God knows what insupportable horror would have settled on me in that
pilgrimage had it not been for occasional glimpses of a gentler life--for
the deer and caribou which crossed our path. Upon my soul, I was so full
of gratitude and love at the sight that I could have thrown my arms round
their necks and kissed them. I could not raise a gun at them. My
Indians did that, and so inconstant is the human heart that I ate
heartily of the meat. My Indians were almost less companionable to me
than any animal would have been. Try as I would, I could not bring
myself to like them, and I feared only too truly that they did not like
me. Indeed, I soon saw that they meant to desert me,--kill me, perhaps,
if they could, although I trusted in the wholesome and restraining fear
which the Indian has of the great Company. I was not sure that they were
guiding me aright, and I had to threaten death in case they tried to
mislead me or desert me. My knee at times was painful, and cold, hunger,
and incessant watchfulness wore on me vastly.
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