Chingoos could not travel that day. The fever
increased, and the ague so shook him, that it
was with the greatest difficulty he could
take the coffee from our hands. The snares
were still empty, and this day also was passed
without food.

On the third morning, Chingoos was still
worse. No game had been snared or shot,
and hunger-pangs were now becoming very
fierce. We were so weak that we could
scarcely creep. About mid-day a hare came
leaping by, through the snow. I shot it, and
we dressed it immediately. To this day I
think that that was the sweetest meal I ever
tasted. We made a part of the hare into
soup for our poor patient; but he was unable
to take it—to our surprise, for it seemed to
us delicious beyond expression.

From that day we never wanted food, and
were able to give all our thoughts and
anxieties to Chingoos; whose last hour
was evidently drawing near. He held out
his hand to his brother, and Shegashie, forgetting
the stoical demeanour of his race which he
had tried hard to maintain, burst into tears as
he folded it in his bosom. When he released it,
it fell cold and stiffened upon the snow.

Shegashie did not speak for hours, but wept
incessantly. The earth was frozen too hard
to admit of our digging a grave. We were
therefore compelled to lay the lifeless Indian
deep in the snow in a shady place, until his
brother could return in the spring to bury him.

On the following morning we resumed our
journey; but it had now become a melancholy
pilgrimage. The day seemed long and dreary
without the joyous youth, whose lively jests
and ringing laughter had echoed among
the old trees. Towards evening, for the
first time in all our travels, we came on
the signs of a human being. The broad
trail of a pair of snow-shoes preceded us
along the course we had to follow.

My guide, judging by the tracks, announced
the wearer to be an Indian, and not one of
the white hunters who are sometimes to be
met in these forests. He was right. The
wearer of the gaily trimmed hunting-shirt
whom we overtook about two hours after,
with his dirty blanket, rifle, tomahawk, and
knife, his arms covered with bracelets, and
bunches of ear-rings, weighing down the lobes
of the ears, fully attested the accuracy of
Shegashie's fore-knowledge.

The Indians greeted each other with grave
courtesy, and the same polite reception was
extended to me. But, in spite of all their
gravity. I fancied I perceived a gleam of joy in
the wild eyes of the stranger. No wonder,
poor fellow! I thought. Perhaps he has passed
the whole winter without looking on one
human face. He belonged to a party of
Indians living far to the north of Green Snake
River, and his dialect was a great trial to my
Indian erudition.

As his path for the next day or two would
be the same as ours, the stranger proposed
to join us. Though I must confess that the
sight of his blanket, caked with filth, made
me feel a repugnance to his company, yet I
was too prudent to object; and afterwards,
when we stopped for the night, and I found
that, leaving the fire-making to Shegashie,
he was content to bustle about to collect
fuel, and to assist me in forming our night's
shelter, I felt more charity towards him, and
was more resigned to his raising his pile of
branches near my own.

As we sat, that evening, round our camp
fire, I had a better opportunity of observing
our new acquaintance. He was a tall, finely
formed Indian, and more muscular than I
had ever seen any of his race. Moreover,
there was an unusual fierceness in his
demeanour and a strange fire gleamed from his
eye. He took the tobacco we gave him with
great pleasure, but he was disappointed that
our fire-water was all expended. However,
he did not let that damp his spirits, but
talked on with more than Indian volubility.
Shegashie's stock of news, for which he
asked, was soon exhausted. Poor fellow! he
had little heart to talk of anything except
his beloved brother, to whose story the
stranger listened with a contracted brow;
but with few indications of sympathy. In
his turn, he treated Shegashie to a number
of amazing and horrible stories which were
current in the woods.

I lost the gist of many of these through not
being able clearly to comprehend his language.
But there was one I understood somewhat
better than the others: it was concerning a
very fierce Indian called Mamiskogahjhe
(Great red-nailed Bear), who came from far
beyond the Great Lake (Superior), and who,
on his return home from a hunting
expedition, had found his squaw and children the
prey of a band of cannibal Indians. Enraged
at the sight, this hero fell upon them single-
handed, and took the scalps of all except one.
That one had fled; and, ever since, Mamiskogahjhe
had prowled through the woods,
gnashing his teeth and seeking him everywhere.
The missing Indian had shrouded
himself in every sort of disguise, " But all
to no purpose," said the stranger savagely,
"for Mamiskogahjhe slays every Indian he
meets, so that that villain must fall beneath
his knife at last."

When I had got over the novelty of the
stranger's excited manner and gleaming eye,
I became somewhat weary of this Indian
hyperbole; but, Shegashie listened to every
word with breathless attention. I was lounging
beside the fire, more asleep than awake,
when I was aroused by the stranger abruptly
demanding of my guide if he had ever seen
this redoubtable brave, the great red-nailed
bear: to which the young Indian replied in.
the negative.

"Liar! " thundered the savage, springing
to his feet. "I am Mamiskogahjhe! " and in a
moment he stabbed my companion in the chest.