The packs of beaver she would not leave with the traders, not having sufficient confidence in their honesty. We therefore took them to a remote place in the woods, where we made a sunjegwun, or deposite, in the usual manner. We then returned to the Lake of the Woods. From this lake the Indians have a road to go to Red River which the white men never follow; this is by the way of the Muskeek, or swamp carrying place. We went up a river which the Indians call Muskeego-ne-gum-me-we-see-bee, or Swamp River, for several days; we then dragged our canoes across a swamp for one day. This swamp is only of moss and some small bushes on the top of the water, so that it quakes to a great distance as people walk over it. Then we put our canoes into a small stream, which they called Begwionusk, from the begwionusk, or cow parsley, which grows upon it: this we descended into a small Sahgiegun,[15] called by the same name. This pond has no more than two or three feet of water, and great part of it is not one foot deep; but at this time its surface was covered with ducks, geese, swans, and other birds. Here we remained a long time, and made four packs of beaver skins. When the leaves began to fall, Sag-git-to died. We were now quite alone, no Indians or white men being within four or five days’ journey from us. Here we had packs to deposit, as we were about to leave the country; and the ground being too swampy to admit of burying them in the usual manner, we made a sunjegwun of logs, so tight that a mouse could not enter it, in which we left all our packs and other property which we could not carry. If any of the Indians of this distant region had found it in our absence, they would not have broken it up; and we did not fear that the traders would penetrate to so poor and solitary a place. Indians who live remote from the whites have not learned to value their peltries so highly that they will be guilty of stealing them from each other, and at the time of which I speak, and in the country were I was, I have often known a hunter leave his traps for many days in the woods without visiting them or feeling any anxiety about their safety. It would often happen, that one man having finished his hunt, and left his traps behind him, another would say to him, “I am going to hunt in such a direction, where are your traps?” When he has used them, another, and sometimes four or five, take them in succession; but in the end, they are sure to return to the right owner.
When the snow had fallen, and the weather began to be cold, so that we could no longer kill beaver, we began to suffer from hunger. Wa-me-gon-a-biew was now our principal dependance, and he exerted himself greatly to supply our wants. In one of his remote excursions in pursuit of game, he met with a lodge of Ojibbeways, who, though they had plenty of meat, and knew that he and his friends were in distress, gave him nothing except what he wanted to eat at night. He remained with them all night, and in the morning started for home. On his way he killed a young Moose, which was extremely poor. When this small supply was exhausted, we were compelled to go and encamp with the inhospitable people whom Wa-me-gon-a-biew had seen. We found them well supplied with meat, but whatever we procured from them was in exchange for our ornaments of silver or other articles of value. I mentioned the niggardliness and inhospitality of these people because I had not before met with such an instance among the Indians. They are commonly ready to divide what provisions they have with any who come to them in need. We had been about three days with these Indians when they killed two Moose. They called Wa-me-gon-a-biew and me to go after meat, but only gave us the poorest part of one leg. We bought some fat meat from them, giving them our silver ornaments. The patience of old Net-no-kwa was at length exhausted, and she forbade us all to purchase any thing more from them. During all the time we remained with these people, we were suffering almost the extremity of hunger. One morning Net-no-kwa rose very early, and tying on her blanket, took her hatchet and went out. She did not return that night; but the next day, towards evening, as we were all lying down inside the lodge, she came in, and shaking Wa-me-gon-a-biew by the shoulder, said to him, “get up, my son, you are a great runner, and now let us see with what speed you will go and bring the meat which the Great Spirit gave me last night. Nearly all night I prayed and sung, and when I fell asleep near morning, the Spirit came to me, and gave me a bear to feed my hungry children. You will find him in that little copse of bushes in the prairie. Go immediately, the bear will not run from you, even should he see you coming up.”
“No, my mother,” said Wa-me-gon-a-biew, “it is now near evening: the sun will soon set, and it will not be easy to find the track in the snow. In the morning Shaw-shaw-wa-ne-ba-se shall take a blanket, and a small kettle, and in the course of the day I may overtake the bear and kill him, and my little brother will come up with my blanket, and we can spend the night where I shall kill him.”
