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Updated: May 3, 2025
"You know, I told you this was the Land of Plenty." "Bimeby plenty bear," said Moise. "This boy Billy, he'll tol' me ol' Picheu he'll keel two bear this last week, an' he'll say plenty bear now all on river, on the willows." "Well, at any rate," said Alex, "old Picheu himself is coming." "How do you know?" asked Jesse. "I hear the setting-pole."
In summer-tam, when grass an' rock is brown, he'll go aroun' brown, sam as the rock an' the leaf. In summer-tam the wissel he'll caught the hare an' the partridge, an' he'll live pretty good, heem. "Now, in the winter-tam most all the animals in the wood he'll go white. Those hare, he'll get white just same color as the snow. Those picheu, those lynx, he'll get gray, almost white.
"That suits me," said John, "and I think it would be a good idea. Give Moise all the meat and such supplies as we don't need going out." "And then, how about the boats?" "Well, old Picheu sold us the dugout, and I don't suppose he'll ever get down here any more, and we certainly couldn't take it out with us. I'm in favor of making Moise a present of that. He seems to like it pretty well."
Presently, as Alex had said, the dugout showed its nose around the bend. At-tick and Billy, Jesse's two friends, were on the tracking line, and in the stern of the dugout, doing most of the labor of getting up-stream, was an old, wrinkle-faced, gray-haired and gray-bearded man, old Picheu himself, in his time one of the most famous among the hunters of the Crees, as the boys later learned.
So the three boys stood in a row at the waterside, after they had shaken hands once more with the friends they were leaving, and gave them three cheers and a tiger, waving their hats in salutation. Even old Picheu smiled happily at this. Then the boys sprang aboard, and the boats pushed out into the current. They were passing now between very high banks, broken now and then by rock faces.
After a little time they concluded to wait for the other men who had gone down the river-bank to secure the dugout of an old Indian, who, it seems, was known as Picheu, or the Lynx. "I don't know about a dugout, Moise," said Rob. "There may be bad water below here." "No, not very bad water," said Moise. "I'll ron heem on steamboat many tam! But those dugout she'll been good boat, too.
Some of us will change, but men like At-tick, the old Indian who brought Jess across the trail, and like old Picheu, below here, aren't apt to change very much." John was once more puzzling at the map which the boys had made for themselves, following the old Mackenzie records.
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