CHESUNCOOK. 
147 
had also breakfasted, came along, and, being invited, 
took a cup of tea, and finally* taking up the common 
platter, licked it clean. But he was nothing to a white 
fellow, a lumberer, who was continually stuffing himself 
with the Indians’ moose-meat, and was the butt of his 
companions accordingly. He seems to have thought that 
it was a feast “ to eat all.” It is commonly said that the 
white man finally surpasses the Indian on his own 
ground, and it was proved true in this case. I cannot 
swear to his employment during the hours of darkness, 
but I saw him at it again as soon as it was light, though 
he came a quarter of a mile to his work. 
The rain prevented our continuing any longer in the 
woods ; so giving some of our provisions and utensils to 
the Indians, we took leave of them. This being the 
steamer’s day, I set out for the lake at once. 
I walked over the carry alone and waited at the head 
of the lake. An eagle, or some other large bird, flew 
screaming away from its perch by the shore at my 
approach. For an hour after I reached the shore there 
was not a human being to be seen, and I had all that 
wide prospect to myself. I thought that I heard the 
sound of the steamer before she came in sight on the open 
lake. I noticed at the landing, when the steamer came 
in, one of our bedfellows, who had been a-moose-hunting 
the night before, now very sprucely dressed in a clean 
white shirt and fine black pants, a true Indian dandy, 
who had evidently come over the carry to show himself 
to any arrivers on the north shore of Moosehead Lake, 
just as New York dandies take a turn up Broadway and 
stand on the steps of a hotel. 
Midway the lake we took on board two manly-looking 
middle-aged men, with their bateau , who had been explor- 
