THE LAST OF THAT INDIAN CREW 195 



had been there, and could afterward go to it direct 

 from any other place. Second, he had the most won- 

 derful nose for firewood; no keen-eyed raven or starv- 

 ing wolf could go more surely to a marrow-bone in 

 cache, than could Weeso to the little sticks in far away 

 hollows or granite clefts. Again and again, when we 

 landed on the level or rocky shore and all hands set 

 out to pick up the few pencil-thick stems of creeping 

 birch, roots of annual plants, or wisps of grass to boil 

 the kettle, old Weeso would wander off by himself 

 and in five minutes return with an armful of the 

 most amazingly acceptable firewood conjured out of 

 the absolutely timberless, unpromising waste. I never 

 yet saw the camp where he could not find wood. So 

 he proved good stuff; I was glad we had brought him 

 along. 



And I was equally glad now to say good-bye to the 

 rest of the crew. I gave them provisions for a week, 

 added a boiling of beans, and finally the wonderful 

 paper in which I stated the days they had worked for 

 me, and the kind of service they had rendered, com- 

 mended Freesay, and told the truth about Beaulieu. 



"Dat paper tell about me," said that worthy sus- 

 piciously. 



"Yes," I said, "and about the others; and it tells 

 Harding to pay you as agreed." 



We all shook hands and parted. I have not seen 

 them since, nor do I wish to meet any of them again, 

 except Freesay. 



My advice to the next traveller would be: get white 

 men for the trip and one Indian for guide. When 



