With the pangs of hunger gnawing at his stomach, and viewing, no doubt, with longing eyes the food around, he had yet, according to Indian etiquette, refrained from clamouring at once for food, but sat and smoked for a long time, without making the slightest allusion to his starving condition. When, in due course, his host offered him something to eat, he mentioned the wants of himself and family. The next day he left, carrying with him supplies for his squaw. He was exceedingly grateful for the assistance, and promised to return in a day with his wife, who should wash and mend all our clothes, as some acknowledgment of the kindness.
Cheadle, being now somewhat recovered from his late severe journey, strapped on his snow-shoes, and set out to seek Milton amongst the Indians at White Fish Lake. He suffered so severely from snow-shoe lameness, however, that he with difficulty accomplished the nine or ten miles’ journey by nightfall. Opening the door of the hut, he discovered the old squaw—frying-pan in hand—engaged in cooking the evening pemmican, and was warmly received by all, Milton being quite tired of living entirely amongst savage society, and the Indians always ready to welcome the white man hospitably. The Hunter and Misquapamayoo were absent, having gone to bring in the meat of a moose, which the former had killed. We returned home on the following day, leaving word for the two Indians to join us as soon as possible.
CHAPTER IX.
Our New Acquaintances—Taking it Quietly—Mahaygun Fraternises with Keenamontiayoo—The Carouse—Importunities for Rum—The Hunter asks for more—A Tiresome Evening—Keenamontiayoo Renounces us—His Night Adventure—Misquapamayoo’s Devotion—The Hunter returns Penitent—The Plains again—The Wolverine on our Track—The Last Band of Buffalo—Gaytchi Mohkamarn, “The Big Knife”—The Cache Intact—Starving Indians—Story of Keenamontiayoo—Indian Gambling—The Hideous Philosopher—Dog Driving—Shushu’s Wonderful Sagacity—A Long March—Return to La Belle Prairie—Household Cares—Our Untidy Dwelling—Our Spring Cleaning—The Great Plum Pudding—Unprofitable Visitors—Rover’s Accomplishments Astonish the Indians—Famine Everywhere.
When we reached the hut, we found “The Wolf” and his wife already established there. The latter was a pleasant, clean-looking woman, and she set to work diligently to wash and mend our clothes, while we lords of the creation, including her husband, looked on, smoking and discussing the news brought from the Fort, speculating on the cause of our not receiving letters, and fixing our plans for the future. The luxury of a day’s complete idleness after severe exertion is immense, and we now fully appreciated it. In the course of two days, Keenamontiayoo and Misquapamayoo made their appearance with a sleigh-load of moose meat, which we found very delicious, especially after being so long restricted to pemmican, and having no flour, and, greatest hardship of all, a very small allowance of tea.
The Hunter and “The Wolf” recognised each other as old friends who had not met for many years, and they immediately fraternised tremendously. The former at once put in a claim for half a pint of rum which Cheadle had promised him as a reward if he made the rapid journey when carrying back the provisions for Milton at the time of emergency. This was duly allowed, and the two friends proceeded to make very merry indeed, breaking forth into singing; and every now and then coming round to shake hands with us, and proclaim what first-rate “Okey Mows” we were. Keenamontiayoo shared his liquor fairly with his comrade, and when this was finished, Mahaygun got up and made a speech to us, setting forth, in the most flattering terms, the great obligations under which he felt towards us for the hospitable manner in which we had treated him, and stating that he really felt ashamed to ask any further favour. Still, on the other hand, here was his dear friend Keenamontiayoo—his bosom friend and sworn comrade—whom he had not met for so many years. He had with great generosity treated him to rum, and how could the kindness be properly acknowledged? There was but one way—by treating him to rum in return, and to do that he must beg some from us. He felt sure we should excuse him, and comply with his request, seeing there was no other solution to the difficulty in which he felt himself to be placed.
