90 
FOREST AND STREAM 
[Jan. 21, 1911. 
belonged to a family of ten and was considered 
a very large structure of its kind, being at least 
nine feet by twelve, with sides not less than four 
feet high. In the middle of the hut one could 
stand erect. 
The family consisted of a man and his squaw, 
four children, the man’s old mother, a younger 
squaw and a widowed relative with two small 
children. The youngest child was a mere baby 
when they first arrived, and had made the jour¬ 
ney packed in decayed wood and punk, which 
is the Indian way of treating an infant during 
what may be termed the long clothes period. 
When Pascal first saw the old mother, she was 
squatted in a corner of the hut, seemingly in 
her dotage, mumbling and nodding and showing 
no sign of either intelligence or energy. 
Pascal had a line of traps that winter, and 
the second time he met the old woman was in 
the woods near his traps several miles from her 
camp. His astonishment when he saw the aged 
creature tottering along with about a hundred 
pounds of caribou on a sleigh may easily be 
imagined. He asked her, in her own dialect, if 
she wanted him to haul the load out for her, but 
she only shook her head, mumbled something and 
kept right on. Probably she was quite happy in 
the task. The family of ten got away with some 
forty caribou during the fall, winter and spring, 
obtained for the most part on the barrens for 
which Pascal and I set out the day after our 
arrival. 
I questioned Pascal about the other families 
who had come over. The only thing of interest 
that I elicited I jotted down at the time. It was 
concerning a certain old fellow known as Bap¬ 
tiste Sauvage, who had hunted many years in 
this territory. He was a Montagnais, and had 
along with him one of his sons by a first mar¬ 
riage. He had married a second wife shortly 
after the death of the first, and once in a talka¬ 
tive mood he told about this later venture. Pas¬ 
cal gave me the story in French, keeping to the 
Indian’s method of using that language, and I 
will try to give an English version in the same 
spirit. 
Old Baptiste Sauvage said: “I marry two 
time; that one time too much. Soon after get 
married two time, leave for hunt and stay three 
month. When I get back squaw say: ‘Tiens, 
Baptiste, you not stay long. Not have good 
hunt?’ 
“I say: ‘Yes, have good hunt; think three 
month long ’nough.’ You s’pose, Pascal, I not 
like ver’ much she say I not stay long ’nough. 
“After while leave for hunt some more and 
stay six month. When I get back squaw say: 
‘Tiens, Baptiste, deja toi? You not have ver’ 
good hunt? You not stay long time.’ 
“I say: ‘Bon, me go right quick on hunt what 
last long time.’ ” 
Pascal said Baptiste reflected several minutes 
and then looking up made a sort of grunting 
which might possibly have passed for a laugh, 
and which no doubt was intended for one, though 
his facial expression did not change in the 
least. 
“You s’pose, Pascal, squaw think I stay long 
time nex’ trip? Dat’s twenty-two year, and me 
still on same trip.” 
Pascal asked Baptiste if he knew what had 
become of the squaw. Baptiste answered: “I 
kill her. Make slack on cedar tree, make picture 
my squaw and shoot—she dead.” 
The practice of attempting to bring about the 
death of a real or a suspected enemy by shoot¬ 
ing at a blazed tree on which the avenger has 
done his best to portray the person under dis¬ 
favor is a custom among certain Montagnais 
Indians. During my expeditions to the north 
shore of the St. Lawrence I frequently heard of 
this superstition, _ but I have never been fortu¬ 
nate enough to find a tree marjced in this con¬ 
demning manner. Pascal told me that Baptiste 
really believed in the efficacy of his act, and was 
certain that some dreadful calamity, resulting in 
the death of his wife, had been brought about 
through his treatment of the tree. 
In spite of the fact that these Indians are 
generally devout Roman Catholics, many among 
them cling to their belief in the presence and 
power of hoodooing spirits and “medicine.” The 
very camp in which we slept that night had a. 
rough wooden cross nailed to the wall. 
