Next morning, the weather being cooler and the wind favorable, we took our departure, after having captured some fine fish at the falls pool, for the Batchawaung River. It was but a short journey round a sandspit that projected into the bay, where we took a single trout, and we were soon in the mouth of the deep dark river. The banks were low and of course covered with trees, most of which were of the deciduous character; the water was sluggish, and the interval between the bay and distant mountain extended several miles.

We passed an Indian paddling a canoe loaded with bark, the sole occupant besides ourselves of the quiet stream, and our guides conversed fluently with him in the musical Indian tongue. Occasionally a brood of ducks, alarmed at our approach, broke the oppressive silence with their vigorous efforts to escape, and Don, trolling with Buel’s spoon for black bass, struck and landed a small ill-favored pickerel—esox boreus—of some four pounds weight.

The Batchawaung is the favorite resort for anglers who visit the north shore, and being within easy access of the Sault—not more than a day’s sail with favorable weather—is fished to excess. It is a large stream, filled with rapids and pools, and usually crowded with trout of immense size; but the water is dark and easily heated, so that the fish often desert it for the lake. There is a sameness about the Batchawaung, and a want of picturesque effect, that is altogether different from the Harmony; we missed the noise of the falling water, the sight of the pretty cascade, when we came to pitch our tent about four miles from the mouth, at the first shallow rapids, and throughout our whole trip we never saw the equal of the romantic Harmony.

There are but two rivers emptying into Batchawaung Bay that are generally laid down on the maps—the Batchawaung and the Chippewa—but the guides assured us there were four fine streams. The location usually given to the Chippewa applies well to the Harmony, and it may be they are the same river under different names. Our ordinary maps of the northern shore of Lake Superior are altogether imperfect, and even the charts of the Hudson’s Bay Company are not entirely accurate.

Anxious to explore the stream, no sooner was our camp pitched and dinner over than we embarked and continued the ascent, being poled against the current by the two guides, and trying every promising spot as we passed. Fish, however, were nowhere to be found, and disgusted with the heat that not only annoyed ourselves but had destroyed our sport, we were about giving up, when Frank stopped the boat over against the mouth of a little murmuring tributary brook. There were a quantity of small stones and large rocks where the rivulet joined the river, and the cast being a long one, I extended my line and dropped the fly just where the two currents met. It was taken instantly by a fish that, after fifteen minutes’ vigorous play, was landed and found to weigh two and a half pounds.

That inaugurated our sport, and was followed by the capture of at least two dozen magnificent trout, that were not only immense in size, averaging nearly three pounds, but were extremely beautiful and uncommonly vigorous. Their tints were rich and dark, differing as greatly from the lake fish as the trout of the Canadian rivers differ from those of the salt water. They fought with great courage and perseverance, requiring skill and patience to land; and anxious as we were to take a large one, that is to say, one of over four pounds, those of two and three pounds were so numerous and voracious that we could not effect our object.

We landed some by hand and threw many back into the water, but, notwithstanding, soon had more than we could possibly use. There being no reason for our taking any more, and Don having complained that the cast was inconveniently long on account of the imperfections of his rod, I assured him I could cast entirely across the pool, and to prove it, lengthened my line, and at the first cast hooked fast in the rock beyond. Not caring to break the line, we dropped the boat across the stream, and while passing over the pool, beheld the bottom literally black with fish. If we had been inclined to wanton destruction, we could doubtless have killed a hundred; but having no means to pot or souse them, and knowing that they are comparatively worthless salted or smoked, we had resolved not to kill more than we could eat.

On the way back to camp we took a long, lean, poor, sickly fish, that, if in good order, would have reached six pounds, but in its unhealthy state only weighed two and a half.

