They, with golden truth indeed, answered that they had
never been so merry, but that they were anxious as to their children at
home. He answered that they were indeed right, and that the next
morning they might depart. So their canoe was reached down for them,
and packed full of the finest furs and best meat, when they were told
to _tebah'-dikw'_, or get in. Then a small dog was put in, and
this dog was solemnly charged that he should take the people home,
while the people were told to paddle in the direction in which the dog
should point. [Footnote: Strange as it may seem, there is not the least
exaggeration in this. Lieutenant-Colonel Barclay Kennan told me that
when surveying in the far North Pacific he had an Eskimo dog which, in
the thickest fog, would scent the land at a great distance, and
continually point to it.] And to the Micmac he said, "Seven years hence
you will be reminded of me." And then _tokooboosijik_ (off they
went). The man sat in the stern, his wife in the prow, and the dog in
the middle of the canoe. The dog pointed, the Indian paddled, the water
was smooth. They soon reached home; the children with joy ran to meet
them; the dog as joyfully ran to see the children, wagging his tail
with great glee, just as if he had been like any other dog, and not a
fairy. For, having made acquaintance, he without delay turned tail and
trotted off for home again, running over the ocean surface as if it had
been hard ice; which might, indeed, have once astonished the good man
and his wife, but they had of late days seen so many wonders that they
were past marveling.
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