120 CANADIAN WILDS. 



mcst by some three or four horror-struck pedes- 

 trians. 



The hour was then high noon, snow soft and 

 walking bad. Na-ta-way had covered several 

 miles and done much since he had left his bed 

 that morning. His inner man began to crave 

 for food, the conditions were favorable, wood 

 water and a sunny bank. What could be more 

 alluring to a weary man? A bright fire was 

 soon burning with the ever welcome tea kettle 

 hanging in the blaze, the hunter on his knees in 

 front waiting for it to boil. 



Another digression right here. I never saw 

 a man make tea, but after chucking in an ample 

 quantity of the precious leaves from China, 

 would throw in another pinch, either to make 

 sure of there being a proper strength in the 

 brew or for good luck. Be the reason what it 

 may, they all do it. I do it myself. 



Continuing on his march after his mid-day 

 lunch, Na-ta-way came to a small lake. What 

 is it that causes him to stop and cast IT'S eyes 

 about? The lake is full banks and therefore 

 at that season must contain beaver. Yes, there 

 stood the lodge on the opposite side and a well 

 understood mark leading from the open water 

 in front up into the bush. The beaver had come 

 out the day before. 



What Indian, or white man for that matter, 



