Chapter I.

by James Fenimore Cooper

　　How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day, From every opening flower. WATTS' HYMNS FOR CHILDREN.We have heard of those who fancied that they beheld a signalinstance of the hand of the Creator in the celebrated cataract ofNiagara. Such instances of the power of sensible and near objects toinfluence certain minds, only prove how much easier it is to impressthe imaginations of the dull with images that are novel, than withthose that are less apparent, though of infinitely greatermagnitude. Thus it would seem to be strange indeed, that any humanbeing should find more to wonder at in any one of the phenomena ofthe earth, than in the earth itself; or should especially standastonished at the might of Him who created the world, when eachnight brings into view a firmament studded with other worlds, eachequally the work of His hands!

　　Nevertheless, there is (at bottom) a motive for adoration, in thestudy of the lowest fruits of the wisdom and power of God. The leafis as much beyond our comprehension of remote causes, as much asubject of intelligent admiration, as the tree which bears it: thesingle tree confounds our knowledge and researches the same as theentire forest; and, though a variety that appears to be endlesspervades the world, the same admirable adaptation of means to ends,the same bountiful forethought, and the same benevolent wisdom, areto be found in the acorn, as in the gnarled branch on which it grew.

　　The American forest has so often been described, as to cause one tohesitate about reviving scenes that might possibly pall, and inretouching pictures that have been so frequently painted as to befamiliar to every mind. But God created the woods, and the themesbestowed by his bounty are inexhaustible. Even the ocean, with itsboundless waste of water, has been found to be rich in its variousbeauties and marvels; and he who shall bury himself with us, oncemore, in the virgin forests of this widespread land, may possiblydiscover new subjects of admiration, new causes to adore the Beingthat has brought all into existence, from the universe to its mostminute particle.

　　The precise period of our legend was in the year 1812, and theseason of the year the pleasant month of July, which had now drawnnear to its close. The sun was already approaching the westernlimits of a wooded view, when the actors in its opening scene mustappear on a stage that is worthy of a more particular description.

　　The region was, in one sense, wild, though it offered a picture thatwas not without some of the strongest and most pleasing features ofcivilization. The country was what is termed "rolling," from somefancied resemblance to the surface of the ocean, when it is justundulating with a long "ground-swell."

　　Although wooded, it was not, as the American forest is wont to grow,with tail straight trees towering toward the light, but withintervals between the low oaks that were scattered profusely overthe view, and with much of that air of negligence that one is apt tosee in grounds where art is made to assume the character of nature.The trees, with very few exceptions, were what is called the "burr-oak," a small variety of a very extensive genus; and the spacesbetween them, always irregular, and often of singular beauty, haveobtained the name of "openings"; the two terms combined giving theirappellation to this particular species of native forest, under thename of "Oak Openings."

　　These woods, so peculiar to certain districts of country, are notaltogether without some variety, though possessing a generalcharacter of sameness. The trees were of very uniform size, beinglittle taller than pear-trees, which they resemble a good deal inform; and having trunks that rarely attain two feet in diameter. Thevariety is produced by their distribution. In places they stand witha regularity resembling that of an orchard; then, again, they aremore scattered and less formal, while wide breadths of the land areoccasionally seen in which they stand in copses, with vacant spaces,that bear no small affinity to artificial lawns, being covered withverdure. The grasses are supposed to be owing to the fires lightedperiodically by the Indians in order to clear their hunting-grounds.

　　Toward one of these grassy glades, which was spread on an almostimperceptible acclivity, and which might have contained some fiftyor sixty acres of land, the reader is now requested to turn hiseyes. Far in the wilderness as was the spot, four men were there,and two of them had even some of the appliances of civilizationabout them. The woods around were the then unpeopled forest ofMichigan; and the small winding reach of placid water that was justvisible in the distance, was an elbow of the Kalamazoo, a beautifullittle river that flows westward, emptying its tribute into the vastexpanse of Lake Michigan. Now, this river has already become known,by its villages and farms, and railroads and mills; but then, not adwelling of more pretension than the wigwam of the Indian, or anoccasional shanty of some white adventurer, had ever been seen onits banks. In that day, the whole of that fine peninsula, with theexception of a narrow belt of country along the Detroit River, whichwas settled by the French as far back as near the close of theseventeenth century, was literally a wilderness. If a white manfound his way into it, it was as an Indian trader, a hunter, or anadventurer in some other of the pursuits connected with border lifeand the habits of the savages.