At supper that evening Don made a formal protest and complaint, insisting that he would drink no more tea till he had white sugar; he entered at some length into the characteristics and peculiarities of sugar in its various stages, questioned the advantage of using brown sugar at all, intimated that white was the best, most economical, and least bulky, advised me in future to take none other, and finally having disposed of every conceivable case but his own, inquired why, when we had abundance of both, he was not allowed the one he preferred, by which time I had it out and ready at his hand. He had evidently braced himself for a terrible argument, seemed somewhat surprised at the want of opposition, and after a moment or two began to call in question the propriety of opening a new package, when the brown sugar was already in use; that, in fact, although some people preferred white, and he must confess he was among the number, others liked the flavor of the dark colored; that little inconveniences were the natural concomitants of a sportsman’s life; that when a number of bundles were opened they were more exposed to dampness—a serious injury to sugar—and there were more packages to look after, and that he was decidedly of opinion it was unadvisable, and that he was entirely willing to go without his tea. By this time the tea was drunk and supper ended.

It is a delightful thing of a cool summer evening to sit round a rousing fire that casts its variable glare upon the trunks and lower branches of the stalwart trees, and gives a ruddy glow to the white tent, the dense underbrush, and the kindly faces of the honest guides. At such times, while listening to wild stories of woodsman’s life, that are doubly interesting when repeated upon the ground where they occurred, a pipe is absolutely delicious. Every member of the temporary household selects a rock or log, fashions a seat to his satisfaction as best he may, and recalls the events of other similar expeditions for the edification of his associates. On such occasions cigars, which are cumbersome at all times, do not seem to answer, and recourse is had to the little pouch of Killikinnick which every one carries with him; under the joint influence of story and tobacco, the time passes quickly away, and the hour of bedtime arrives too soon.

Notwithstanding the summer evenings are usually cool above the line of the British Provinces, we happened to have fallen upon a hot spell; and although the fire was not disagreeable, the mosquitoes, which are benumbed by cold, were lively and plentiful. Under these circumstances our mode of proceeding was to close the tent and then with a candle carefully burn them one after another. To do this successfully requires nerve and skill; the light must be approached quickly enough to catch the nimble fellows, and just far enough not to scorch the tent; the operation gave Don decided pleasure, especially as they are consumed with a loud “pop.” In course of the proceeding he incidentally remarked: “Their galleys burn; why not their cities, too?”

Next day we ascended the river to the falls, which were about three miles from camp, and were found to be attractive neither to the fisherman nor the lover of nature. The water was warm and fishless, the shute was small and unromantic. We dined at its foot, and descending, fished the pool that the day before had rewarded us so satisfactorily. Our prey was still there, eager as ever for hook and feathers, and soon covered the bottom of our boat with their glistening forms. My line after some time happening to become fouled in the bottom, and skilful fishing appearing to be out of place, I laid down the fly-rod, and taking the bass-rod, cast the trolling-spoon with some effort and a loud splash into the pool; instead of alarming the fish, it was eagerly seized, and I kept on catching fish with it at every cast, till Don became disgusted with such unsportsmanlike procedure, and insisted upon returning to camp.

That day was made remarkable by the advent of a thunder-storm, a rarity in the northern clime, and the only one that occurred during our entire trip. It was not violent, and had none of those terrible characteristics of similar phenomena in southern latitudes, and even in our regions would have been considered a tame affair.

As, however, it drove us within the tent, and gave us a little unemployed leisure, my attention was attracted to Don’s baggage, which consisted of an incongruous assortment that would hardly have been thought of by any other amateur backwoodsman, and would certainly have astounded a professional. Of course there were abundant clothes of various colors and kinds, of which a buckskin under-jacket suitable for severe winter weather, but hardly necessary in a summer-trip, and a handsome dressing-gown, were prominent articles; also his shaving materials, very neat and elegant, that were not used till he returned; a thermometer that kept us informed as to the amount of suffering we were entitled to feel from the condition of the weather; a picture of his two extremely pretty children, set in a passe-partout frame, with a glass over it that was in daily danger of destruction, a bundle of tooth-picks that would have lasted us both a year, a new and effective patent portable boot-jack, a clothes-brush and whisp, a bottle of eau de cologne, a pair of flesh-brushes, and many other things that might be classed as “odds and ends.”

