O'Jawescawa then took up the pipe and held it to the mouth of Machecawa, who, after smoking three whiffs out of it, uttered a short prayer and then went round with it, taking his course from east to west, to every man present, both Indians and white men, who could confidently affirm that they entertained no grudge against any of the assembled party, until the pipe was smoked out, when, after turning it three or four times round his head, he dropped it downwards and replaced it in its original position. Machecawa then approached the stranger and the little band who were with him and uttered a short guttural sound, which the interpreter said meant, "Come and eat." To refuse would be a grave offence, so the invitation was accepted by all, who followed the Big Chief through a narrow and winding path, which led to a small lake midway between the Gatineau River and the Chaudiere Falls. They arranged themselves in front of a number of huts made of bent boughs, some of which were covered with bark and some with deerskin, securely sewed and stretched tight as a drum. Following the example of the Indians they squatted on the ground in a circle. Surrounded by a chattering group of squaws sat Newitchewagan, the wife of the Chief, with a child between her knees, while she hunted through the jungle of his hair with destroying thumb and finger. One old squaw, who was kneeling under a tree rubbing and twisting a moccasin between her hands, paused to fill her mouth with water, which she spurted in repeated jets over the moccasin. A little papoose, strapped to a flat piece of wood about three feet long spread with soft moss, was suspended to a branch of a tree. It crowed and laughed quite merrily as it was swayed to and fro by the cold wind. While the feast was in course of preparation the new Chief and his friends were entertained by songs of a most melancholy nature. It was a strange scene that presented itself that cold and frosty evening in March. The snow-drifts were covered with a crust of frozen sleet, which crunched beneath the tread of moccasined feet. The bare branches of the maples were encased in ice, with long icicles attached, which glistened and reflected like a prism the rays of the setting sun. Small troughs of basswood, hollowed out in the middle by burning, stood at the trunk of almost every tree to catch the sap, which had ceased to run for several days owing to the "cold snap" which had taken place in the weather. "How do you make sugar without pots?" asked the new Chief of the interpreter. Pointing to a green hardwood stump he explained, in broken English, that the squaws burned a deep hole in the centre, into which they poured the sap which they had gathered. Stones heated on the fire were then dropped into the wooden cauldron, which caused the sap to boil. This operation was repeated until it was reduced to sugar.