　　Of this last character were two of the men on the open glade justmentioned, while their companions were of the race of theaborigines. What is much more remarkable, the four were absolutelystrangers to each other's faces, having met for the first time intheir lives, only an hour previously to the commencement of ourtale. By saying that they were strangers to each other, we do notmean that the white men were acquaintances, and the Indiansstrangers, but that neither of the four had ever seen either of theparty until they met on that grassy glade, though fame had made themsomewhat acquainted through their reputations. At the moment when wedesire to present this group to the imagination of the reader, threeof its number were grave and silent observers of the movements ofthe fourth. The fourth individual was of middle size, young, active,exceedingly well formed, and with a certain open and frankexpression of countenance, that rendered him at least well-looking,though slightly marked with the small-pox. His real name wasBenjamin Boden, though he was extensively known throughout thenorthwestern territories by the sobriquet of Ben Buzz--extensivelyas to distances, if not as to people. By the voyageurs, and otherFrench of that region, he was almost universally styled le Bourdon^or the "Drone"; not, however, from his idleness or inactivity, butfrom the circumstances that he was notorious for laying his hands onthe products of labor that proceeded from others. In a word, BenBoden was a "bee-hunter," and as he was one of the first to exercisehis craft in that portion of the country, so was he infinitely themost skilful and prosperous. The honey of le Bourdon was not onlythought to be purer and of higher flavor than that of any othertrader in the article, but it was much the most abundant. There werea score of respectable families on the two banks of the Detroit, whonever purchased of any one else, but who patiently waited for thearrival of the capacious bark canoe of Buzz, in the autumn, to layin their supplies of this savory nutriment for the approachingwinter. The whole family of griddle cakes, including those ofbuckwheat, Indian rice, and wheaten flour, were more or lessdependent on the safe arrival of le Bourdon, for their popularityand welcome. Honey was eaten with all; and wild honey had areputation, rightfully or not obtained, that even rendered it morewelcome than that which was formed by the labor and art of thedomesticated bee.

　　The dress of le Bourdon was well adapted to his pursuits and life.He wore a hunting-shirt and trousers, made of thin stuff, which wasdyed green, and trimmed with yellow fringe. This was the ordinaryforest attire of the American rifleman; being of a character, as itwas thought, to conceal the person in the woods, by blending itshues with those of the forest. On his head Ben wore a skin cap,somewhat smartly made, but without the fur; the weather being warm.His moccasins were a good deal wrought, but seemed to be fadingunder the exposure of many marches. His arms were excellent; but allhis martial accoutrements, even to a keen long-bladed knife, weresuspended from the rammer of his rifle; the weapon itself beingallowed to lean, in careless confidence, against the trunk of thenearest oak, as if their master felt there was no immediate use forthem.

　　Not so with the other three. Not only was each man well armed, buteach man kept his trusty rifle hugged to his person, in a sort ofjealous watchfulness; while the other white man, from time to time,secretly, but with great minuteness, examined the flint and primingof his own piece.

　　This second pale-face was a very different person from him justdescribed. He was still young, tall, sinewy, gaunt, yet springy andstrong, stooping and round-shouldered, with a face that carried avery decided top-light in it, like that of the notorious Bardolph.In short, whiskey had dyed the countenance of Gershom Waring with atell-tale hue, that did not less infallibly betray his destinationthan his speech denoted his origin, which was clearly from one ofthe States of New England. But Gershom had been so long at theNorthwest as to have lost many of his peculiar habits and opinions,and to have obtained substitutes.

　　Of the Indians, one, an elderly, wary, experienced warrior, was aPottawattamie, named Elksfoot, who was well known at all thetrading-houses and "garrisons" of the northwestern territory,including Michigan as low down as Detroit itself. The other red manwas a young Chippewa, or O-jeb-way, as the civilized natives of thatnation now tell us the word should be spelled. His ordinaryappellation among his own people was that of Pigeonswing; a nameobtained from the rapidity and length of his flights. This youngman, who was scarcely turned of five-and-twenty, had alreadyobtained a high reputation among the numerous tribes of his nation,as a messenger, or "runner."

