THE COMING OF APAUAKAS.
Night after night during the long and dreary winter, from where the lodges were pitched among the small patches of timber that fringed the river bank, came the low, monotonous beating of the medicine-drums, a sad refrain telling the story of sickness and death.
"Take pity on me! Take pity on me!" floated upon the evening air, a wail from the lips of the aged warrior as he lay on his earthen couch and wrestled with the grim spirits who were waiting for his soul.
Thick clouds of pestilential fever hung over the camp. The ruddy glow of the lodge fires served but to deepen the gloom. The happy hunting days were gone; the excitement of the buffalo chase was a thing of the past. The ancient traditions of the coming of a race of white men who were superior in numbers and strength were now being fulfilled, and the hearts of the mourners in the camp by the river were heavy. "Take pity on me!" was the burden of their song. Strong men bowed their heads as they uttered the plaintive words; the women wept and prayed. The children alone were merry and wondered why their mothers were sad.
In the deep recesses of the wood, high in the forks of the trees, the dead lay still and cold, freed from the pain and poverty of the plague-stricken camps. No angel visitant came with mercy in her hands to relieve the sick or to bestow gifts upon the poor. Forsaken by friends and foes, the dying turned from their friends and sighed their lives away.
Night had closed in upon the desolate scene, and the dwellers in the lodges were seeking what rest they might, when a sharp cry rent the air causing many to raise their heads and listen. But it was no warning shout of danger; it was only the wail of a stricken heart. A father had returned from the mountains, whither he had gone in quest of game, and on entering his lodge found none to meet him save an aged medicine-woman. Wife, sister and children had all been called to the spirit-land. His hearth was desolate; the song and the prattle of merry childhood which had always greeted his home-coming were silenced forever. Throwing himself upon the ground he wailed forth his anguish in the cry that had startled the sleeping camp.
Hope had well-nigh died in the breasts of the people. Their medicine-men's charms no longer protected them from sickness, and their guardian spirits had abandoned them in the hour of distress. They prayed and longed for release from the pain and burden of life. Yet a few days more and their prayers would be answered.
The morning sun was gilding the eastern horizon as a young man, footsore and weary, drew near the camp and ran eagerly toward the chief's lodge.
"What news? What news?" asked the people of each other, but none could reply. The men dragged themselves to the lodge where the young man waited impatiently the coming of the chief. The latter entered presently with his friends, and in obedience to his command the young man delivered his message before them all.
"Chief: It is now three moons since I left my people here and travelled toward the northern land, where dwell the Sarcees, Crees and Stoneys. I went to a large camp of the Crees. The people received me in kindness and supplied me with every need. Their hearts were filled with joy and they sang from daylight till the darkness fell. There was abundance of food; the medicine-man's drum had ceased to beat, there was no sickness in their camps. Guardian spirits hovered over the lodges, and as I sat day after day among the people I listened to songs and stories that were strange to my ears. I waited for the feasts that we ofttimes have in our own camps that I might take part in the amusements of my people, but as I spoke of these things they gazed at me in astonishment and pity. I became angry and would have departed had not an aged chief named Jacob come into the lodge.
"The old chief looked upon me with kindness in his eyes and addressed me in my native tongue. He related to me the tales of my childhood and my heart was glad. I had found a spirit kindred to my own. He spoke of the 'Old Man of the Mountains,' the 'Blood Clot Boy,' the 'Morning Star' and all the wonderful things they had done.
"'Your fathers have told you, young man,' he said, 'of the coming of a tribe vast in numbers and different in color and habits from the Indians of the plains. You have listened in the lodges of the south to the story of the great hero Apauakas, who is to come bringing blessings in his hands for all the people. When he comes the buffalo shall increase in number, the people shall have food in plenty and shall not need to toil so hard. The land shall obey his command, the rivers shall have many fishes, the mountains and prairies be covered with antelope, sheep and goats. The wolf and the bear shall flee away into the secret places of the hills, and no longer shall they molest us. Our camp shall be filled with children and happy mothers. My son, the Great Chief is coming! coming!'
"My heart was filled with joy as I listened to his words, and I longed for the coming of Apauakas. The chief had risen as he thus spoke kindly to me, but was silent. He struggled to control his emotions, then leaning forward and gazing earnestly into my face he said slowly:
"'Young man, the white tribe has come, the prophecy is fulfilled. All over the prairie the men and women of the white tribe are building their lodges. The buffalo have fled before their presence, disease and death have spread desolation among our camps. The land of our fathers has been taken from us, the Indian race is doomed to depart before the feet of the white stranger and we dwell in the land of an enemy. Would that I had died before I had seen this hour; I had then been spared the pain and anguish that have fallen upon us.'
