THE MONTAGNAIS INDIANS 
and Eskimos at that time dwelt as far south as 
Cape Charles. 
One beautiful day the last of May when “La 
Belle Marguerite ’’ was anchored in a sheltered 
little cove among Les Isles des Corneilles, I was 
delighted by a cry from Mathias of ‘ Les 
sauvages!’? —a cry which, in the earlier 
history of French-speaking America, has times 
innumerable struck terror into the heart of 
the white man. Not so in this case, for les 
sauvages here are no longer savage, they are 
but a peaceful remnant of their old selves, and, 
being well treated by the white man, treat him 
well in return, as indeed they have always done 
when dealt with in this unusual manner. Two 
barges like our own had sailed into a neighbour- 
ing cove, and, through the glass, I could see a 
motley crowd of men, women, children and 
dogs tumbling into canoes and going ashore. 
They soon were grouped about a fire and were 
evidently cooking and eating their breakfast, 
which, judging from the shells seen later, 
consisted of roasted eiders’ eggs. A brilliant 
patch of colour they made on the barren hill- 
side, that contrasted well with the gray of the 
lichen-covered rocks, the green of the firs, and 
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