While they were contented to sell at a reasonable rate the various things which they could supply for our needs, yet, if a present were accepted, they expected something many times its value. Had this been allowed to continue, we would have been speedily left destitute of everything in the house. Therefore, not many weeks before the arrival of this strange Indian with the venison, as a precautionary measure we had made a rule that no more presents were to be received from the Indians; but that for everything brought which we needed, such as meat, fish, or moccasins, there was to be a fair tariff price mutually agreed upon. Yet in spite of all this, here was a stalwart Indian insisting, that I should receive a haunch of venison without payment. Judging from some past experiences, I was fearful that if I accepted it as a present, it would about bankrupt me. So I again said to him: "You must let me pay you for this." "No, no," he energetically replied. "I take no pay. It belongs to you." "How do you make that out?" I inquired, more perplexed than ever. Then he proceeded to give me his explanation, which deeply interested me, and which will also I am sure interest my readers. First, he began by asking me a few questions: "Did you make a trip with your guide and dog drivers to Burntwood River last winter?" "Yes, I did," was my answer. "And were your dog-sleds not heavily loaded?" "Yes," I replied. "And was there not a heavy fall of snow followed by a blizzard, which as you had no trail through the deep snow, made it very difficult travelling?" "Quite true," I replied, for all had happened just as he was describing it. "And did you not at a certain place make a cache of some of your pemmican and other heavy things, so as to lighten your loads, that your dogs might make better time?" "Yes," I answered, for well did I remember that long journey, and the fearful storm which made travelling through the trackless forest almost impossible.