　　Accident had brought these four persons, each and all strangers toone another, in communication in the glade of the Oak Openings,which has already been mentioned, within half an hour of the scenewe are about to present to the reader. Although the rencontre hadbeen accompanied by the usual precautions of those who meet in awilderness, it had been friendly so far; a circumstance that was insome measure owing to the interest they all took in the occupationof the bee-hunter. The three others, indeed, had come in ondifferent trails, and surprised le Bourdon in the midst of one ofthe most exciting exhibitions of his art--an exhibition that awokeso much and so common an interest in the spectators, as at once toplace its continuance for the moment above all other considerations.After brief salutations, and wary examinations of the spot and itstenants, each individual had, in succession, given his graveattention to what was going on, and all had united in begging BenBuzz to pursue his occupation, without regard to his visitors. Theconversation that took place was partly in English, and partly inone of the Indian dialects, which luckily all the parties appearedto understand. As a matter of course, with a sole view to oblige thereader, we shall render what was said, freely, into the vernacular.

　　"Let's see, let's see, stranger," cried Gershom, emphasizing thesyllable we have put in italics, as if especially to betray hisorigin, "what you can do with your tools. I've heer'n tell of suchdoin's, but never see'd a bee lined in all my life, and have adesp'rate fancy for larnin' of all sorts, from 'rithmetic topreachin'."

　　"That comes from your Puritan blood," answered le Bourdon, with aquiet smile, using surprisingly pure English for one in his class oflife. "They tell me you Puritans preach by instinct."

　　"I don't know how that is," answered Gershom, "though I can turn myhand to anything. I heer'n tell, across at Bob Ruly (Bois Brulk[Footnote: This unfortunate name, which it may be necessary to tella portion of our readers means "burnt wood," seems condemned to allsorts of abuses among the linguists of the West. Among otherpronunciations is that of "Bob Ruly"; while an island near Detroit,the proper name of which is "Bois Blanc," is familiarly known to thelake mariners by the name of "Bobolo."]) of sich doin's, and wouldgive a week's keep at Whiskey Centre, to know how 'twas done."

　　"Whiskey Centre" was a sobriquet bestowed by the fresh-water sailorsof that region, and the few other white adventurers of Saxon originwho found their way into that trackless region, firstly on Gershomhimself, and secondly on his residence. These names were obtainedfrom the intensity of their respective characters, in favor of thebeverage named. L'eau de mort was the place termed by the voyagers,in a sort of pleasant travesty on the eau de vie of their distant,but still well-remembered manufactures on the banks of the Garonne.Ben Boden, however, paid but little attention to the drawlingremarks of Gershom Waring. This was not the first time he had heardof "Whiskey Centre," though the first time he had ever seen the manhimself. His attention was on his own trade, or present occupation;and when it wandered at all, it was principally bestowed on theIndians; more especially on the runner. Of Elk's foot, or Elksfoot,as we prefer to spell it, he had some knowledge by means of rumor;and the little he knew rendered him somewhat more indifferent to hisproceedings than he felt toward those of the Pigeonswing. Of thisyoung redskin he had never heard; and, while he managed to suppressall exhibition of the feeling, a lively curiosity to learn theChippewa's business was uppermost in his mind. As for Gershom, hehad taken his measure at a glance, and had instantly set him down tobe, what in truth he was, a wandering, drinking, recklessadventurer, who had a multitude of vices and bad qualities, mixed upwith a few that, if not absolutely redeeming, served to diminish thedisgust in which he might otherwise have been held by all decentpeople. In the meanwhile, the bee-hunting, in which all thespectators took so much interest, went on. As this is a process withwhich most of our readers are probably unacquainted, it may benecessary to explain the modus operandi, as well as the appliancesused.

