It was a glorious day, the kind which almost all the eventful days
of our journey had been. I wanted to compel it to yield me
something of value and interest, and it did; for after we had
passed down the stretch of river below Long Lake and out into the
larger one which I afterwards named Resolution, we came upon the
first camp of the Indians.
When we entered the lake we were surrounded by numbers of islands
in its upper extremity, but beyond it was clear and stretched away
northward calm and beautiful after the storm. Its shores were low
for the most part, but four miles down the lake a high, sandy point
reached far out from the east shore, and it was there we found the
Indians.
At first, we could see only a shapeless dark mass on the hillside.
It moved and swayed now this way, now that, and the first thought
was that it was caribou; but when there came the flash of sunlight
on metal from the midst of it, and the sound of rifle shots, there
was no longer any mistaking it for caribou.
As we came towards them the firing continued at intervals, and now
and then I sent back an answering shot from my revolver; but it was
not without a feeling of uneasiness that we approached. I thought
of many things which might happen and the men paddled very slowly;
but our amusement may be imagined when, on drawing nearer, we found
that they were all women and children. There was much screaming
and shouting from the hill.
"Go away, go away," they shrieked. "We are afraid of you. Our
husbands are away."
Their speech was that of the Montagnais Indians which George
understood, having learned to speak it while at Northwest River
post in the winter of 1903-1904.
"_Tanta sebo_?" (Where is the river?) shouted Job into the din,
"_Tanta sebo_?"
When they ceased their screaming to listen, George called to them
in Montagnais: "We are strangers and are passing through your
country."
A swift change followed these few words in their own familiar
tongue. There was eager talking together, the screams of terror
were changed to laughter, and four of the older women ran down to
the landing to welcome us. We were greeted with much handshaking,
and their number was gradually swelled from the camp on the hill.
They displayed not the least sign of shyness or embarrassment,
being altogether at their ease. Their clothing was of a quite
civilised fashion, the dresses being of woollen goods Of various
colours made with plain blouse and skirt, while on their feet they
wore moccasins of dressed deerskin. The jet black hair was parted
from forehead to neck, and brought round on either side, where it
was wound into a little hard roll in front of the ear and bound
about with pieces of plain cloth or a pretty beaded band. Each
head was adorned with a _tuque_ made from black and red broadcloth,
with beaded or braided band around the head. Both the manner of
wearing the hair and the _tuque_ were exceedingly picturesque and
becoming, and the types were various as those to be found in other
communities, ranging from the sweet and even beautiful face to the
grossly animal like. They were not scrupulously clean, but were
not dirtier than hundreds of thousands to be found well within the
borders of civilisation, and all, even the little children, wore
the crucifix.
Their men had gone down to Davis Inlet, on the east coast, to trade
for winter supplies. They had been away five days and were
expected to return soon, the outward trip being made in three or
four days while the return requires five. The camp was now eagerly
awaiting the arrival of the tea, sugar, and tobacco, the new gowns,
the gay shawls and the trinkets which make the return from the post
the great event of the year.
As their speech indicated, these people were found to belong to the
Montagnais tribe, which is a branch of the Cree Nation, and is
tributary to the posts along the St. Lawrence. There after the
winter's hunt they gather in hundreds at Mingan and Seven Islands,
and it is then they receive from the Roman Catholic missionaries
instruction in the Christian faith. This camp, the only one of the
tribe to do so, had for some years traded at Davis Inlet, on the
northeast coast. We could gather little from the women about the
route to Davis Inlet further than that it is a difficult one, and
for this reason they do not accompany the hunters on the yearly
journey there.
The "Mush-a-wau e-u-its" (Barren Grounds people), the Nascaupee
Indians, whom Mr. Hubbard had been so eager to visit, and who also
are a branch of the Cree Nation, they informed us, have their
hunting grounds farther down the river.
"You will sleep twice before coming to their camp," they said.
We were assured of a friendly reception there, for the two camps
are friendly and sometimes visit each other; but they could tell us
little about the river, because in making the journey between the
two camps, they use a portage route through lakes to the east of
the river. The journey to the George River post at Ungava they
thought would take two months.
My heart sank as this was interpreted to me. In that case I could
no longer entertain any hope of being in time for the ship. It
would mean, too, the entire journey back in winter weather. I had
counted that even if we missed the ship we could probably reach
Lake Michikamau on the return before winter set in; but that also
would be impossible.