"As he ceased, smitten with sorrow and anger, I laid my hand upon my knife, determined to depart and slay the oppressor or drive him from the land. But the chief spoke again.
"'I am not done,' he said. 'When I think of the happy days enjoyed by my people I am silent, though the warm blood coursing through my veins makes it hard to restrain my anger. One day as we sat in our lodges nursing our sick in sadness, while the medicine-men beat their drums and prayed, there came to our camp from the lodges of the white tribe a pale-faced man. He could not speak our language, but he made signs that he wished to live with us. We suffered him to stay, and gave him a share of our scanty food.
"'Every morning and evening he knelt upon the ground and prayed. We knew not what he said, for his tongue was strange to us. He helped the men and women at their work, played with the children, and nursed the sick. He learned our language quickly, and then he began to tell us of a Great Teacher who had come to bless all people.
"'He held in his hand pieces of bark of a kind we knew not. They were fastened together and had writing on them that was not like the writing upon our lodges. These he held reverently, for he said it was "the writing sent by the Great Spirit to his children."
"'Day by day we gathered in the lodges or under the shade of the trees, and listened to the holy man as he sang sweet songs and taught them to us in our native tongue. He prayed and the sick were healed. He struck the ground, poured water upon it, and food came out of it for young and old.
"'We prayed to him, and then he became angry. "I am only a man," he said; "pray to the Great Spirit." We followed him wherever he went, and blessings came to us. Again and again he told us the story of the Great Teacher, and we drank eagerly of his words. The sick and the aged sent for him and said, "Tell it over again!" and when he told it they said, "Tell it again!"
"'One day when the people were assembled listening to his words, a little child sat beside him. Again he related the glory of the coming Great Chief, of the peace and joy that would dwell in our camps when the little children should know and love Him. As he looked upon the writing and sang and prayed, his lips quivered and tears flowed from his eyes. The little child by his side looked up into his face and then at the people, and whispered, "Apauakas!"
"'Then the people fell upon their faces and cried with one voice, "Apauakas! Apauakas!" As they rose they saw the white stranger on his knees and heard him say, "He has come! Christ has come!"
"As the aged chief Jacob related this to me, the people in the lodge clasped their hands together and sang a song about Apauakas, whom they called the Christ. When they had finished, Jacob took my hand and said, 'Young man, the Great Teacher has come; stay with us and you will see Him soon, for He dwells in our hearts and gives us peace.' I therefore stayed in the camp and looked daily for His coming, but I saw Him not.
"My heart was sad, and I prayed to the spirits of the prairie to help me. I walked, turning over in my thoughts all the wonderful things I had heard. I fell upon my face and groaned, 'Apauakas! Apauakas!' Brothers, my cry was answered: a bright light shone around me, and a voice from the overhanging clouds said gently, 'Arise! Apauakas has come. Call me no longer Apauakas, but Christ, for I shall aid and deliver you from all your foes!'
"I arose and sped towards the camp, and as the people saw me coming, they ran to meet me, shouting, 'He has found the Christ! The Christ has come!' I sang for joy, and the weeks fled as if they were but hours.
"One day the chief came to me and said, 'Brother, a messenger has come from the south bearing sad tidings. Sickness and death are in the camps of your people. Go, tell them of Apauakas the Great Teacher, who will relieve and bless them in their hours of woe.'
"I bade him farewell and hurried homeward. My heart sank within me as I came through the wood near the camp and beheld the trees bearing the bodies of my people whom I had left strong and well. I bring a message of peace. Apauakas has come to bless and heal His children. Chief, I have finished."
The eager eyes and haggard countenances of the men who listened to the young man's story had been strained and then relaxed as they followed the story with absorbing interest to the end. A great silence fell upon the lodge, and one by one the men arose and went away to their own lodges. They spoke no word, but pondered in silence over the strange things that they had heard. Throughout the next day they talked to each other by the lodge fires; the coming of Apauakas was the burden of the stories told to the women, and a deep, earnest longing took possession of their hearts. At evening time they waited and prayed, but He came not. Despair began once more to be depicted on the faces of the people, and the signs of a coming storm added fear to their misery. The sky grew dark, the air heavy. As they waited in an agony of spirit for the consummation of all their woes, the storm broke, and as it increased in strength the women prayed. One voice alone was heard above the wild wailing of the wind, and the terror-stricken inmates of the lodges listened as it sang, "Apauakas is coming! coming soon!"
