The Silent Places Part 10

The canoe floated on. About an hundred yards below the Indians Sam ordered a landing. Camp was made as usual. Supper was cooked. The fire replenished. Then, just before the late sunset of the Far North, the bushes crackled.

"Now let me do the talking," warned Sam.

"All right. I'll just keep my eye on this," d.i.c.k nodded toward the girl.

"She's Ojibway, too, you know. She may give us away."

"She can't only guess," Sam reminded. "But there ain't any danger, anyway."

The leaves parted. The Indian appeared, sauntering with elaborate carelessness, his beady eyes s.h.i.+fting here and there in an attempt to gather what these people might be about.

"Bo' jou', bo' jou'," he greeted them.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Indian advanced silently to the fireside, where he squatted on his heels. He filled a pipe, sc.r.a.ping the tobacco from the square plug Sam extended to him. While he did this, and while he stuffed it into the bowl, his keen eyes s.h.i.+fted here and there, gathering the material for conclusions.

Sam, watchful but also silent, could almost follow his mental processes.

The canoe meant travel, the meagreness of the outfits either rapid or short travel, the two steel traps travel beyond the sources of supply.

Then inspection pa.s.sed lightly over the girl and from her to the younger man. With a flash of illumination Sam Bolton saw how valuable in allaying suspicion this evidence of a peaceful errand might prove to be.

Men did not bring their women on important missions involving speed and danger.

Abruptly the Indian spoke, going directly to the heart of the matter, after the Indian fas.h.i.+on.

"Where you from?"

"Winnipeg," replied Sam, naming the headquarters of the Company.

The direction of travel was toward Winnipeg. Sam was perfectly aware of the discrepancy, but he knew better than to offer gratuitous explanation. The Indian smoked.

"Where you come from now?" he inquired, finally.

"Tschi-gammi[5]."

[Footnote 5: Lake Superior.]

This was understandable. Remained only the object of an expedition of this peculiar character. Sam Bolton knew that the Indian would satisfy himself by surmises,--he would never apply the direct question to a man's affairs,--and surmise might come dangerously near the truth. So he proceeded to impart a little information in his own way.

"You are the hunter of this district?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"How far do you trap?"

The Indian mentioned creeks and rivers as his boundaries.

"Where do you get your debt?"

"Missinaibi."

"That is a long trail."

"Yes."

"Do many take it each year?"

The Indian mentioned rapidly a dozen names of families.

Sam at once took another tack.

"I do not know this country. Are there large lakes?"

"There is Animiki."

"Has it fish? Good wood?"

"Much wood. Oga[6], kinoj[7]."

[Footnote 6: Pickerel.]

[Footnote 7: Pike.]

Sam paused.

"Could a _brigade_ of canoes reach it easily?" he inquired.

Now a _brigade_ is distinctly an inst.i.tution of the Honourable the Hudson's Bay Company. It is used for two purposes; to maintain communication with the outside world, and to establish winter camps in the autumn or to break them up in the spring. At once the situation became clear. A gleam of comprehension flashed over the Indian's eyes.

With the peculiar attention to detail distinctively the forest runner's he indicated a route. Sam was satisfied to let the matter rest there for the present.

The next evening he visited the Indian's camp. It was made under a spreading tree, the tepee poles partly resting against some of the lower branches. The squaw and her woman child kept to the shadows of the wigwam, but the boy, a youth of perhaps fifteen years, joined the men by the fire.

Sam accepted the hospitality of a pipe of tobacco, and attacked the question in hand from a ground tacitly a.s.sumed since the evening before.

"If Hutsonbaycompany make winterpost on Animiki will you get your debt there instead of Missinaibie?" he asked first of all.

Of course the Indian a.s.sented.

"How much fur do you get, good year?"

The Indian rapidly ran over a list.

"Lots of fur. Is it going to last? Do you keep district strict here?"

inquired Sam.

Under cover of this question Sam was feeling for important information.

As has perhaps been mentioned, in a normal Indian community each head of a family is a.s.signed certain hunting districts over which he has exclusive hunting and trapping privileges. This naturally tends toward preservation of the fur. An Indian knows not only where each beaver dam is situated, but he knows also the number of beaver it contains and how many can be taken without diminution of the supply. If, however, the privileges are not strictly guarded, such moderation does not obtain.