Page:The Fun of It.pdf/66

50 “Aren’t we going east at all?” said Mother, in­terestedly.

“Not until we reach Seattle,” said I with a growing appetite for national parks.

We sampled Canadian scenery at Banff and Lake Louise. While crossing the prairie at Cal­gary, I lost a precious part of my belongings. At the end of one day, as twilight came on, Mother and I found ourselves on a deserted road without signs of any sort. Our gas was running low and we had no idea how we had arrived where we were. As I rounded a corner, what turned out to be an Indian reservation spread before us.

“This doesn’t look very hopeful,” I said, “but perhaps I can find someone to ask about roads.”

“I see either a wooden Indian or a real one,” ob­served Mother who had been busy looking about.

He was real.

“Where is the main road?” I asked as a starter.

“Unh, papoose,” grunted the solemn figure from the depths of his blanket.

I tried again.

“Papoose,” came the answer. This time he raised a brown hand and pointed to one of my cherished possessions in the car—a stuffed monkey. Papoose. He wanted the animal for his little In­dian. Our situation seemed desperate enough to merit the sacrifice, so I handed him the toy.

“You made the wrong turn five miles back,” he informed us. “Follow this road until—” and he