wish to know what they are to do.  It is said that a great chief is coming across from the big sea-water with many mighty braves and warriors, and much goods and presents for the Indians.  But though we have watched long for him, the lake is still clear of his canoes, and we begin to think he is not coming at all; therefore we were glad when we were told that you had come, for now you will tell us what we are to do and what message the great Ogima has sent to the red children of the Great Mother.”

The speech ended, a deep and prolonged “Ho!”—­a sort of universal “thems our sentiments “—­ran round the painted throng of warriors, and then they awaited my answer, each looking with stolid indifference straight before him.

My reply was couched in as few words as possible.  “It was true what they had heard.  The big chief was coming across from the Kitchi-gami at the head of many warriors.  The arm of the Great Mother was a long one, and stretched far over’seas and forests; let them keep quiet, and when the chief would arrive, he would give them store of presents and supplies; he would reward them for their good behaviour.  Bad men had set themselves against the Great Mother; but the Great Mother would feel angry if any of her red children moved against these men.  The big chief would soon be with them, and all would be made right.  As for myself, I was now on my way to meet the big chief and his warriors, and I would say to him how true had been the red children, and he would be made glad thereat.  Meantime, they should have a present of tea, tobacco, flour, and pemmican; and with full stomachs their harts would feel fuller still.”

A universal “Ho!” testified that the speech was good; and then the ceremony of hand-shaking began.  I intimated, however, that time would only permit of my having that honour with a few of the large assembly—­in fact, with the leaders and old men of the tribe.

Thus, in turns, I grasped the bony hands of the “Red Deer’” and the “Big Apron,” of the “Old Englishman” and the “Long Claws,” and the “Big Bird;” and, with the same “Ho, ho!” and shot-firing, they filed away as they had come, carrying with them my order upon the Lower Fort for one big feed and one long pipe, and, I dare say, many blissful visions of that life the red man ever loves to live-the life that never does come to him the future of plenty and of ease.

Meantime, my preparations for departure, aided by my friends at the mission, had gone on apace.  I had got a canoe and five stout English half-breeds, blankets, pemmican, tea, flour, and biscuit.  All were being made ready, and the Indian Settlement was alive with excitement on the subject of the coming man—­now no longer a myth—­in relation to a general millennium of unlimited pemmican and tobacco.