The old woman did not yield to the opinion of the hunter. Altercation and loud words followed; for Wa-me-gon-a-biew had little reverence for his mother, and as scarce any other Indian would have done, he ridiculed her pretensions to an intercourse with the Great Spirit, and particularly, for having said that the bear would not run if he saw hunters coming. The old woman was offended; and after reproaching her son, she went out of the lodge, and told the other Indians her dream, and directed them to the place where she said the bear would certainly be found. They agreed with Wa-me-gon-a-biew, that it was too late to go that night; but as they had confidence in the prayers of the old woman, they lost no time in following her direction at the earliest appearance of light in the morning. They found the bear at the place she had indicated, and killed it without difficulty. He was large and fat, but Wa-me-gon-a-biew, who accompanied them, received only a small piece for the portion of our family. The old woman was angry, and not without just cause; for although she pretended that the bear had been given her by the Great Spirit, and the place where he lay pointed out to her in a dream, the truth was, she had tracked him into the little thicket, and then circled it, to see that he had not gone out. Artifices of this kind, to make her people believe she had intercourse with the Great Spirit, were, I think, repeatedly assayed by her.
Our suffering from hunger now compelled us to move; and after we had eaten our small portion of the bear, we started on snow shoes to go to Red River, hoping either to meet some Indians or to find some game on the way. I had now become acquainted with the method of taking rabbits in snares, and when we arrived at our first camp, I ran forward on the route I knew we should take on the following day, and placed several snares, intending to look at them, and take them up as we went on our journey. After we had supped, for when we were in want of provisions we commonly ate only at evening, all the food we had remaining was a quart or more of bear’s grease in a kettle. It was now frozen hard, and the kettle had a piece of skin tied over it as a cover. In the morning, this, among other articles, was put on my sled, and I went forward to look at my snares. Finding one rabbit, I thought I would surprise my mother to make a laugh; so I took the rabbit, and put him alive under the cover of the kettle of bear’s grease. At night, after we had encamped, I watched her when she went to open the kettle to get us something to eat, expecting the rabbit would jump out; but was much disappointed to find, that notwithstanding the extreme cold weather, the grease was dissolved, and the little animal nearly drowned. The old woman scolded me very severely at the time; but for many years afterwards, she used to talk and laugh of this rabbit, and his appearance when she opened the kettle. She continued also to talk, as long as she lived, of the niggardly conduct of the Indians we had then seen. After travelling some days, we discovered traces of hunters, and were at length so fortunate as to find the head of a buffalo which they had left. This relieved us from the distress of hunger, and we followed on in their trail, until we came to the encampment of some of our friends on Red River.
This was a considerable band of Crees, under a chief called Assin-ne-boi-nainse, (the Little Assinneboin,) and his son-in-law, Sin-a-peg-a-gun. They received us in a very cordial and friendly manner, gave us plenty to eat, and supplied all our urgent wants. After we had remained with them about two months, buffalo and other game became scarce, and the whole encampment was suffering from hunger. Wa-me-gon-a-biew and myself started to cross the prairie, one day’s journey, to a stream called Pond River. We found an old bull, so poor and old that hair would not grow upon him; we could eat only the tongue. We had travelled very far, in the course of the day, and were much overcome with fatigue. The wind was high, and the snow driving violently. In a vast extent of the plain, which we overlooked, we could see no wood, but some small oak bushes, scarce as high as a man’s shoulders; but in this poor cover we were compelled to encamp. The small and green stalks of the oaks were, with the utmost difficulty, kindled, and made but a poor fire. When the fire had remained some time in one place, and the ground under it become dry, we removed the brands and coals, and lay down upon the warm ashes. We spent the night without sleep, and the next morning, though the weather had become more severe, the wind having risen, we started to return home. It was a hard day’s walk, and as we were weak through hunger and cold, it was late when we reached the lodge. As we approached home, Wa-me-gon-a-biew was more able to walk fast than I was, and as he turned back to look at me, we perceived, at the same time, that each of our faces were frozen. When we came nearly in sight of home, as I was not able to walk much farther, he left me, and went to the lodge, and sent some of the women to help me to get home. Our hands and faces were much frozen; but as we had good moccasins, our feet were not at all injured. As hunger continued in the camp, we found it necessary to separate, and go in different directions. Net-no-kwa determined to go with her family to the trading-house of Mr. Henry, who was since drowned in the Columbia River by the upsetting of a boat. This place is near that where a settlement has since been made, called Pembina. With the people of the fur-traders, we hunted all the remainder of the winter. In the spring we returned, in company with these lodges of Indians, to the lake where we had left our canoes. We found all our property safe, and having got all together from our sunjegwuns, and all that we had brought from Red River, we had now eleven packs of beaver, of forty skins each, and ten packs of other skins. It was now our intention to return to Lake Huron, and to dispose of our peltries at Mackinac. We had still the large sunjegwun at Rainy Lake, the contents of which, added to all we now had, would have been sufficient to make us wealthy. It will be recollected, that in a former season, Net-no-kwa had made a deposit of valuable furs near the trader’s house on Rainy Lake, not having confidence enough in the honesty of the trader to leave them in his care. When we returned to this spot, we found the sunjegwun had been broken up and not a pack or a skin left in it. We saw a pack in the trader’s house, which we believed to be one of our own; but we could never ascertain whether they or some Indians had taken them. The old woman was much irritated, and did not hesitate to ascribe the theft to the trader.
