Fort of the Mountains, October 30th, 1845.
Monseigneur,—A band of about twenty Crees, encamped near the Fort, came to shake hands cordially with me on my arrival. The joy my presence seemed to occasion them, proved that I was not the first priest they had seen. Moreover, the greater number wore medals and crosses. They informed me that they too had been so fortunate as to have a Black-Gown, (Rev. Mr. Thibault,) who taught them to know and serve the Great Spirit—and baptized all their little children, with the exception of three, who were absent on the occasion. These children were brought to me—I administered baptism to them, and at the same time to one of my guides, a Koetenay. During their stay at the Fort, I gave them instructions every evening.
Two Crees, of the same band and family, father and son, had been killed in a quarrel two {169} years since. The presence of the offending party for the first time since the perpetration of the murder, rekindled in the others that spirit of rancor and revenge so natural to an Indian’s breast, and there was every reason to apprehend fatal consequences from the old feud.
With the approbation of Mr. Harriot, I assembled them all in the Fort; the governor himself had the kindness to be my interpreter. He made a long discourse on the obligation and necessity of their coming to a sincere reconciliation; the matter was discussed in form, each Indian giving his opinion in turn, with a good sense and moderation that surprised me. I had the pleasure and satisfaction of seeing the calumet passed around the assembly. This is the solemn pledge of peace—the token of Indian brotherhood—the most formal declaration of the entire forgetfulness and sincere pardon of an injury.
The Cree nation is considered very powerful, and numbers more than six hundred wigwams. This tribe is one of the most formidable enemies of the Black-Feet, and continually encroaches upon the territory of its adversaries. The preceding year they carried off more than six hundred horses. The actual limit of the country {170} they traverse extends from the bases of the Rocky Mountains, between the two forks of the Sascatshawin, some distance beyond the Red River. Their turbulent and warlike spirit, and rapacity for plunder, especially for horses, are among the great obstacles which retard the conversion of the larger portion of this tribe.
The example of their brethren, who listen with docility to the exhortations of their zealous and indefatigable missionary will, we trust, produce fruit in due time, and be imitated by the entire nation.
To give you an idea of their military discipline, and of the profound superstition in which these unfortunate people are still immersed, I will relate to you some of their proceedings.
The Crees were meditating a deadly stroke upon the Black-Feet, and for this purpose they collected all their ready forces, amounting to more than eight hundred warriors. Before setting out in quest of the enemy, every species of juggling and witchcraft imaginable was resorted to, in order to secure the success of the expedition. It was decided that a young girl, with a bandage over her eyes, should be placed at the head of the Indian army, and thus blindfold, serve as a guide to the combatants. In case {171} of success, the heroine was destined to become the bride of the most valiant. According to the Oracle, none but the great chief himself had the privilege of shoeing or unshoeing her.
This concluded, they began their march, intoxicated with confidence and presumption, following this extraordinary guide over the hills and valleys, ravines, marshes, and swamps. One day she would direct her steps towards the north, the next to the south or west—the point of the compass mattered naught—the Manitou of war was supposed to guide her, and day after day the infatuated Crees continued to follow the steps of the blindfolded Indian. They had already penetrated far into the plain, when they were discovered by a party of seven Black-feet. The latter might easily have escaped under favor of the night, but the Partisan, or Black-foot Chieftain, a man of undaunted courage, determined to oppose this formidable force. With the aid of their poniards they made themselves a hollow, in which they took shelter.
The following morning, at day-break, the eight hundred champions surrounded their feeble prey. The first who pressed forward to dislodge them were driven back several times, with the loss of seven men and fifteen wounded. The failure of {172} ammunition at length put the Black-feet at the mercy of the Crees, by whom they were cut into pieces. The first engagement threw the victorious party into consternation, for they too numbered seven killed and fifteen wounded. They removed the bandage from the young heroine’s eyes, and the Manitous whom they had thought so propitious, being now judged unfavorable to their warlike projects, the warriors hastily dispersed, taking the nearest road back to their respective homes.