But fat or lean, the grizzly bear is a formidable antagonist. Few Indians will follow him alone to his lair; his strength is enormous, he can kill and carry a buffalo-bull; were he as active as he is strong it is probable that he would stand as the most dangerous animal on the earth. But his movements are comparatively slow, and his huge form is upraised upon its hind legs before he grapples his adversary. Woe to that adversary should those great fore-paws ever encircle him. Once only have I known a man live to tell the tale of that embrace: his story was a queer one. He had been attacked from behind, he had only time to fire his gun into the bear’s chest when the monster grasped him. The Indian never lost his power of thought; he plunged his left arm into the brute’s throat, and caught firm hold of the tongue; with his right hand he drove his hunting-knife into ribs and side; his arm and hand were mangled, his sides were gashed and torn, but the grizzly lay dead before him.
The fort of St. John, on the Upper Peace River, is a very tumble-down old place; it stands on the south shore of the river, some thirty feet above high-water level; close behind its ruined buildings the ridges rise 1000 feet, steep and pine-clad; on the opposite shore bare grassy hills lift their thicket-fringed faces nearly to the same elevation; the river, in fact, runs at the bottom of a very large V-shaped trough 900 feet below the prairie-plateau. Between the base of the hill and the bank of the river lies a tract of wooded and sheltered land, from whose groves of birch, poplar, and pines the loud “drumming” of innumerable partridges now gave token of the coming spring. Yes, we had travelled into the spring—our steps and these never-tiring dogs had carried us farther and quicker than time. It was only the second week in April, and already the earth began to soften; the forest smelt of last year’s leaves and of this year’s buds; the rills spoke, and the wild duck winged along the river channels. During the whole of the second week of April the days were soft and warm; rain fell in occasional showers; at daybreak my thermometer showed only 3° or 4° of frost, and in the afternoon stood at 50° to 60° in the shade. From the 15th to the 20th the river, which had hitherto held aloof from all advances of the spring, began to show many symptoms of yielding to her soft entreaties. Big tears rose at times upon his iron face and flowed down his frosted cheeks; his great heart seemed to swell within him, and ominous groans broke from his long-silent bosom. At night he recovered himself a little, and looked grim and rigid in the early morning; but, at last, spring, and shower, and sun, and stream were too much for him—all his children were already awake, and prattling, and purling, and pulling at him, and shaking him to open his long-closed eyelids, to look once more at the blue and golden summer. It was the 20th of April. But the rose of spring had its thorn too (what rose has not?), and with bud, and sun, and shower came the first mosquito on this same 20th of April. He was a feeble insect, and hummed around in a mournful sort of manner, not at all in keeping with the glowing prospect before him. He had a whole long summer of stinging in prospective; “the winter of his discontent” was over, and yet there was nothing hilarious in his hum. I have made a slight error in repeating the old saying, that “no rose is without its thorn,” for there is just one—it is the primrose. But there were other thorns than mosquitoes in store for the denizens of this isolated spot, called St. John’s, in the wilderness.
On the north shore of the river, directly facing the tumble-down fort, a new log-house was in course of erection by the Hudson’s Bay Company. Work moves slowly in the North, and this log-house lay long unfinished. One fine day a canoe came floating down the lonely river; it held a solitary negro—pioneer, cook, trapper, vagrant, idler, or squatter, as chance suited him. This time the black paddler determined to squat by the half-finished log-house of the Company. Four years earlier he had dwelt for a season on this same spot. There were dark rumours afloat about him; he had killed his man it was averred; nay, he had repeated the pastime, and killed two men. He had robbed several mining shanties, and had to shift his residence more than once beyond the mountains on account of his mode of life. Altogether Nigger Dan, as he was called, bore an indifferent reputation among the solitary white man and his half-breed helpers at the post of St. John’s. By the Indians he was regarded as something between a beaver and an American bear, and, had his head been tradeable as a matter of fur, I believe they would have trapped him to a certainty. But despite the hostile feelings of the entire community, Nigger Dan held stout possession of his shanty, and claimed, in addition to his hut, all the land adjoining it, as well as the Hudson’s Bay Fort in course of erection. From his lair he issued manifestoes of a very violent nature. He planted stakes in the ground along the river-bank, upon which he painted in red ochre hieroglyphics of a menacing character. At night he could be heard across the silent river indulging in loud and uncalled-for curses, and at times he varied this employment by reciting portions of the Bible in a pitch of voice and accent peculiar to gentlemen of colour. On the 12th of April, four days after my arrival at St. John’s, my young host was the recipient of the following ultimatum. I copy it verbatim:—
April 12.
Kenedy I hear by
Worne you that Com and Gett your
persnol property if eny you
have Got of my prmeeis In 24 hours And then keep away
from me because I shal Not betrubbld Nor trod on
only by her most Noble
Majesty
Government
(Sgd) D. T. Williams.
On the back appeared,—
I have wated longe A-day for an ancer from that Notis you toer Down and now It is my turn to tore down —— ——
Although the spirit of loyalty which breathed through the latter portion of this document was most admirable, it is nevertheless matter for regret that Dan’s views of the subject of “persnol property” were not those of a law-abiding citizen; unfortunately for me, both the Hudson’s Bay claimant and the negro occupant appealed to me in support of their rival rights. What was to be done? It is true that by virtue of a commission conferred upon me some years earlier I had been elevated to the lofty title of justice of the peace for Rupert’s Land and the North-West Territories, my brother justices consisting, I believe, of two Hudson Bay officials and three half-breed buffalo runners, whose collective wisdom was deemed amply sufficient to dispense justice over something like two million square miles. Nevertheless, it occurred to me that this matter of disputed ownership was one outside even the wide limits of my jurisdiction. To admit such want of jurisdiction would never have answered. “Rupert’s Land and the North-West” carried with them a sense of vast indefinite power, that if it were once shaken by an admission of non-competency, two million square miles, containing a population of one twenty-fourth of a wild man to each square mile, might have instantly become a prey to chaotic crime. Feeling the inutility of my lofty office to deal with the matters in question, I decided upon adopting a middle course, one which I have every reason to believe upheld the full majesty of the law in the eyes of the eight representatives of the Canadian, African, and American races of man, now assembled around me. I therefore issued a document which ran thus:—
Judicial Memorandum.
Various circumstances having occurred in the neighbourhood of the Hudson’s Bay Fort, known as St. John’s, on the Peace River, of a nature to lead to the assumption that a breach of the peace is liable to arise out of the question of disputed ownership, in a plot of land on the north shore of the river, on which the Hudson’s Bay Company have erected buildings to serve as their future place of business, and on which it is asserted one Daniel Williams, a person of colour, formerly lived, this is to notify all persons concerned in this question, that no belief of ownership, no former or present possession, will be held in any way to excuse or palliate the slightest infringement of the law, or to sanction any act of violence being committed, or to occasion any threats being made use of by any of the said parties which might lead to a breach of the peace.
Executed by me, as Justice of the Peace for Rupert’s Land and the North-West, this 22nd day of April, 1873.