Frederick had been brought down to Morawhanna at Christmas—a little naked savage knowing not a word of English. When at a loss for a word he always fell back upon the civil “Sir” which Mr. King had taught him. As white women were rare in Morawhanna he had never learned the feminine of “Sir.” It was very amusing to see him serving at table, going all around asking with great dignity, “What will you have, Suh?” regardless of the sex of the guest. Mr. King had taught him to knock before entering a room. He was childishly delighted with the new accomplishment and knocked on both entering and leaving the room. We discovered that he had spent our sixpence on a belt which it seems was the desire of his heart—already so sophisticated! The dazed stoicism of the convicted Indian was infinitely pathetic to us. This terrible thing called the _Law_ is so incomprehensible to him. He cannot understand it. When a convicted comrade is taken down to Georgetown to execution, his friends and family realize only that he has gone away in a boat to some mysterious place from which he never returns. As far as the moral effect of an execution is concerned, there is none. [Illustration: FIG. 73. FREDERICK, THE CARIB INDIAN BOY.] Into the absolutely natural life of the Indian, with the simple and perfectly comprehended tribal laws, has come so much that is confusing;—the new religion, the relations of the laborer to the employer, the wearing of clothes and the strange and powerful law. The Indian is a creature of the present moment, instantly acting upon every desire, working when he wishes to work, and quietly dropping all work and departing when he so desires. What can he—the creature of Nature—know of all this puzzling civilization? * * * * * At noon on March 6th we embarked on the three days’ tent-boat journey from Morawhanna to Hoorie Mine. A thirty-foot launch was the motor power and alongside this the big tent-boat was lashed, while several Indians hitched their wood-skins behind as boys hitch sleds to a passing sleigh. The baggage was stored fore and aft and, perched on a pile in the bow, we prepared for our first real day of observation along the rivers of the Northwest. We retraced our way northward through Mora Passage, frightening as we went, a flock of seven Scarlet Ibises.[27] They kept close together and were evidently a single family, as two were in fully adult plumage, while the others were only three quarters grown, and feathered wholly in brown and white. About three o’clock in the afternoon we reached the Waini River, but instead of turning toward the mouth and the open ocean which we could see to the northwest, we steered eastward up stream. Although the outlet of several large rivers, the Waini, in its lower reaches, is little more than a great salt water tidal inlet, or caño.