The Oak Openings, Or, the Bee Hunter

  The Indians present served largely to embellish this scene. Of late years, horses have become so common among the western tribes, the vast natural meadows of those regions furnishing the means necessary to keep them, that one can now hardly form a picture of those savages, with-out representing them mounted, and wielding the spear; but such was not the fact with the time of which we are writing, nor was it ever the general practice to go mounted, among the Indians in the immediate vicinity of the great lakes. Not a hoof of any sort was now visible, with the exception of those which belonged to a herd of deer, that were grazing on a favorite spot, less than a league distant from the place where le Bourdon and his companions reached the prairie. All the chiefs were on foot, and very few were equipped with more than the knife and tomahawk, the side-arms of a chief; the rifles having been secreted, as it might be, in deference to the festivities and peaceful character of the occasion. As le Bourdon's party was duly provided with rifles, the missionary and Margery excepted, this was a sign that no violence was contemplated on that occasion at least. "Contemplated," however, is a word very expressive, when used in connection with the out-breakings of human passions, as they are wont to exhibit themselves among the ignorant and excited. It matters not whether the scene be the capital of some ancient European monarchy, or the wilds of America, the workings of such impulses are much the same. Now, a throne is overturned, perhaps, before they who do it are yet fully aware of what they ought to set up in its place; and now the deadly rifle, or the murderous tomahawk is used, more in obedience to the incentives of demons, than in furtherance of justly recognized rules of conduct. Le Bourdon was aware of all this, and did not so far confide in appearances, as to overlook the watchfulness that he deemed indispensable.

  The bee-hunter was not long in selecting a place to set up his apparatus. In this particular, he was mainly governed by a lovely expanse of sweet-scented flowers, among which bees in thousands were humming, sipping of their precious gifts at will. Le Bourdon had a care, also, not to go far from the forests which encircled the prairies, for among its trees he knew he had to seek the habitations of the insects. Instead of a stump, or a fallen tree, he had prepared a light framework of lath, which the corporal bore to the field for him, and on which he placed his different implements, as soon as he had selected the scene of operations.

  It will not be necessary for us to repeat the process, which has already been described in our opening chapters; but we shall only touch such parts of it as have a direct connection with the events of the legend. As le Bourdon commenced his preparations, however, the circle of chiefs closed around him, in mute but close attention to every-thing that passed. Although every one of them had heard of the bee-hunters of the pale-faces, and most of them had heard of this particular individual of their number, not an Indian present had ever seen one of these men practise his craft. This may seem strange, as respects those who so much roamed the woods; but we have already remarked that it exceeded the knowledge of the red man to make the calculations that are necessary to take the bee by the process described. Usually, when he obtains honey, it is the result of some chance meeting in the forest, and not the fruits of that far-sighted and persevering industry, which enables the white man to lay in a store large enough to supply a neighborhood, in the course of a few weeks' hunting.

  Never was a juggler watched with closer attention, than was le Bourdon, while setting up his stand, and spreading his implements. Every grave, dark countenance was turned toward him, and each keen, glistening eye was riveted on his movements. As the vessel with the comb was set down, the chiefs nearest recognizing the substance murmured their admiration; for to them it seemed as if the operator were about to make honey with honey. Then the glass was a subject of surprise: for half of those present had never seen such an utensil before. Though many of the chiefs present had visited the "garrisons" of the northwest, both American and English, many had not; and, of those who had, not one in ten got any clear idea of the commonest appliances of civilized life. Thus it was, then, that almost every article used by the bee-hunter, though so simple and homely, was the subject of a secret, but well-suppressed admiration.

  It was not long ere le Bourdon was ready to look for his bee. The insects were numerous on the flowers, particularly on the white clover, which is indigenous in America, springing up spontaneously wherever grasses are permitted to grow. The great abundance of the bees, however, had its usual effect, and our hero was a little difficult to please. At length, a fine and already half-loaded little animal was covered by the glass and captured. This was done so near the group of Indians, that each and all noted the process. It was curious, and it was inexplicable! Could the pale-faces compel bees to reveal the secret of their hives, and was that encroaching race about to drive all the insects from the woods and seize their honey, as they drove the Indians before them and seized their lands? Such was the character of the thoughts that passed through the minds of more than one chief, that morning, though all looked on in profound stillness.

  When the imprisoned bee was put over the comb, and le Bourdon's cap was placed above all, these simple-minded children of the woods and the prairies gazed, as if expecting a hive to appear beneath the covering, whenever the latter should be removed. It was not long before the bee "settled," and not only the cap, but the tumbler was taken away. For the first time since the exhibition commenced, le Bourdon spoke, addressing himself to Peter.

  "If the tribeless chief will look sharply," he said, "he will soon see the bee take flight. It is filling itself with honey, and the moment it is loaded—look—look—it is about to rise—there, it is up—see it circling around the stand, as if to take a look that it may know it again—there it goes!"

