“William, come on in! Since when do you have to knock like a woodpecker to enter the house of an Indian? You don’t have to announce yourself. I have nothing to hide.”

We both laugh as we shake hands.

“It’s good to see you, Nipishish.”

“You, too.” I step back and look him over. “But I hope you didn’t get all dressed up just to come and see me. Are you trying to become deputy minister of Indian Affairs or something?”

He blushes red as a ripe apple. I pat his big soft stomach, which hangs over the top of his belt. He’s wearing a light brown summer suit. It’s rumpled, as if he’s been sleeping in it. His white shirt is threadbare, tight at the neck and the wrists. It’s stained with ink at the pocket, and two buttons are missing at the waist. His flowered tie, wide as the blade of a paddle, hangs down to his crotch. But he’s still wearing his old leather logging boots, laced up the calf.

“What are you doing in this getup?”

“I’m dressing smartly these days!” He stretches out his neck, clears his throat and tightens the knot in his tie. He’s very serious. “I took a two-month course in Ottawa and now I’m assistant band manager.”

“Assistant band manager!”

“Yes, sir! When this band manager leaves, I’ll be taking his place.” He draws himself up proudly. “I’ll be the first Algonquin band manager on the reserve.”

“Congratulations! But why don’t you sit down? Have a cup of tea.”

“No, I prefer coffee. And what about you, Nipishish? What’s new with you?”

I pour myself some lukewarm tea.

“I’ve had a rough time. I wasn’t made for city life. Luckily, Manie came to find me…”

“Have you come back for good?” He looks at me awkwardly.

“Yes. I think I can be useful here. I have plans.”

“The band manager says there’s no place here for troublemakers. As soon as he thinks there may be problems, he won’t hesitate to call in the police.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“If you have any ideas in the back of your head, you’d best bury them six feet under. We are all under high surveillance. The Mounties are patroling day and night. We want peace here. If you’re not careful, you could find yourself back in jail.”

“Back in jail?” I’m flabbergasted. “Who told you I was in jail? Who?”

William turns pale. He realizes he has said too much.

“It’s written in red in your file. You’ve been labeled… strong-willed. If you want my advice, Nipishish, you should go back to the city. There’s no place for you here. The Minister of Indian Affairs likes quiet Indians, and it’s better for you if they forget all about you.”