IN QUEST OF TREASURE 67 



return to the fork of the river where the family would go into 

 camp and wait for him. 



NEARING TRIP'S END 



Transferring most of the cargo to the other canoes, Amik and 

 I provided ourselves with a little snack and started at once for 

 Oo-koo-koo's old camping ground. It appeared about a three- 

 mile paddle to the fork of the river. Nothing save the quack- 

 ing of ducks rushing by on the wing, the occasional rise of a 

 crane in front of us, the soaring of an eagle overhead, and the 

 rippling wakes left by muskrats as they scurried away, en- 

 livened our hurried trip. We found the leather lodge coverings 

 in good order upon a stage, and securing them along with several 

 bundles of steel traps that hung from trees, we put all aboard 

 and found we had quite a load, for not only were the tepee 

 coverings bulky, each bundle being about two feet thick by 

 four feet long, but they were heavy, too, for each weighed 

 about a hundred pounds. Then, too, the traps were quite a 

 load in themselves. I didn't stop to count them, but it is 

 surprising the number of traps a keen, hard-working hunter 

 employs; and they ranged all the way from small ones for rat 

 and ermine to ponderous ones for bears. Also we gathered up 

 a few odds and ends such as old axes, an iron pot, a couple of 

 slush scoops, a bundle of fish-nets, and a lot of old snowshoes. 

 Crane Lake, like many another northern mere, was a charming 

 little body of water nestling among beautiful hills. After a cup 

 of tea and some bannock, we once more plied our paddles. 



Now it was down stream and we glided swiftly along, arriving 

 at the confluence of the Crane and Caribou just before twilight 

 and found smiling faces and a good supper awaiting our return. 

 How human some Indians are, much more so than many a 

 cold-blooded white. 



Next day we wanted to make the Height-of-land portage 



