good humour, I desired her to sing a love-song, which she consented to with cheerfulness.
{{c|THE SONG
"Debwoye, nee zargay ween aighter, payshik oathty, seizeebockquoit shenargussey me tarbiscoach nepeech cassawicka nepoo, moszack pemartus, seizeebockquoit meteek."
"It is true I love him only whose heart is like the sweet
sap that runs from the sugar-tree, and is brother to the
aspin leaf, that always lives and shivers."
I thanked her for her song, and giving the husband a bottle of scuttaywabo,[1] left them together to enjoy their hearts' delight; and as there was not sufficient to intoxicate them, I was not afraid of a jealous fit. I always bore in mind the circumstance at Lac la Mort, and my fortunate escape. In the morning they departed, paying me well for my presents with some beaver, bear, and otter skins.
A few days after an Indian arrived, with his two wives
and three children; they immediately came into my
house, and sat down by the fire. I thought I discovered
deceit in his countenance, and watched him very narrowly.
I asked him what success he had met with in his
hunt? He told me he believed the Master of Life was
angry with him, for he had fired at several animals, and
expended all his ammunition, without doing execution.
This was a figurative mode of expression, {114} and
convinced me that he was lazy, and could not get credit
for what he wanted: he added, that his family had been
without provisions some days, and hoped I would cheer
their hearts, and be a friend to them. I then ordered a
————
- ↑ Scuttaywabo is rum or brandy. See Long's Chippewa vocabulary, at the end of the present volume.—Ed.
