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Updated: June 24, 2025
Then, Slowfoot, you will see what I can do. Your hands shall be busy. We will load our cart with meat and pemmican, pay off all our debts, and spend a happy winter in Red River. What have you got there in the kettle?" "Pork," answered Slowfoot with characteristic brevity. "Will it soon be ready?" "Soon." "Have you got the tea unpacked?" "Yes." "Send me your pipe."
This having been satisfactorily arranged, preparations made, and Slowfoot advised of her husband's intention, Dan went to Ben Nevis Hall next morning to bid farewell to Elspie for a brief period. He found only old McKay in the Hall, Elspie having gone up the Settlement, or down the Settlement the man did not know which to call on a friend.
Jacques Bourassin was the first man they met on landing, and he was enthusiastic about the prospects before them. Slowfoot was the first woman, and she was quite satisfied in that amiable state of mental and physical felicity in which it is so easy to believe that "all is for the best." Her husband soon after appeared. He, of course, was also greatly pleased.
"Am I sure that our little child loves tobacco?" "Well, I suppose you are. At any rate, the child often asks you for a pipe, and gets it too. Hm! if Kateegoose fired that shot he must be a bad man. But our chief is sure to find it out and it is no business of mine. Fetch me the tobacco, Slowfoot."
If he had shot himself he must have pulled the trigger with his toe, an' then the ball would have slanted up from his breast to somewhere about his shoulders." "It was a Saulteaux, may be," said Slowfoot, who had been listening with all the eagerness of a gossip. "There were no marks of Redskins' snow-shoes about," returned Dechamp, "an' the tracks were too confused to make them out.
Branches of trees were their primitive rods, twine their simple lines, grasshoppers their bait, and a violent jerk their method. "Slowfoot!" said La Certe. "My husband!" or some such Indian phrase, answered the woman. "I have been wondering for a long time now why hi! no! I thought there was something at my bait but it was deception.
Almost at the same moment Slowfoot landed another, with less violence and more coolness. "What was I saying, Slowfoot?" asked the half-breed, when the hooks had been re-baited, and their eyes were riveted on their respective floats. "Nothing that any one could remember," answered his truthful spouse. "Now I remember ho! was that another?" "No, it was not," answered his matter-of-fact helpmate.
This being in some degree indefinite, the chief smoked in silence for a minute or two, and gazed at Slowfoot with that dreamy air which one assumes when gazing into the depths of a suggestive fire. Apparently inspiration came at last whether from Slowfoot or not we cannot tell for he turned solemnly to the boy. "Rain comes," he said, "and when sick men get wet they grow sicker.
It meant nothing bad, however, for she smiled seraphically and sent forth a stream of smoke, which, mingling with that just emitted by her husband, rose in a curling harmony to the roof. Slowfoot was not a bad-looking woman as North American Indians go.
For some time he lay quite still, and his comrade had almost fallen into an uneasy slumber, when he was awakened by La Certe breaking out into a soliloquy in which he apostrophised his absent wife. "O my Slowfoot!" he murmured. "Shall we never meet again on earth? Yes, you are right. I have been lazy! I am lazy. I suppose that this is punishment for my sin.
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