THAT evening they had a bountiful repast, after which they slept well, and on the following morning an equally bountiful breakfast fortified them for the work of the day. Soon after this they started down to the schooner to talk over their plans for the future. Close by the wharf stood the mills already mentioned, where now arose the tumult and bustle generally prevalent there. Into the precincts of this mill the boys strolled, and looked about upon the busy scene. The scene was to Bart one of the most familiar possible, for all his early life had been passed in a city of saw-mills, and the present occasion offered nothing that was new. To the other boys it was also more or less familiar, and it was rather the animation of the spectacle before them than its novelty which attracted them. One thing, however, there certainly was which seemed to all of them most singular and unaccountable. As they looked upon the men who were at work in the mill and in the mill yard, they noticed that one after another of them was an Indian. To see an Indian engaged in such work as this seemed astonishing, for it had been a fixed belief in their minds that no Indian will engage in continuous hard labor; yet here was a fact which contradicted all former opinions. What was more surprising was the gradual discovery that not one, or two, or a few, but the whole gang of men at work in and about the mill were of the same race. They worked doggedly, ploddingly, industriously; some floating logs, some carrying deals, some attaching the ropes to those logs that had to be hauled up; all busy, none idling. “I never knew that Indians would work,” said Bart to Mr. Smith. “These Indians work very well,” said he. “Yes; and that is what is so astonishing. Of course I knew that Indians will go through any amount of fatigue in the course of a hunting expedition, but I have always heard that they are incapable of hard work.” “Well, as to being incapable, I have my doubts about that,” said Mr. Smith. “They cannot be incapable; they are only unwilling. Continuous drudgery like this does not suit them as a general thing. But these Indians don’t object. They work hard, never complain, and I have never had any men who have given so little trouble.” “It seems very odd, though,” said Bart. “I’m sure no other Indians in this country would be willing to work in this way. No amount of wages would tempt them.” “No. That’s true. The fact is, these Indians belong to a different tribe.” “A different tribe?” “Yes. The Indians that you are acquainted with, who live in Nova Scotia and the greater part of New Brunswick, are called the Micmacs. These are called the Milicetes. The language of the two tribes is altogether distinct; their traditions, manners, and customs also vary in many particulars. Between the two tribes there is no intercourse and no friendly feeling whatever. You see here with your own eyes how different they must be from the other tribe, with which you are acquainted.”