  There it did go, of a truth, and in a regular bee-line, or as straight as an arrow. Of all that crowd, the bee-hunter and Margery alone saw the insect in its flight. Most of those present lost sight of it, while circling around the stand; but the instant it darted away, to the remainder it seemed to vanish into air. Not so with le Bourdon and Margery, however. The former saw it from habit; the latter from a quick eye, intense attention, and the wish not to miss anything that le Bourdon saw fit to do, for her information or amusement. The animal flew in an air-line toward a point of wood distant fully half a mile, and on the margin of the prairie.

  Many low exclamations arose among the savages. The bee was gone, but whither they knew not, or on what errand. Could it have been sent on a message by the pale-face, or had it flown off to give the alarm to its companions, in order to adopt the means of disappointing the bee-hunter? As for the last, he went coolly to work to choose another insect; and he soon had three at work on the comb—all in company, and all uncovered. Had the number anything to do with the charm, or were these three to be sent to bring back the one that had already gone away? Such was the sort of reasoning, and such the queries put to themselves, by several of the stern children of nature who were drawn up around the stand.

  In the mean time le Bourdon proceeded with his operations in the utmost simplicity. He now called Peter and Bear's Meat and Crowsfeather nearer to his person, where they might share with Margery the advantage of more closely seeing all that passed. As soon as these three chiefs were near enough, Ben pointed to one bee in particular, saying in the Indian dialect:

  "My brothers see that bee in the centre—he is about to go away. If he go after the one that went before him, I shall soon know where to look for honey."

  "How can my brother tell which bee will first fly away?" demanded

  Bear's Meat.

  The bee-hunter was able to foresee this, by knowing which insect had been longest on the comb; but so practised had his eye become, that he knew with tolerable accuracy, by the movements of the creatures, those that had filled themselves with honey from those that had not. As it did not suit his purpose, however, to let all the minutiae of his craft be known, his answer was evasive. Just at that moment a thought occurred to him, which it might be well to carry out in full.
He had once saved his life by necromancy, or what seemed to the simple children of the woods to be necromancy, and why might he not turn the cunning of his regular art to account, and render it the means of rescuing the females, as well as himself, from the hands of their captors? This sudden impulse from that moment controlled his conduct; and his mind was constantly casting about for the means of effecting what was now his one great purpose- escape. Instead of uttering in reply to Bear's Meat's question the simple truth, therefore, he rather sought for such an answer as might make the process in which he was engaged appear imposing and mystical.

  "How do the Injins know the path of the deer?" he asked, by way of reply. "They look at the deer, get to know him, and understand his ways. This middle bee will soon fly."

  "Which way will he go?" asked Peter. "Can my brother tell us THAT?"

  "To his hive," returned le Bourdon, carelessly, as if he did not fully understand the question. "All of them go to their hives, unless I tell them to go in another direction. See, the bee is up!"

  The chiefs now looked with all their eyes. They saw, indeed, that the bee was making its circles above the stand. Presently they lost sight of the insect, which to them seemed to vanish; though le Bourdon distinctly traced its flight for a hundred yards. It took a direction at right angles to that of the first bee, flying off into the prairie, and shaping its course toward an island of wood, which might have been of three or four acres in extent, and distant rather less than a mile.

  While le Bourdon was noting this flight, another bee arose. This creature flew toward the point of forest, already mentioned as the destination of the insect that had first risen. No sooner was this third little animal out of sight, than the fourth was up, humming around the stand. Ben pointed it out to the chiefs; and this time they succeeded in tracing the flight for, perhaps, a hundred feet from the spot where they stood. Instead of following either of its companions, this fourth bee took a course which led it off the prairie altogether, and toward the habitations.

  The suddenly conceived purpose of le Bourdon, to attempt to mystify the savages, and thus get a hold upon their minds which he might turn to advantage, was much aided by the different directions taken by these several bees. Had they all gone the same way, the conclusion that all went home would be so very natural and obvious, as to deprive the discovery of a hive of any supernatural merit, at least; and to establish this was just now the great object the bee- hunter had in view. As it was, the Indians were no wiser, now all the bees were gone, than they had been before one of them had flown. On the contrary, they could not understand how the flights of so many insects, in so many different directions, should tell the bee- hunter where honey was to be found. Le Bourdon saw that the prairie was covered with bees, and well knew that, such being the fact, the inmates of perhaps a hundred different hives must be present. All this, however, was too novel and too complicated for the calculations of savages; and not one of those who crowded near, as observers, could account for so many of the bees going different ways.