Most of these articles were jumbled together in a large water-proof bag, from which he was never known to be able to obtain any specific article without emptying the whole on the floor; but the picture, his looking-glass, comb, hair-brush, and soap he kept among the eggs. The eggs suffered considerably from the association, and their injury was felt by myself as head cook; but Don could never be persuaded to change his habits, producing abundant arguments to prove that that was their only appropriate place.

At supper he announced his firm conviction that china cups and plates were a necessity to existence, that tin was an abomination, and that on all future trips he should be properly supplied. He was indignant at a suggestion that they might be broken, and burst forth:

“You are so set in your ways that you think no one can have any ideas but yourself, or make any improvement on your plans. Here you are, drinking high-priced tea, and even brandy-and-water, out of tin cups that hold a quart,”—this was an exaggeration, as they were only pints—“have a disgusting taste that absolutely destroys the flavor, and are of such a shape that you have to dip your nose into the fluid before you can swallow any of it. With hot tea this is painful, and with brandy, or even water, far from pleasant.”

“Glass or china would be more agreeable on some accounts——” was the mild reply.

“I should think so,” he interrupted. “Allow me to ask what you paid for this tea?”

“One dollar and fifteen cents a pound.”

“And what does it taste like?”

“Tea.”

“Tea! Well, there are some people that can hardly tell wash-basin slops from the best Bohea.”

“But, then,” I hurriedly explained, to moderate his disgust, “china is so liable to be broken; I had once an entire case of liquor smashed by my guides.”

“Yes, and that liquor-case is a case in point; because that was lost you do not give up carrying liquor, do you? Then why cease using china cups, not that they have been, but only from fear that they may be broken?”

“They are so much heavier than tin,” I remonstrated.

“As if the weight of two cups, one for you and one for me, and two plates, was so serious. Let’s dispense with something else; take less to eat, if you please, but have it decently served.”

Convinced by this eloquence, I meekly promised to comply on our next expedition, but Don was not altogether satisfied, and continued:

“I do not wish you to consent to these views merely to suit my wishes. I want you to be convinced. I dare say there are advantages about tin; it may be knocked about, is always ready at hand, is light, and stores in small compass; for rough travel, doubtless, it is admirable, and, were we to make long portages, would be better than china. After all, the taste of tin must be more apparent than real; the metal cannot come off, or it would dissolve; and how, then, can it give a taste? The pots are large, but a man wants a good, long drink, whether of tea or brandy, when exhausted with hard work or exposure. After all, you will find many advantages in tin cups, and, really, the plates are scarcely objectionable; before deciding, you must look at these matters from both points of view. However, as we cannot obtain china this trip, and as we are discussing improvements, there is one thing I insist upon hereafter—we must have table-cloths and napkins.”

“What!” I exclaimed, absolutely overcome at this suggestion.

“Table-cloths and napkins. You have probably heard of such things before; they are customary at a gentleman’s table, and if a person does sleep in a tent, he need not forget he is a gentleman. Look at this table, made out of two rough boards that were never even planed, transported in the bottom of our boat, and walked over daily with dirty shoes and occasionally with bare feet, sullied with the marks of promiscuous bundles, half covered with grease, and stained with tea, bilge-water, and fish-blood gracefully intermingled.”

“That is too bad; they are two good, clean boards that Frank washes regularly, and which are in themselves an unusual luxury; for in wood’s-life we usually dine off a log or a flat rock.”

“They may be washed occasionally; but as dead fish are first gutted on them, and as tea and grease are afterwards spilled on them till they are revolting with filth, I do not see, for my part, how you can eat your dinner off them.”

“I don’t eat off them; I eat off my plate.”

“That you may call a joke; but hereafter I shall have table-cloths and napkins. You carry towels, why not napkins?”

