With
these were Indians. Buckshot, a little Indian with a good knowledge of
English; Johnnie Challan, a half-breed Indian, ugly, furtive, an
efficient man about camp; and Tawabinisay himself. This was an honour
due to the presence of Doc. Tawabinisay approved of Doc. That was all
there was to say about it.
After a few days, inevitably the question of Kawagama came up. Billy,
Johnnie Challan, and Buckshot squatted in a semi-circle, and drew
diagrams in the soft dirt with a stick. Tawabinisay sat on a log and
overlooked the proceedings. Finally he spoke.
"Tawabinisay" (they always gave him his full title; we called him
Tawab) "tell me lake you find he no Kawagama," translated Buckshot. "He
called Black Beaver Lake."
"Ask him if he'll take us to Kawagama," I requested.
Tawabinisay looked very doubtful.
"Come on, Tawab," urged Doc, nodding at him vigorously. "Don't be a
clam. We won't take anybody else up there."
The Indian probably did not comprehend the words, but he liked Doc.
"A'-right," he pronounced laboriously.
Buckshot explained to us his plans.
"Tawabinisay tell me," said he, "he don' been to Kawagama seven year.
To-morrow he go blaze trail. Nex' day we go."
"How would it be if one or two of us went with him to-morrow to see how
he does it?" asked Jim.
Buckshot looked at us strangely.
"_I_ don't want to follow him," he replied, with a significant
simplicity. "He run like a deer."
"Buckshot," said I, pursuing the inevitable linguistics, "what does
Kawagama mean?"
Buckshot thought for quite two minutes.
Pages:
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198