198 TRANSACTIONS OF THE CANADIAN INSTITUTE. [ Vou. IGT 
Here it was that the Abenakis lived in summer; their wigwams placed 
around the island formed a sort of stockade, the centre being reserved as 
a place for dancing. The Mohawks, he said, had often attempted the 
destruction of the Indians of the St. John, and once in particular they 
would have been successful but for an aged squaw, who was so wise that 
all the tribe listened to her opinions with respect. ‘“ One evening long 
before the whites had come among us,” said my Indian whose words I 
give as nearly as possible, “this woman with her grey hair falling down 
over her shoulders, rushed into the centre of the encampment calling out 
“there is trouble, there is trouble;” she was soon surrounded by the 
anxious braves who wanted to know what she meant. Look at Wi-Jo-Sis, 
(Curry’s Mountain) a hill on the opposite side of the St. John, back: of it 
a great party of Mohawks are hidden, and they are only waiting for night 
to attack and kill you all, if you are not ready to meet them; a council 
was at once called and a course of action determined upon. Some old 
‘Indians call this mountain We-Jo-Sis Po-Te-Wis, or Little Council 
Mountain, because in old times the Mohawk braves always went there 
first to hold a council before attempting to attack the Abenakis on 
Nkarne-Odan (Hart’s Island), they would stop on this mountain for days 
watching the Abenakis. In order to deceive the Mohawks, the Melicites 
concluded to have a big dance; while this was going on the braves one 
by one slipped out, leaving none but the old men and women to keep it 
up. Before leaving however, they had agreed upon a particular sign by 
which they could distinguish each other in the dark as they were crawling 
through the long grass, or among the thick bushes which surrrounded 
the island, and he who did not respond to this sign was to be dispatched 
immediately and his bleeding head to be thrown among the dancers. The 
Mohawks, as night advanced, stole along noiselessly to the Melicite 
village, but wile had been met with wile, and before day dawned many 
a Mohawk’s head had been thrown among the dancers, with the whispered 
command, dance harder, dance harder. All of the Mohawk braves were 
slain, the others were killed as easily as you would cut a chicken’s head 
off, or knock down a lamb. Some three or four had been reserved how- 
ever, whose noses and ears were cut off and they were allowed to return 
home in order to show the Mohawks how they would be treated should 
they try the like again.” As my friend had again thrown off all reserve 
and become talkative, I seized upon the occasion to note down what he 
said. I had been speaking about the food of the Aborigines. ‘‘ You 
want to know what vegetables we used before the white man came among 
us ; we will go over to the island, and I will show you the Indian potatoe ; 
when I was a little papoose I remember coming here with my mother for 
them, I picked them up as she dug them with a hoe. We will find the 
