On this evening the scout brought out a plentiful supply of willow rods, which he had cut during our absence along a part of the lake shore to which he had wandered. The outer bark of these willows was a bright red colour. This outer bark the scout had peeled off, leaving beneath it a soft inner skin. Having carefully peeled down this inner skin, so as to make it form ringlets or curls of bark at the knots on the willow rods, the ends of the rods were now stuck in the ground close by the fire. The heat soon caused the strips of bark to become crisp, and fit for smoking. It is in this manner that the Indians make their “Kinni-kinnick” tobacco.
Wherever the red willow grows, by margin of lake or shore of river, along the edge of swamp or thicket, there the tobacco pouch of the red man is easily replenished; and mixed with real tobacco, this inner bark of the willow forms the universal smoking-mixture of the tribes that roam the northern wastes.
In the “thick wood” country, lying between lakes Superior and Winnipeg, the red willow is scarce, but a weed not unlike dwarf box is found. Dried before a fire, its leaves form kinni-kinnick, like the willow bark. True to his habit, of taking a last look at the horses before lying down for the night, the Sioux arose from his robe at the fire and went out into the open. The horses had sought the shelter of the thicket; the wind was beginning to rise; no stars were visible, the branches of the dwarf trees sent forth a mournful sigh as the night-winds passed through them.
“To-morrow,” he said, when he came back to the tent, “winter will be on all the land.”
It did not matter. We wrapped ourselves in our robes and lay down to sleep, heedless alike of rising storm and falling snowflake.
[CHAPTER X.]
Winter—Wolves—A night’s trapping—A retreat—In the teeth of the north wind—The carcajou—A miss and a hit—News of Indians—Danger ahead—A friendly storm—The hut again.
The next morning, plain and thicket, hill and lake, lay wrapt in a white mantle. The storm had sunk to calm, the snow had ceased, but winter was on all the land, no more to leave it until the winds and showers of spring should come from the south to chase him back into his northern home. It was piercingly cold when we issued from the tent to begin the day’s work. The cold was different from anything I had yet experienced. The slightest touch of metal sufficed instantly to freeze the fingers. A gun-barrel, the buckle of a girth, the iron of a bit, struck so deadly cold upon the hands, that I found it was only by running to the embers of the fire, and holding my fingers for a moment in the blaze that I could restore them to working power.