WE-NEN-GWAY. 



A MUSKRAT FEAST THE TRIP HOME ON THE ICE. 



AFTER a while we got into a swampy region which 

 was frozen, or we couldn't have run lines 

 through it. Lakes were frequent, and we saw 

 many wigwams where there were high frames for drying 

 fish. Crotches about ten feet high held poles, and across 

 these were laid others, forming a rude platform, on which 

 the fish were dried for winter use. As near as I can re- 

 member the fish were whitefish, lake trout and either pike 

 or mascalonge, for I then knew as little of the differences 

 between the two latter species as an Adirondack guide 

 or the average fish dealer does. Now I could trade 

 bread, flour, pork or sugar for an occasional fish, but 

 McBride always wanted to be assured that they had been 

 thoroughly scrubbed, for he was a little shy of eating any- 

 thing which an Indian had handled. 



Our old friend, whom we had named He-who-takes- 

 so-much-at-a-mouthful, still followed us up, and I had 

 become more than tired of him, and was wondering how 

 he could "be shook." Some little things had been 

 missed, such as forks and spoons; there was no evidence 

 that he had taken them, but when I once left a jackknife 

 sticking in a log where I had been using it and it was 

 gone an hour afterward, I suspected Mouthful, because 

 he was the only man around camp beside myself. I said 

 nothing about it, but resolved to keep an eye out for him. 

 If, after feeding him for over a month, and sharing my 

 tobacco with him, he would steal from me, I wanted to 

 know it. I began to hate him, and he soon saw that he 

 was not welcome; but he rejoiced when Gibbs was in 