“Because you cannot stow a large number, and if you have only a few, how are they to be kept clean? The guides have enough to do without trying to wash table-cloths with cold water and no starch.”

“If that is so, I should take an extra man to wash them.”

The next day we met with a loss. We had noticed that the Indians, when they travelled, were invariably accompanied by their dogs; these were rarely accommodated on board the canoes, and followed along the shore, swimming the inlets or crossing at the head, making often much longer journeys than their masters, who passed from headland to headland, but coming up with the camp at night to partake of the frugal meal. Sometimes, however, they strayed, and either lived on chance gleanings from travellers or perished in the woods. There were two ownerless dogs near our camp, and although precautions had been taken by our men, they succeeded in carrying off our only ham, leaving us nothing to show for it but the empty bag.

Don’s appetite had been sharpened by open air and exercise, and he expatiated at length upon disappointed hopes of fried ham, broiled ham, ham omelets, ham plain, and ham and eggs, and suggested many new and doubtless excellent dishes, of which ham was to be the principal part. His advice was valuable, but somewhat late.

Being already tired of the to me uninteresting Batchawaung and its one pool of numberless trout, and having a strong and favorable breeze, we broke up camp, descended the river, killing a duck on the way, and once out in the open water, headed for the Point of Mamainse, which is Chippewa for sturgeon. The wind, however, soon came out ahead, increased to a gale, and drove us into L’anse aux crÊpes, or Pancake Bay, where we were detained that day and night.

L’anse aux crÊpes is at the mouth of a little rivulet that tumbles over scattered boulders, and occasionally contains some nice trout; but the water was low, and although we caught enough small fish for supper, we did better with young ducks, happening to get a shot into a brood, and killing with the two discharges seven plump, luscious, well-grown little fellows, which replenished the gridiron finely.

The temperature fell to thirty-seven degrees, and with it the mosquitoes—a delightful change from the oppressive heat and hungry hordes that had tormented us. We camped for the night at the mouth of the rivulet, and continuing our voyage early next morning, soon reached the bold, imposing promontory called by the Indian name Mamainse. The shore is rocky and precipitous to such an extent, that the fisherman finds difficulty in casting the fly, or even pursuing his way along the steep cliffs.

The water is filled with broken rocks, as at other parts of the coast, and where these project above the surface a good stand is obtained. At one spot the waves had worn out a deep cavern, where a dozen men could sleep, protected from the air, and often under foot could be heard the smothered rumbling of the water as it rushed into deep holes out of sight. Above the bare rocks, which are often fifty feet perpendicular, stretch the sparse underbrush, the stunted evergreens, and the moss-covered granite of the mountains, till they reach an elevation of a thousand feet. Frowning down upon the water stands the Point of Mamainse, a rallying-spot for the summer fogs and winter storms, a landmark to the voyageur, a barrier to the fiercest commotion of the lake, and the upper boundary of Tequamenon Bay, as the confined portion of Lake Superior near its outlet is called.

It is an extensive promontory, and point after point presented itself to our wearied eyes; we landed, rose, and lost some fine fish, and killed several of good size; but as the wind was adverse, we could not afford to waste time, and pursued our journey till nightfall.

Next morning we tasted a Batchawaung trout that Frank had salted and smoked by hanging near the fire; inasmuch as it was green and had not lost its original flavor altogether, it was quite appetizing; but a smoked trout that has been dried sufficiently to keep, is about as hard, unpalatable, and indigestible a morsel as man can put in his mouth. It has neither the flavor of the mackerel nor the richness of the cod, and not the slightest pretence to the delicacy of the salmon. Slightly salted and smoked, however, it will remain good for several weeks, and furnish a variety to the woodsman’s Spartan fare.

