Then came an invitation to go up to the camp.  As George interpreted he did not look at all comfortable, and when he asked if I cared to go I knew he was wishing very much that I would say “No,” but I said, “Yes, indeed.”  So we went up while the other three remained at the canoes.

Even in barren Labrador are to be found little touches that go to prove human nature the same the world over.  One of the young men, handsomer than the others, and conscious of the fact, had been watching me throughout with evident interest.  He was not only handsomer than the others, but his leggings were redder.  As we walked up towards the camp he went a little ahead, and to one side managing to watch for the impression he evidently expected to make.  A little distance from where we landed was a row of bark canoes turned upside down.  As we passed them be turned and, to make sure that those red leggings should not fail of their mission, be put his foot up on one of the canoes, pretending, as I passed, to tie his moccasin, the while watching for the effect.

It was some little distance up to camp.  When we reached it we could see northward down the lake for miles.  It lay, like a great, broad river guarded on either side by the mountains.  The prospect was very beautiful.  Everywhere along the way we found their camping places chosen from among the most beautiful spots, and there seemed abundant evidence that in many another Indian breast dwelt the heart of Saltatha, Warburton Pike’s famous guide, who when the good priest had told him of the beauties of heaven said, “My Father, you have spoken well.  You have told me that heaven is beautiful.  Tell me now one thing more.  Is it more beautiful than the land of the musk ox in summer, when sometimes the mist blows over the lakes, and sometimes the waters are blue, and the loons call very often?  This is beautiful, my Father.  If heaven is more beautiful I shall be content to rest there till I am very old.”

The camp consisted of two large wigwams, the covers of which were of dressed deer-skins sewed together and drawn tight over the poles, while across the doorway bung an old piece of sacking.  The covers were now worn and old and dirty-grey in colour save round the opening at the top, where they were blackened by the smoke from the fire in the centre of the wigwam.

Here the younger women and the children were waiting, and some of them had donned their best attire for the occasion of the strangers’ visit.  Their dresses were of cotton and woollen goods.  Few wore skin clothes, and those who did had on a rather long skin shirt with hood attached, but under the shirt were numerous cloth garments.  Only the old men and little children were dressed altogether in skins.  One young woman appeared in a gorgeous purple dress, and on her head the black and red tuque with beaded band worn by most of the Montagnais women, and I wondered if she had come to the Nascaupee camp