22 THE LIFE or

want of food. I will narrate a circumstance of our sufferings, when I come to speak of the actual condi- tion of our people, before Christianity was introduced among us, which, when I think of it, I cannot but bless God for his preserving kindness to us, in sparing us to hear his blessed word.

Soon after being Christianized, my father and another Indian, by the name of Big John, and myself, went out hunting, my father left his family near the mission station, living in the wigwam. While we were out on the hunting grounds, we found out that some Indians had gone before us on the route up the river, and every day we gained upon them: their tracks were fresh. The river and the lakes were frozen, and we had to Walk on the ice. For some days together we did not fire a gun, for fear they would hear it and go from us, where we could not find them. At length we found them by the banks of the river, they were Nah-doo- ways or Mohawks, from Bay Quinty; they were seven of them, tall fellows. We shook hands with them: they received us kindly. My father had determined to take all they had, if we should overtake them. After they gave us a good dinner of boiled beaver, my father stepped across the tire and ripped open two packs of beaver furs, that were just by him. He said to them “ VVe have only one custom among us, and that is well known to all ; this river, and all that is in it are mine : I have come up the river behind you, and you appear to have killed all before you. This is mine, and this is mine,” he said, as he touched with the handle of his