Unfortunately there is no way of preserving trout; these fish, so delicate fresh, are almost worthless pickled, soused, salted, or smoked; while those of a size to be worth catching are too large to preserve by potting, in which way alone can their flavor be preserved. They are pickled by being immersed in water that has had sugar and salt boiled in it; they are soused by being cooked and preserved in vinegar and allspice; they are smoked by being salted for a night and hung in a smoke-house or near the fire; they are kippered by being rubbed with salt and a little pepper, and hung in the sun; they are potted by being cooked and packed tightly in jars, and having hot lard or butter with spices run in and over them. Only when prepared in the latter way are they eatable, and then only when they are small.

This day we had our first really favorable wind that bellied out our sail, and relieving the men from the labor at the oars, drove us along at a famous rate, enabling us to push boldly out into the lake that was alive with the dancing, foam-crested waves, and urging us onward famously in a direct course.

When far from shore and miles from the habitations of a civilized being, we espied approaching another barge similar to our own, and which proved also to be carrying a party of fishermen.

Our sail was hastily lowered, and the vessels being laid alongside of one another, we held an interesting conversation with our fellow-travellers. It appeared they had ascended the Neepigon, and gave glowing accounts of the number of fish, but not much of the character of the fishing; saying that the trout, which were large on the average, were collected in pools as we had found them in the Batchawaung, and were so numerous as to ruin the sport. They had had a long journey, and were out of whiskey, a deprivation that we hastened to supply; and were glad to see civilized beings, and to feel that they were once more on the confines of the land of the white man.

With mutual good wishes we bid them farewell, and watched their barge after we separated growing smaller and smaller in the distance, till it was lost to view. How suggestive are such meetings of individuals who have never encountered one another before, who form an acquaintance as it were in the wilderness, shut out from the rest of mankind, and, separated, never to meet in the wide world again; like a ray of sunshine through a storm-cloud, shining for an instant across the surrounding darkness, gone in a moment, and never to be re-illumined, leaving nothing behind but a pleasant memory! Not one of the persons in either boat will ever forget that meeting, and nevertheless no conceivable circumstances can bring them together again on the boundless waters of Lake Superior.

We reached the Agawa that night. The stream was sluggish at its outlet, near which a change in its course had left a small pond in the sandy shore, and was not altogether inviting, with its shallow, discolored, heated current. It has a high reputation among those who have explored it, but flows into the lake in a commonplace manner. A neighboring swamp encouraged the growth of mosquitoes; and the black flies, which seemed to be of an unrecognized and indescribably vicious species, were annoying in the extreme. There was a small settlement of Indians near by, and hardly had we commenced pitching our camp, which had to be located some distance from shore on account of the pebbly beach, ere they appeared.

There was an old man, the embodiment of harmless idiotcy, who turned out to be a patriarch and not the fool he looked; two fine-looking, straight-featured young men; two boys, a little girl, and three dogs. The latter evidently belonged to the family, for they all, dogs included, stood in a row, the latter fully as intelligent as the former, and none of them offering the least assistance while our men and ourselves raised the tent. The old man wore a conciliatory expression of imbecility, the young men a confirmed air of vacuity, and the dogs and children seemed imbued with a few sparks of intellect.

They made no motion and uttered no word till a fire was lighted, when they instantly crouched round it. As a race, living in the rudest manner, and debased from their native simplicity by contact with the white man, they have small claims to intelligence; but to their credit, be it said, they are ordinarily honest, and unless grossly outraged, perfectly harmless.

They are readily moved to laughter, greatly enjoyed the appearance of our hats, which were stuck round with flies, and shouted with delight at the noise made by Don’s click reel, when he took a trout in the small pond previously mentioned, and throughout our intercourse with them, proved themselves pleasant, trustworthy companions.

While our guides were preparing supper, Don proceeded to explore the neighborhood, and made his way to the wigwams, where he found more of the same family. Immediately on our appearance, the women, after peering furtively through the chinks, retired into obscurity, ignorant, probably, of our high delicacy towards the female sex; and in fact throughout, betrayed a disgusting want of confidence; the three favorite wives of the silly old patriarch, wives that we were told were both young and pretty, having fled into the bush before our canoe had touched land. During our entire stay we had nothing but dissolving views of female charms—loveliness that was not arrayed in crinoline—although Don devoted every spare moment to persistent visits.

