AMONG THE CARIBOU-EATERS

Evening Star, Issue 21508, 5 September 1933, Page 1

AMONG THE CARIBOU-EATERS

ADVENTURES OF A WHITE MAN AMONG RED INDIANS LAND OF ELEMENTAL LIVING Few white men can claim to have lived among the caribou-eater tribe of Red Indians in the far Canadian NorthWest, beyond the Barren Lands; fewer still, to liave been betrothed of an Indian girl (writes Trevor Allen, in ‘ John o’ London’s Weekly ’). Both experiences befel Air Hedge Ingstad when he went limiting. and exploring in tho Nonacho Lake and Thelon River region, living the day-to-day life of the Indians and sharing their struggle for subsistence among desolate snow wastes. That life, consisting almost solely of hunting and camping; he_ explains in ‘ Land of Feast and Famine.’ A SILENT FEAST. Early in the morning the hunters would start out with their dogs, each in a different direction, and sometimes make journeys lasting three or four clays, setting traps and shooting caribou. in the evening, if luck was with them, the sleds returned loaded, and there would be merrymaking and feasting. The venison is cooked in a huge pot, and at a signal the entire assemblage pounce upon the food before them. They dig their teeth into gigantic pieces of meat and, with large knives, cut it off close to their lips, thus proceeding mouthful by mouthful. No sound is to be heard, save the sound of over-stuffed mouths chewing and the sound of crackling marrow bones. Everything is swallowed down; no more than a few slivers are left. The caribou-eating women, Air Ingstad discovered, were younger-look-ing and more attractive than those of other tribes. They worked from early morn till late at night; cutting up dried meat, tanning skins, stitching tuoccasins, and caribou coats, keeping the tents (tepees) in order, preparing food every hour of the day and night, shooing off thieving dogs, suckling infants. In the midst of it all, with their hands full, they would have to drop everything, sling their young papoose over their back, step into their snowshoes, and betake themselves to the forest to chop firewood. Bowed beneath the weight of several logs of ivoocl, they would I’eturn to the tepee and swing the axe like any man. And, even so; there was still time for a bit of faithlessness and a word or two of gossip witlx the squaw in the neighbouring tent. CHALLENGED BY WOMEN.

One day when venison was scarce, and Air ingstad was the only men.in the village who had not gone out hunting, a flock of caribou appeared. “ E-then! E-then! ” cried the women—and forthwith ordered him to show his mettle and procure them more meat than an expert hunter could shoot in a week. He sallied out on snow-shoes, fired at long range, and slightly wounded one buck, which escaped after he had pursued it for many miles. The sconi of the women, when he returned empty-handed, was withering. One old dame told him lie had. failed because lie had remained behind: “For it is something which everyone knows, that he who hangs back in camp and shows too much interest in the women loses Ixis luck as a hunter.”

Since lie had disgraced himself, he cletenuined to harness up his dogs, roam the forest until lie felled some kind of game, if it took him a week, and thus restore his pi’estige. This time ho was luckier, and brought back four powerful bucks. FOUND HIM A BRIDE.

Shortly after that, Air Ingstad awakened to the fact that the cariboueatei’S had begun to _ fancy _ him, as a “squaw-man,” despite his _ colour. Phresi, the mother of an Indian girl, suddenly presented him with a brand new pair of moccasins; then she surreptitiously took his deekskin coat and edged it from top to bottom with wolverine fur. Whenever there was a dearth of food she would always contrive to present him with a toothsome marrow-bone or a piece of dried meat. Soon he could not enter a tepee without the squaws putting their heads_ together and whispexing and giggling, while the hunters constantly pursued him with significant jibes. He realised that the whole village was taking it for granted that the girl Kachesy (Little Hare) and he were contemplating matrimony. Kachesy was seventeen winters old. She was quite different from tho others. When quite young she had spent some time in the Roman Catholic mission in the south, and there she had learned something about religion, as well as other matters. But she was still far from being tamed, even though she seemed mild enough at times. The very abruptness of her transitions from savagery to moods of dreamy peace was perhaps her most noticeable Indian trait. For there was something of the wilderness itself in Kachesy, no more when she was racing along on snowshoe

than when she sat in the candlelight,' her head bowed over her agile little; hands, flying through their work, her] black hair streaming down over he? shoulders. At one moment she was a troll, she; adds, with all a woman’s love wiles; at', another, in the evening, she would j kneel down on her sleeping-bag and pray to the Virgin Mary. HE RUNS AWAY. He realised that he was considered a good match, but had no intention of, becoming a squaw-man and spending the rest of his life in those snow solitudes hunting caribou. He could not, however, confront them with a blank refusal of the maiden’s hand, so he invented a pretext for making a journey, alone, stocked a sled with a goodly amount of dried meat, and drove off. ; Something had to be done, and quickly.'; The prospective mother-in-law treated him with ever-increasing familiarity; Kachesy herself was now spending her, entire day making him a pair of moccasins embroidered with red and blue flowers. ... _ ; A big task lay ahead of him. Ha had to plough along on suowshoe, clearing a path for the sled, and at the same time keeping am eye on the dogs,An Indian. accompanied him for the] first three days; after which he pressed 1 on alone—and it took him two days to cover six miles. But he eventually fell in with trappers, and reached the Great * Slave Lake, and a fur-hunter’s post,'* successfully. Mr Ingstad tells absorbing stories of; the habits of these aloof Indians, and of j the creatures which roam the solitudes 1 they inhabit, including wolves, bears," musk-oxen, heavers, muskrats, wolverines, and lynx. In * Marriage ’Mr H. G. Wells sent his hero, Trafford, to the snow-wastes of Labrador as an antidote to the complications of our city] civilisation. This book fulfils the same purpose; it is an exhilarating escape] into a laud of white spaces and of elemental living—and that is its particular virtue. The narrative, like the atmosphere, has clarity and snap in it.