when you are photographing Indians study Indians, too," said
Uncle Dick. "Most people look at Indians just as an object of
curiosity, but he may be quite a fellow, even so. For instance, there
are these Crees sitting over there in the grass before the flag,
waiting for their treaty money. They flock by themselves, quite
distinct from the Chippewyans; they don't camp within three miles of
each other. As you know, the Crees are of the Algonquin family. They
have pushed west all the way from eastern Canada, following the fur
trade. They have followed up the Red River and down the Athabasca, and
they have overrun all the intervening tribes and elected themselves
chiefs and bosses pretty much. You may call the Cree half-breed the
mainstay of all the northern fur trade.

"But now," he added, "we are getting beyond the country even of the
Crees. Here at Chippewyan is the farthest north of the Cree so far.
Now we are going to find a lot of other different tribes."

The boys passed here and there along the rocky shore among the
villages of the natives and among the stoutly built log houses of the
fur-post itself. Here and there a woman was sitting in front of her
tent, trying to operate one of the little cheap hand sewing-machines
which had been brought on for the first time that year. In another
tent strange sounds came which seemed familiar to the boys. They
discovered that a proud family had purchased a cheap phonograph, and
under the instruction of one of the clerks was proceeding to produce
what is sometimes called melody. These things, however, did not
interest the young adventurers so much as the more primitive scenes of
the native life.

Here they saw a boatman fresh from his nets, with half a boat-load of
fish still alive, throw out some of the live fish, among them a number
of pickerel, or Great Northern Pike, to his dogs, which sat waiting on
the shore for his arrival. A dog would seize a five-pound fish by the
head, kill it, and eat it outright, bones and all.

"They never get enough to eat," said John. "They're hungry all the
time."

"Well," said Jesse, laughing, "that's the same way with you, isn't it,
John?"

"That's all right," said John, testily. "I'm growing, that's why I eat
so much. But as for you, Jesse, you'd better keep away from these
dogs. Do you know what I heard? It was old Colin Frazer, the
fur-trader, told me. He said there was a child killed last winter out
on the ice by dogs, and they ate