A young man appeared promptly from under the blanketed door of the first wigwam, and Don commenced an instructive conversation on the subject of numerous dogs that were howling round in unpleasant proximity to our calves.

“You have a large number of dogs?”

“Ya.”

“I suppose you use them in the chase?”

“Ya.”

“They accompany you in your journeys?”

“Ya.”

“What do you chase with them?”

“Ya.”

“I asked what do you chase with them?”

“Ya.”

“Oh, I see you speak French.”

“Ya.”

“Qu’est ce que l’on chasse avec les chiens?”

“Ya.”

Don now began to doubt whether his new friend spoke either French or English, and had recourse to Chippewa, at least as near Chippewa as he could come.

“Vat you chase, chassy, vis the doggees?”

“Ya.”

“You chase les cerfs the deer, the elks, the moose?” gesticulating freely.

“Ya.”

“The beaver, the—the—castor?”

“Ya.”

“The rabbit, the—the—ze rabeet?”

“Ya.”

“Don,” I burst forth at this stage, “he does not understand a word you are saying.”

“On the contrary, he evidently understands perfectly, how else could he answer so intelligently; of course he does not pronounce yes accurately, but is entirely comprehensible.”

“Well, then, ask him about the canoe he is building; how many it will hold, what those strings are for, and where he caught that large trout yonder?”

“You build ze canoe?”

“Ya.”

“How many it hold?”

“Ya.”

“It hold one?”

“Ya.”

“It hold two?”

“Ya.”

“You see he says it holds one or two.”

“Well, now about the strings.”

“Zese strings, what for?”

“Ya.”

“No no; what for yese strings?”

“Ya.”

“What zay use for?” raising his voice.

“Ya.”

“You no understand; what for, what for?”

“Ya.”

“Leave the strings and try the fish?”

“You see ze trout, truite?”

“Ya.”

“Where you catch him?”

“Ya.”

“Up ze river?”

“Ya.”

“Or near by?”

“Ya.”

“No, no; where catch him?”

“Ya.”

“Here or zere; here or zere?” very loud, as though the savage were deaf.

“Ya.”

“That will do; and after this instructive conversation we had better seek our camp and supper.”

“Just as you say; he evidently does not fully understand the last question, although I think we might obtain some valuable information from him. We certainly want to know where he took that fish, which must weigh four pounds.”

“We certainly shall not find out, as baby talk evidently is not Chippewa, although I wish it was, and will need Frank’s aid in our communications.”

The other Indians were still seated near our fire, and received with apparent thankfulness the remnants of our supper, of which we took care that the little girl should have her share, after we had finished. As the river was low and could not be ascended with our barge, nor without much labor on foot, it was necessary to hire canoes; but unfortunately we had nothing but United States money, which was about as worthless as white paper. Frank took ground that we should pay them in stores of pork and biscuit; but as he seemed utterly regardless of our anxiety to make a positive bargain, and but little mindful whether they were paid or not, Don felt it necessary to approach the subject cautiously, and having read of the pipe of peace, thought the opportunity a good one for its introduction. Taking out his pouch, he gave them enough tobacco to fill their pipes all round, having learnt from Frank that it was not necessary to pass his own from mouth to mouth, which he had considered imperative, but which was not altogether pleasant. He was solicitous about their having their pipes well lighted, and being pleased with the tobacco, and when reassured on that head, and satisfied that genial smoke was producing its natural effect, he permitted Frank to give a few gentle hints suggestive of our desires to ascend the river, our possession of quantities of pork that we did not wish to take back with us, and our anxiety to be satisfied that canoes could be had.

