i 9 o ON SNOW-SHOES TO THE BARREN GROUNDS 



As we squatted around the fire awaiting the melting 

 of the snow in the teakettle, the Indians appeared to be 

 holding a consultation, and shortly one of them left the 

 circle and went to my sledge. So soon as he began un- 

 lacing the wrapper I had a fairly clear idea of what he was 

 after, and as quickly realized that I was in for a "scrap." 

 I watched the Indian, however, without dissent, and all 

 the other Indians watched me, until he had uncovered 

 and begun opening the bag in which were the dozen balls 

 of pemmican I had brought from Fort Resolution. And 

 then I said, "///" (no). The Indian hesitated in his for- 

 aging, and looked first at me, probably to discover if I 

 was serious, and then to the others for encouragement, I 

 suppose. Evidently he got it ; at least, there was a chorus 

 of gutturals, and he set to work at the bag again. And 

 now I rose on my knees and called him by name Seeyah 

 and when he paused and looked at me, I added, rather 

 louder and more earnestly, " Ilia, ilia" That would have 

 been the end of the piratical episode, I think, had Seeyah 

 been the captain of the crew ; but while he stood unde- 

 cided, with his hand in the bag, the others maintained an 

 animated council of war, in whose utterances I seemed to 

 recognize appeals of urgency to him and of defiance to 

 me, and so Seeyah renewed the attack. 



I perfectly realized the unpleasantness of my position, 

 but I felt the situation bore most importantly on the re- 

 lations between the Indians and me for the balance of the 

 trip. It was a crisis I would have cheerfully averted, but 

 being thrust upon me, I believed the success of my vent- 

 ure, to say nothing of my peace of mind, depended on 

 how I survived it. It was not only that the Indians 

 should at this period of their hunger consume those few 

 balls of pemmican, but it was that their disregard of my 

 commands might in the future lead to greater recklessness 



