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

by John McDougall

We killed several moulting geese as we travelled, and enjoyed them as food. On our fourth day out we came up to the camp, and turning the oxen and carts over to Muddy Bull, we domiciled ourselves in his lodge, and at once became part of this moving town. My work was all around me. Here was paganism intensely conservative, the outcome of many centuries of tradition. And here were its high priests, and the novitiate following which thronged after them, seeming to me as "the blind leading the blinder," if this were possible; the whole causing a devolution which was lowering the range of thought and life and ideal, and all the while producing a profundity of ignorance as to things moral and spiritual which in turn, as a logical sequence, affected the physical and material life of this people.

Doubtless environment has a great deal to do with the formation of character and being, but in the environment of these men, outside of buffalo and tribal communism, I failed to find anything that might be thought degenerating in its tendencies. The great herds of buffalo as abused by man were hurtful to himself, and therefore in the fulness of time the Great Father, in the interests of His children, wiped them from the face of the earth. Tribal communism has always been hurtful to individuality, and without this no race of men can progress. But apart from these factors in the life of this people, the rest of their environment was, in my judgment, of the nature and kind to help them, and to give them large, broad and fine views of life and all things. Why, then, this degradation witnessed on every hand? This intense superstition and ignorance, to my mind, is all due to the faith and religion of this people. Their faith is a dead one; no wonder they are dead in trespasses and sins. We believe we are now coming to them with a living faith, but even then we require infinite patience. The change will come, no doubt, but when? O Lord, Thou alone knowest when.

To come back to environment. So far as nature's realm affected the sojourners in this part of the valley of the Saskatchewan, these should be among the best of men. Beauty and wealth and power and a mighty purpose are apparent on every hand. These hundreds of miles of territory, these millions of acres of rich grass and richer soil, these hundreds of days of glorious sunshine in every year, these countless millions of cubic feet of healthful atmosphere, surcharged with ozone so that one ever and anon feels like "taking the wings of the morning"—what a splendid heritage!

Look at this delightful spot where we are encamped for the day. It is now nearing the midsummer, and the hills and valleys are clothed in the richest verdure. Take note of these hills and valleys. Behold the shapeliness of yonder range of hills, and the sweep of this vale at your feet. See the exquisite carvings of this ascent, and the beautiful rounding of that summit. Drink in the wonderful symmetry displayed in planting those islands of timber. Behold as yon fleecy cloud comes between the sun and the scene of sylvan beauty, how the whole is hallowed and mellowed by the shading of light! Think of the corrosions of ice and the cleansings of flood necessary to create such a variety of hill and dale as this. Ponder over the ages of later development, and calculate the layers of vegetable matter needed to make this wealthy soil and produce this infinite variety of flora and herb and forest and grass. Now to my mind all this is exceedingly helpful, and every time I look upon such environment I am made a better and stronger man. Then why not all men be thus helped and made better? All?—there it is, our faiths are not alike. Even a wrong faith is mighty to the pulling down of "strongholds," and man under such influences descends.

But even here there are exceptions, and environment has its way in a measure. Amongst these men and women you will come across those who are big and broad and grand and noble. Blessed be the Lord for this! And one of these latter even now is calling to me and speaking in broken English, "John Mak-e-doo-gal-un, come here now," with big emphasis on the "now," and I readily recognize the voice and walk over to the lodge of the old Chief Maskepetoon.

"So you have come, John? I asked your father to let you come with my camp for a few weeks. There is plenty for you to do, my boy. But I called you just now, as my tent is empty, to tell you that I am sorry and ashamed that my son was with those young rascals who tried to steal horses from the Stonies at Pigeon Lake.

"I told him that under the circumstances I could not have done anything if he and his party had been killed: that he must remember that all men were now my friends, and especially all missionaries, and if I ever fought again it would be on the side of the missionary. That he should have gone from your lodge to steal the horses of your people made me much ashamed and sorry in my heart. I told your father about it, and he said the young men were foolish to act in that way towards you—that you were the Indians' friend; and I believe that, and I want you to work hard, and will pray the Great Spirit to help you to gain a power over young men."

I thanked the old Chief for his confidence, and told him I should always expect his advice and help in my work. Then I gave him my news, and he told me what the camp's movements were to be, and that there was to be an immense gathering of several camps for the holding of the annual festival and "Thirst Dance" of the pagan Indians. He also told me that the buffalo were coming northward and westward, and we should move slowly to give them a chance to come in; that the plain Crees who were coming up country to join us were behind the herd of buffalo; and further informed me that the peace was effectually broken on both sides, and we might expect more or less trouble all summer.

I sat and chatted with the Chief and had supper in his lodge, and then arranged for an evening service in the open camp. These services elicited much interest. Paul, who was a good singer and a fine young fellow, would take his stand by my side. Then as we sang the people gathered, and our service would begin. I would take advantage of our surroundings or the occurrences of the day in the selection of my subject, and then call upon our old Chief or some one of our native Christians to lead in prayer.

In the meantime warriors and hunters on horseback and on foot and curious women and children with "tattooed" and painted faces would come around and watch and listen, but with native courtesy keep silence and act orderly and seem interested.