GILPIN PORPOISES AND DOLPHINS OF NOVA SCOTIA. 31 



drunk last night, ill fed, and ill clothed, and his greasy red skin 

 shows through many a tattered rag ; yet as he stands there, with 

 his gun across his breast, no Grecian demigod, no Roman con- 

 queror ever stood so firm upon pedestal of bronze or marble as he 

 does upon his bit of frail bark, tossed upon the savage rolling tide. 

 His pose is both strong and easy to indifference. His high cheek 

 bones, and flattened features are downright ugly, yet the light of 

 sport has so lit that broad nostril and tossing hair, that his bronze 

 figure would pale not, if put beside an ancient hero lit by battle 

 light, or martyr illuminated by holier fire. 



Behind him, at the stern, sits his " alter ego " — two men with 

 one mind. This rearward fellow's duty is to keep his canoe even 

 balanced, and to watch every motion of his superior. Not a word 

 is spoken, and your dull Saxon eye sees nothing, yet there is a 

 dirty flattened palm thrust out from the foremost fellow's rags, now 

 elevated, now depressed, directing every motion. The stern fellow 

 too sits his rolling perch, his paddle across his lap with the easiest 

 indifference, and yet an untrained foot would never stand an instant, 

 or untrained man sit for a moment upon the thwart of that canoe 

 without being shot into the sea, and rolling her over and over for 

 many a yard. A flotilla of some half dozen of these pretty crafts 

 roll, and wait and watch their prey. A porpoise now breaks water 

 within thirty yards of the nearest canoe, quietly — a slight snore — 

 and a broad glittering back, followed by a fin goes gliding in a 

 circle through the water. The nearest Indian fires, and his canoe 

 is whirled to the bloody water, and now armed with a long lance, 

 he drives it into the dying fish, lying with its white side and belly, 

 broad upon the red and oily water. With it he controls its feeble 

 struggles, keeps it from sinking, and guides it to the side of his 

 canoe. Here an inclined plane is formed by resting the handles of 

 the paddles upon the sides of the canoe, the blades floating upon 

 the water. Up this watery plane the round fish is urged, and pulled 

 and guided by their dexterous hands, and finally the handles inside 

 being tilted, it is rolled safely on board. Its weight between two 

 and three hundred, that of the canoe scarce fifty pounds. This feat 

 so daintily, so silently performed, could not have been done without 