Feeling much pleased with the man for his wonderful honesty in not touching our provisions when he visited our hut during our absence, we consented to present him with the same quantity we had given to the Hunter, extracting a solemn promise from both that they would not ask us for more. And now the revelry waxed furious. They sang and talked, shook hands all round, and lauded us to the skies. And, when the pot was drained, they importuned us for more. We reminded them of the solemn promise they had given to rest content with what they had already received, and “The Wolf” acknowledged the justice of our remonstrances. Keenamontiayoo, however, was by this time beyond the reach of argument or reason. He did not seem to understand, indeed, that he had made any such engagement, and, tin cup in hand, went from one to the other, marking with his finger on the mug the quantity with which he would be content. We firmly refused to give a drop, and as he found we were obstinate, and perceived his chance of succeeding become less and less, his finger descended until at last he vowed that he would be satisfied with the veriest film of liquor which would cover the bottom of the cup. Hours passed by, and he still importuned us unwearyingly, and we as steadily denied him. Cheadle at last rather warmly upbraided him with his want of rectitude, when in a moment he drew his knife from his belt, and seizing Cheadle by the collar, pressed the point of the knife against his breast, exclaiming, “Ah! if I were an Indian of the Plains now, I should stab you to the heart if you dared to say no.” “Yes,” said Cheadle, quietly, and without moving, “that’s just the point of it; you are not a Plains Indian, and therefore won’t do anything of the kind. The Indians of the Woods know better.” This touched the right string, and he removed his hands immediately, saying, however, that he was so much disappointed with us, of whom he had previously formed so high an opinion, and so disgusted with our meanness, that he would have no more to do with us, and should return home forthwith. And accordingly, in spite of the urgent entreaties of Misquapamayoo, he staggered out of the hut, and commenced harnessing the dogs to the sleigh.
It was by this time about midnight, the snow was falling heavily, and the cold intensely bitter. Although the Hunter’s speech was tolerably articulate, he walked with difficulty, and it was only by the reluctant assistance of his son that he was able to get the sleigh ready. He then sullenly took his departure, accompanied by Misquapamayoo, who was in the greatest distress at his father’s misbehaviour. Their road lay across an arm of the lake, and ere long Keenamontiayoo, overcome by the liquor he had drunk, and benumbed by the intense cold, became incapable of walking, and crawled along on hands and knees. Before the lake was crossed he completely collapsed, lay down in the snow, and fell heavily asleep. Misquapamayoo, in utter terror and dismay, yet with unfailing readiness of resource, roused him violently, and half dragged, half led him into a clump of trees at the side of the lake. Here he immediately relapsed into a deep sleep, whilst his son quickly collected wood and made a fire. Then, wrapping his father in the blankets carried on the sleigh, he laid him alongside the fire, and with affectionate care sat out the wearisome hours of night, sedulously feeding the kindly flame, and though shivering and half frozen himself, disdaining to deprive his helpless parent of a blanket. Dutifully the boy watched whilst his father slept hour after hour, until the sun was high in the heavens, when the man at last awoke, sober and unharmed, and the homeward journey was renewed.
After the departure of the Hunter and his boy, we quietly retired to rest without further disturbance. In the morning we dispatched “The Wolf” to White Fish Lake, with a message for the erring Keenamontiayoo, urging him to return to his duty. The day passed without either of them making their appearance, and at night we held council together as to what course we should pursue if we were left entirely to our own resources. The man had carried back with him all the meat he had brought for us, and our stock of pemmican was getting low. On the following morning, however, we were much relieved by the arrival of the delinquent Hunter, accompanied by his son and “The Wolf,” and bringing a sleigh load of moose meat as before. It appeared that the two had not reached home until long after “The Wolfs” arrival at the hut the day before—until dark indeed—and were too exhausted to return at once. Keenamontiayoo was exceedingly penitent, shook hands with us fervently, exclaiming that he had been “namooya quiusk, namooya quiusk” (not straight, not straight); i.e., had not acted rightly, but assured us that it was the only time he had ever done so in all his life, and he would never do the like again. We readily made peace, and all was serene once more.
It was now the beginning of February, and we might look for the return of La Ronde and Bruneau in the course of another month. Our scanty stock of provisions, however, necessitated another excursion to the plains in search of buffalo, and we accordingly arranged to set out in a day’s time to fetch the meat we had been obliged to leave behind in cache. Cheadle positively refused to agree to Milton’s again facing the exposure and hardship which had so severely affected him before, and he was reluctantly persuaded to remain at home, or rather take up his quarters for the time with our Indian neighbours.