XIII 

 MAKING READY FOR THE BARREN GROUNDS 



THE boiling of the teakettle always follows swiftly upon 

 the arrival of a voyagcur in this desolate but hospitable 

 land, and it was not many minutes before Gaudet's sister, 

 who proved a ministering angel during my stay at Reso- 

 lution, had poured a cup of tea and placed before me 

 some caribou ribs, the first fresh meat I had seen since 

 leaving La Biche. Nowhere in my experience have I wit- 

 nessed more disinterested hospitality than in this great 

 lone land. From north to south from Hudson's Bay 

 Company officer to the poorest Indian hunter, among the 

 half-breeds at the post or the Indians in the woods, in the 

 log cabins or in the caribou-skin tepees the entrance of 

 a guest is invariably the signal for stirring up the fire and 

 putting on the teakettle ; or, if there is no tea, which is 

 more frequently the case with the Indians, of putting a 

 piece of meat on to boil ; or, if there is none, of offering 

 dried meat or fish, or the best of whatever there may be. 



The successful hunter pays ample tribute to his skill. 

 While the meat lasts his lodge is never cleared of the less 

 fortunate, and the squaw is never done cooking, and feed- 

 ing the half-starved that squat about the fire in ever- 

 changing but never diminishing circles. I marvelled at 

 this lavish hospitality while living with the Indians, for it 

 was never at any time a giving out of plenty, and always 

 meant subsequent want for the entertainers. I have seen 



