“What has become of brother?  Where is Gershom?” demanded the sensitive girl, at once.

The answer was given in a low voice, and in that sort of manner with which woman struggles to the last to conceal the delinquencies of him she loves.

“Gershom is not himself, just now,” half whispered the wife—­“he has fallen into one of his old ways, ag’in.”

“Old ways?” slowly repeated the sister, dropping her own voice to tones similar to those in which the unpleasant news had just been communicated.  “How is that possible, now that all the whiskey is emptied?”

“It seems that Bourdon had a jug of brandy among his stores, and Gershom found it out.  I blame no one; for Bourdon, who never abuses the gifts of Providence, had a right to his comforts at least; but it is a pity that there was anything of the sort in the canoes!”

The bee-hunter was greatly concerned at this unwelcome intelligence, feeling all its importance far more vividly than either of his companions.  They regretted as women; but he foresaw the danger, as a man accustomed to exertion in trying scenes.  If Whiskey Centre had really fallen into his old ways, so as to render himself an incumbrance, instead of being an assistant at such a moment, the fact was to be deplored, but it could only be remedied by time.  Luckily they had the Indian with them, and he could manage one of the canoes, while he himself took charge of the other.  As no time was to be lost—­the barking of the dogs and the cries of the savages too plainly letting it be known that the enemy was getting through the marsh by some means or other—­he hurried the party down to the canoes, entering that of Whiskey Centre at once.

Le Bourdon found Gershom asleep, but with the heavy slumbers of the drunkard.  Dolly had removed the jug and concealed it, as soon as the state of her husband enabled her to do so without incurring his violence.  Else might the unfortunate man have destroyed himself, by indulging in a liquor so much more palatable than that he was accustomed to use, after so long and compelled an abstinence.  The jug was now produced, however, and le Bourdon emptied it in the river, to the great joy of the two females, though not without a sharp remonstrance from the Chippewa.  The bee-hunter was steady, and the last drop of the liquor of Gascony was soon mingling with the waters of the Kalamazoo.  This done, the bee-hunter desired the women to embark, and called to the Chippewa to do the same.  By quitting the spot in the canoes, it was evident the pursuers would be balked, temporarily at least, since they must recross the marsh in order to get into their own boats, without which further pursuit would be fruitless.