ANTOINE GARDAPEE. 24-1 



rest we stepped over the sleeping Indian by the fire and 

 crawled into our own blankets, and if there were any 

 visions they were of the loved ones at home. 



In the morning Antoine used a file on his axe while I 

 prepared the breakfast, and then Ah-se-bun went down 

 the stream with us as far as the bee tree, and continued 

 his journey without even a goodby grunt or the slightest 

 expression of interest in our work. This sort of thing 

 had ceased to exasperate me, and I was getting used to 

 what Antoine termed "Injun unpoliteness," for said he: 

 "Dem Injun he t'ink it smart to be unpolite, but he lak 

 you an' he doan lak you, an' he doan tole you how much. 

 Hit make no dif. Ole Ah-se-bun, he say, 'Kego-e-kay 

 nish-ish-shin,' an' he mean you good man." 



"That may be all right, Antoine; but when the hun- 

 gry cuss comes into camp he is polite, and gives us 

 the bon four, which he learned from your people; but 

 when he's got his belly full he goes off, and never gives 

 us a grunt which is the salutation of his people. It 

 may be all right, but I don't like it. Your people and 

 mine give as warm a shake at parting as they do at meet- 

 ing, and when we have been entertained we say 'goodby/ 

 if no more." 



"Wen you know Injun better you fine heem hout 

 more, an' you doan mind. You know w'at make da 

 scratch all-a bark f'um da bee tree an' roun da hole? I'll 

 tole you. He's a bear, an' he'll clam hup for getta da 

 hun' an' fine da hole too small. Da bee he on'y come las' 

 year, 'cause da bark on'y scratch hoff dis a-wint'." 



Antoine cut down the big oak without help. I was 

 fully as strong as he was, but when it came to handling 

 an axe my wild blows counted but little, while not one of 

 his was wasted. I could strike once in a place, but An- 

 toine's stump was a level one; and the tree, if straight, 



