On the following morning the seventeen boats commenced the descent of the
Winnipeg river, while I remained at the Portage-du-Rat to await the
arrival of the chief of the Expedition from Fort Francis. Each succeeding
day brought a fresh brigade of boats under the guidance of one of my late
canoe-men; and finally Thomas Hope came along,-seemingly enjoying life to
the utmost--pork was plentiful, and as for the French there was no need
to dream of them, and he could sleep in peace in the midst of fifty white
soldiers. During six days I remained at the little Hudson Bay Company's
post at the Rat Portage, making short excursions into the surrounding
lakes and rivers, fishing below the rapids of the Great Chute; and in the
evenings listening to the Indian stories of the lake as told by my worthy
host, Mr. Macpherson, a great portion of whose life had been spent in the
vicinity.

One day I went some distance away from the fort to fish at the foot of
one of the great rapids formed by the Winnipeg River as it runs from the
Lake of the Woods. We carried our canoe over two or three portages, and
at length reached the chosen spot. In the centre of the river an Indian
was floating quietly in his canoe, casting every now and then a large
hook baited with a bit of fish into the water. My bait consisted of a
bright spinning piece of metal, which I had got in one of the American
cities on my way through Minnesota. Its effect upon the fish of this
lonely region was marvellous; they had never before been exposed to such
a fascinating affair, and they rushed at it with avidity. Civilization on
the rocks had certainly a better time of it, as far as catching fish
went, than barbarism in the canoe. With the shining thing we killed three
for the Indian's one. My companion, who was working the spinning bait
while I sat on the rock, casually observed, pointing to the Indian, "He's
a Windigo."

"A what?" I asked.

"A Windigo."

"What is that?"

"A man that has eaten other men."

"Has this man eaten other men?"

"Yes; a long time ago he and his band were starving, and they killed and
ate forty other Indians who were starving with them. They lived through
the winter on them, and in the spring he had to fly from Lake Superior
because the others wanted to kill him in revenge; and so he came here,
and he now lives alone near this place."

The Windigo soon paddled over to us, and I had a good opportunity of
studying his appearance. He was a