1922] SMITH, WOODCRAFT 193 



The similarity of their tongue to that of the Menomini was enough to 

 enable us to make inquiries. We found that Sand lake was through 

 another canal further on. So we retraced our steps to the canoes and 

 found the canal, which led us on to the narrowest arm of Sand lake. 

 We crossed Sand lake in a southwesterly direction to the portage camp 

 for Lake Pokegama. This portage leads over the Northwestern rail- 

 way tracks. While the rest of the crowd prepared supper, Paul and 

 I investigated the portage of over a mile to Lake Pokegama. We came 

 back and made camp in a driving rain and here all spent a miserable 

 night, thank you. 



The younger boys had no ambition to go to Lac du Flambeau, but 

 wanted to fish and wait for us, so the two older boys and the writer 

 made the portage, traveling light, and paddled the eight miles down to 

 the Indian agency, landing at Mr. Balmer's office. Then we walked 

 around to the fair which was just being set up, and bought three Indian 

 baskets. We visited with Mrs. Balmer and looked over the exhibits. 

 They had baskets of dried blueberries, which tasted like currants, other 

 Indian dried foods and maple sugar in mokoks, as well as fresh vege- 

 tables on exhibit. There was a great variety of birchbark and bass- 

 wood splint baskets, ranging in price from twenty-five cents to five 

 dollars. There was much Indian bead work for sale as well as several 

 deer skin objects. There were two tanned deer skins at six and eight 

 dollars respectively, but both were summer hides and not worth buying 

 in the writer's estimation. Many of their moccasins were made from 

 summer hides. The winter hide moccasins were priced up to eight 

 dollars, while the summer hide moccasins were from two and a half 

 dollars up. After wrestling with our trip-grub, we found a welcome 

 adjunct to our menu in a raisin pie baked by a Chippewa woman. 



We left as the noon whistles blew. The wind was rising. When 

 we reached the portage again, the writer took the canoe and made the 

 entire portage of a mile and an eighth in twelve minutes. In an hour 

 and ten minutes from Lac du Flambeau village, we were paddling 

 across Sand lake, after the boys who had gone on ahead. We found 

 a birchbark note saying they would meet us at the Clemens cottage on 

 Island lake. We saw no trace of them on our way, battling high waves 

 in our light canoe, arriving at the Clemens cottage at ten minutes of 

 eight. We were worried, but knew that they had kept the prunes and 

 a couple of slabs of bacon to eat, so we planned to go after them as 

 soon as it was light again. As we were finishing breakfast, they hove 

 in view, paddling for dear life, spurred on by their appetites. Prunes 



