Long Life And
Prosperity To Our Host So Far Away, The Brave Old Hunter, "Buffalo
Jones."
The woods were beautiful and abounded with life, and the three
days we spent there were profitably devoted to collecting, but on
September 17 we crossed the bay, made the short portage, and at
night camped 32 miles away, on the home track.
Next morning we found a camp of Indians down to the last of their
food. We supplied them with flour and tobacco. They said that
no Caribou had come to the Lake, showing how erratic is the great
migration.
In the afternoon we came across another band in still harder luck.
They had nothing whatever but the precarious catch of the nets,
and this was the off-season. Again we supplied them, and these were
among the unexpected emergencies for which our carefully guarded
supplies came in.
In spite of choppy seas we made from 30 to 35 miles a day, and
camped on Tal-thel-lay the evening of September 20. That night as
I sat by the fire the moon rose in a clear sky and as I gazed on
her calm bright disc something seemed to tell me that at that moment
the dear ones far away were also looking on that radiant face.
On the 21st we were storm-bound at Et-then Island, but utilised
the time collecting. I gathered a lot of roots of Pulsatilla and
Calypso. Here Billy amused us by catching Wiskajons in an old-fashioned
springle that dated from the days when guns were unknown; but the
captured birds came back fearlessly each time after being released.
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