  Le Bourdon now intimated a wish to change his ground. He had noted two of the bees, and the only question that remained to be decided, as IT respected THEM, was whether they belonged to the precise points toward which they had flown, or to points beyond them. The reader will easily understand that this is the nature of the fact determined by taking an angle, the point of intersection between any two of the lines of flight being necessarily the spot where the hive is to be found. So far from explaining this to those around him, however, Boden kept it a secret in his own breast. Margery knew the whole process, for to HER he had often gone over it in description, finding a pleasure in instructing one so apt, and whose tender, liquid blue eyes seemed to reflect every movement of his own soul and feelings. Margery he could have taught forever, or fancied for the moment he could; which is as near the truth as men under the influence of love often get. But, as for the Indians, so far from letting them into any of his secrets, his strong desire was now to throw dust into their eyes, in all possible ways, and to make their well-established character for superstition subservient to his own projects.

  Boden was far from being a scholar, even for one in his class in life. Down to this hour, the neglect of the means of public instruction is somewhat of a just ground of reproach against the venerable and respectable commonwealth of which he was properly a member, though her people have escaped a knowledge of a great deal of small philosophy and low intriguing, which it is fair to presume that evil spirits thrust in among the leaves of a more legitimate information, when the book of knowledge is opened for the instruction of those who, by circumstances, are prevented from doing more than bestowing a few hurried glances at its contents. Still, Ben had read everything about bees on which he could lay his hands. He had studied their habits personally, and he had pondered over the various accounts of their communities—a sort of limited monarchy in which the prince is deposed occasionally, or when matters go very wrong—some written by really very observant and intelligent persons, and others again not a little fanciful. Among other books that had thus fallen in le Bourdon's way, was one which somewhat minutely described the uses that were made of bees by the ancient soothsayers in their divinations. Our hero had no notion of reviving those rites, or of attempting to imitate the particular practices of which he had read and heard; but the recollection of them occurred most opportunely to strengthen and encourage the design, so suddenly entertained, of making his present operation aid in opening the way to the one great thing of the hour—an escape into Lake Michigan.

  "A bee knows a great deal," said le Bourdon, to his nearest companions, while the whole party was moving some distance to take up new ground. "A bee often knows more than a man."

  "More than pale-face?" demanded Bear's Meat, a chief who had attained his authority more by means of physical than of intellectual qualities.

  "Sometimes. Pale-faces have gone to bees to ask what will happen. Let me ask our medicine-man this question. Parson Amen, have YOU any knowledge of the soothsayers of old using bees when they wished to know what was about to happen?"

  Now, the missionary was not a learned man, any more than the bee- hunter; but many an unlearned man has heard of this, and he happened to be one of the number. Of Virgil, for instance, Parson Amen knew but little; though in the progress of a very loose, but industrious course of reading, he had learned that the soothsayers put great faith in bees. His answer was given in conformity with this fact, and in the most perfect good faith, for he had not the smallest suspicion of what Boden wished to establish.

  "Certainly—most certainly," answered the well-meaning missionary— "the fortune-tellers of old times often went to their bees when they wished to look into the future. It has been a subject much talked of among Christians, to account for the soothsaying, and witchcraft, and other supernatural dealings of those who lived in the times of the prophets; and most of them have held the opinion that evil spirits have been—nay, still are permitted to work their will on certain men in the flesh. But bees were in much favor with the soothsayers of old."

  This answer was given in English, and little of it was comprehended by Peter, and the others who had more or less knowledge of that language, beyond the part which asserted the agency of bees in witchcraft. Luckily, this was all le Bourdon desired, and he was well satisfied at seeing that the idea passed from one chief to another; those who did not know the English at all, being told by those who had some knowledge of the tongue, that "bees were thought to be 'medicine' among the pale-faces."

  Le Bourdon gained a great deal of ground by this fortunate corroboration of his own still more fortunate thought Matters were pretty nearly desperate with him, and with all his friends, should Peter really meditate evil; and as desperate diseases notoriously require remedies of the same character, he was ready to attempt anything that promised even the smallest chance of success.

  "Yes, yes—" the bee-hunter pursued the discourse by saying—"bees know a great deal. I have sometimes thoug
ht that bees know more than bears, and my brother must be able to tell something of them?"

  "Yes; my name is Bear's Meat," answered that chief, complacently. "Injin always give name that mean somet'ing. Kill so many bear one winter, got dat name."

  "A good name it is! To kill a bear is the most honorable thing a hunter can do, as we all know. If my brother wishes to hear it, I will ask my bees when he is to kill another."

  The savage to whom this was addressed fairly started with delight. He was eagerly signifying his cheerful assent to the proposal, when Peter quietly interposed, and changed the discourse to himself, in a way that he had, and which would not easily admit of denial. It was apparent to le Bourdon that this mysterious Indian was not content that one so direct and impetuous in his feelings as Bear's Meat, and who was at the same time so little qualified to manage his portion of an intellectual conversation, should be foremost any longer. For that reason he brought himself more into the foreground, leaving to his friend the capacity of listener and observer, rather than that of a speaker and actor. What took place under this new arrangement, will appear as the narrative proceeds.