　　The tools of Ben Buzz, as Gershom had termed these implements of histrade, were neither very numerous nor very complex. They were allcontained in a small covered wooden pail like those that artisansand laborers are accustomed to carry for the purpose of conveyingtheir food from place to place. Uncovering this, le Bourdon hadbrought his implements to view, previously to the moment when he wasfirst seen by the reader. There was a small covered cup of tin; awooden box; a sort of plate, or platter, made also of wood; and acommon tumbler, of a very inferior, greenish glass. In the year1812, there was not a pane, nor a vessel, of clear, transparentglass, made in all America! Now, some of the most beautifulmanufactures of that sort, known to civilization, are abundantlyproduced among us, in common with a thousand other articles that areused in domestic economy. The tumbler of Ben Buzz, however, was hiscountryman in more senses than one. It was not only American, but itcame from the part of Pennsylvania of which he was himself a native.Blurred, and of a greenish hue, the glass was the best thatPittsburg could then fabricate, and Ben had bought it only the yearbefore, on the very spot where it had been made.

　　An oak, of more size than usual, had stood a little remote from itsfellows, or more within the open ground of the glade than the restof the "orchard." Lightning had struck this tree that very summer,twisting off its trunk at a height of about four feet from theground. Several fragments of the body and branches lay near, and onthese the spectators now took their seats, watching attentively themovements of the bee-hunter. Of the stump Ben had made a sort oftable, first levelling its splinters with an axe, and on it heplaced the several implements of his craft, as he had need of eachin succession.

　　The wooden platter was first placed on this rude table. Then leBourdon opened his small box, and took out of it a piece ofhoneycomb, that was circular in shape, and about an inch and a halfin diameter. The little covered tin vessel was next brought intouse. Some pure and beautifully clear honey was poured from its spoutinto the cells of the piece of comb, until each of them was abouthalf filled. The tumbler was next taken in hand, carefully wiped,and examined, by holding it up before the eyes of the bee-hunter.Certainly, there was little to admire in it, but it was sufficientlytransparent to answer his purposes. All he asked was to be able tolook through the glass in order to see what was going on in itsinterior.

　　Having made these preliminary arrangements, Buzzing Ben--for thesobriquet was applied to him in this form quite as often as in theother--next turned his attention to the velvet-like covering of thegrassy glade. Fire had run over the whole region late that spring,and the grass was now as fresh, and sweet and short, as if the placewere pastured. The white clover, in particular, abounded, and wasthen just bursting forth into the blossom. Various other flowers hadalso appeared, and around them were buzzing thousands of bees. Theseindustrious little animals were hard at work, loading themselveswith sweets; little foreseeing the robbery contemplated by the craftof man. As le Bourdon moved stealthily among the flowers and theirhumming visitors, the eyes of the two red men followed his smallestmovement, as the cat watches the mouse; but Gershom was lessattentive, thinking the whole curious enough, but preferring whiskeyto all the honey on earth.

　　At length le Bourdon found a bee to his mind, and watching themoment when the animal was sipping sweets from a head of whiteclover, he cautiously placed his blurred and green-looking tumblerover it, and made it his prisoner. The moment the bee found itselfencircled with the glass, it took wing and attempted to rise. Thiscarried it to the upper part of its prison, when Ben carefullyintroduced the unoccupied hand beneath the glass, and returned tothe stump. Here he set the tumbler down on the platter in a way tobring the piece of honeycomb within its circle.

　　So much done successfully, and with very little trouble, Buzzing Benexamined his captive for a moment, to make sure that all was right.Then he took off his cap and placed it over tumbler, platter,honeycomb, and bee. He now waited half a minute, when cautiouslyraising the cap again, it was seen that the bee, the moment adarkness like that of its hive came over it, had lighted on thecomb, and commenced filling itself with the honey. When Ben tookaway the cap altogether, the head and half of the body of the beewas in one of the cells, its whole attention being bestowed on thisunlooked-for hoard of treasure. As this was just what its captorwished, he considered that part of his work accomplished. It nowbecame apparent why a glass was used to take the bee, instead of avessel of wood or of bark. Transparency was necessary in order towatch the movements of the captive, as darkness was necessary inorder to induce it to cease its efforts to escape, and to settle onthe comb.

