ANTOINE GARDAPEE. 239 



raisins among the things bought at Prairie du Chien for 

 just such a treat, and the old man enjoyed my surprise. 

 The whole dinner was a surprise, for that matter; but the 

 rice and raisins well, they more than filled the bill. The 

 "tobac" was burned by the fire, and after such a gorge 

 we laid ourselves down and slept until dark. 



We were awakened by the entrance of Ah-se-bun, the 

 Raccoon, who accepted the invitation to dinner, and he 

 not only cleaned up what we had left, but he put a polish 

 on every bone until he could work no more. There was 

 a big lot of the rice pudding left, but when he finished 

 the last of it he grunted, "Nish-ish-shin," and curled up 

 to sleep. 



As Antoine and I sat by the fire while the Indian 

 snored I told him about the oak tree and the squirrel 

 which I had seen in the morning. I might not have 

 thought of it again but for the fact that the tree was so 

 scarred, as by some large animal climbing it. 



"Ba gar," said he, "ole pard, I'll tole you what. 

 Shake ! You done foun' a bee tree an' we got da honey. 

 Whoop ! I'll tole you we'll got no bear meat no mo' w'en 

 de las' one he all heat up, an' da deer he all in da yard 

 an' poor, I'll tole you da honey he come in good an' I'll 

 cut da bee tree w'en da day come. You do good t'ing 

 w'en you go down da riv'. Shake!" 



I was curious to know why Ah-se-bun was the only 

 Indian who visited us except the party which once came 

 with him, and why he seemed to be wandering up and 

 down, and never carried a gun. Antoine told me that 

 there was an encampment of Indians about 150 miles 

 north on the Flambeau River, a branch of the Chippewa ; 

 another some sixty miles due east on the Wisconsin 

 River, and a third one thirty miles southeast on the same 

 stream. Our friend was a sort of messenger between 



