ANTOINE GARDAPEE. 209 



you like fish or venison?" etc. That day when I was 

 tound fishing my red friend had named me "Kego-e- 

 kay," or he who fishes, and I arranged with Antoine to 

 always use the native tongue when possible; and before 

 spring it was our common camp talk, he helping me over 

 the hummocks. I entertained our red friends as well as 

 possible, and their appetites were enormous. Antoine 

 had fully informed me on all the points of O jib way eti- 

 quette, and when I offered tobacco the exact amount 

 was cut off and handed to each individual, or he would 

 have considered that the whole plug was given him; and 

 the same circumspection was necessary when a loaf of 

 bread was cut. 



I tried to get our visitors to follow Antoine's trail and 

 meet him, as the prospect of feeding eight hungry In- 

 dians was not pleasant, but they waited. I had two 

 loaves of bread; one for me to take next morning when 

 I ran my line, and one for supper when Antoine came. 

 A venison ham was boiling in the fireplace to have for 

 supper and breakfast, and to keep me three days if neces- 

 sary; but when I got ready to set it out to our guests 

 Antoine came in. There was a grunting salutation, and 

 then Antoine said: "I don't bin hungry, but ba gosh if 

 I'll bin starve; it was good I come now 'fore dey heat all 

 dat grub we got. You don't know w'at happetite dey 

 got, I'll tole you." And I certainly didn't know. An- 

 toine first cut bread and meat for himself and me, and 

 then divided the rest into eight portions, which were 

 hardly chewed, and had disappeared before we had fairly 

 begun. 



Antoine then told me: "Dey ha'n't had half plenty, 

 but dey all say 'nish-ish-shin;' dat means 'good.' We 

 doan got much meat, on'y for you free day, an' I doan 

 cook no more." 