　　As the bee was now intently occupied in filling itself, Buzzing Ben,or le Bourdon, did not hesitate about removing the glass. He evenventured to look around him, and to make another captive, which heplaced over the comb, and managed as he had done with the first. Ina minute, the second bee was also buried in a cell, and the glasswas again removed. Le Bourdon now signed for his companions to drawnear.

　　"There they are, hard at work with the honey," he said, speaking inEnglish, and pointing at the bees. "Little do they think, as theyundermine that comb, how near they are to the undermining of theirown hive! But so it is with us all! When we think we are in thehighest prosperity we may be nearest to a fall, and when we arepoorest and hum-blest, we may be about to be exalted. I often thinkof these things, out here in the wilderness, when I'm alone, and mythoughts are actyve."

　　Ben used a very pure English, when his condition in life isremembered; but now and then, he encountered a word which prettyplainly proved he was not exactly a scholar. A false emphasis hassometimes an influence on a man's fortune, when one lives in theworld; but it mattered little to one like Buzzing Ben, who seldomsaw more than half a dozen human faces in the course of a wholesummer's hunting. We remember an Englishman, however, who wouldnever concede talents to Burr, because the latter said, aL'AmEricaine, EurOpean, instead of EuropEan.

　　"How hive in danger?" demanded Elksfoot, who was very much of amatter-of-fact person. "No see him, no hear him--else get somehoney."

　　"Honey you can have for asking, for I've plenty of it already in mycabin, though it's somewhat 'arly in the season to begin to break inupon the store. In general, the bee-hunters keep back till August,for they think it better to commence work when the creatures"--thisword Ben pronounced as accurately as if brought up at St. James's,making it neither "creatur'" nor "creatoore"--"to commence work whenthe creatures have had time to fill up, after winter's feed. But Ilike the old stock, and, what is more, I feel satisfied this is notto be a common summer, and so I thought I would make an earlystart."

　　As Ben said this, he glanced his eyes at Pigeonswing, who returnedthe look in a way to prove there was already a secret intelligencebetween them, though neither had ever seen the other an hour before.

　　"Waal!" exclaimed Gershom, "this is cur'ous, I'll allow that; yes,it's cur'ous--but we've got an article at Whiskey Centre that'll putthe sweetest honey bee ever suck'd, altogether out o' countenance!"

　　"An article of which you suck your share, I'll answer for it,judging by the sign you carry between the windows of your face,"returned Ben, laughing; "but hush, men, hush. That first bee isfilled, and begins to think of home. He'll soon be off for HoneyCentre, and I must keep my eye on him. Now, stand a little aside,friends, and give me room for my craft."

　　The men complied, and le Bourdon was now all intense attention tohis business. The bee first taken had, indeed, filled itself tosatiety, and at first seemed to be too heavy to rise on the wing.After a few moments of preparation, however, up it went, circlingaround the spot, as if uncertain what course to take. The eye of Bennever left it, and when the insect darted off, as it soon did, in anair-line, he saw it for fifty yards after the others had lost sightof it. Ben took the range, and was silent fully a minute while hedid so.

　　"That bee may have lighted in the corner of yonder swamp," he said,pointing, as he spoke, to a bit of low land that sustained a growthof much larger trees than those which grew in the "opening," "or ithas crossed the point of the wood, and struck across the prairiebeyond, and made for a bit of thick forest that is to be found aboutthree miles further. In the last case, I shall have my trouble fornothing."

　　"What t'other do?" demanded Elksfoot, with very obvious curiosity.

　　"Sure enough; the other gentleman must be nearly ready for a start,and we'll see what road he travels. 'Tis always an assistance to abee-hunter to get one creature fairly off, as it helps him to linethe next with greater sartainty."

　　Ben would say actyve, and sartain, though he was above sayingcreatoore, or creatur'. This is the difference between aPennsylvanian and a Yankee. We shall not stop, however, to note allthese little peculiarities in these individuals, but use the properor the peculiar dialect, as may happen to be most convenient toourselves.

