But we have wandered too far from Accomba and her sad history. We
must now transport the reader to that portion of the shores of the
Mackenzie which was described at the opening of our story. The scene
indeed should be laid a few miles lower down the river than that at
first described, but the aspect and condition of things is but little
altered. A number of camps are there, pitched within some ten,
twenty, and thirty yards of each other. The dark brown, smoke-tinted
leather tents or lodges, have a certain air of comfort and
peacefulness about them, which is in no wise diminished, by the smoke
curling up from the aperture at the top, or the voices of children
running in and out from the tent door. These are the tents of
Mackenzie River Indians, speaking the Slave tongue, and mostly known
by name to the Company's officers at the neighbouring forts or
trading posts, known also to the Bishop and Clergy at the Mission
stations, who have often visited these Indians and held services for
them at their camps, or at the little English churches at Fort
Simpson, Fort Norman, etc. etc., and those little dark-eyed children
are, with but few exceptions, baptized Christians. Many of them have
attended the Mission Schools for the few weeks in Spring or Fall,
when their parents congregate round the forts; they can con over
portions of their Syllabic Prayer-books, and find their place in the
little Hymn books, for "O come, all ye faithful," "Alleluia! sing to
Jesus;" and "Glory to thee, my God, this night," while such anthems
as "I will arise," and others are as familiar to the Slave Indians as
to our English children. Yes, it is a Christian community we are
looking at; and yet, sad to say, it is in one of those homes that the
dark deed was committed which left five little ones motherless, and
spread terror and confusion among the whole camp.