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Updated: May 21, 2025
This hospitality was often earned to such an extent, that there would be but very little left for the hunter himself, or for his own family. Thus, life among the Indians for long generations, was a kind of communism. No unfortunate one actually starved to death in the village so long as there was a whitefish or a haunch of venison in the community.
Comforted by these thoughts, Lumley and I returned to the hall in a burst of thunder, lightning, and rain thoroughly saturated, and in a condition to do ample justice to the sea-biscuit, fried salt-pork, hung whitefish and tea, which Salamander had prepared for supper.
David found himself noticing these things very small things though they were; he discovered himself taking a sudden and curious interest in events and things of no importance at all, even in the quick, deft slash of the Frenchman's long knife as he cut up the huge whitefish that was to be their breakfast.
As he spoke he pulled her fingers clear and passed out with her upon the trail. At the Barracks a man was being tried for his life. He was an old man, a native from the Whitefish River, which empties into the Yukon below Lake Le Barge. All Dawson was wrought up over the affair, and likewise the Yukon-dwellers for a thousand miles up and down.
"Ay," said the other, "I suspected something o' the kind. But maybe ye'll be wanting supper?" "I believe, if we were put to it, we could eat half a caribou," Benson told him with a grin. "It's no to be had," the Scot answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "I can give ye a good thick bannock and some whitefish. Our stores are no so plentiful the now."
"White chief doesn't know what helps a windigo," explained a Chippewa; and the canoeman Jean Boucher interpreted him. "Bad spirit makes a windigo strong as a bear. I saw this one. She stole my whitefish and ate them raw." "Why didn't you give her cooked food when you saw her?" demanded Jacques. "She would not eat that now. She likes offal better."
O, it was the offulest smell I ever heard of, except the smell when they found a tramp who hung himself in the woods on the Whitefish Bay road, and had been dead three weeks. It was just like an old back number funeral.
In the one canoe which the Cayugas had left to them, the little party headed to the east, now skimming close to the silent beach, now cutting a straight path across some bay from point to point, out over the depths where lay the sturgeon and the pickerel and trout and whitefish.
From her conversation it appeared that he had helped one or two fellows with small sums of money and good advice. In the autumn he had fished out an Indian who had upset his boat while netting whitefish in rough weather, on the lake, and every one knew that Stefan's life had been saved by him. At any rate the Swede said so, for Hugo never liked much to speak of such things.
Here a short stay was to be made, and then the journey was to be resumed through Lake St. Clair and the St. Clair River to Lake Huron. Once on Lake Huron they expected to skirt the eastern coast of Michigan, stopping whenever they pleased, and thus gradually make their way to Whitefish Bay and Lake Superior.
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