182 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 



Eire fed only once every twenty-four hours — their masters 

 sought out sheltered spots for them and cut a few branches of 

 brush for their beds. Some of the men cooked a supply of 

 bannock to be eaten the following day. Others hung their 

 moccasins, mittens, and leggings on little sticks before the 

 fires to dry. It was an animated scene. The "long fires" 

 were huge structures, twelve or fifteen feet in length, so that 

 each man might bask in the heat without crowding his 

 neighbour. A number stood with their back to the blaze while 

 the rest sat or lounged on their blankets and, puffing away at 

 their pipes, joined in the conversation that before long became 

 general. 



Just then the dogs began to blow and then to growl, as a 

 strange Indian strode out of the gloom into the brilliant 

 glare of the fires. 



" Wat-che! wat-che?" (What cheer, what cheer?) sang out the 

 men. The stranger replied in Cree, and then began a lively 

 interchange of gossip. The Indian was the track-beater of the 

 south-bound packet from the Far North that was now approach- 

 ing. All were keenly interested. The cracking of whips and 

 the howling of dogs were heard, and a little later the tinkling of 

 bells. Then came a train of long-legged, handsomely har- 

 nessed dogs hauling a highly decorated carriole behind which 

 trotted a strikingly dressed half-breed dog-driver. When the 

 train had drawn abreast of our fire an elderly white man, who 

 proved to be Chief Factor Thompson, of a still more northerly 

 district of the Hudson's Bay Company, got out from beneath 

 the carriole robes, cheerfully returned our greeting, and accepted 

 a seat on the dunnage beside Factor Mackenzie's fire. Two 

 other trains and two other dog-drivers immediately followed 

 the arrival of the Chief Factor, for they were the packeteers in 

 charge of the packet. Now the woods seemed to be full of 

 talking and laughing men and snarling, snapping dogs. Twenty- 

 two men were now crowding round the fires, and seventy-two 



