Bellalise was somewhat of a character. About 6 feet 4 in height, with narrow, hollow chest, very large hands and feet and a nervous, restless way of flinging himself about. He struck me as a man who was killing himself with toil beyond his physical strength. He was strongly recommended by the Hudson's Bay Company people as a "good man," I liked his face and manners, he was an intelligent companion, and I was glad to have secured him. At the first and second camps he worked hard. At the next he ceased work suddenly and went aside; his stomach was upset. A few hours afterwards he told me he was feeling ill. The engineer, who wanted him to cut wood, said to me, "That man is shamming." My reply was short: "You have known him for months, and think he is shamming; I have known him for hours and I know he is not that kind of a man."

He told me next morning, "It's no use, I got my breast crushed by the tug a couple of weeks ago, I have no strength. At Fort McKay is a good man named Jiarobia, he will go with you."

So when the tug left us Bellalise refunded his advance and returned to Chipewyan. He was one of those that made me think well of his people; and his observations on the wild life of the country showed that he had a tongue to tell, as well as eyes to see.

That morning, besides the calls of Honkers and Waveys we heard the glorious trumpeting of the White Crane. It has less rattling croak and more whoop than that of the Brown Crane. Bellalise says that every year a few come to Chipewyan, then go north with the Waveys to breed. In the fall they come back for a month; they are usually in flocks of three and four; two old ones and their offspring, the latter known by their brownish colour. If you get the two old ones, the young ones are easily killed, as they keep flying low over the place.

Is this then the secret of its disappearance? and is it on these far breeding grounds that man has proved too hard?

At Lobstick Point, 2 P. M., October 13, the tug turned back and we three continued our journey as before, Preble and Billy taking turns at tracking the canoe.

Next day we reached Fort McKay and thus marked another important stage of the journey.

CHAPTER XLIII

FORT McKAY AND JIAROBIA

Fort McKay was the last point at which we saw the Chipewyan style of teepee, and the first where the Cree appeared. But its chief interest to us lay in the fact that it was the home of Jiarobia, a capable river-man who wished to go to Athabaska Landing. The first thing that struck us about Jiarobia—whose dictionary name by the way is Elzear Robillard—was that his house had a good roof and a large pile of wood ready cut. These were extremely important indications in a land of improvidence. Robillard was a thin, active, half-breed of very dark skin. He was willing to go for $2.00 a day the round-trip (18 days) plus food and a boat to return with. But a difficulty now appeared; Madame Robillard, a tall, dark half-breed woman, objected: "Elzear had been away all summer, he should stay home now." "If you go I will run off into the backwoods with the first wild Indian that wants a squaw," she threatened. "Now," said Rob, in choice English, "I am up against it." She did not understand English, but she could read looks and had some French, so I took a hand.