"A baby!" cried Margot, as MacFarlane made his way to the counter, his eyes upon the packs of fur. She stooped and patted her own little one who was rolling about upon a thick blanket spread on the floor. The squaw smiled, and fumbling in the depths of the bag drew forth a tiny brown-red mite which ceased crying and stared stolidly at the cluster of strange white faces. "What a terrible day for a baby to be out!" continued the white woman, as she pushed a chair near to the stove. Again the squaw smiled and seating herself, turned her back upon the occupants of the room and proceeded to nurse the tiny atom.
Meanwhile MacFarlane was trying by means of
the Cree language to question the three bucks who stood in solemn line before the counter, each with his pack of fur before him. Downey tried them with the Blackfoot tongue, and the Jargon, while old Molaire and Tom Shirts added half a dozen dialects from nearer the Bay. But no slightest flicker of comprehension crossed the face of any one of them. Presently the young squaw arose and placed her baby upon the blanket beside the white child where the two little mites sat and stared at each other in owlish solemnity. As she advanced toward the counter MacFarlane addressed her in Cree. And to the surprise of all she spoke to him in English: "We buy food," she said, indicating the packs of fur.
"Where did you come from?" queried the trader. "An' how is it that you talk English an' the rest of 'em can't talk nothin'?"
"We come from far to the northward," she answered. "I have been to school at the mission. These are Dog Ribs. They have not been to school. I am of the Yellow Knives. My man was drowned in a rapids. He was name Bonnetrouge. He was a Dog Rib so I live with these."
"Why don't you trade at your own post?" asked MacFarlane, suspiciously. "Is it because you have a debt there that you have not paid?"
"No. We have no debt at any post. We are only a small band. We move about all the time. We do not like to stay in one place like the rest.
We see many new rivers, and many lakes, and we go to many places that the others do not know. We have no debt at any post, we trade as we go and pay with skins for what we buy."
"One of them wanderin' bands," observed Downey. "I've run across two or three of 'em here an' there. They camp a while somewheres an' then, seems like, they just naturally get restless an' move on."
The squaw nodded: "The police is right. We do not like to stay and trap in one place. I have seen many new things, and many things that even the oldest man has not seen."