Pathfinding on Plain and Prairie / Stirring Scenes of Life in the Canadian North-west

by John McDougall

This we floored thickly with brush. Then we laid a brush causeway from our carts to the lodge, and moved our sick folk into the tent. In the meantime I had put some dried meat and pounded barley into a kettle to boil over the fire, and as the only medicine we had was cayenne pepper, I put some of this into the soup, and this was all we had for our sick ones. Just then Oliver came in, having found the stock, but was complaining of a sore back and headache. I gave him a cup of my hot soup to drink, and as he sat beside the fire warming his wet feet and limbs and drinking the soup, I saw he was covered with the measles. So I quietly told him to change his clothes and go into the tent. Thus in our small party of five three were down with the epidemic which was now universal in the North-West.

For the next five or six days Paul and I had our hands full to attend to the sick night and day, to keep up the supply of firewood (for the nights were cold and we consumed a great amount) and to look after the stock.

Our patients in the one-roomed buffalo-skin-walled hospital were very sick, and as we had no medicine to speak of, and nothing in the way of dainties to tempt their appetite, often caused us extreme anxiety. Hard grease pemmican, dried meat, or pounded meat and grease are all right when one is strong and well, but it was more than we could do to cook or fix these up for sick folk. When we could Paul and I took it in turn to seek for ducks and chickens to make broth with, but there were very few of these to be found near to us, and it was not until the fever abated that, by leaving wood and water ready and making our patients as comfortable as possible, we went farther afield for game, and were successful in finding ducks and geese and the eggs of wild-fowl as our reward.

It was on one of these hunts, and while our sick people were steadily convalescing, that we came upon the fresh tracks of a buffalo bull. As we thought he might provide good meat we determined to follow him up. I think we had kept his track steadily for three hours, when all of a sudden my sleigh dogs, whom I had left as I thought secure at camp, came up to us on the jump, and now took the lead on the track, and very soon were at the bull, as we knew from their furious barking. We rode as fast as we could in the soft ground and through the dense bush, and presently galloped out on an old beaver-meadow. Sure enough the dogs had the bull at bay, and the old fellow as soon as we came in sight charged straight at us. As there was an opening into another part of the meadow I thought he was making for that, so sat my horse, gun in hand, ready to shoot him as he passed. But this was not in the bull's programme. He was in for a fight, and putting down his head came right at me. My horse knew what that meant, for he already had been gored by a mad bull, and the little fellow did not wait for a second dose, but bounded on as fast as he could. My gun was a single-barrelled, muzzle-loading shot-gun, and though I had a ball in, I did not care to risk my one shot under such circumstances. In fact I very soon had all I could do to sit on my horse, keep my gun, and save my head from being broken; for in a few bounds we were across the meadow and into the woods, where, the ground being soft, my horse was hard pressed by the big fellow, who was crashing along at his heels. Fortunately "Scarred Thigh," as the Indians called him, was no ordinary cayuse, but strong and quite speedy. Yet owing to soft ground and brush the bull seemed to be gaining on us at several times. Paul afterwards told me he was so close to me as to raise my pony's tail with his horn, but could not come nearer to his much desired victims.

I knew that my horse could not, sinking as he was at every jump into the soft ground, keep this gait up much longer, and because of the trees and brush I had no chance to shoot back at the bull. I was momentarily expecting to feel him hoisting us, when I spied a thick cluster of big poplars just ahead. Now, I thought, if we can dodge behind these we may gain time on our enemy. So I urged on my noble beast, and as if to help us, just as I pulled him around the clump of poplars, a projecting limb knocked my cap off. This falling right in the face of the bull for the moment blinded him, and with an angry snort he went thundering past as I pulled behind the trees.

"My cap ... falling right in the face of the bull, for the moment blinded him."

"That was close," said Paul, who was following up as fast as his pony would bring him; "if he had been a bear he would have bitten your horse, but every time he put his head down to toss you, your horse left him that much." I jumped from my horse and patted his neck, rubbed his nose, and felt thankful for our escape. Then we tied our animals in the shelter of the large trees, and followed after the bull on foot, for in such ground and such timber we were much safer on foot than on horseback.

Already our dogs had again brought the bull to bay, as we could hear, and approaching with caution we soon saw him fighting desperately. Alert as we were he heard us coming and again charged, but we met him with two balls, and the old fellow staggered back to the middle of a swamp of ice and snow-water and fell dead.