Our first interment—Jacob's tragic death—Hostile Flatheads in quest of horses, scalps and glory—Stonies attacked by a party of Blackfeet—A hot fusilade—Mark's father is killed—Destitution prevalent—Hunting lynx—My dogs seized with distemper—All have to be shot—Another provision hunt organized—Among the buffalo—I narrowly escape being shot—Heterogeneous character of our camp—Mutual distrust and dislikes—United by fear of a common foe—The effects of Christianity.
That autumn one of our best young men, Jacob by name, was killed by the Flatheads. His friends sent me word that they were bringing the body into the Mission. We dug our first grave on the hill, and there in the quiet of this "God's acre" we laid to rest the remains of the brave young fellow who had died in defence of his people. This was our first interment, in the fall of 1867, and we came here in the spring of 1865. This was significant of the migratory character of the people, as also of the healthfulness of the highland country.
Our Indians had camped about twenty-five miles from the Mission, and in a comparatively wooded section, where they believed themselves in large measure exempt from attacks of the plain Indians, and had no thought of attack by warriors from the Pacific slope. However, as one told me, they had "felt someone in the vicinity," and were watching their horses closely, keeping them staked right up to camp at night.
One of our people, called William One-eye, was on guard when he saw what he took to be a stranger stooping at the feet of one of the horses. He approached quietly and spoke to him, as he wanted to make sure before firing at him. But the fellow answered by shooting at him, and with so good an aim that the hall grazed William's forehead, cutting away a tuft of his hair, which was bound with ermine skin, and stunning him for an instant. Ere he could recover himself the thief jumped on the horse and dashed away at furious speed.
William soon gave the alarm, but already everybody was stirring because of the shot, and now it was found that several horses were gone. The whole camp was aroused and the pursuit became general. It was in this running fight that Jacob was shot. The Stonies, on their part, killed two of the Flatheads, bringing in their horses and saddles, and the ammunition and tent which were packed on these.
The marauders had come hundreds of miles through the mountains on this quest for horses, scalps and glory, and as the trails were now becoming clearly defined from almost every direction into our Mission, it looked as if we might be visited at any time by these lawless scamps.
Young Jacob came of a large and plucky family, and it was hard work to restrain these from going on a retaliatory expedition, but the leaven of Christianity was working sufficiently to keep them in check. Of this we had ample evidence some six weeks later, when the same camp of Stonies was attacked by a large war party of Crees, who said that they mistook them for Blackfeet. But this could hardly be possible, for the Stonies were having evening worship at the time and were singing and praying. Mark said this accounted for the small mortality of their fusilade on the camp, as most of them were low down on their knees and the balls passed over their heads, which the holes in their lodges plainly showed.
The Stonies repulsed their foes, and heard them shouting back, "This was a mistake; we thought you were Blackfeet, our common enemies." It was only when the Stonies returned to camp they discovered that their aged patriarch, Mark's father, "The-man-without-a-hole-in-his-ear," was killed. The old man was on his knees praying when the ball went right through his vitals. Evidently he had died without a struggle. Mark said that if they had known this at the time they could not have spared the Crees, but coming back to camp and finding that their father had died on his knees while in the act of prayer, they felt that they must respect his act and faith and not take revenge. Surely this was strong evidence of a great change in the feelings of the Indians, bred as they had been to retaliation and deep hatred of their foes.
All through the autumn we dwelt in the midst of alarms, and it was not until winter came, with its cold and snow, that we felt in a measure secure for a time from these wandering parties. On November 25th another little girl came to our humble home, and was given the name of Ruth.
At this time, what with holding services at home and visiting camps in our vicinity, attending to the fall and winter fisheries, providing wood, and hauling hay (for we had secured another cow and a couple of oxen, and I was keeping a horse in the stable), my time was fully taken up. In fact I was hard driven, and was very glad when a sufficiency of fish was stored, so that I could pack my nets and other fishing paraphernalia away for a few months. Then, as per instructions from my Chairman, I made a dash for Victoria, spending two Sabbaths there, and taking Edmonton en route both ways. At this time I did not dare attempt to preach in English, but felt quite at home in the Cree.