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Updated: May 29, 2025
To this point the narrative follows the Micmac, Passamaquoddy, and Chippewa versions. After the tale of the chief is at an end it is entirely Passamaquoddy; but of the latter I have two versions, one from Tomah Josephs and one from Mrs. W. Wallace Brown. In the latter it is represented as giving size to those who partake of it. The Mischief Maker.
"That's a fine end t' him an' he'll never be takin' trails away from me again," he chuckled. The whole picture as he imagined it was food for his black heart and he forgot his own uncomfortable position in the delight that he felt at the horrible death that he had so cleverly and cruelly arranged for Bob. Micmac John retraced his steps some eight miles to the wide stretch of timber land.
Since that time white men have come to America. This is an old Eskimo tale, greatly modernized and altered. The Eskimo believe in a kind of sorcerers or spirits, who have instruments which they merely point at people or animals, to kill them. But among Mr. Rand's Micmac tales it figures as a later tribute to the memory of the great hero.
The snow was by this time falling thickly and a rising westerly wind was sweeping the marsh making travelling exceedingly difficult, and completely hiding the trail beyond the trees. The tent flaps were fastened on the outside, and Bob was away, as Micmac John expected he would be, searching for caribou.
The pretended officer was one of Le Loutre's supporters, the Micmac chief, Jean Baptiste Cope, and the fatal volley came from a band of Micmacs who had, under cover of darkness, concealed themselves behind the dike. The assassins kept up a sharp fire on the rest of the English party, but failed to prevent them from carrying off their dying captain to the fort.
And, verily, by this time the Micmac began to believe, without bating an ace on it, that all of these tall people were like the wolves, who, meeting with nobody else, bite one another. So they were bound and bundled up as before, and put to bed like dolls.
And they lived with the Sea-Ducks, and I doubt me not went on marrying and mischief-making after their wont even unto the end of their days. And their kind are not dead as yet in any land. This is a fair specimen of many Indian legends. So much of it as is Micmac was told to Mr. Rand by a highly intelligent Indian, named Benjamin Brooks, who was certain that the story was of great antiquity.
Men spoke to her through the open doorway, and she replied. Once he distinguished her words. "Oh no," she called out to some one at a distance. "I'm not afraid. He won't do me any harm. I've got Micmac with me. I often stay here all day, but I shall go home early. Thanks," she added, in response to some further hint. "I'd rather not have any one here. I never can paint unless I'm quite alone."
Old Catholic residents along the northern and eastern shores of King's County, will tell how, with Father Vincent seated in the prow, the smallest boat would ride safely over an angry sea. His apostolic zeal it was that kept the Faith alive in Eastern Nova Scotia, in the days when, with the exception of a few French missions, it lived only in the hearts of the poor Micmac Indians.
His choleric temperament had often brought him into trouble, from which the magistrates of Rouy-le-Tors, like indulgent and prudent friends, had extricated him. Had he not one day thrown the conductor of the diligence from the top of his seat because he was near crushing his retriever, Micmac?
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