After Patiently Waiting For Purchasers Until Hungry, They
Ate What They Could Not Sell, And Went Away To Gather More.
Yonder you see a canoe gliding out from the shore, containing perhaps
a man, a woman, and a child or two, all paddling together in natural,
easy rhythm.
They are going to catch a fish, no difficult matter, and
when this is done their day's work is done. Another party puts out to
capture bits of driftwood, for it is easier to procure fuel in this
way than to drag it down from the outskirts of the woods through
rocks and bushes. As the day advances, a fleet of canoes may be seen
along the shore, all fashioned alike, high and long beak-like prows
and sterns, with lines as fine as those of the breast of a duck. What
the mustang is to the Mexican vaquero, the canoe is to these coast
Indians. They skim along the shores to fish and hunt and trade, or
merely to visit their neighbors, for they are sociable, and have
family pride remarkably well developed, meeting often to inquire
after each other's health, attend potlatches and dances, and gossip
concerning coming marriages, births, deaths, etc. Others seem to sail
for the pure pleasure of the thing, their canoes decorated with
handfuls of the tall purple epilobium.
Yonder goes a whole family, grandparents and all, making a direct
course for some favorite stream and camp-ground. They are going to
gather berries, as the baskets tell.
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