close to make out the proofs that all but four of these men carried firearms.  Strange as it may seem to those who do not know how keen the senses become when whetted by the apprehensions and wants of savage life, Pigeonswing was enabled to discover signs which showed that the excepted were provided with bows and arrows, and spears.

When the bee-hunter and his companion came in sight of the carcase of the bear, which they did shortly after the last remark which we have given in the dialogue recorded, the former exclaimed with a little surprise: 

“How’s this, Chippewa!  You have killed this beast with your bow!  Did you not hunt with the rifle yesterday?”

“Bad fire rifle off now-a-day,” answered Pigeonswing, sententiously.  “Make noise—­noise no good.”

“Noise!” repeated the perfectly unsuspecting bee-hunter.  “Little good or little harm can noise do in these openings, where there is neither mountain to give back an echo, or ear to be startled.  The crack of my rifle has rung through these groves a hundred times and no harm come of it.”

“Forget war-time now.  Bess nebber fire, less can’t help him.  Pottawattamie hear great way off.”

“Oh!  That’s it, is it!  You’re afraid our old friends the Pottawattamies may find us out, and come to thank us for all that happened down at the river’s mouth.  Well,” continued le Bourdon, laughing, “if they wish another whiskey-spring, I have a small jug left, safely hid against a wet day; a very few drops will answer to make a tolerable spring.  You redskins don’t know everything, Pigeonswing, though you are so keen and quick-witted on a trail.”

“Bess not tell Pottawattamie any more ’bout springs,” answered the Chippewa, gravely; for by this time he regarded the state of things in the openings to be so serious as to feel little disposition to mirth.  “Why you don’t go home, eh?  Why don’t med’cine-man go home, too?  Bess for pale-face to be wid pale-face when red man go on war-path.  Color bess keep wid color.”