I went out in the morning with "Sam" and "Roxy" to find some deer.
After some wanderings, in which "Sam" got separated from us, and after
several unsuccessful shots at the game, "Roxy" and I returned, I being
too weary and footsore to find much interest in the sport, especially
as it began to rain and was bitter cold. In fact, the first new ice I
have seen this summer was around the shores of the lake that morning,
and I had to break it when I went down to bathe. On our way home we
passed, on the top of a high, barren hill, a cairn, which "Roxy" at
once said had been built by the Kinnepatoos, a tribe which formerly
occupied these lands, and the boys soon threw aside the stones to find
the dried-up skeleton of a deer killed many years ago. "Sam" did not
get back until dark, but he brought with him the skin of an isaacer
that he had killed since he left us.
That night I proposed to "Sam" to bring me down to our tent at the salt
water, and though I could see that he did not relish leaving the good
hunting-grounds just as he had reached them, he consented, and finally
seemed delighted when I promised him an old pair of pantaloons for his
trouble. "Alex Taylor" also came to the tupic and said he would
accompany us, and this made the prospect more cheerful, as I knew it
would be at least two days' hard travelling. During the night we were
visited by a severe thunder-storm, which frightened my tent-mates
because unused to it, and they lighted an ikomer to take the sharp edge
off the lightning; but I slept on peacefully while "Old Molasses" held
a stick so that the shadow kept the light of the lamp from my eyes. It
stopped raining toward morning, but it was still chilly and damp when
we started, shortly after daylight, on our long journey.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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