Part 13 (1/2)

If they went there they decided not to stay, because in an hour they were back offering to compromise. I said I could run back to Fort Smith (it sounds like nothing) and get all the men I needed at one dollar and a half. (I should mortally have hated to try.) One by one the crew resumed. Then another bombsh.e.l.l. I had offended Chief Snuff by not calling and consulting with him; he now gave it out that I was here to take out live Musk-ox, which meant that all the rest would follow to seek their lost relatives. Again my crew resigned. I went to see Snuff. Every man has his price. Snuff's price was half a pound of tea; and the crew came back, bringing, however, several new modifications in our contract.

Taking no account of several individuals that joined a number of times but finally resigned, the following, after they had received presents, provisions, and advance pay, were the crew secured to man the York boat on the ”3 or 4” days' run to Pike's Portage and then carry my goods to the first lake.

Weeso. The Jesuits called him Louison d'Noire, but it has been corrupted into a simpler form. ”Weeso” they call it, ”Weeso” they write it, and for ”Weeso” you must ask, or you will not find him.

So I write it as I do ”Sousi” and ”Yum,” with the true local colour.

He was a nice, kind, simple old rabbit, not much use and not over-strong, but he did his best, never murmuring, and in all the mutinies and rebellions that followed he remained staunch, saying simply, ”I gave my word I would go, and I will go.” He would make a safe guide for the next party headed for Aylmer Lake. He alone did not ask rations for his wife during his absence; he said, ”It didn't matter about her, as they had been married for a long time now.” He asked as presents a pair of my spectacles, as his eyes were failing, and a marble axe. The latter I sent him later, but he could not understand why gla.s.ses that helped me should not help him. He acted as pilot and guide, knowing next to nothing about either.

Francois d'Noire, son of Weeso, a quiet, steady, inoffensive chap, but not strong; nevertheless, having been there once with us, he is now a competent guide to take any other party as far as Pike's Portage.

C., a sulky brute and a mischief-maker. He joined and resigned a dozen times that day, coming back on each occasion with a new demand.

S., grandson of the chief, a sulky good-for-nothing; would not have him again at any price; besides the usual wages, tobacco, food, etc., he demanded extra to support his wife during his absence.

The wife, I found, was a myth.

T., a sulky good-for-nothing.

Beaulieu, an alleged grandson of his grandfather. A perpetual breeder of trouble; never did a decent day's work the whole trip.

Insolent, mutinous, and overbearing, till I went for him with intent to do bodily mischief; then he became extremely obsequious. Like the rest of the foregoing, he resigned and resumed at irregular intervals.

Yum (William), Freesay; the best of the lot; a bright, cheerful, intelligent, strong Indian, boy. He and my old standby, Billy Lout.i.t, did virtually all the handling of that big boat. Any one travelling in that country should secure Yum if they can. He was worth all the others put together.

CHAPTER XXII

THE CHIPEWYANS, THEIR SPEECH AND WRITING

Sweeping generalisations are always misleading, therefore I offer some now, and later will correct them by specific instances.

These Chipewyans are dirty, s.h.i.+ftless, improvident, and absolutely honest. Of the last we saw daily instances in crossing the country.

Valuables hung in trees, protected only from weather, birds, and beasts, but never a suggestion that they needed protection from mankind. They are kind and hospitable among themselves, but grasping in their dealings with white men, as already set forth. While they are s.h.i.+ftless and lazy, they also undertake the frightful toil of hunting and portaging. Although improvident, they have learned to dry a stock of meat and put up a scaffold of white fish for winter use. As a tribe they are mild and inoffensive, although they are the original stock from which the Apaches broke away some hundreds of years ago before settling in the south.

They have suffered greatly from diseases imported by white men, but not from whiskey. The Hudson's Bay Company has always refused to supply liquor to the natives. What little of the evil traffic there has been was the work of free-traders. But the Royal Mounted Police have most rigorously and effectually suppressed this.

Nevertheless, Chief Trader Anderson tells me that the Mackenzie Valley tribes have fallen to less than half their numbers during the last century.

It is about ten, years since they made the treaty that surrendered their lands to the government. They have no reserves, but are free to hunt as their fathers did.

I found several of the older men lamenting the degeneracy of their people. ”Our fathers were hunters and our mothers made good moccasins, but the young men are lazy loafers around the trading posts, and the women get money in bad ways to buy what they should make with their hands.”

The Chipewyan dialects are peculiarly rasping, clicking, and guttural, especially when compared with Cree.

Every man and woman and most of the children among them smoke.

They habitually appear with a pipe in their mouth and speak without removing it, so that the words gurgle out on each side of the pipe while a thin stream goes sizzling through the stem. This additional variant makes it hopeless to suggest on paper any approach to their peculiar speech.

The Jesuits tell me that it was more clicked and guttural fifty years ago, but that they are successfully weeding out many of the more unpleasant catarrhal sounds.

In noting down the names of animals, I was struck by the fact that the more familiar the animal the shorter its name. Thus the Beaver, Muskrat, Rabbit, and Marten, on which they live, are respectively Tsa, Dthen, Ka, and Tha. The less familiar (in a daily sense) Red Fox and Weasel are Nak-ee-they, Noon-dee-a, Tel-ky-lay; and the comparatively scarce Musk-ox and little Weasel, At-huh-le-jer-ray and Tel-ky-lay-azzy. All of which is clear and logical, for the name originally is a description, but the softer parts and sharp angles are worn down by the attrition of use--the more use they have for a word the shorter it is bound to get. In this connection it is significant that ”to-day” is To-ho-chin-nay, and ”to-morrow”