Chapter Fifteen.
We get up a Buffalo Hunt—We engage Stalker and Garoupe, two Half-caste Hunters—Pemmican—The Hunt—I get Floored by a huge Bison, but am carried to Camp in his Skin—Hostile Sioux, and a Brush with them—We cross the Assiniboine—La Prairie Portage.
Trevor and I now formed our first hunting expedition. Buffalo, or rather bison-hunting, had long been our day-dream, and had formed the chief subject of our conversation as we paddled along in our canoes, or when seated round our camp-fires at night, so now we determined to make a beginning. We engaged a couple of half-breeds as guides and hunters, one was of English, the other of French parentage. One was called John Stalker, the other Pierre Garoupe. They were both bold, active fellows, and each amusingly tenacious of the honour of the country from which his father came. There was no want of good horses in the settlement, courageous, hardy animals, trained to hunt the buffalo, and taught to stand still should their rider be thrown, or any accident happen to him. The carts of the country are built entirely of wood, without a nail, and consequently float across rivers, and if broken, are easily repaired. We bought four of these carts to carry our tent, provisions, ammunition, and clothing. A large body of half-breed hunters, with their wives and children, had gone on before, towards the south-west, where the buffalo were said to have appeared in great numbers, on their way to the northward, and we hoped, by pushing on, to overtake the band in time to see some of the sport.
John Stalker gave us much information about these hunting expeditions. Great regularity is observed. Each man has his own cart or carts and horses. The band is divided into companies, with a chief to each, and constables, and a leader over the whole, whose word is supreme both in camp and on the hunting field. We found ourselves in a new kind of scenery. Here, and there were separate woods, but our course chiefly lay over the open prairie, a boundless expanse of waving grass. The greatest risk in dry weather in such a country is from fire; should it once become ignited no human power can arrest its progress, and Heaven have mercy on the hapless hunter whom it overtakes. The fleetest steed will scarcely escape if flying before it. We found from the fresh tracks that we were near the hunters, and at length we came upon them encamped, the women making pemmican, and the men cleaning their arms, or doing nothing. Pemmican is the staple food of all the hunters and travellers throughout the country. In the Cree tongue Pemmi means meat, and Kon fat. The flesh of the buffalo is cut up in strips and hung on poles to dry. Then it is pounded between two stones till the fibres separate. About fifty pounds of this meat are put into a bag of buffalo skin with forty pounds of hot melted fat, thoroughly mixed with it. A nicer sort contains berries and sugar, and is highly prized. It keeps for years, subject to wet, cold, or damp. One pound is considered equal to three of ordinary meat.
Having introduced ourselves to the leader of the party, and invited him to come and sup with us, we encamped in a position he assigned to us, and made preparations for the next day’s hunt. By early dawn, Trevor and I, followed by Peter, were in the saddle—the latter from his childhood had been accustomed to horses, and was now perfectly at home on horseback. I spoke of the Crees. They inhabit the country to the south and east of Lake Winnipeg, and the half-breeds are chiefly related to them on the mothers’ side.
It was a fine sight to see the band of hunters marshalled in order, advance towards the spot where the buffaloes, as the bisons are here called, were said to be feeding. I could not help thinking, as I watched them, what splendid light cavalry they would make, for the defence of the country against their encroaching neighbours, or mounted police, or irregular cavalry for any purpose. Trevor, too, was much struck with the scene. “We try to civilise the Red-men,” he remarked; “very good, and I don’t see any impossibility; but I do see the bungling manner in which we set about it. We try to make men who have been all their lives on horseback, or, with rifle in hand, have hunted buffaloes, deer, or grizzlies, or been accustomed to the trapping of small game, sit quietly down as farmers, gardeners, or carpenters, and attend school and church, Sundays and week days, without any approach to amusement, or what is still more absurd, without finding them any market for the produce of their industry when they are industrious. Teach them Christianity, and civilise them by all means, but introduce canoe races, horse races, foot races, shooting matches, foot-ball, cricket, all sorts of games,—anything, in fact, suitable to their bodily and mental powers, and open up the country; send people to buy their produce, and employ them as postillions, mail carriers, ostlers, cattle drovers, ferrymen; and at the same time keep them as much as possible separate from white men, under good guidance and instruction, and I have some hope that they will not decrease in numbers, and that they will become civilised in reality as well as nominally.”
Trevor had got thus far when the advanced guard made a signal for silence to be kept. We each of us stood up in our stirrups, and looking out ahead caught sight of numberless dark objects covering the prairie, far as the eye could reach, from north to south.
The wind blew from them, so that we might hope to get near without being perceived. The hunters now examined their saddle-girths, loaded their guns, and looked to their primings or percussion caps, and filled their mouths with bullets that they might drop them into their guns, without wadding, while at full gallop. The elder we heard cautioning the less experienced, and with good reason, not to shoot each other—a contingency I thought very likely to occur. Cautiously at first we approached the herd, clutching our weapons and bending forward eagerly, ready to dash on at a moment’s notice. Before us was a very large herd of buffaloes. On we went still unperceived—even the sagacious horses seemed to tread cautiously. At length some of the nearest animals lifted up their shaggy bearded heads. Our leader gave the signal—we were discovered. No further need now for silence. Our steeds sprang forward—off we dashed, and, scampering along at full speed, were soon in the midst of the more tardy-moving animals, each hunter firing right and left into the animal nearest him on either hand. It was like a naval engagement in days of yore, when a British fleet got among the enemy. In this instance, each hunter was widely separated from his companions, and only now and then the unfortunate chase turned to show fight. Even that was hopeless, for the well-trained horse, wheeling or leaping aside, knew as well as his rider how to avoid the charge of the furious buffalo, which was certain in the course of a few seconds to be brought low.