The Indians now living there are members of the " Cree " tribe, but are by no means that noble red-man described by Fenimore Cooper. They are an idle, careless and indifferent people, earning a hard and scanty living by hunting in the winter months and fishing in the summer. They live in tents the most of the year, a few of them build teepee or wigwams in the winter, but most of them live in tents even in the winter.

The half breeds and there are many of them among these Indians, usually have huts or log-houses and show more thrift than the Indians, for they usually have a little garden of potatoes, onions, etc. They as well as the Indians get a livelihood by hunting furs during the winter months for the Hudson Bay Company. They leave the post each September with their winter's provisions, etc., and go to their several hunting grounds, living there in tents and huts till June, when they return to the posts, give their furs for the provisions of the previous fall, then lie around the posts all summer doing nothing.

MR. T. B. SPEIGHT, O.L.S., Surveyor in Charge Exploration Survey Party, No. 1, Toronto. GEOLOGIST'S REPORT OF EXPLORATION SURVEY PARTY, No. 1. Kingston, Ontario, December 24th, 1900

***

Jimmy Noland stared at the track in the sand. Gray had, by now, lost his patience and when the other scientists could not determine the source of the strange track, he returned to Jimmy for an answer.

"Listen Jimmy, no one here has more experience in the wilds than you. You must know what it is, maybe you can tell us something about the creature that made this mark. Surely your people have stories about an animal like this."

One of the men retrieved the carbine from the pack and passed it to Gray. He slid the bolt to open the magazine, inspecting the chamber. Jimmy seemed to not react to the presence of the firearm. He approached the track again and lowered one knee to the sand.

"No stories, only truth," the Indian mumbled.

"Never mind the mumbo-jumbo. Does that mean you know what this is, or what? Tell me Jimmy. Tell me what you know!"

Jimmy slowly traced his hand along the caked depression and shook his head. "I don't know. Misi-kinepikw, maybe."

"What does that mean?"

"Great big snake."

Gray moved to stand above Jimmy. "Tell me more about this snake Jimmy, have you ever seen it?"

Jimmy mumbled something to the ground. Gray turned to the men and translated the Indian's grunts. "Jimmy says that only the dead have seen this Great Snake. It's a spirit. It guards the spirit world. What do you make of that, lads?"

"I think he is tricking us again, just like he did on the portage that got us lost." That was DeMorest. The instant he said those words I felt a chill run through me, like I knew he was very wrong to say that. I sensed the others felt the same. No one said anything, either in support of DeMorest or in defence of Jimmy.

The old Indian worked himself to stand up, using Gray's shoulder for support. He put his hand on the stock of Gray's rifle. "If it is Misi-kinepikw, this gun won't do you any good."

We waited in anticipation to see Gray's response. Gray was not a man to give weight to superstition or legend, yet he was a man who could read the spirit of his men. Standing on the shore of an unknown lake, well off course from the planned route, and with no clear notion of the best path to take, Jimmy Noland was our best source of direction. Ever since we unintentionally crossed the watershed divide, the height of land separating the waters of the Atlantic Ocean from those of the Arctic Sea, we had been treading in Jimmy's realm. The men could sense his familiarity with the land; he moved with greater confidence now, spoke clearly and with more authority, much of which was likely a result of Jimmy becoming more comfortable and trusting of the men in the party. When prompted with questions, he would talk more, about his long life in the wilds, recounting stories of when beaver were plentiful, and describing life before his people depended on the trading posts. Most of the men—Gray to a lesser extent and DeMorest not at all—seemed to gradually develop a respect and admiration for the elder native.

Gray stood silent for a moment and surveyed the men again, looked down to the line in the sand, and up the lake, to the North.

"What do you think this, Jimmy? What would you suggest we do?

"

"Probably nothing. Or go on doing what you were doing."

One of the canoemen pointed to the North, to the line of dark clouds hovering above the tops the black spruce and asked Gray, "Should we get moving before that weather comes in, or do we set camp here?"

Jimmy spoke up. "No, not here. Too many spooks."

No one disagreed with the Indian. We loaded the canoes and paddled further into the North, in the opposite direction from where we believed civilization to be and instead, followed the path of the Great Snake.

***

On reviewing the information acquired by myself and party regarding the soil, timber and minerals, of this district, I beg to state that the immense natural resources of the newly-explored tract of country are bound to contribute largely to the growth and prosperity of the Province. When the territory has been opened up by a railroad, a nucleus will be formed around which the lumbering, mining and agricultural industries will develop with rapidity, thereby inducing the settlement of these regions which now support only a few scattered families of Indians.

George R. Gray to the HON. E. J. DAVIS, Commissioner of Crown Lands. LAND AND TIMBER ESTIMATOR'S REPORT OF EXPLORATION SURVEY PARTY NO. 3. TORONTO, Ontario. Jan. 7, 1901.

***

I was asked by the Commissioner to explain, in my estimation, how it was our party came to arrive at the Hudson Bay Company post Fort Mattagami in late September of 1900, a disheveled and ragged band of explorers, paddling down the long lake of the same name, equipment lost, half-starved, suffering from hypothermia, and on the wrong side of a Continental Divide.

