“Mink and muskrats?”
“About two shillings for a mink; muskrat, seventy-five cents.”
“I reckon,” said Uncle Isaac, “we’ve made nearly a hundred dollars a month apiece, and shall be here a little short of five months. We shan’t get many more beaver, but we shall get more otter, may get another silver-gray fox, and lots of muskrats.”
“Then,” cried Charlie, jumping to his feet, “we’ve got enough.”
“Hurrah! yes,” said John; “and we’ve got all summer left to earn more in.”
“How much do you calculate it’s going to take to fit her for sea?”
“Fifteen hundred dollars—three hundred seventy-five apiece.”
“It won’t take it. You’ve made too large a calculation, though it’s an excellent plan to make a large calculation. You’ve gone upon the supposition of paying the regular price for labor and canvas. It ain’t going to cost you the trade price for canvas, by a great deal, nor for making the sails, fitting the rigging, and putting it on. I tell you, if we get home safe, you’ll have enough to give her the best of rigging, cables, and anchors, and enough left to load, provision her for a voyage, and pay the crew.”
Uncle Isaac now exerted all the craft he was master of to trap another silver fox; but, notwithstanding all his arts, the essences and other attractions he used, his efforts were for a long time fruitless. At length he built a booth, and, having first removed every vestige of offal from around the camp, he roasted a beaver, and besmeared it with medicine, then dragged the bloody neck of a deer just killed around the bait, and into the woods, and lay in wait several nights. He finally shot his fox, which he knew was in the vicinity, as he had seen him several times, which was the occasion of his taking so much pains.
Having accomplished this to his heart’s content, and exclaiming, “What will Sam and Captain Rhines say to that!” he avowed he would not bait another trap, but instantly set himself to hunting for canoe birch. He was not long in finding one—though at the present day they are so rare that the Eastern Indians have pretty much abandoned the use and construction of canoes—of sufficient size, bare of branches for several feet, and free from cracks and knots, and, with his knife and a sharp wedge, carefully peeled the bark from the trunk. It was a slow process, requiring great care, for this canoe, which was designed to carry most of the furs and provisions, was to be thirty-four feet long. In this labor all united, under the direction of Uncle Isaac. They next procured long strips of cedar, split with the frow from a straight-grained log,—four of them,—which were to form the gunwales, an inch thick and two inches wide, also a large number of strips for linings, an inch thick and two inches wide, strips of ash for ribs, half an inch thick and two inches wide, and spruce roots soaked in hot water for thread. When all these materials were procured, they were carried to a level piece of ground near the camp. While the boys, with their knives, were shaping and smoothing the sheathing and timbers, and stripping the spruce roots into thread, Uncle Isaac, aided by Joe, modelled the canoe. They set up four stakes in the ground, two at each end, nearly as far apart as the canoe was to be long, and laid the bark on the ground between them, with the side that went next to the wood outside, the ends brought together and put between the stakes, then bound four of the cedar strips together by pairs in several places with roots, then bound the ends together to form the gunwales, and fastened them to the stakes. The ribs were then laid across the bark on the ground, the longest in the middle, and decreasing gradually towards each end. Stones were placed upon the middle of these to keep them down, the ends were then successively bent up and tucked between the gunwale strips, and fastened very near together. Other strips were then placed outside of these, lengthwise, and where they lapped, nicely bevelled, forming an outside covering, like the planks of a vessel. They were to keep the ribs in their places, and strengthen the structure.