A Discovery of Strangers by Rudy Wiebe Read Free Book Online

different. Sound, and taste, different.”
    The wind eddies between them, a heavy crash of English axes rolls over them from among the last great trees. Perhaps soon the trees that have always welcomed the People here to the edge of the tundra will all be dead too. Killed by These English. Laid out and skinned side by side, piled up on one another intosquare naked corners, trying to keep winter from cutting between them, their brown, dried blood sticking them together into walls wherever they touch.
    Greenstockings whispers to her mother: “If one of them can draw what he wants, maybe their medicine man will do what you want.”
    And there is Keskarrah, coming towards their outdoor fire. He is old and yet she sees that he walks straight, straighter than anyone except Hood. What strange names they have — Hood — Back — no short back or red hood, just one short word to name them. As if they had no stories in them.
    “…ooo … d,” she practises again. If she can say it right, he will do it. Safely. “…o-o-o-o-d.”
    Keskarrah speaks beside her. “I’ve found which English it is. The one with the yellow bag he never lets anyone carry, and he’s named after the sun. This paddler who is also a Person, Michel, he told me.”
    Greenstockings knew it could be neither Hood nor Back. The dark paddler is standing behind her father, the Mohawk from so many rivers away. Michel. He is taller than Hood, and almost twice as broad as Keskarrah. The level sunlight cuts past him, half his face brilliant like a thin, steel knife as he stares at her.
    Keskarrah says, “Michel says that one’s strong name is Richard Sun.”
    MIDSHIPMAN ROBERT HOOD

Monday July 31st 1820 Fort Providence
In the evening we divided a few gallons of rum between the Canadians and the Yellowknives, and the night was passed in mirth and revelry. The Canadians amused themselves by singing and dancing, imitating the gestures of a particular person, who placed himself in ludicrous postures, and performed extraordinary feats of activity. The gravity of the chief gave way to violent bursts of laughter, and indeed, the confusion of languages, dresses, and unartificial character had something in it more entertaining than a common masquerade. In return, he desired his young men to exhibit the Dogrib dance; and ranging themselves in a circle with their legs widely separated, they began to jump simultaneously sideways. Some, whom the potent effects of the spirits had stretched on the floor, rose from their besotted sleep and joined the circle, bouncing with uncouth alacrity, but out of time, to the great discomfiture of their sober companions .
Thursday August 3 rd 1820 Great Slave Lake
At 4 a. m. we proceeded to the head of the lake channel, where we found Bigfoot and his party waiting to guide us. We were soon surrounded by a little fleet of canoes, containing the Yellowknives, their wives and children, and in company with them we entered a river 150 yards wide, with banks well covered by pines and poplars, but the naked hills behind them betrayed the barrenness of the country. We named it the Yellowknife River .

3
M IDSHIPMAN G EORGE B ACK

    As the young Indian men were beginning what their chief called the Dogrib dance, Lieutenant Franklin’s tent most inopportunely burst into flame and threatened to ruin the agreement the dance was to celebrate — the Indian mind being as superstitious as it is. I am not at all averse to brown, glistening muscles, especially when draped by leather and fur, but apparently the worst of the event in their eyes was the flag ablaze so ominously, rather like a beacon of uncertain signal above the black sand of the lake. I admit I ran without ceremony, fearing some base treachery, but only the flag was completely aflame, with its burning tatters falling dangerously on the tent roof. I seized the pole and scrambled down the rocks — very nearly breaking my leg — to thrust the blazing banner into the water.
    What a grand