　　But there was no time for disquisition, the second bee being nowready for a start. Like his companion, this insect rose andencircled the stump several times, ere it darted away toward itshive, in an air-line. So small was the object, and so rapid itsmovement, that no one but the bee-hunter saw the animal after it hadbegun its journey in earnest. To his disappointment, instead offlying in the same direction as the bee first taken, this littlefellow went buzzing off fairly at a right angle! It was consequentlyclear that there were two hives, and that they lay in very differentdirections.

　　Without wasting his time in useless talk, le Bourdon now caughtanother bee, which was subjected to the same process as those firsttaken. When this creature had filled it-self, it rose, circled thestump as usual, as if to note the spot for a second visit, anddarted away, directly in a line with the bee first taken. Ben notedits flight most accurately, and had his eye on it, until it wasquite a hundred yards from the stump. This he was enabled to do, bymeans of a quick sight and long practice.

　　"We'll move our quarters, friends," said Buzzing Ben, good-humoredly, as soon as satisfied with this last observation, andgathering together his traps for a start. "I must angle for thathive, and I fear it will turn out to be across the prairie, andquite beyond my reach for to-day."

　　The prairie alluded to was one of those small natural meadows, orpastures, that are to be found in Michigan, and may have containedfour or five thousand acres of open land. The heavy timber of theswamp mentioned, jutted into it, and the point to be determined was,to ascertain whether the bees had flown over these trees, towardwhich they had certainly gone in an air-line, or whether they hadfound their hive among them. In order to settle this materialquestion, a new process was necessary.

　　"I must 'angle' for them chaps," repeated le Bourdon; "and if youwill go with me, strangers, you shall soon see the nicest part ofthe business of bee-hunting. Many a man who can 'line' a bee, can donothing at an 'angle'."

　　As this was only gibberish to the listeners, no answer was made, butall prepared to follow Ben, who was soon ready to change his ground.The bee-hunter took his way across the open ground to a point fullya hundred rods distant from his first position, where he foundanother stump of a fallen tree, which he converted into a stand. Thesame process was gone through with as before, and le Bourdon wassoon watching two bees that had plunged their heads down into thecells of the comb. Nothing could exceed the gravity and attention ofthe Indians, all this time. They had fully comprehended the businessof "lining" the insects toward their hives, but they could notunderstand the virtue of the "angle." The first bore so strong anaffinity to their own pursuit of game, as to be very obvious totheir senses; but the last included a species of information towhich they were total strangers. Nor were they much the wiser afterle Bourdon had taken his "angle"; it requiring a sort of inductionto which they were not accustomed, in order to put the several partsof his proceedings together, and to draw the inference. As forGershom, he affected to be familiar with all that was going on,though he was just as ignorant as the Indians themselves. Thislittle bit of hypocrisy was the homage he paid to his white blood:it being very unseemly, according to his view of the matter, for apale-face not to know more than a redskin.

　　The bees were some little time in filling themselves. At length oneof them came out of his cell, and was evidently getting ready forhis flight. Ben beckoned to the spectators to stand farther back, inorder to give him a fair chance, and, just as he had done so, thebee rose. After humming around the stump for an instant, away theinsect flew, taking a course almost at right angles to that in whichle Bourdon had expected to see it fly. It required half a minute forhim to recollect that this little creature had gone off in a linenearly parallel to that which had been taken by the second of thebees, which he had seen quit his original position. The line ledacross the neighboring prairie, and any attempt to follow these beeswas hopeless.

　　But the second creature was also soon ready, and when it dartedaway, le Bourdon, to his manifest delight, saw that it held itsflight toward the point of the swamp into, or over which two of hisfirst captives had gone. This settled the doubtful matter. Had thehive of these bees been beyond that wood, the angle of intersectionwould not have been there, but at the hive across the prairie. Thereader will understand that creatures which obey an instinct, orsuch a reason as bees possess, would never make a curvature in theirflights without some strong motive for it. Thus, two bees taken fromflowers that stood half a mile apart would be certain not to crosseach other's tracks, in returning home, until they met at the commonhive: and wherever the intersecting angle in their respectiveflights may be, there would that hive be also. As this repository ofsweets was the game le Bourdon had in view, it is easy to see howmuch he was pleased when the direction taken by the last of his beesgave him the necessary assurance that its home would certainly befound in that very point of dense wood.