Our arrival
coincided with that of the canoe. It was of the Ojibway three-fathom
pattern, and contained a half-dozen packs, a sledge-dog, with whom
Deuce at once opened guarded negotiations, an old Indian, a squaw, and
a child of six or eight. We exchanged brief greetings. Then I sat on a
stump and watched the portage.
These were evidently "Woods Indians," an entirely different article
from the "Post Indians." They wore their hair long, and bound by a
narrow strip or fillet; their faces were hard and deeply lined, with a
fine, bold, far-seeing look to the eyes which comes only from long
woods dwelling. They walked, even under heavy loads, with a sagging,
springy gait, at once sure-footed and swift. Instead of tump-lines the
man used his sash, and the woman a blanket knotted loosely together at
the ends. The details of their costumes were interesting in combination
of jeans and buckskin, broadcloth and blanket, stroud and a material
evidently made from the strong white sacking in which flour intended
for frontier consumption is always packed. After the first
double-barrelled "bo' jou', bo' jou'," they paid no further attention
to me. In a few moments the portage was completed. The woman thrust her
paddle against the stream's bottom and the canoe, and so embarked. The
man stepped smoothly to his place like a cat leaping from a chair. They
shot away with the current, leaving behind them a strange and
mysterious impression of silence.
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