This winter an Iroquois told me that one winter he was out a beaver hunting with many of his friends. The oldest man of their party proposed one day that a certain number of them should go out a hunting moose or buffaloe, and the others beaver. This one says:
I returned at night after a good success—the old man nothing. He became envious, a quarrel ensued, and after this many others. One day I fired at a moose as he was running past me. He fell. I went to him, and just as I was for beginning to skin, he rose up, but with my axe I brought him down. It was very far from home. I merely opened him and returned light, trusting to the others of our party, for I had no desire of partaking of the dry provisions the old fellow had of his own. Immediately on entering the lodge, we had another severe quarrel, and he told me I should not any more exult in my prowess as he should take care I should not kill any more animals for some time.
As we were coming to knife work, I ordered my wife to bundle up all our things and my lodge, and pitch off. It was then late, and I had not yet eaten. As none of my friends knew that I had killed, I did not chuse to tell them, but merely said as I was going off. "Let those who are fond of me, or who chuse, follow me." But none came, and I encamped upon my moose.
Every day I went a hunting. Scarcely a week passed but I fired twenty, thirty, and sometimes upward of fifty shots upon buffaloe or moose but could never kill. I would miss, or the ball twisting in the hair would fall by the animal without doing further injury. I starved for a long time and became so weake that I could hardly walk.
At last my wife, a woman of this country, one day that I had been out as usual had prepared some good strong lye, and on my return, washed my gun with it, filled it, and stopping both the orifices, put it over the smoke where it remained all night. She also took a number of the balls and boiled them likewise in the lye, telling me she had seen her uncle do so many years before when he too had been bewitched. I thought, at all events, it could do no harm. And besides, I could have done anything I was so hungry.
The next day I went out again [and] found another flock or herd of near twenty buffaloe. I drew nigh and took all my usual precautions. I fired, one dropped; [I] fired again, another dropped. I killed fourteen out of that herd, and ever after missed not once!
I asked him how the old fellow had done [it].
He said, "I suppose it was as they frequently do: bury a piece of my meat in the ground and pray the Devil to prevent my killing. For the Iroquois, when they take it in their head, are very wicked and do not want power!"
[The Half Breed's Account]
A few days ago a half-breed abandoned with the Indians came in. And amongst his other wantages, [he] asked me for a small piece of (red) sealing-wax, "... because my brother cannot draw blood from the animals he fires at. By heating his gun and applying this wax the blood will flow profusely from the wounds." He expressed himself afraid that his brother might have been bewitched, and by retarding this operation he might enter dans sa mal chance!