ANTOINE GARDAPEE. 231 



lie down an' doan min' noding. Keep-a eye shut dat 

 snow blin' he make no dif'; I'll tole you he'll be all right 

 in ten day." 



This was consoling, and might be true. Antoine 

 cared for me like a mother. He steeped some bark per- 

 haps white oak, I knew at the time and my fever left me 

 in a few days, but my eyes could not even bear the fire 

 light. Ah-se-bun came into the cabin. He was hungry, 

 as usual, for I never saw an Indian that wasn't, and after 

 filling himself with bear meat he rested, and Antoine 

 said: "Ole Miss'r 'Coon, he says he stay here an' take care 

 you, an' I'll run my trap. Ba gosh, day hain't been run in 

 long tarn, I'll guess. I'll tole you der is plenty for heat, 

 and Miss'r 'Coon, he mus' cook w'en he got hunger. All 

 you got for do is keep-a eye shut an' wash heem in snow 

 water. I'll be back in free day, an' here is plenty for 

 heat, an' you eye he make no dif; he come good w'en 

 you doan' go on de snow." 



The Ojibway tongue had seemed very easy to use with 

 Antoine, who could translate what I did not understand. 

 It seemed to be merely to learn another name for a thing, 

 and I had only learned some nouns. To talk with a 

 native was another thing. Ah-se-bun wanted the axe 

 and came to me and said: "Au-gua-kwet?" I answered: 

 "Au-gua-kwet is over behind the pa-que-shi-gun," but in 

 my mixture of English he failed to understand the last 

 word to mean wheat flour, bread or anything else. That 

 kind of talk did first rate with Antoine, but the Raccoon 

 did not understand his own language. That was very 

 queer. 



The light in the cabin was very dim when the fire was 

 not bright, for our "windows" consisted of two holes, one 

 in the door and one opposite, over which were stretched 

 the dried "caul," or what surgeons know as the periton- 



