242 A BIRCH-BARK CANOE TRIP 



swore in the Indian tongue that he had killed two large black dogs, 

 and pocketed the coin. 



When we returned to camp Joe said, * Everything all right. 

 No Indian devil been here '! ' Indian devil ! Joe, what do you 

 mean by that ? ' ' Oh, sir ; sometimes he gets in camp and throws 

 everything in the fire, and breaks up things in the tent. When he 

 goes away sometimes he leaves tracks like a man, sometimes fox, 

 and sometimes lucivee. Once my father said he heard of a man 

 catching him. He had taken a lot of powder wrapped up in birch 

 bark and put it in the fire. When it went off it rolled his eyes round 

 till the whites were out, and he could see nothing at all. The man 

 came in and catched him, and tied him to a tree outside the camp. 

 Every day he licked him, morning and evening too. But after seven 

 days Indian devil run away, and left tracks like a dozen men.' 



A veritable Puck indeed. Probably Joe's version of an old 

 nursery tale that Indian mothers tell their children, as English 

 Jack the Giant Killer. Coco-Soo, or Kat-Mous, is the name of the 

 Indian devil, and some such name does duty for the wolverine 

 an animal now almost extinct. Once he was caught (on the 

 authority of Joe again) by placing a man's hat on a sharp upright 

 stake ; leaping down on his supposed victim, he forthwith impaled 

 himself. Sometimes he makes moose meat spoil ; he wets the 

 powder in the gun ; springs the bear traps ; calls up the bull moose 

 by imitating the cow and then laughs at him. How much these 

 tales remind one of Shakespeare's impish creation. 



One of the most extraordinary facts that applies to all wild 

 animals is that they do not appear to dread so much the sight of 

 man, but have a terror of catching the wind or scent that passes 

 from the human body, which is imperceptible to our duller senses. 

 ' Moose don't trust their eyes/ Joe says, ' but their noses.' Referring 

 to their keen sense of smell, he says, ' Moose kin sent a mile off '. 



Before setting forth to our next point of destination, Upsal- 

 witch Lake, at a distance of six miles, we undertook a toilsome 

 journey to the summit of one of the highest of a range of hills that 

 we thought offered a good chance of finding a bear. The day 

 was very sultry and the travelling extremely difficult ; nor were 

 we rewarded by a successful quest. There were plenty of berries, 

 and numerous tracks of bears ; almost every decayed log was 

 broken to splinters by bruin in search of the ants that inhabit 

 them. Mr. Simpson had lately shot two bears in the vicinity, 

 and Joe was of opinion that this must have frightened the rest 

 away. We had some conpensation for our toilsome tramp in 

 the grand view of the lonely wilderness, just before the sun sank 

 behind the hills. From the highest mountain we beheld the lesser 



