TO MX. SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMACS 271 



camp for the night. As we sat at supper a shout in the 

 woods announced the advent of Johnny Hinx, who arrived 

 tired and cheerful after a thirty-five mile walk from his " tilt." 



John Hinx, a typical half-breed of an English father and 

 Indian mother, is one of the most experienced men in the 

 island. He has been all over the south and central portions, 

 and has made his living by trapping and log-cutting since 

 he was ten years of age, and is now fifty, though in appear- 

 ance he might have passed for thirty-five. He became my 

 cook and camp man, but was, nevertheless, an excellent 

 hunter, and always accompanied Steve and me on our tramps 

 after deer, when his sharp eyes were sometimes responsible 

 for some outlying stag which we had overlooked. He pos- 

 sessed a great knowledge of the deer and their movements, 

 and what he did not know of otters and otter-trapping was 

 not of much account. He was tall and good-looking, spoke 

 broken English, and, being fearful of being misunderstood, 

 was at first somewhat reticent, but as time wore on he would 

 chatter as freely as Steve, and entertain us with tales of 

 flood and forest that always had some interesting point. 

 One night he told me a story that was in itself an object- 

 lesson, as illustrating the reasons why the red man hates and 

 distrusts the white. 



When John Hinx was eighteen he was the sole support 

 of a widowed mother and a sister in Baie d'Espoir, so he 

 hired himself to the boss of a mill in Gambo for a year at 

 twenty dollars a month. In the spring he cut logs, in summer 

 he cooked daily for a large camp of thirty men, and in the 

 fall he shot deer and carried them on his back to camp. 

 The year went by, and he demanded his money, wishing to 

 return home, but after promises of increased wages he was 

 induced to stop another nine months, and to work harder 