My own journal, for which I was hired by the Commissioner to complete with diligence, was unfortunately lost in the mishap on the lake and is, this day, somewhere in the stained depths of the lake bottom, or caught in the current, being dragged by the tea-coloured water of the Mattagami and Moose Rivers into Hudson Bay. In my records were the official and precise notes of our discoveries: Gray's exact calculations of the resource values, the coordinates of the every mineral deposit and timber stand and waterfall, the potential location of roadways, rail lines and river crossings—in short, the results of four months of tedious and precise work by the land, mineral and timber surveyors, the very material for which the Provincial Government commissioned our exploration. Unfortunately, all we were able to submit to the Public Record was the subjective recollections of the participants and, by their very nature, erroneous estimations and, at best, optimistic suppositions which from here forward will stand as truth, regardless of what the science had originally discovered. My own recollection is just as unclear, for I am subject to the influences of emotion and failing of fortitude as any mortal. I will not profess my recounting to be accurate, only the story I am bound to live with for the remainder of my days.

It was ascertained by the others in the party that crossing the height of land marked the true departure from our intended geographical course. But in actual fact, the philosophical departure had occurred much earlier, perhaps with its beginnings in the appointment of Jimmy as our guide.

We were not sure how Jimmy came to be assigned to our party. It seemed as though every time he was asked, he would laugh in reply or begin a convoluted tale that made no sense, mumbled unintelligibly, and the interrogation ended with him laughing so hard he could not finish his explanation. Gray did manage to learn from the factor at Bear Island that another man, a half-breed from River Valley, was originally assigned to the expedition. There was, as far as we could ascertain, a celebration in Sudbury the night before our departure involving much liquor and the spending of the half-breed's advance earnings. In the morning, one of the co-celebrants, Jimmy Noland, appeared in the place of the proper guide. It wasn't until many days into our journey did the expedition party learn that Jimmy was not the assigned guide. We also learned that Jimmy, as a matter of principle, firmly refused to partake in the consumption of any alcohol, and, more disturbing, we learned he had never been in this territory before. Nonetheless, Jimmy soon earned both his keep and the respect of his fellow expedition mates. And on more than one occasion, he showed his worth.

It was on a campsite near Ishapatina Ridge where we had the encounter with the black bear. It was mid-summer and the berries were still scarce in the area, likely due to a late spring frost. We had been camped at the same location for two days whilst the men conducted their surveys, hiking to the top of the ridge, the highest point we had come across and possibly the highest elevation in the Province. Our layover allowed time for some well-deserved rest for the canoemen and myself, and gave us an opportunity to bake bannock and smoke the trout the men were able to catch in abundance.

Wally saw the bear first. He gave a loud curse word in French and threw a frying pan at the animal. It was larger than the other black bears we saw on our journey, this one being wide in girth and determined in its pace towards us. Undeterred by the projected skillet, the bear paused for a moment to look behind and to each side, then continued to approach the group of men. None of the men, regardless of their experience in the wilds, had ever seen a black bear exhibit this degree of aggressive behaviour. The creature snorted and growled and made noises one would expect a predator might make prior to an attack. The men yelled and banged sticks and axes, trying to create as much noise as they could, but still, the bear approached our makeshift kitchen.

Gray, who had just returned from a side-trip to the ridge, was closest to the rifle. The second gun, a shotgun, was with the men on the ridge. I heard the click of the bolt and knew Gray was now in control of the situation. He let the bear take another step towards the overturned canoe that served as our table before saying, "Stand back lads."

The bear looked at the pot on the fire where salted pork fat was rendering, then to the canoe table where the bannock was cooling, then beyond, to where the rack hung the cured fish,  drying in the fire smoke in the Indian fashion. There was a click of the safety bolt on the rifle.

Gray moved so he could get a broadside shot at the bear. The other men took a step back to give him room. I braced for the explosion from the gun. Jimmy, however, took a step forward, toward the animal, placing himself directly between the muzzle of the gun and the predatory bear.

"Move, you fool!" Gray shouted.

Jimmy didn't. He took another step closer to the bear, which now had stopped its approach of our provisions, and turned its massive head to face Jimmy. Gray no longer had a clear shot from the side and would be forced to place a head-on shot at a charging bear. The probability of a positive outcome for Jimmy had lessened.

Jimmy spoke in a soft, mumbled voice. He said something in his native tongue, something none of us could understand. But it seemed as though the bear could. The monster's ears relaxed and its head cocked slightly to the side as Jimmy spoke. He murmured low and quietly, almost gently, for a considerable period of time, and it looked as though the bear was listening. Then, with a final snort, the great bear turned and sauntered off, leaving us staring in amazement at the retreating animal, Gray following the bear with muzzle of the rifle and Jimmy laughing out loud. We heard the crack and snap of branches as the animal left us, tromping through the dry woods.

"What did you say to it?" Mac asked.

"I said, 'Hello cousin bear.'"

"Come on, tell the truth, Jimmy."

"I told the bear I saw some blueberries on the portage from the creek. I told her that she didn't want our food. Our food is too dry and hard to swallow. Not good for her cubs. The bear told me, 'I know, but I have nothing else to eat and my cubs need to eat or else they won't get born.' I told her where to find the berries and told her to stay away from the ridge, because there are men there. She said she knew that, she could smell them." Then Jimmy laughed.

Gray didn't laugh. He stormed off into the woods with the rifle. A short time later we heard two shots coming from the portage trail near the creek.