Part 32 (1/2)
She said in a quiet voice:
”I must go with you. And that is why--or partly why--I asked you here tonight. Find me some way to go to Catharines-town. For I must go!”
”Why not inquire of me the road to h.e.l.l?” I asked impatiently. She said between her teeth:
”Oh, any man might show me that. And guide me, too. Many have offered, Euan.”
”What!”
”I ask your pardon. Two years of camps blunts any woman's speech.”
”Lois,” said I uneasily, ”why do you wish to go to Catharines-town, when an armed force is going?”
She sat considering, then, in a low, firm voice:
”To tell you why, is why I asked you here.... And first I must show you what my packet held.... Shall I show you, Euan?”
”Surely, little comrade.”
She drew the packet from her bosom, unlaced the thong, unrolled the deer-hide covering.
”Here is a roll of bark,” she said. ”This I have never had interpreted.
Can you read it for me, Euan?”
And there in the lantern light I read it, while she looked down over my shoulder.
”KADON!
”Aesa-yat-yen-enghdon, Lois!
”Etho!
[And here was painted a white dog lying dead, its tongue hanging out sideways.]
”Hen-skerigh-watonte.
”Jatthon-ten-yonk, Lois!
”Jin-isaya-dawen-ken-wed-e-wayen.
[Here was drawn in outline the foot and claws of a forest lynx.]
”Niyi-eskah-haghs, na-yegh-nyasa-kenra-dake, niya-wennonh!” [Then a white symbol.]
For a long time I gazed at the writing in shocked silence. Then I asked her if she suspected what was written there in the Canienga dialect.
”I never have had it read. Indians refuse, shake their heads, and look askance at me, and tell me nothing; interpreters laugh at me, saying there is no meaning in the lines. Is there, Euan?”
”Yes,” I said.
”You can interpret?”
”Yes.”