For people who spend their whole life on or near the water these are
the worst boatmen I ever saw. The narrow, thick paddle they make,
compared with the broad, thin Iroquois paddle, exactly expressed
the difference between the two as canoemen. The Chipewyan's mode of
using it is to sit near the middle and make 2 or perhaps 3 strokes
on one side, then change to the other side for the same, and so
on. The line made by the canoes is an endless zigzag. The idea of
paddling on one side so dexterously that the canoe goes straight
is yet on an evolutionary pinnacle beyond their present horizon.
In rowing, their way is to stand up, reach forward with the 30-pound
16 1/2-foot oar, throw all the weight on it, falling backward into
the seat. After half an hour of this exhausting work they must rest
15 to 20 minutes. The long, steady, strong pull is unknown to them
in every sense.
Their ideas of sailing a boat are childish. Tacking is like washing,
merely a dim possibility of their very distant future. It's a
sailing wind if behind; otherwise it's a case of furl and row.
By an ancient, unwritten law the whole country is roughly divided
among the hunters. Each has his own recognised hunting ground,
usually a given river valley, that is his exclusive and hereditary
property; another hunter may follow a wounded animal into it, but
not begin a hunt there or set a trap upon it.
Most of their time is spent at the village, but the hunting ground
is visited at proper seasons.
Fifty years ago they commonly went half naked. How they stood the
insects I do not know, and when asked they merely grinned significantly;
probably they doped themselves with grease.
This religious training has had one bad effect. Inspired with horror
of being "naked" savages, they do not run any sinful risks, even
to take a bath. In all the six months I was among them I never saw
an Indian's bare arms, much less his legs. One day after the fly
season was over I took advantage of the lovely weather and water
to strip off and jump into a lake by our camp; my Indians modestly
turned their backs until I had finished.
If this mock modesty worked for morality one might well accept it,
but the old folks say that it operates quite the other way. It has
at all events put an end to any possibility of them taking a bath.
Maybe as a consequence, but of this I am not sure, none of these
Indians swim. A large canoe-load upset in crossing Great Slave Lake
a month after we arrived and all were drowned.
Like most men who lead physical lives, and like all meat-eating
savages, these are possessed of a natural proneness toward strong
drink.
