Now I felt that not simply a day
but even an hour might cost me a winter in Labrador.
When the word went forth that we were about to leave, all gathered
for the parting. Looking about for something which I might carry
away with me as a souvenir of the visit, my eyes caught the beaded
band, which the chief's daughter wore on her hair, and stepping
towards her I touched it to indicate my wish. She drew sharply
away and said something in tones that had a plainly resentful ring.
It was, "That is mine." I determined not to be discouraged and
made another try. Stretched on a frame to dry was a very pretty
deer-skin and I had George ask if I might have that. That seemed
to appeal to them as a not unreasonable request, and they suggested
that I should take one already dressed. The woman who had wanted
my sweater went into the wigwam and brought out one. It was very
pretty and beautifully soft and white on the inside. She again
pleaded for the sweater, and as I could not grant her request I
handed her back the skin; but she bade me keep it. They gave
George a piece of deer-skin dressed without the hair, "to line a
pair of mits," they said.
As they stood about during the last few minutes of our stay, the
chief's arm was thrown across his little daughter's shoulders as
she leaned confidingly against him. While the parting words were
being exchanged he was engaged in a somewhat absent-minded but none
the less successful, examination of her head. Many of the others
were similarly occupied. There was no evidence of their being
conscious that there was anything extraordinary in what they were
doing, nor any attempt at concealing it. Apparently it was as much
a matter of course as eating.
When I said, "Good-bye," they made no move to accompany me to the
canoe.
"Good-bye," said George. "Send us a fair wind."
Smilingly they assured him that they would. In a minute we were in
the canoe and pushing off from shore. As we turned down the lake,
all eager to be shortening the distance between us and the post, I
looked back. They were still standing just as we had left them
watching us. Taking out my handkerchief I waved it over my head.
Instantly the shawls and kerchiefs flew out as they waved a
response, and with this parting look backward to our wilderness
friends we turned our faces to Ungava.
CHAPTER XVII
THE RACE FOR UNGAVA
Five days to Ungava!
Seated in' the canoe with time to think I could not seem
to realise the situation.
