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"Then read for yourself," said Nyoda, scribbling a few words on a leaf from her notebook and handing it to her. "What's this?" said Sahwah, spelling out the words. On the paper was written, Quis crudis enim rufus, albus et expiravit. Sahwah tried to translate. "Quis, who; crudis, raw; enim what's enim?" "For," answered Migwan. "And expiravit" said Sahwah, "what's that from?"
One kind, a white fish, the Coregonus albus of naturalists, but which is named "tittameg" by the fur-traders, they caught in great plenty. This fish is found in nearly all the lakes and rivers of the Hudson's Bay territory, and is much prized both by whites and Indians for its delicate flavour.
Indeed, Ivan, were that task imposed on us, we should both be old men before we could complete it, and return home again. It is only the skins of the permanent varieties we are to procure, and therefore the ursus albus is scratched out of our list." "Out with him then! where go we next? To North America, then no doubt?" "No." "Perhaps to Africa?" "No." "Are there no bears in Africa?"
"Expiro" answered Migwan, "expirare, expiravi, expiratus. It means 'blow, 'Expiravit' is 'have blown." "Rufus is 'red," continued Sahwah, "and is albus 'white'?" Migwan nodded, and Sahwah went back to the beginning and began to read: "Who raw for red white and have blown." Nyoda shouted. "That last word is blew, not have blown" she said. "I have it!" cried Migwan, jumping up.
But those snares never seemed to know what they were there for. The first one was set expressly to catch one of the commonest birds that fly Mac's Lagopus albus, the beautiful white Arctic grouse, or at the very least a Bonasa umbellus, which, being interpreted, is ruffed ptarmigan. The tracks had been bird tracks, but the creature that swung in the air next day was a baby hare.
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