FORT LA JOYE AND MICMAC TALES 49

was laughing. It really couldn’t be called a laugh, though. His voice was exploding.

I sat down alone. The twilight seemed to come slowly.

F igures—three of them—appeared so silently beside me that I jumped involuntarily. Perhaps they are the ghosts of those stalwart Micmacs who used to wander along these wood-fringed shores. Here or to Toulouse they returned once a year to receive their presents from the French king. Sometimes, though, the boat did not arrive, and fearing treachery on the part of their French comrades, the Micmacs threatened to go over to the English. The English must have been a great help to the Indians—for value received from threats!

It is summer in Isle St. Jean, June of 1732. Accord- ing to annual custom two hundred and fifty Indians have assembled at Fort Ia Joye to receive their presents from the King of France. Many long hours have they spent in their frail canoes paddling swiftly to arrive in time for the annual distribution. From Gaspé come the Micmacs, from Baie Chaleur, from Miramichi, Shediac, Richibuctou, and Beaubassin. The Malicites are here from St. Croix and Penobscot. They are all ready, waiting . . . waiting for the ship from France. Supplies are running short at the fort and the commandant has great difliculty keeping them in good humour. They are half starved, but still they wait for their presents!

Five days . . . The commandant is uneasy.

Ten days . . . Will the ship ever come?

Fifteen days . . . Suppose it went down in mid-ocean . . . Supplies are low at the fort.

He can't give them much more. The boat must come