Strong Deer was not used to a bed so soft and had difficulty in sleeping, although he liked the comfortable feel of the mattress and springs. His mother had a bed back in the village, but it wasn't like this. He hoped the one she had now was soft and easy on her frail figure. It might help her to get better.

He wished he had been able to bring himself to ask Rabbit Skin to look in the sacred axe and see how she was doing. He would have, had he not been so concerned about where he would be living. Maybe the old medicine man would be back this way again, and could foretell the future to him then. But that didn't seem likely. He scarcely ventured out in the bay any more.

He didn't quite understand that praying business Mrs. Cunning Fox talked about. Rabbit Skin told about praying too, and about getting messages from the spirits, but he didn't think it was quite the same thing. She didn't even mention having a spirit helper or putting sacrifices in the bush. But, maybe she could pray and find out the future, too. He decided to ask her about it as soon as he felt he could.

The Indian boy dozed after what seemed to be hours, but he awakened quickly at the first sound of movement in the house. He dressed and went into the kitchen where Edna was making bannock for breakfast. For some reason, seeing her in the kitchen preparing a meal wrenched at his heart. He had seen his mother stand the same way so often, turning bannock in the skillet, or making tea.

"You didn't have to get up so early," she told him. "I was going to call you as soon as breakfast was ready."

He looked beyond her at the picture of Christ on the wall. He had seen a picture like that before but he couldn't remember where. "I wanted to help with the mink."

"Albert's out lifting the nets. He should be back soon."

"I'll go down to the dock and wait for him." He scampered out to wait uneasily for the mink rancher. He had been hired to help with the work. He hoped Cunning Fox wasn't angry with him for staying in bed so long. He realized, suddenly, that he wanted to stay on the island more than anything else, except for having his mother get well. He didn't want to do anything that would cause them to send him away.

But Albert Cunning Fox was smiling when he pulled into the dock; the boxes in his boat loaded with fish. He showed Strong Deer how to start the little tractor he used for hauling his catch up to the cooker and mixer where they prepared the mink feed. "We will get most of our fish from the freezer," he said, "but it is good to have some fresh suckers and jacks to mix with them." He explained that the suckers had to be cooked or they would make the mink sick. "The feed can't be allowed to sit around when it's hot, especially when we're using so many suckers. It can sour and even kill the mink." And there was mink meal that had to be mixed with the fish, a bucket and a half thrown into the mixer with each feeding.

Strong Deer glanced up helplessly. "I'll never be able to remember all of that."

Albert laughed. "In a week you'll be able to take care of them in your sleep." He started a fire in the cooker and dumped in a box of suckers. "We'll go in for breakfast now. Then we'll come back and mix the feed."

At the table Strong Deer reached for a piece of bannock, but the mink rancher laid a hand on his wrist. "Wait a minute. We always thank God for our food before we eat."

That seemed strange to the boy, but he bowed his head the same as they did and waited while Albert prayed. It seemed strange to him, too, that they didn't leave the table as soon as they finished eating. Edna handed her husband a big Book and he began to read from it.

He read about the One in the picture on the wall, a person called Jesus Christ. He talked about worshipping God, whatever that was. This Jesus said it didn't matter where people worshipped; it was the way they worshipped that counted.

Strong Deer wondered if that was something like getting a spirit helper and doing nice things for him so he would give him success in hunting and fishing and maybe even in making his mother well. The people who honored the spirits always had a sacred place where they took their gifts and left them. A man with a bird or a squirrel as his helper would have a place in the bush where the gifts were to be hung. If he had a bear to help him, he would choose a place where the blueberries were the thickest or the wild bees stored their honey. If he looked to a jack fish or a loon to help him, he would throw his gifts into the lake at a certain spot. It would be a lot handier if they could worship anywhere. Only, how could the spirits find the gifts if they weren't in the same place every time?

"Is our worship spiritual and real?" Albert read slowly. "Do we have the Holy Spirit's help? For God is Spirit, and we must have His help to worship as we should."

Cunning Fox closed the Bible and bowed his head. The Indian boy realized that they were going to pray again. This was something he could not understand. They had already prayed once that morning. Even old Rabbit Skin, who was the holiest man in the village, didn't talk to his spirit that many times.

But he didn't want to take a chance of offending them by not bowing his head and closing his eyes the way they did. If they caught him being disrespectful to this God they worshipped, they would probably send him away.

"Oh, Great Spirit," Cunning Fox prayed, "we thank You for Your Word, the wonderful Bible. Through You're Word-Your Word alone- we can know the truth. Help us to always open our minds and our hearts to the truth."

