The situation was beautiful, and commanded a view from end
to end of Resolution Lake, which extended about four miles both
north and south of the point, and was divided into two distinct
parts, just opposite the camp, by a long island with points of land
reaching towards it from north and south. Beyond the island lay a
broad sheet of water which seemed equal in size to the one we were
on, and along its farther shore low blue ridges stretched away
northward.
The skies seemed trying to make reparation for the week of storms,
and the mood of the camp corresponded with that of the day.
Children played about quietly, or clung to their mothers' skirts,
as they watched the strangers with curious interest and the mothers
were evidently happy in their motherhood as mothers otherwhere.
"We are poor," said one, "and we live among the trees, but we have
our children."
The camp consisted of two wigwams, one a large oblong and the other
round. They were covered with dressed deer-skins drawn tight over
the poles, blackened round the opening at the top by the smoke of
the fires, which are built in the centre within. I was not invited
to go into the wigwams, but through the opening which served as
doorway in front of one of them I had a glimpse of the interior.
It seemed quite orderly and clean. Four rifles, which lay on the
carpet of balsam boughs, looked clean and well cared for. The
dishes, pans, tea-pots, etc., which were mostly of white enamel,
with some china of an ordinary sort, were clean and shining. Long
strings of dressed deerskin, and a few moccasins hung from the
poles round the opening at the top. The moccasins were not
decorated in any way, nor were those worn by the women, and I saw
no sign of ornamentation of any kind, save the toques with their
beaded or braided bands, and the bands on the hair.
Except for their children they were poor indeed now, for there was
not a taste of sugar, tea, or tobacco at the camp. They rarely
have flour, which with them is not one of the necessities of life.
They were living on what fish they could catch while the hunters
were away, and were not having the best success with their fishing.
They did not know of the presence of the caribou so near them, and
I thought regretfully of how easily we could have brought down one
or more had we known of their need, and where we should find them.
Some six or eight splendid Eskimo dogs prowled about snarling at
one another, and occasionally indulging in an ugly fight, at which
there was a rush for clubs or tent poles to separate them; for
unless separated they never stop till the one that goes down is
killed. At whatever hour of the day or night a fight begins, the
dogs have to, be separated, otherwise one or more of the number
will be lost; and the loss of a dog is a calamity in the north
country.
While I wandered over the hillside a little, keeping a wary eye on
the dogs, the women devoted their attentions to the men. They were
anxious to have the visit prolonged, and every inducement was held
out even to offering them wives, temporary, if they would remain;
but after taking a few pictures, for which they posed easily and
without sign of self-consciousness, I bade them farewell and we
returned to the canoes. They did not accompany us to the landing.
With the prospect of so long a journey before me I had to resist
the impulse to share my provisions with them; but before we left,
George carried a few ounces of tea up the hill. There was a merry
chase as each tried to possess herself of the treasure. They were
like children in their delight. A pair of moccasins was offered in
return; but the gift of tea was too slight and they were not
accepted. Soon we were slipping slowly away towards the river with
an occasional glance back to the group on the hill. When a few
rods from shore, Job, who had the faculty of making his English
irresistibly funny whenever he chose, stood up in the stern of the
canoe, and taking off his hat to them with a very elaborate bow
called, "Good-bye, good-bye, my lady."
The directions we had received enabled us to find the river without
difficulty, and passing down through a succession of small
expansions with low, swampy shores where the wood growth was almost
altogether tamarack, we camped in the evening ten miles below
Resolution Lake, at the point where the river drops down through
three rocky gorges to flow with strong, swift current in a distinct
valley.
The lakes of the upper country were here left behind, and when we
resumed our journey the following morning it was to be carried
miles on a current in which the paddles were needed only for
steering. Stretches of quiet water were succeeded by boisterous
rapids, and sometimes I walked to lighten the canoe where the rapid
was shallow. Tributaries entered on either hand, the river
increased in force and volume, and when we halted for lunch some
ten miles below Canyon Camp, the George had come to be a really
great river.
We were getting down to the hills now and the country, which had
been burned over, was exceedingly barren and desolate. On the
slopes, which had been wooded, the grey and blackened tree trunks
were still standing like armies of skeletons, and through their
ranks the hills of everlasting rock showed grey and stern, stripped
even of their covering of reindeer moss.
