"I saw more buffalo that I had ever dreamed of before."
On we jogged, early and late, watching our horses carefully and taking extreme precaution against surprise. Nothing, however, occurred to disturb us, and by the evening of the third day we were in sight of home, and could see our loved ones moving in and out around the Mission premises.
Crossing the big river we found all well and delighted to have us home again. We had been away a little over a month, and as yet there was no word from father or the east country. Our isolation during those early years was complete if not "splendid." We were in a big world, but it was distinct from the ordinary. No mails or telegrams disturbed its continuous monotony—and yet our life was never really monotonous. The very bigness of our isolation made the life unique and strange, and the constant watchfulness against surprise and danger seemed to give it zest. Then the struggle for food kept us constantly busy.
One day, shortly after our return, we formed a party and made a flying horseback visit to the sister Mission at Whitefish Lake, and came back on the jump; my wife and sister being excellent horse-women, and a sixty-mile canter a common experience. In our party we had Mr. George Flett and wife. Mr. Flett at that time was post-trader for the Hudson's Bay Company. Later on he became a successful missionary in the Presbyterian Church.
Settling down for a little on our return, we went to work cutting hay. Those were the days when men swung the scythe, and muscle and wind told on the unmeasured and unfenced hay-fields of the Saskatchewan. Hard work it was from early morn until evening; but we cut a good bit of hay, and had it stacked by the time father came home.
In the meantime we were surprised and delighted by the arrival of a colony of some twenty-five or thirty families of English half-breeds, who had transplanted themselves from the valleys of the Red and Assiniboine rivers to this of the Saskatchewan. I well remember the first Sunday service after their arrival, how abashed I felt in the presence of these people who could speak both English and Cree, and some of whom had had special advantages in education. But they listened attentively to my preaching in the mother-tongue, and were regular in attendance upon all our services. Their presence, too, made us feel that we were stronger and more able to withstand the enemy than we had been. Many of these people made good neighbors, and all were kindly disposed to the Mission and its work.
In the Red River country their bane had been the intoxicating cup. Here, far from the temptation, they hoped to better their circumstances. These also were buffalo people, and this was another consideration leading to their removal west. Immediately these people went to work to put up houses in the valley to the east of the Mission. I gave them to understand that the Indians desired the land to the west. It did us good to see these humble homes being erected beside us. Mother and wife and sisters all rejoiced that in a measure our loneliness was past; that a semi-civilization at least had come to us.
Sometime in August we heard that father and party were not more than three days away, and with grateful heart I saddled up and set forth to meet them, which I did about fifty miles down the trail. Father had with him my brother David and sister Eliza. These we had left in Ontario five years before, mere boy and girl, but now they had grown into young manhood and young womanhood, and the long trip across the plains had done them a vast amount of good. My sister was rather astonished to meet her eldest brother clad as he was in leather and with long hair curling on his shoulders, but this was the western fashion, and anything else would have been singular at that time and amid those scenes.