[Illustration: _CAÑADON_ OF THE RIVER KATARINA]
That evening, as we sat round the camp-fire, Cattle told us an amusing story illustrative of the quickness with which the Canoe Indians of the western or Pacific coast pick up the art of bargaining. He with two companions was living in the eternal rain of the Chilian side of the Cordillera, when one afternoon they struck a camp of Canoe Indians, who ran away into the forest on seeing the boat of the white men coming up the fjord. After a time, however, curiosity overcame their terror, and an old woman advanced from under the trees and commenced to open communications with the travellers by means of signs. She was probably sent out on account of her uselessness to the tribe, as, in the event of the white men being evilly disposed, her loss would have been regarded as no great misfortune. By-and-by she was joined by the other Indians, and the party fell to bartering. One of the Englishmen bought a fine sea-otter's skin for a box of matches, and the old lady, who had made the first advances, was asked by signs if she had another to dispose of. She ran back into the forest and presently returned with the half of a skin in each hand. She demanded a box of matches for each piece, for, thinking to improve upon the last bargain, she had cut the otter-skin in two with a bit of glass!
Our next move was to trace the river up to its source. After assuring ourselves that the launch could not go up the stream, we made all ship-shape in the camp and prepared to go ahead by putting our bedding and food in the canvas boat. We set out one grey morning, following the left bank of the Katarina. Parallel with the course of the river ran a chain of small hillocks, and behind these again a series of reedy lagoons. These last were literally black with duck, especially the variety known locally as the "white-faced duck," otherwise the Chiloe widgeon. The lagoons contained brackish water, and I fancy the whole depression in which they lie is flooded in the spring.
On this day Cattle and I, from the top of a hillock, descried what we took to be water in the north end of the _cañadon_. This was our first sight of the lake the shores of which I afterwards reached.