brother of Maccaconce—employed as an assistant to our fisherman. "The old man does not lament hard enough," said the youth, "for any one to have died; I'll go and see." He found the Indians about three miles off, all alive and well; our friend Blacky having but slightly scorched his hands. The foolish fellow had laid some gunpowder—fortunately a small quantity—in an untied handkerchief between his legs, and, with characteristic Indian apathy, began striking fire with his steel and flint, to light the eternal pipe. To us it would scarcely seem necessary to call in the aid of superstition to account for what followed; a spark flew into the powder, and it exploded: but the old man, as if pursued by all the demons, set off for the fort, to bring us the dreadful news! It is a general rule among the traders, not to believe the first story of an Indian. He will tell you, on arriving, that there are no deer, and afterwards acknowledge them to be numerous: that he has been starving, when he has been living in abundance: that certain individuals are dead; yet, after he has smoked his pipe and eaten his fill, ask him what is the matter with these same persons, and he will describe some trifling ailments, a surfeit perhaps; for though, at times, these people endure with fortitude, the least sickness makes them