When we reached the small house at the other side of the Grand Portage to Lake Superior, the people belonging to the traders urged us to put our packs in the wagons and have them carried across. But the old woman knowing if they were once in the hands of the traders it would be difficult, if not impossible, for her to get them again, refused to comply with this request. It took us several days to carry all our packs across, as the old woman would not suffer them to be carried in the trader’s road. Notwithstanding all this caution, when we came to this side the portage, Mr. McGilveray and Mr. Shabboyea, by treating her with much attention, and giving her some wine, induced her to place all her packs in a room, which they gave her to occupy. At first, they endeavoured, by friendly solicitation, to induce her to sell her furs; but finding she was determined not to part with them, they threatened her; and at length, a young man, the son of Mr. Shabboyea, attempted to take them by force; but the old man interfered, and ordering his son to desist, reproved him for his violence. Thus Net-no-kwa was enabled, for the present, to keep possession of her property, and might have done so, perhaps, until we should have reached Mackinac had it not been for the obstinacy of one of her own family. We had not been many days at the Portage, before there arrived a man called Bit-te-gish-sho, (the crooked lightning,) who lived at Middle Lake,[16] accompanied by his small band. With these people Wa-me-gon-a-biew became intimate, and though none of us, at that time, knew it, he formed an attachment for one of the daughters of the Crooked Lightning. When we had made all our preparations to start for the Saut of St. Marie, and the baggage was in the canoe, Wa-me-gon-a-biew was not to be found. We sought in every direction for him and it was not until after some days that we heard by a Frenchman that he was on the other side of the Portage with the family of Bit-te-gish-sho. I was sent for him but could by no means induce him to return with me. Knowing his obstinacy, the old woman began to cry. “If I had but two children,” said she, “I could be willing to lose this one; but as I have no other, I must go with him.” She gave to the widow, her sister’s daughter, but who had lived with her from a child, five packs of beaver, one of which was for her own use; the remaining four packs, together with sixty otter skins, she told her to take to Mackinac, and deliver them according to her direction. She came down in the trader’s canoe, and delivered them to Mr. Lapomboise, of the North West Company, and took his due bill, as she was told it was, for the amount. But this paper was subsequently lost by the burning of our lodge, and from that day to this, Net-no-kwa, or any of her family, have not received the value of a cent for those skins. The old woman, being much dissatisfied at the misconduct of her son, the disappointment of her hopes of returning to Lake Huron, and other misfortunes, began to drink. In the course of a single day, she sold one hundred and twenty beaver skins, with a large quantity of buffalo robes, dressed and smoked skins, and other articles, for rum. It was her habit, whenever she drank, to make drunk all the Indians about her, at least as far as her means would extend. Of all our large load of peltries, the produce of so many days of toil, of so many long and difficult journeys, one blanket, and three kegs of rum only remained, beside the poor and almost worn-out clothing on our bodies. I did not, on this or any other occasion, witness the needless and wanton waste of our peltries and other property with that indifference which the Indians seemed always to feel.
Our return being determined on, we started with Bit-te-gish-sho and some other Indians for the Lake of the Woods. They assisted us in making a canoe, crossing portages, etc. At the Lake of the Woods we were overtaken by cold weather, and Net-no-kwa determined to remain, though most of the others went on. Here it was found that the attachment of Wa-me-gon-a-biew to the daughter of Bit-te-gish-sho, was not too strong to be broken; and, indeed, it is somewhat doubtful whether the anxiety of the traders at the Grand Portage, to possess themselves of our packs, had not as much to do in occasioning our return, as any thing on the part of this young man.
After these people had left us, we found our condition too desolate and hopeless to remain by ourselves, illy provided as we were for the coming winter. So we repaired to Rainy Lake trading-house, where we obtained a credit to the amount of one hundred and twenty beaver skins, and thus furnished ourselves with some blankets, clothing, and other things necessary for the winter. Here a man joined us, called Waw-be-be-nais-sa, who proposed to hunt for us, and assist us through the winter. We acceded cheerfully to his proposal; but soon found he was but a poor hunter, as I was always able to kill more than he did.