Old Baptiste certainly believed that “there is 
more in heaven and earth than is dreamed of 
in our philosophy.” Once when he and Pascal 
had halted for an overnight stay in an empty 
lumber camp along a pprtage road, they heard 
shortly after dusk what they took for a call far 
down the road. Old Baptiste sat up and said: 
“Portageur, she’s pass early. I see track, so 
s’pose that some sorcier come do us harm. We 
take gun, go stand in door, and if we see man, 
we shoot quick.” 
Pascal suggested that if the passer were a 
man, he might not be a sorcier or a wizard, and 
that when he came in sight they could ask him 
his name and make certain of the case, but Bap¬ 
tiste said: “S’pose she’s sorcier, she got too 
close an’ do us harm before we can speak. Bet¬ 
ter shoot quick so soon we see man.” 
Suiting the action to the word, old Baptiste 
seized his rifle and Pascal followed suit; the 
latter, however, with the intention of cracking 
old Baptiste over the head before he could do 
any harm should the supposed bad man come 
in sight. Fortunately no one appeared. Pascal 
asserted that Baptiste was not often taken with 
these alarming fancies. So much the better for 
the unsuspecting human being who might happen 
to cross his forest path. 
Baptiste hunted around the region in ques¬ 
tion till he was nearly eighty years of age, when 
his strength gave out. One bitter winter morn¬ 
ing, after he had been absent an alarming length 
of time, his son found the solitary old man hud¬ 
dled over a very small fire which he had built 
on the portage road. He was unable to go any 
further, so the son placed him on a sleigh and 
hauled him to the nearest village, where the old 
man died in a few days. 
Woodcock Reported in British 
Columbia. 
Cranbrook, B. C., Nov. 12. — Editor Foresf and 
Stream: Cranbrook, B. C., is thirty-five miles 
north from the International boundary line, in 
a valley 3,014 feet above sea level and more than 
1,200 feet lower than Crow’s Nest Pass, on the 
Great Divide, east of Cranbrook one hundred 
miles, as the railway winds about. Last night 
was clear and frosty, temperature 22 degrees at 
8 a. m., 45 degrees at noon to-day with blue sky 
and bright sunshine. 
This is preliminary to an account of the best 
and most interesting observation of a woodcock 
I have had since I first saw this bird nearly fifty 
years ago. I was walking along a road which 
passes through a spring fed swamp and saw a 
woodcock feeding. The time was just after 2 
o’clock. He was wading about in water which 
in places was deep enough so the feathers be¬ 
tween his legs were under the surface, and the 
motion of his body when feeding somewhat re¬ 
sembled that of a tip-up. He was diligently 
boring for worms, or food of some kind, in the 
black mucky bottom, and found one so large 
he had hard work to swallow it. Then he rested 
with bill on'breast several minutes, after which 
he lazily stretched out backward, first one leg 
then the other, and began dipping his bill in the 
water to assist in making a quick toilet, putting 
up a wing to get at the under feathers, then be¬ 
tween the wings and back to the end of his short 
tail, not forgetting to daintily arrange the 
feathers covering his breast. All he did could 
be easily seen, as he was within forty feet of 
me all the hour I watched him. He was beauti¬ 
fully marked in rich dark colors, and when he 
stood in the sunshine and rested, all his beauty 
could be clearly seen. 
A flock of tame ducks was feeding here, and 
when they came too near, the woodcock slowly 
fed out of the way under the brush and along 
the shore line just out of the water. When the 
ducks engaged in a play spell, half flying and 
swimming about like boys playing tag, quacking, 
flapping and having a merry time, the wood¬ 
cock stopped boring and gravely looked on from 
the bank. When the play was over and the 
ducks were resting on the water where the sun¬ 
shine lay, then the woodcock began feeding 
again and was so doing when I walked away. 
Teams passed while I was watching him, men 
came talking and spoke to me, but I could not 
