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.  In the midst of the sickening feeling of disappointment and uncertainty which came with this information, I was conscious of being thankful that the main question had been decided.

Rather disconsolately I went up for a brief look at the camp on the hill.  The situation was beautiful, and commanded a view from end to end of Resolution Lake, which extended about four miles both north and south of the point, and was divided into two distinct parts, just opposite the camp, by a long island with points of land reaching towards it from north and south.  Beyond the island lay a broad sheet of water which seemed equal in size to the one we were on, and along its farther shore low blue ridges stretched away northward.

The skies seemed trying to make reparation for the week of storms, and the mood of the camp corresponded with that of the day.  Children played about quietly, or clung to their mothers’ skirts, as they watched the strangers with curious interest and the mothers were evidently happy in their motherhood as mothers otherwhere.

“We are poor,” said one, “and we live among the trees, but we have our children.”

The camp consisted of two wigwams, one a large oblong and the other round.  They were covered with dressed deer-skins drawn tight over the poles, blackened round the opening at the top by the smoke of the fires, which are built in the centre within.  I was not invited to go into the wigwams, but through the opening which served as doorway in front of one of them I had a glimpse of the interior.  It seemed quite orderly and clean.  Four rifles, which lay on the carpet of balsam boughs, looked clean and well cared for.  The dishes, pans, tea-pots, etc., which were mostly of white enamel, with some china of an ordinary sort, were clean and shining.  Long strings of dressed deerskin, and a few moccasins hung from the poles round the opening at the top.  The moccasins were not decorated in any way, nor were those worn by the women, and I saw no sign of ornamentation of any kind, save the toques with their beaded or braided bands, and the bands on the hair.

Except for their children they were poor indeed now, for there was not a taste of sugar, tea, or tobacco at the camp.  They rarely have flour, which with them is not one of the necessities of life.  They were living on what fish they could catch while the hunters were away, and were not having the best success with their fishing.  They did not know of the presence of the caribou so near them, and I thought regretfully of how easily we could have brought down one or more had we known of their need, and where we should find them.