such a thing was highly improbable, as the visits of the Indians to
these posts had become infrequent and the other natives were afraid
to venture far inland. Hubbard then engaged through the kind
offices of Mr. S. A. King, who was in charge of the Hudson's Bay
Company Post at Missanabie, Ontario, the services of a Cree Indian
named Jerry, that we might have at least one man upon whom we could
depend. Jerry was to have come on to New York City to meet us. At
next to the last moment, however, a letter from Mr. King informed
us that Jerry had backed down. The Indian was not afraid of
Labrador, it appeared, but he had heard of the dangers and pitfalls
of New York, and when he learned that he should have to pass
through that city, his courage failed him; he positively refused to
come, saying he did not "want to die so soon."

We never had occasion to regret Jerry's faint-heartedness. Mr.
King engaged for us another man who, he wrote, was an expert
canoeman and woodsman and a good cook. The man proved to be all
that he was represented to be--and more. I do not believe that in
all the north country we could have found a better woodsman. But
he was something more than a woodsman--he was a hero. Under the
most trying circumstances he was calm, cheerful, companionable,
faithful. Not only did he turn out to be a man of intelligence,
quick of perception and resourceful, but he turned out to be a man
of character, and I am proud to introduce him to the reader as my
friend George Elson, a half-breed Cree Indian from down on James
Bay.

The first instance of George's resourcefulness that we noted
occurred upon his arrival in New York. Hubbard and I were to have
taken him in charge at the Grand Central Station, but we were