"The's no shootin' straight wi' them things," Bob declared to himself,
after several unsuccessful attempts to hit a ptarmigan. "Leastways I'm
not knowin' how. But th' Injuns is shootin' un fine, an' I'm wonderin'
now how they does un."
With no one that could understand him Bob had unconsciously dropped
into the habit of talking a great deal to himself. It was not very
satisfactory, however, and there were always questions arising that
he wished to ask. He had, therefore, devoted himself since his advent
amongst the Indians to learning their language, and every day he
acquired new words and phrases. Manikawan would pronounce the names of
objects for him and have him repeat them after her until he could
speak them correctly, laughing merrily at his blunders.
It does not require a large vocabulary to make oneself understood, and
in an indescribably short time Bob had picked up enough Indian to
converse brokenly, and one day, shortly after the arrival at
Petitsikapau he found he was able to explain to Sishetakushin where he
came from and his desire to return to the Big Hill trail and the Grand
River country.
"It is not good to dwell on the great river of the evil spirits" (the
Grand River), said the Indian. "Be contented in the wigwam of your
brothers.
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