That was the strangest way to talk to a spirit helper, Strong Deer thought. He had heard Rabbit Skin tell about trying to find out the future or asking for things or even putting a curse on an enemy. This was something else. It sounded to him as though their Spirit spoke to them through the book they called the Bible. He would have liked to ask them about it, but he didn't dare.

When they finished reading the Book and praying, Albert took him to the mink pens to feed the mink.

"What do you want me to do?" Strong Deer asked.

"For a while you can watch me."

"But-" the young Indian protested. He couldn't let the older man realize he could get along without him. "But-" he sputtered, then stopped abruptly.

Albert filled the fish buckets on the little tractor-trailer and pulled it into the long shed between two rows of pens. "We put a little scoop of fish and meal on the wire on top of each cage. Notice the amount I feed them. It isn't good to feed them too much. They won't eat it and it is wasted."

The boy noticed the mink that had gotten out of his cage. He was lurking furtively in the shadows, as though he thought he had done something wrong. "There's one that's loose." Strong Deer pointed at the big pastel male. Albert went on with the feeding as though he hadn't even heard.

"How are we going to catch him?" the boy asked.

"That's not going to be too hard." He whistled sharply and a big black dog came running to the gate. The mink rancher glanced at his companion. "Go let him in."

Strong Deer couldn't see what a dog could do. Wouldn't he scare the mink and make him run into some inaccessible hiding place? But that only showed how little he knew about mink. The dog dashed after the wiry animal, barking fiercely. The mink sped away but he wasn't fast enough. A moment later the dog had him cornered, holding him tightly to the ground with one paw. The mink snarled and snapped at him in a desperate, writhing attempt to free himself, but Blackie just rested his weight on the big ball of fur, rendering it helpless.

"Won't he hurt him?" the boy asked.

"He's never hurt a mink yet that I know of." Albert went to the end of the row to get his heavy leather mittens. He laughed pleasantly as he noticed the boy watching him curiously. "This is so I don't get bitten by that ugly tempered little rascal."

"Do they bite?"

"I'll say they bite. Every chance they get."

"Have you ever been bitten?"

"Not for a long time, and I don't want to get bitten, either, if I can help it. It's not hard to get infection from a mink bite. Just keep your bare hands out of their cages and you won't have any problems. You don't have to handle them."

Strong Deer watched while Albert took the long wire cage and went back to the place where Blackie was patiently holding the mink. By this time the captive animal, realizing it did no good to struggle, was lying motionless. The mink rancher put the cage close to the mink's head and spoke to the dog quietly. Blackie raised his paw. The mink streaked into the cage, flipped over and came snarling back, his curved teeth snapping at the heavy wire gate that trapped him.

The boy could see that a big mink like this one might be mean. It was more difficult to believe that the pups-so small that they were still bunched together, one litter to a small pen-could ever become badly tempered and treacherous.

"The pups won't bite quite as quickly or as hard as a big male like this one, " Albert explained, 'but you can't trust them. "

Strong Deer held his hand an inch or so away from the heavy wire mesh, but jerked it away quickly as the mink darted toward him. This was one lesson he was going to remember. That was sure.

Strong Deer knew about setting nets and tending them. He had learned all of that from Rabbit Skin. Only the places where Albert put his nets were different. The medicine man set them for the best fish, the mink rancher for the poorest.

"You don't take many jacks and pickerel here," he said, stopping to rest a moment after lifting the heavy net. "Only suckers. Ehe. The mink like them just as well and it is better for the lake."

The boy couldn't quite understand that. "But you have to cook the suckers before you can feed them. It makes extra work."

Cunning Fox pried a fat sucker from the nylon net and threw it in the box. "That is true. The suckers have to be cooked or the poison under the scales will make the mink sick and maybe even kill them. But God wants us to take care of His creation. We're to use the fish and the game. Our people always have. But God wants us to use them wisely so there'll be some left for your children and grandchildren and great grandchildren."

There it was again-that talk about God and what He expected of them. Cunning Fox and his wife weren't afraid of their God the way Rabbit Skin was afraid of the thunder spirit. And he was supposed to be the strongest of all spirits. In fact, he had such an ugly temper that all the Cree in the area stayed away from the sacred hill where he kept his children.

When Albert talked about God, he makes it sound as though He loved them. Not even old Rabbit Skin claimed that the spirits he talked so much about loved the people they helped. They did things for the people because they got gifts like pieces of cloth or knives or jewelry. The medicine man continually repeated the warning that a person had to be careful not to make his spirit angry or he wouldn't do anything for him. In fact, he might become furious and do something terrible to him.

The God Albert and Edna Cunning Fox prayed to was different. It made Strong Deer wonder more than ever.