A BIRCH-BARK CANOE TRIP 237 



trap, so arranged that when bruin seizes the bit of pork smeared 

 with molasses (or still surer bait, with the rank smelling oil from 

 the beaver castors), he brings down upon his back a load of logs 

 and stones that crushes the life out of him. Joe maintains that 

 bruin always foresees his doom before he enters the fatal dead-fall, 

 but cannot help going to his doom. Destiny drives him onward. 

 He never goes straight for the bait, but promenades quite around 

 the enclosure. Joe once found a young bear caught in his trap 

 and the old dam keeping guard over her dead offspring ; refusing 

 to escape, she fell a victim to Joe's rifle a striking instance of 

 the force of the maternal instinct in the brute creation. 



Near our camp is a grassy plot known as the Unlucky Wigan. 

 Every one that visits this spot, says Joe, is sure to cut himself 

 or injure himself soon after. The ground is accursed. A lumber 

 camp was once built there, but one and another cut themselves 

 with knives and axes, till finally it had to be abandoned. 



In the evening, the small saw- whet owl flitted around the fire. 

 ' Do not mock him,' said Joe, ' whoever laughs at him is sure to 

 burn himself as a punishment.' 



These anecdotes serve to illustrate the superstitious character 

 of the Indian. Yet there is a strong vein of humour through all 

 their superstitions, which save them from being degrading. The 

 Indian character is not well disciplined ; he is the victim of moods, 

 one day bright and cheerful and obedient ; the next, perhaps, 

 sulky, churlish and discourteous. He has an evident affection for 

 ' the beasts ', as he calls the denizens of the woods, and spares 

 them when he cannot use their hides or flesh. Among themselves 

 the Indians are kindly, unselfish and hospitable. I often think of 

 Les Carbot's description of the Nova Scotian Micmacs when he went 

 among them with that French courtesy and suavity which won 

 its way to the Indian heart and made them the firm allies of France. 

 Writing in 1620 he says : ' Verily of some families I know, there 

 be among them some with whom, were they not Pagans, Christ 

 would come in and dwell'. 



A close intimacy with the Indian character reveals many lov- 

 able traits, much of the rough diamond. They universally deplore 

 the coming among them of the white man. Before his advent, 

 fish and game, they say, abounded everywhere and were easily 

 killed, and small estimation is set upon what the whites have given 

 them in return. How pathetic is their decline, melting like snow 

 at the touch of the spring sunshine. 



Though I call Joe Indian, yet his lineal tree shows a strain 

 of white blood three generations back. A certain John Young, 

 adventurer from England, where his life was forfeited to the Crown, 



