The old Squaw in the centre of the photograph was old – too old to be of any further use, so her son – the story goes – loaded her into his dog sleigh and drove her far away, into the hilly Country, and left her there.
Needless to say – old and feeble as she was, there was no coming back.
I cannot vouch for this story – although it was told to me as a fact, but many queer things happened in the north in the old days. With the advent of more Mounted Police, peace and quiet reigns.
