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Updated: June 25, 2025
At the first camp, after he left, we heard a loud "plong" in the water near the boat. Bezkya glided to the spot; I followed here was a large Beaver swimming. The Indian fired, the Beaver plunged, and we saw nothing more of it. He told Billy, who told me, that it was dead, because it did not slap with its tail as it went down. Next night another splashed by our boat.
But of one thing I was sure, we must halt till we got food. A high wind was blowing and promised some respite to the Moose from the little enemy that sings except when he stings, so I invited Bezkya to gird up his loins and make another try for Moose. Nothing loath, he set off with Billy.
Still, the thought of giving up was horrible, so I made a proposition: "Bezkya, you go out scouting on, foot and see if you can locate a band. I'll give you five dollars extra if you show me one Buffalo." At length he agreed to go provided I would set out for Fort Resolution at once unless he found Buffalo near. This was leaving it all in his hands.
Although I was now paying his wages the Beaver did not belong to me. According to the custom of the country it belonged to Bezkya. He owed me nothing but service as a guide. Next meal we had Beaver tail roasted and boiled; it was very delicious, but rather rich and heavy.
I gave him three big ones in a cup of hot tea. All the Indians love tea, and it seems to help them. Under its cheering power the old man's tongue was loosened. He talked more clearly, and Billy, whose knowledge of Chipewyan is fragmentary at best, suddenly said: "I'm afraid I made, a mistake. Bezkya says the pills are too strong. Can't you give him something to stop them?
It was a most striking and picturesque object; doubtless the owner was very well pleased with it, but a pair of Robins militant attacked him whenever he tried to go near it. A Beaver appeared swimming ahead; Bezkya seized his rifle and removed the top of its head, thereby spoiling a splendid skull but securing a pelt and a new kind of meat.
During all this time I had lost no good opportunity of impressing on the men the sinfulness of leaving a camp-fire burning and of taking life unnecessarily; and now, I learned of fruit from this seeding. That night Bezkya was in a better humour, for obvious reasons; he talked freely and told me how that day he came on a large Blackbear which at once took to a tree.
"Goodness," I thought; "here's a predicament," but I didn't know what to do. I remembered a western adage, "When you don't know a thing to do, don't do a thing." I only said: "Tell Bezkya to go home, go to bed, and stay there till to-morrow, then come here again." Away went the Indian to his lodge.
It was a big bull with no bell, horns only two-thirds grown but 46 inches across, the tips soft and springy; one could stick a knife through them anywhere outside of the basal half. Bezkya says they are good to eat in this stage; but we had about 700 pounds of good meat so did not try.
Our diet consisted of nothing but Moose meat and tea; we had neither sugar nor salt, and the craving for farinaceous food was strong and growing. We were what the. natives call "flour hungry"; our three-times-a-day prospect of Moose, Moose, Moose was becoming loathsome. Bezkya was openly rebellious once more, and even my two trusties were very, very glum.
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