n a white man before and
examined Hearne with great curiosity, disapproving strongly of the
colour of his skin and comparing his hair to a stained buffalo tail.

{58}

The whole party moved on together. The weather was bad, with
alternating sleet and rain, and the path broken and difficult. July 4
found them at the Stony Mountains, a rugged and barren set of hills
that seemed from a distance like a pile of broken stones. Nine days
more of arduous travel brought the warriors in sight of their goal.
From the elevation of the low hills that rose above its banks, Hearne
was able to look upon the foaming waters of the Coppermine, as it
plunged over the broken stones of its bed in a series of cascades. A
few trees, or rather a few burnt stumps, fringed the banks, but the
trees which here and there remained unburned were so crooked and
dwarfish as merely to heighten the desolation of the scene.

Immediately on their arrival at the Coppermine, Matonabbee and his
Indians began to make their preparations for an attack upon the
Eskimos, who were known to frequent the mouth of the river. Spies were
sent out in advance towards the sea, and the remainder of the Indians
showed an unwonted and ominous energy in building fires and roasting
meat so that they might carry with them a supply so large as to make it
unnecessary to alarm the Eskimos by the sound of the guns of the
hunters {59} in search of food. Hearne occupied himself with surveying
the river. He was sick at heart at the scene of bloodshed which he
anticipated, but was powerless to dissuade his companions from their
design. Two days later (July 15, 1771), the spies brought back word
that a camp of Eskimos, five tents in all, had been seen on the further
side of the river. It was distant about twelve miles and favourably
situated for a surprise. Matonabbee and his braves were now filled
with the fierce eagerness of the savage; they crossed hurriedly to the
west side of the river, where each Indian painted the shield that he
carried with rude daubs of red and black, to imitate the spirits of the
earth and air on whom he relied for aid in the coming fight.
Noiselessly the Indians proceeded along the banks of the river,
trailing in a serpentine course among the rocks so as to avoid being
seen upon the higher ground. They seemed to Hearne to have been
suddenly transformed from an undisciplined rabble into a united band.
Northern and Copper Indians alike were animated