“Where did you come into the river?” the chief asked.  George explained that we had come the whole length of the river, that we had come into it from Lake Michikamau, which we reached by way of the Nascaupee.  He was greatly surprised.  He had been at Northwest River and knew the route.  Turning to the others he told them of our long journey.  Then they came forward and gathered eagerly about us.  We told them we were going down the river to the post at Ungava.

“Oh! you are near now,”, they said.  “You will sleep only five times if you travel fast.”

My heart bounded as this was interpreted to me, for it meant that we should be at the post before the end of August, for this was only the twentieth.  There was still a chance that we might be in time for the ship.

“Then where is the long lake that is in this river?” George enquired.

“It is here,” the chief replied.

We enquired about the river.  All were eager to tell about it, and many expressive gestures were added to their words to tell that the river was rapid all the way.  An arm held at an angle showed what we were to expect in the rapids and a vigorous drop of the hand expressed something about the falls.  There would be a few portages but they were not long, and in some places it would be just a short lift over; but it was all rapid nearly.

“And when you come to a river coming in on the other side in quite a fall you are not far from the post.”

There was a tightening in my throat as I thought, “What if I had decided to turn back rather than winter in Labrador!”

“Did you see any Indians?” the chief asked.

“Yes, we have slept three times since we were at their camp.”

“Were they getting any caribou?” was the next eager question.  “Had they seen any signs of the crossing?” George told them of the great numbers we had seen and there followed an earnest discussion among themselves as to the probability of the caribou passing near them.

“Are you going up?” we enquired.

They replied, “No, not our country.”

There were enquiries as to which way the caribou were passing, and again they talked among themselves about their hopes and fears.  We learned that only three days before they had returned from Davis Inlet where they go to trade for supplies as do the Montagnais.  They had come back from their long journey sick at heart to meet empty handed those who waited in glad anticipation of this the great event of the year—­the return from the post.  The ship had not come, and the post store was empty.

As they talked, the group about the canoe was growing larger.  The old men had joined the others together with a few old women.  As the story of their disappointment was told one old man said, “You see the way we live and you see the way we dress.  It is hard for us to live.  Sometimes we do not get many caribou.  Perhaps they will not cross our country.  We can get nothing from the Englishman, not even ammunition.  It is hard for us to live.”