Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 24, 2025
Old McKay was giving some directions to Fergus; Duncan junior was seated opposite Dan Davidson, smoking his pipe, and Elspie had gone into her tent, when Slowfoot, the spouse of La Certe, drew near. "Come along, old girl," exclaimed McKay senior. "It iss some baccy you will be wantin', I'll wager." Slowfoot did not reply in words, but the smile upon her face was eloquent.
He found that chief sitting in La Certe's wigwam, involved in the mists of meditation and tobacco-smoke, gazing at Slowfoot. That worthy woman who, with her lord and little child, was wont to forsake her hut in spring, and go into the summer-quarters of a wigwam was seated on the opposite side of a small fire, enduring Okematan's meditative gaze, either unconsciously or with supreme indifference.
"Slowfoot cannot tell what our little one wishes," was the reply, "but she never gets it." La Certe pondered for some time, and then asked "Does my Slowfoot still like work?" "She likes it still likes it better." "And she does it sometimes?" "Yes, often always." "Why?" "Because Mr Sutherland advises me and I like Mr Sutherland."
"Does my Slowfoot expect me to like work too, and to do it?" asked La Certe with a peculiar glance. "We cannot like what we don't like, though we may do it," answered the wife, drawing perilously near to the metaphysical, "but Slowfoot expects nothing. She waits. My Francois is not a child. He can judge of all things for himself."
"I think," returned the husband, slowly, "it is because I like Dan Davidson. I like him very much, and it was to please him that I began to work hard, for, you know, he was very anxious to get home in time to be at his own wedding. So that made me work hard, and now I find that hard work is not hard when we like people. Is it not strange, my Slowfoot?" "Yes.
You know that I could not pay him till I go to the plains an' get another load of meat an' leather. You will go with me, Slowfoot, an' we will have grand times of it with buffalo-humps an' marrow bones, an' tea an' tobacco. Ah! it makes my mouth water. Give me more tea. So. That will do. What a noise the wind makes! I hopes it won't blow over the shed an' kill the horse.
He believed the Indian, and, returning to his tent, lay down again to finish the interrupted pipe. "Kateegoose was trying his gun to see if it was loaded," he said to his better half. "That's a lie," returned Slowfoot, with that straightforward simplicity of diction for which she was famous. "Indeed! What, then, was he doing, my Slowfoot?" "He was loading his gun not trying it." "Are you sure?"
At this the father smiled benignly, but Slowfoot made a demonstration which induced a rather prompt completion of the walk without a reasonable wage. It sucked vigorously all the time, however, being evidently well aware that Francois was not to be feared. At that moment the curtain of the tent lifted, and little Bill Sinclair limped in.
I heard him tell Slowfoot to get ready to go along with us." "I wonder why he came?" said Mrs Davidson, coming out of her tent at the moment, and joining the party round the fire. "He did not say," answered Jessie. "He did not require to say," remarked Duncan McKay, with a sarcastic laugh.
I say, Mistress La Certe, how long is that lobscouse or whatever you call it, goin' to be in cookin'?" Slowfoot gave vent to a sweet, low giggle, as she lifted the kettle off the hook, and thus gave a practical answer to the question. She placed before him the robbiboo, or pemmican, soup, which the seaman had so grievously misnamed.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking