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L E S S E R S L A V E R I V E R A N D L A K E 47
shortly afterwards the Police boat. But getting their steeri
n g sweeps fouled and lines entangled, it was nearly an hour
before Cyr's boat, being first lightened, could swing to starboard
of the York, and take off the passengers. The York
boat was then shouldered off the rocks by main force, and a ll
got under way again. At this juncture our old Indian,
Peokus— or Pehayokusk, to give h im his right name, to wit,
" The giblets of a b i r d "— met with a serious accident, which,
much to our regret, laid h im up for several days. In his
eagerness to help he slipped from a sunken log, and the
bruise knocked the wind out of h im completely. We took off
his wet clothes and rubbed him, and l a i d him by the fire,
where the doctor's care and a liberal dram of spirits soon
fetched h im to rights. A look of pleased wonder passed over
his clumsy features as the latter did its work. Caliban himself
could not have been more curiously surprised.
This was not our last stick: there were other awkward
rapids near by; but by dint of wading, shouldering, pulling
and tracking, we got over the last of them and into a deep
channel for good, having advanced only five miles after a
day of incessant t o i l , most of it i n the water.
Our camp that night was a memorable one. The day was
the fiftieth anniversary of Father Lacombe's ministration
as a missionary i n the North- West, and all joined i n presenting
h im with a suitable address, handsomely engrossed
by M r . Prudhomme on birch bark, and signed by the whole
party. A poem, too, composed by M r . Cote, a gentleman
of literary gifts and taste, also written on bark, was read
and presented at the same time.* Pere Lacombe made a
touching impromptu reply, which was greatly appreciated.
Many of us were not of the worthy Father's communion, yet
there was hut one feeling, that of deep respect for the labours
of this celebrated missionary, whose life had been a continuous
effort to help the unbefriended Indian into the new but
* The poem, the text of which was secured from the author too late for
insertion here, will be found in the Appendix, p. 490.
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| Title | Page 54 |
| OCR | L E S S E R S L A V E R I V E R A N D L A K E 47 shortly afterwards the Police boat. But getting their steeri n g sweeps fouled and lines entangled, it was nearly an hour before Cyr's boat, being first lightened, could swing to starboard of the York, and take off the passengers. The York boat was then shouldered off the rocks by main force, and a ll got under way again. At this juncture our old Indian, Peokus— or Pehayokusk, to give h im his right name, to wit, " The giblets of a b i r d "— met with a serious accident, which, much to our regret, laid h im up for several days. In his eagerness to help he slipped from a sunken log, and the bruise knocked the wind out of h im completely. We took off his wet clothes and rubbed him, and l a i d him by the fire, where the doctor's care and a liberal dram of spirits soon fetched h im to rights. A look of pleased wonder passed over his clumsy features as the latter did its work. Caliban himself could not have been more curiously surprised. This was not our last stick: there were other awkward rapids near by; but by dint of wading, shouldering, pulling and tracking, we got over the last of them and into a deep channel for good, having advanced only five miles after a day of incessant t o i l , most of it i n the water. Our camp that night was a memorable one. The day was the fiftieth anniversary of Father Lacombe's ministration as a missionary i n the North- West, and all joined i n presenting h im with a suitable address, handsomely engrossed by M r . Prudhomme on birch bark, and signed by the whole party. A poem, too, composed by M r . Cote, a gentleman of literary gifts and taste, also written on bark, was read and presented at the same time.* Pere Lacombe made a touching impromptu reply, which was greatly appreciated. Many of us were not of the worthy Father's communion, yet there was hut one feeling, that of deep respect for the labours of this celebrated missionary, whose life had been a continuous effort to help the unbefriended Indian into the new but * The poem, the text of which was secured from the author too late for insertion here, will be found in the Appendix, p. 490. |
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