The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail

by Ralph Connor

He had come fresh from the North country, from the disturbed district, and bore, as it appeared, news of the very first importance from those who were the leaders of his people in the unrest. At his very first word Jerry drew a long deep breath and by his face appeared to drop from heaven to earth. As the half-breed proceeded with his tale his speech increased in rapidity.

“What is he saying, Jerry?” said Cameron after they had listened for some minutes.

“Oh he beeg damfool!” said Jerry, whose vocabulary had been learned mostly by association with freighters and the Police. “He tell 'bout beeg meeting, beeg man Louis Riel mak' beeg noise. Bah! Beeg damfool!” The whole scene had lost for Jerry its mystic impressiveness and had become contemptibly commonplace. But not so to Cameron. This was the part that held meaning for him. So he pulled up the half-breed with a quick, sharp command.

“Listen close,” he said, “and let me know what he says.”

And as Jerry interpreted in his broken English the half-breed's speech it appeared that there was something worth learning. At this big meeting held in Batoche it seemed a petition of rights, to the Dominion Parliament no less, had been drawn up, and besides this many plans had been formed and many promises made of reward for all those who dared to stand for their rights under the leadership of the great Riel, while for the Indians very special arrangements had been made and the most alluring prospects held out. For they were assured that, when in the far North country the new Government was set up, the old free independent life of which they had been hearing was to be restored, all hampering restrictions imposed by the white man were to be removed, and the good old days were to be brought back. The effect upon the Indians was plainly evident. With solemn faces they listened, nodding now and then grave approval, and Cameron felt that the whole situation held possibilities of horror unspeakable in the revival of that ancient savage spirit which had been so very materially softened and tamed by years of kindly, patient and firm control on the part of those who represented among them British law and civilization. His original intention had been to stride in among these Indians, to put a stop to their savage nonsense and order them back to their reserves with never a thought of anything but obedience on their part. But as he glanced about upon the circle of faces he hesitated. This was no petty outbreak of ill temper on the part of a number of Indians dissatisfied with their rations or chafing under some new Police regulation. As his eye traveled round the circle he noted that for the most part they were young men. A few of the councilors of the various tribes represented were present. Many of them he knew, but many others he could not distinguish in the dim light of the fire.

“Who are those Indians, Jerry?” he asked.

And as Jerry ran over the names he began to realize how widely representative of the various tribes in the western country the gathering was. Practically every reserve in the West was represented: Bloods, Piegans and Blackfeet from the foothill country, Plain Crees and Wood Crees from the North. Even a few of the Stonies, who were supposed to have done with all pagan rites and to have become largely civilized, were present. Nor were these rank and file men only. They were the picked braves of the tribes, and with them a large number of the younger chiefs.

At length the half-breed Cree finished his tale, and in a few brief fierce sentences he called the Indians of the West to join their half-breed and Indian brothers of the North in one great effort to regain their lost rights and to establish themselves for all time in independence and freedom.

Then followed grave discussion carried on with deliberation and courtesy by those sitting about the fire, and though gravity and courtesy marked every utterance there thrilled through every speech an ever deepening intensity of feeling. The fiery spirit of the red man, long subdued by those powers that represented the civilization of the white man, was burning fiercely within them. The insatiable lust for glory formerly won in war or in the chase, but now no longer possible to them, burned in their hearts like a consuming fire. The life of monotonous struggle for a mere existence to which they were condemned had from the first been intolerable to them. The prowess of their fathers, whether in the slaughter of foes or in the excitement of the chase, was the theme of song and story round every Indian camp-fire and at every sun dance. For the young braves, life, once vivid with color and thrilling with tingling emotions, had faded into the somber-hued monotony of a dull and spiritless existence, eked out by the charity of the race who had robbed them of their hunting-grounds and deprived them of their rights as free men. The lust for revenge, the fury of hate, the yearning for the return of the days of the red man's independence raged through their speeches like fire in an open forest; and, ever fanning yet ever controlling the flame, old Copperhead presided till the moment should be ripe for such action as he desired. Back and forward the question was deliberated. Should they there and then pledge themselves to their Northern brothers and commit themselves to this great approaching adventure?

Quietly and with an air of judicial deliberation the Sioux put the question to them. There was something to be lost and something to be gained. But the loss, how insignificant it seemed! And the gain, how immeasurable! And after all success was almost certain. What could prevent it? A few scattered settlers with no arms nor ammunition, with no means of communication, what could they effect? A Government nearly three thousand miles away, with the nearest base of military operations a thousand miles distant, what could they do? The only real difficulty was the North West Mounted Police. But even as the Sioux uttered the words a chill silence fell upon the excited throng. The North West Mounted Police, who for a dozen years had guarded them and cared for them and ruled them without favor and without fear! Five hundred red coats of the Great White Mother across the sea, men who had never been known to turn their backs upon a foe, who laughed at noisy threats and whose simple word their greatest chief was accustomed unhesitatingly to obey! Small wonder that the mere mention of the name of those gallant “Riders of the Plains” should fall like a chill upon their fevered imaginations. The Sioux was conscious of that chill and set himself to counteract it.