have no pernicious consequence. These Indians have the air of
unambitious men; they have not cared to come into the big Canadian job.
They appear to do little else than eat, sleep, and gamble. But, god of
civilization, what else is there to do except make love, and men cannot
make love to preposterous women who work always. These fellows have,
however, one saving quality, having never formed themselves into
unions. Now that even the farmers have gone over to the enemy, the
Redmen would appear to be our last hope.

A doctor on the boat who knows all about the Indians, tells me of their
misfortunes, peccadilloes, their thin transitory pleasures and their
love and practise of idleness. But this is not strange, for gossip is
so common in the north that every one knows "the carryings-on" of every
one else from the Arctic circle clear up to the Landing. Indeed, I
have heard tell that these northerners know what you are up to before
you have done it.

The Indians, the doctor would have me notice, are beginning to chew gum
and hence their teeth and gums are deteriorating.

The mildewed fellow who is dealing the cards is pestiferous with
disease. His birth was a biological tragedy. The doctor thinks he
could best serve his tribe by dying without delay.

Andre, the man who has just won the jackpot, is not the prototype of
the expression "Honest Indian." He is a bad Indian, a most bad Indian.

"His profession?" I ask.

"Oh, Andre is my camp-cook," is the reply, "and when he washes himself
he uses quite a cupful of water." By way of amends, Andre affects a
stupendous scarf-pin, a watch-chain, and two rings. Ah well! to quote
Mr. Artemus Ward, "The best of us has our weaknesses, and if a man has
jewelry let him show it." Besides, it is entirely thinkable that even
a man like Andre might have to dress for those whose discernment goes
no deeper than clothes and ornamentation.

The difference between an Indian and a half-breed lies in the fact that
the Indian is in treaty with the government and lives on a reservation.
The breed is free to come and go, but his blood is just as pure as the
Indian's so far as its redness is concerned.

In most cases, the children look to their mother as the head of the
family. The doctor says this is quite fitting. Take the case of Marie
there--Yes! the little girl with the precise plaits--she is the
daughter of old Henrietta and a Mounted Policeman. Jacqueline, her
sister who i