and ammunition. Then we went to the Praying man's house, and he kept
school for us every day, and made us read in the big books; and told
us of Niotsi N Dethe (Great God), and the poor, silly wife who
listened to the bad Spirit, and stole the big berry, which God told
her not to steal; and of the blessed Saviour, who was so good and
came down from Heaven to save us, because He saw we were so helpless;
and He loved the poor Indian as well as the white man, and, told the
praying men to come and seek after us, and pour water on us, and say
good words for us. Those were good days, my sister! Why did they not
last? Why did bad Michel come and take you away in his canoe? So many
wanted you; they wanted you much, and they would have been kind and
good to you. Tene Sla asked the big master for you, and I think he
would have got you, but for your mother, who said he was not a good
hunter; and Nagaja wanted you, and Jemmy, the Loucheux boy; but your
father was dead, and your mother said you must take a man who would
hunt for her, and bring her meat; and so bad Michel came and took you
away to the Praying man and to Yazete Koa (the church), and you
became his wife. For a time he was kind and good to you, my sister,
and be loved his children, and was a fine hunter. Many bears did he
track in the woods: he had a hunter's eye, and could see them from
far, and a hunter's ear to catch the faintest sound of their feet. He
would bring you deer's meat, killed by the first shot. No one could
say that Michel gave his children meat that had run long, and was
heated and bad for food. He would bring rats in the spring time. When
the water spread upon the ice, by the water side, he would track
them: fleet-footed are they, and glide swiftly into their hole; but
Michel was swifter than they. When Michel sank hooks in the lake, the
fish came, fine trout from Bear Lake you have eaten; it was hard for
you to lift it, my sister; its head was a meal for the little ones;
the best for your tezone, the best for your tezone. But, ah! my