272 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



we evolved in a spirit of ridicule, was accepted by our 

 simple-minded friend as a tribute to his prowess after he 

 had scanned our faces and found no trace of levity, and 

 he was so known, not only by us, but by his tribe. 



He had caught Henry's name, and smiled as much as 

 an Indian can smile, but seemed in doubt about mine. 

 Perhaps my pronunciation was at fault, for "kego" means 

 fish, and also is a negative, as "do not," "never," "beware 

 of saying," etc. Henry said: "We have many words 

 which mean the same thing, and so have they. Old 

 Swallow-'em-slick is in doubt. Show him your fish lines 

 and he will know that you are a fisherman." 



When our guest had seen my tackle he pointed to me 

 in pride at his understanding and touched my shoulder, 

 saying: "Kego-e-kay." Then he proceeded to tell what 

 great pike, "kinoje," could be caught in a small lake a 

 short distance away, and we arranged to try it next day 

 after the men had gone on the line. 



The ice was not thick, but would bear us well, for it 

 was about the last of September or the first of October 

 in that cold country, and this reminds me that McBride 

 wanted to know about the winters in that region and 

 asked a half-breed who spoke English how the weather 

 was likely to be. He replied: "October, he pooty cole; 

 November he cole as de dev'; and December, he col'er 

 'an ." I had heard the name mentioned as a com- 

 parison for heat frequently, and wondered what kind of 

 a place the half-breed thought it might be. The snow 

 had fallen since the lake froze, and we could not see the 

 depth. I asked old Mouthful where there were springs 

 and he showed us one, where we caught a lot of minnows. 



We cut holes and rigged about a dozen lines with tip- 

 ups and waited. The holes froze over, and we cut them 

 open, but no fish came to our lures. It was noon, and 



