272 NEWFOUNDLAND 



than ever ; always, too, with the thought of how pleased his 

 mother would be when she saw her son again with plenty 

 of money in his pocket. At last the time came when he 

 would stay no longer, so he demanded his wages, and pre- 

 pared to travel. What was his consternation when the mill 

 manager said he was quite unable to pay him a cent, and 

 that he must wait until better times. The excuse given was 

 that two cargoes of lumber had been lost in transit to St. 

 John's (these Hinx ascertained afterwards had safely reached 

 St. John's, and been sold at a good price). Weary, dis- 

 pirited, and without food or money, the poor Indian set out 

 in the dead of winter to cross the island, from Gambo to 

 Conn River, nine days' hard walking. The snow fell un- 

 ceasingly, the deer were all away to the south, and with 

 ragged clothes, and madness in his brain, he tramped the 

 long trail like some hungry wolf ranging the winter forests. 

 More dead than alive he reached his mother's home at last. 

 Thirty years have gone by since those days, but the bitter- 

 ness of it all still remained in the Indian trapper's heart, and 

 I should not like to be that cheat of the Gambo mill if John 

 Hinx were to meet him alone in the woods one day. It is 

 possible that the account might be settled. 



The night of 3rd October was the coldest I have 

 experienced in the island. Fifteen degrees of frost were 

 registered, and everything — eggs, butter, &c. — was frozen 

 solid ; but on the following morning a bright sun, playing 

 on the jewelled leaves and grasses, caused a thaw, and the 

 Indians were able to make fair headway in the worst river I 

 have seen in Newfoundland. It is a very bad stream, where 

 Indians have to get overboard and haul the canoe by main 

 force through the cold water, but this they had to do the 

 whole of 4th October, and the three following days. Yet 