The subject being skilfully launched, Don expressed great interest in the little girl, whose name he found was Wajack, which being interpreted, means Little Rat, and finally made his great point by the production of his picture. This had hung in our tent night after night, had been carried in our basket day by day, and had smashed its score of eggs; but now it repaid us. The hearts of the savages were won, their delight was rapturous, expressions of admiration were universal, the highest encomiums were passed upon it, and the little children, whose likenesses were really extremely pretty, were as the perfection of loveliness as Frank interpreted it, pronounced to be “so nice and fat.”

This we felt to be our moment of victory, and Frank was directed to improve it. Standing before the fire, with a gridiron in one hand and a dish-cloth in the other, he burst into a strain of unequalled eloquence. Without understanding a word, we could imagine him painting our desolate condition; how we were strangers from a far-off land, had left the pale-faces, our wives, our little ones, bringing with us only their faint delineation on paper, in order that we might see the beauties and grandeur of the Indian’s home—to sleep in the woods, to float upon the lakes, to wander through the forests, to explore the rivers. How we felt the red men to be our brothers, and wished to know them better, wished to stay long with them, to voyage in their company and under their guidance; that we were great men in our own land, but knew little of the wilderness or the manners of savage life; that we were rich in corn, in pork, in flour and biscuit, but had not thought to bring our purses, which were filled to overflowing, with us; but that we felt our brethren of the great Chippewa tribe would befriend us, would supply us with canoes and guides, and help us on our way. That the great universal brotherhood of man demanded it, and that the time might come when they would be in our land, penniless and ignorant, and might have to look to us for canoes and guides; and would be glad to remind us of the time they helped us up the Agawa.

At the end of every sentence and at every pause, the Indians all, big and little, broke in with a simultaneous m-m-m, a sort of grunt that became more vigorous as Frank became excited, and grew louder as his arguments grew stronger; till before he was through, the listener would have supposed that the entire party was suffering in the agony of what children know as the stomach-ache. The grunt was not in the least like the conventional humph, was uttered without opening the mouth, which would have been an excessive and unnecessary labor, and was capable of great expression. It began sympathetic, grew appreciative and confirmatory, and at last became wildly enthusiastic, evidently taking its origin from the Greek chorus, which is of a similar appropriateness; it was the strangest accompaniment to a public speech we ever heard.

Feeling the importance of the case, we endeavored to keep our countenances; but what with Frank’s bursts of eloquence, his graceful and impressive gestures with the gridiron, the vehement grunt in chorus at every pause, our strange position congregated in the wild woods round a fire with a parcel of unkempt savages, begging to swap off, as our Yankee brethren would say, a quantity of biscuit for a passage in a canoe, we could not contain ourselves, but rolled over in convulsions of laughter.

At first the Indians did not know what was the matter, then they joined with us, and when we attempted to imitate their grunt they shouted louder than we had done. Frank felt that aspersions were cast upon his eloquence, and seemed to have his feelings hurt, but unable to resist the general hilarity, at last joined the

What Frank had really said I never could find out, but believe that he mentioned the subject we had at heart no farther than merely to order the young men to bring their canoes. Although half-breed himself, he was influenced by the general contempt for the rights of a savage, and determined in his own mind to have the canoes and pay for them as he pleased. Doubtless also he was more or less controlled by a dread of self-depreciation in acknowledging that he served penniless employers. To our persistent questions he would respond laconically that it was arranged, but would say nothing as to particulars. As we were entirely in his hands, having discovered that not a word of our language did the Indians understand nor we a word of theirs; and as, although our desire to do justice was great and might have been strong enough to induce us to give up the idea of obtaining the canoes, we were utterly unable to communicate it, we were compelled to submit to Frank’s course.

The Chippewa language is beautiful, easy, flowing, graceful, full of vowels, expressive, capable of vigorous impression, and, were it more generally understood, pleasant to acquire; but above all is it advantageous when an entire ignorance of its meaning enables you to take what you want and pay for it as you please. And if the native is dissatisfied he cannot vituperate or abuse you, as the strongest word, le plus vilain mot, as Frank expressed it, fortunately is “chien.”