“That’s what Injun calls his game,” said Moise, laughing.
“His game—what’s that?”
“Those game she’ll been call platter game. All tam in winter Injun will play those game in hees house—he’ll play it here hondred year, two hondred year, I s’pose maybe.”
“I know!” broke in Rob, eagerly. “Mackenzie tells about that very thing. He says that two of his Indians got to fighting over a game of platter at the fort down below here. I wonder if that’s the same thing!”
“It is,” said Alex, “precisely the same. The Crees all play this, although so far as I know it isn’t known east of Lake Superior. Show him how to play, Moise.”
Moise now spread down one of the blankets on the ground and took his seat cross-legged at the side of it, motioning to the boys to sit opposite. He now untied the greasy rag which wrapped up the bundle of sticks, and produced from it eight little pieces of copper, disks, red on one side and tinned or galvanized on the other. These he put in the pan or platter, and shaking them together, tossed them into the air, catching them again in the bowl, which he thumped on the blanket just as they fell.
“S’pose four white an’ four red’ll come out,” said he, “an’ I’m play’ with Alex. He’ll give me eight stick now, for I’ll win. So. Try heem again.”
This time the little disks fell irregularly, and Moise expressed his disgust.
“Five one kin’, three other kin’; no good!” said he. “She’ll have to come up two, four, seex, eight—the hard way for heem to come is all tam the way he’ll win. You see?” he continued on shaking and thumping the bowl and catching the little disks, and as he won or lost, Alex gravely handed him the little sticks, or counters, or received them back from him as the case might be.
This ancient gambling device of the Indians was very simple and the game was soon learned, but the knack of catching the disks in the pan proved quite difficult. John undertook it, with the result that he spilled every one of them out when they fell in the shallow bowl, much to the amusement of Moise.