At the wheel was a halfbreed - David
MacPherson - who is said to be a natural-born pilot, and the best
in the country. Although he never was on the Upper Slave before,
and it is an exceedingly difficult stream with its interminable,
intricate, shifting shallows, crooked, narrow channels, and
impenetrable muddy currents, his "nose for water" is so good that
he brought us through at full speed without striking once. Next
time he Will be qualified to do it by night.
In the grove where we camped after sundown were the teepee and
shack of an Indian (Chipewyan) Brayno (probably Brenaud). This is
his hunting and trapping ground, and has been for years. No one
poaches on it; that is unwritten law; a man may follow a wounded
animal into his neighbour's territory, but not trap there. The
nearest neighbour is 10 miles off. He gets 3 or 4 Silver Foxes
every year, a few Lynx, Otter, Marten, etc.
Bellalise was somewhat of a character. About 6 feet 4 in height,
with narrow, hollow chest, very large hands and feet and a nervous,
restless way of flinging himself about. He struck me as a man who
was killing himself with toil beyond his physical strength. He was
strongly recommended by the Hudson's Bay Company people as a "good
man," I liked his face and manners, he was an intelligent companion,
and I was glad to have secured him. At the first and second camps
he worked hard. At the next he ceased work suddenly and went aside;
his stomach was upset. A few hours afterwards he told me he was
feeling ill. The engineer, who wanted him to cut wood, said to me,
"That man is shamming." My reply was short: "You have known him
for months, and think he is shamming; I have known him for hours
and I know he is not that kind of a man."
He told me next morning, "It's no use, I got my breast crushed by
the tug a couple of weeks ago, I have no strength. At Fort McKay
is a good man named Jiarobia, he will go with you."
So when the tug left us Bellalise refunded his advance and returned
to Chipewyan. He was one of those that made me think well of his
people; and his observations on the wild life of the country showed
that he had a tongue to tell, as well as eyes to see.
That morning, besides the calls of Honkers and Waveys we heard the
glorious trumpeting of the White Crane. It has less rattling croak
and more whoop than that of the Brown Crane. Bellalise says that
every year a few come to Chipewyan, then go north with the Waveys
to breed.
