TO THE TIMBER'S EDGE 



has completed the lacing of a snow-shoe, it is served simi- 

 larly ; the Indian hurls his knife there when he is through 

 with it, and the children do the same with the bones or 

 intestines or bits of meat they may have filched from the 

 feasting, in which they never share. And when there is a 

 demand for any article such an overhauling ensues as 

 would put to shame a May-day house-cleaning. 



Children are not much in evidence in the Indian house- 

 hold. They rarely cry, for experience has taught them 

 that such outward expression of grief or alarm or hurt 

 meets with much personal dis- 

 comfort. If they are in the moss- 

 bag age, which usually ends at 

 two. they are put into a sort of 

 hammock within the lodge and 

 rocked at a terrifying pace to the 

 accompaniment of a crooning that 

 would strike terror to the heart 

 of any crying babe. If they are 

 old enough to toddle, they are 

 turned out-of-doors to tell their 

 sorrows to the winds. 



The Indian has no patience for 

 the little solicitudes 6f life, nor 

 for its frivolities. His amuse- 

 ments are few and simple. Out- 

 side of a something that resem- 

 bles that ancient pastime of " but- 

 ton, button who has the but- 

 ton ?" and where the penalty is 

 a piece of tobacco, there are no 

 games to speak of. The dancing 



is exceedingly awkward and crude a shuffling about in a 

 circle, varied by hopping up and down, and the music con- 



DOG-WHIP 