At this the women stilled their whispered prayers and waited, looking for the Teacher. The rain ceased to beat upon the lodges, the clouds were swept from the sky, the sun shone out in all its glory, and the air seemed full of voices singing words of love and tenderness.
They looked to where the young man knelt, and saw that a smile of joy rested on his face as he gazed up into the heavens. A strange feeling of awe made them bow their heads. When they looked again they saw he had fallen to the ground. They ran to him, and as they raised him in their arms, gazing in pity into his face, he murmured, "Apauakas has come!" and closed his eyes.
A beautiful spot on the prairie is the honored resting-place of the gentle messenger of love; the Great Teacher had come and taken him home. Health, peace and comfort returned to the people, bringing with them a better knowledge, a nobler life. The stranger who now sits in the lodges and listens to the stories told by the Indians will hear the young man's name repeated with reverence as the prophet who led his people to look for the coming of the Teacher, and see eyes suffused with tears as they repeat,
"APAUAKAS HAS COME! THE CHRIST HAS COME!"
FOREST, LAKE AND PRAIRIE
TWENTY YEARS OF FRONTIER LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA, 1842-1862.
By JOHN McDOUGALL.
WITH 27 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. E. LAUGHLIN.
Read the following comments:
"This is a true boy's book, and equals in stirring interest anything written by Kingston or Ballantyne. It ought to sell by the thousand."—Mrs. S. A. Curzon, in Orillia Packet.
"Possessed of an intimate acquaintance with all the varied aspects of frontier life, Mr. McDougall has produced a book that will delight the heart of every boy reader."—Endeavor Herald.
"There are many graphic descriptions of scenes in that vast fertile region in those early days when travelling was difficult and dangerous, but most fascinating to a youth of John McDougall's temperament and training. He lives those stirring times over again in his lively narrative, and relates his personal experiences with all the glow and vividness of an ardent, youthful hunter."—Canadian Baptist.
Canadian Savage Folk
The Native Tribes of Canada.
BY
JOHN MACLEAN, M.A., Ph.D.
AUTHOR OF 'THE INDIANS OF CANADA,' 'THE WARDEN OF THE PLAINS,' ETC.
In one volume, 642 pages, fully illustrated and handsomely bound.
PRICE, . . $2.50
CONTENTS: SOME QUEER FOLK—IN THE LODGES—CHURCH AND CAMP—NATIVE HEROES—NATIVE RELIGIONS, RACES AND LANGUAGES—ON THE TRAIL.
"There is no man in Canada, possibly anywhere, who has made a more careful, painstaking life-work in the study of the aboriginal races and all the writings extant relative to them, their traditions and history, than Dr. John Maclean.... While gleaning information from all the recognizedly authentic sources, Dr. Maclean, by his personal experience and individual knowledge, has added not only a vast amount of hitherto unpublished material, but has revivified and reset the old in the most attractive and readable form."—The Week.
"The whole ground is covered with a wealth of historic knowledge, while the style makes it as interesting as a romance. The author's familiarity with the subject, being for years a missionary in the far North-West, makes the work a thoroughly reliable treatise."—Neepawa Register.
SADDLE, SLED AND SNOWSHOE
PIONEERING ON THE SASKATCHEWAN IN THE SIXTIES
By JOHN McDOUGALL,
Author of "FOREST, LAKE AND PRAIRIE."
WITH 15 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. E. LAUGHLIN.
PRICE, $1.00.
"... If it be their good fortune to obtain it, 'SADDLE, SLED AND SNOWSHOE' will not disappoint their most sanguine expectations.... While hard work, hardship, and plucky endurance characterize and give vim and go to the story, the incidents in which the love of fun, inherent in every boy's nature, finds opportunity of play, add much to the brightness and realistic value of the book. The book is well illustrated, the drawings being faithful to the reality, and the scenes well chosen."—The Week.
Press Comments on "Forest, Lake and Prairie."
"Mr. McDougall is a true child of nature. He has passed through scenes that would stir the pulses of less impulsive men, and he writes with the keenest enthusiasm: and this spirit possesses the reader of his thrilling pages."—Christian Guardian.
"I have read no book better fitted to inspire our Canadian boys with a healthy interest in their own undiscovered country: nor any more calculated to put into our growing youth the strong, sturdy, self-reliant spirit of a real manhood, an heroic, muscular Christianity."—Canadian Home Journal.
WILLIAM BRIGGS, Publisher, Toronto.