The Indian in his old birch canoe joined our
fleet, and led us to the beginning of the portage near the foot of
Little Winnipeg Lake. We had carried two canoes and all the baggage
over to the water on the other side of a sandy ridge, leaving only the
Kleiner Fritz to be brought, when our guide and packer, with a
preliminary grunt, said "Money?" inquiring how much we intended to pay
him. He had worked hard for four hours, for which we tried to tell him
that we should pay him one dollar when he should bring over the
remaining canoe; but we could not make him understand what a dollar
was. We then laid down, one after another, four silver quarter-dollars
and two bars of tobacco; whereupon he gave a satisfied grunt and an
affirmative nod, disappeared in the forest, and in less than an hour
returned with the Fritz upon his steaming shoulders, having covered
more than three miles in the round trip.
As we pulled out upon Ball Club Lake a gentle stern wind bade us hoist
our canvas for an easy and pleasant sail of six or seven miles down to
the open river. We glided out gayly before a gentle breeze, and sailed
restfully over the little rippling waves, our speed increasing, though
we hardly noted the signs of a gale driving after us over the hills
behind.
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