the place of a father, that I will."

Faithfully did Sam Dawes keep his word.

"Grief is right and does us good in the end, depend on't, or it wouldn't
be sent; but it mustn't make us forget duty. Now you see it is our duty
to live, and we can't live without food, and we can't get food without
we work, so let's turn to and plough and sow the ground."

This proposal may seem like mockery, but among the valuables placed by
our father in the canoe was a good supply of seed corn and other seeds,
and we had discovered our plough driven deep into the ground. Sigenok
disappeared the moment he understood our intentions, and Sam looked very
blank, and said that he feared he did not like work and had gone off.

"I think not," observed Malcolm; and he was right. In a few hours
Sigenok returned with two horses and several hides well tanned, and
needles, and fibre for thread. I thought Sam would have hugged him, he
was so delighted. Without loss of time they set to work and cut out a
set of harness, and, lighting a lamp, seated at the entrance to our
tent, laboured at it the greater part of the night, Malcolm and I
helping as far as we could. Sam made us go to sleep, but as I looked up
they were still at work, and when I awoke in the morning it was
finished. The horses were a little restive, evidently not being
accustomed to ploughing, but they obeyed Sigenok's voice in a wonderful
way, though it was necessary in the first place to teach him what ought
to be done. It is said by some that Indians will not labour. I have
reason to know that they will when they have a sufficient motive.
Sigenok showed this. His motive was gratitude to us, and affection
excited by compassion. No white man would have laboured harder. When
the wheat and Indian corn was in the ground, he with his horses helped
Sam and us to bring in stuff for fencing and to put it up. All this
time he slept outside our tent, under shelter of a simple lean-to of
birch bark. Another day he disappeared, and we saw him in the evening
coming up the river towing some timber. He brought a heavy log up on
his shoulders. "There is part of your house," he observed, "we can get
the rest in time."

So we did; we borrowed a large boat, and taking advantage of a northerly
wind, we brought up, piece by piece, the whole of our hut, which had
grounded near the banks of the river. Our neighbours, in spite of the
value of their time to themselves, came and helped us, an