“Those man’ll been my cousin, too,” said Moise, pointing to the new-comers. “She’ll been glad to see us, both of her. Her name is Billy and Richard. Ole Richard, his Injun name was been At-tick—‘The Reindeer.’ Also she’ll say,” he added, “she’ll ain’t got some tea nor sugar. Allons! I think maybe we’ll eat some dish of tea.”
Soon they were seated on the ground, once more eating tea and bannock, piecing out their meal, which, by the way, was the third during the day, with some of the dried caribou meat which they had brought from far above.
“They’ll ask me, my cousin,” said Moise at last, his mouth full, “what we’ll take for those busted canoe.”
“What do you say, Mr. Rob?” asked Alex.
“I don’t see how it’s going to be worth anything to us,” said Rob, “and it will take us a long time to patch her up at best. Tell them we’ll give them what there is left of the Mary Ann if they’ll take good care of Jess on the way around on the trail. And we’ll pay them two dollars a day each besides.”
When Moise had interpreted this speech, the older of the two breeds, who did not speak any English, rose and gravely shook each of the boys by the hand, then not saying anything further, he rose, took his big buffalo knife from its sheath, and proceeded to finish the distribution of the unfortunate Mary Ann, it being his plan evidently not to float her again, but to reduce her to a portable package which could be taken away in their other canoe, the dugout, on the beach below.
“Well, there goes the Mary Ann,” said John, sadly. “He is evidently going to make some kindling wood for himself.”
“My cousin she’ll say this boat must be took up to camp, where womans can work on heem,” explained Moise. “He’ll say he’ll patch up those boat fine, for all the ribs she’ll be bent all right an’ not bust, and he’ll make new keel an’ new side rails—oh, you wait! Maybe so nex’ year you’ll come here you’ll see those boat Marie H’Ann just so fine like she never was.”
Whatever might have been the future plans for the Mary Ann, she soon resembled nothing so little as a Peterborough canoe. The old man calmly proceeded to separate the framework at bow and stern, so that he could crush the two sides of the canoe together after removing the ribs, which also he proceeded to do, one by one. Finally he had a pile of ribs and some broken splints which he laid carefully on the beach. Then he doubled back the splintered skin of the canoe, throwing away very little indeed of the fractured woodwork. At last he grunted some rapid words to the younger man, who seemed to be his son or a member of his family.
“My cousin she’ll say he can took those boat in dugout all right down the river,” said Moise. “She’ll said to me also we’ll go on Hudson’s Hope with heem.” Moise pointed to Jesse. Alex nodded and explained further the plan which had roughly been sketched out before that time by Rob and himself. In a little time the younger Cree had returned and poled the big dugout around the bend up to the place where they were now in camp. With some excited talk on the part of both, they now took the wreck of the Mary Ann and carried it up the bank to await their return. In different places along the great cottonwood dugout they added such supplies as Moise thought was right. The other supplies they then cached, and put over all the robe of the big grizzly, flesh side out, and heavily salted, weighting the edges down with heavy stones.