"Here one of the bravest of our men was slain." ([Page 152.])
PATHFINDING ON PLAIN
AND PRAIRIE:
STIRRING SCENES OF LIFE IN THE
CANADIAN NORTH-WEST.
BY
JOHN McDOUGALL,
Author of "Forest, Lake and Prairie," "Saddle, Sled and
Snowshoe," etc.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. E. LAUGHLIN.
TORONTO:
WILLIAM BRIGGS,
WESLEY BUILDINGS.
MONTREAL: C. W. COATES. HALIFAX: S. F. HUESTIS.
1898.
Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight, by WILLIAM BRIGGS, at the Department of Agriculture.
CONTENTS.
"Thin leather homes"—Drudgery of the Indian women—Occupations of the men—Hunting parties and scalping forays—Triumphs of endurance
Camping in the snow—Our costume—Brilliant sunrise effects—Maple and her pups found at last—Striking example of "dog sense"—The Fort Garry packet
We visit Edmonton—Nature's grand cathedral—Adventure with a buffalo bull—A trip to Pigeon Lake—Racing with dog-teams—An infidel blacksmith—Old Joseph proves an unerring guide—Caching our provisions
Epidemic breaks out among the Indians—Snow-blindness—I take to me a wife—Our modest dowry—My father officiates as a Stationing Committee—Fearful mortality among the Indians—Our journey to Pigeon Lake—The epidemic attacks our camp—A rude hospital—An exciting buffalo hunt—Chased by a maddened bull—Narrow escape
Our caravan moves on—Difficulties of packing—Oliver's adventures with a buffalo—Novel method of "blazing" a path—Arrival at Pigeon Lake—House-building—Abundance of fish—Indians camp about the Mission—I form many enduring friendships—Indians taught fishing with nets
We are visited by a band of Crees—Our guests steal away with a bunch of horses—Stonies set out in hot pursuit—Little William's strategy—Horses recaptured—We begin farming operations—Arrival of Mr. Steinhauer—Home to Victoria again—A memorable Sabbath—My gun bursts—Narrow escape—My mother's cares and anxieties—Home-made furniture
I travel with Maskepetoon's camp—Effects of environment on the Indians—Nature's grandeur and beauty—Degradation through paganism—The noble Chief Maskepetoon—Indian councils—On the fringe of the buffalo herds—Indian boy lost—A false conjurer—The lad recovered
The "Thirst Dance"—"Tobacco messages"—The head conjurer—"Dancing lodges"—The rendezvous—The "idol tree"—Meeting of the head conjurer and the chief of the warriors—An anxious moment—Building the "temple"—Self-torture, dancing and sacrifices—The festival concluded—Romantic situation for our camp
Our great camp a study of native types—I attend a "wolf feast"—A disgusting orgie—Paul and I start for home—Our horses stampede—Difficult tracking—Enormous herd of buffalo—Home again and all well—Party of half-breeds from the Red River settlement visit our Mission—Father returns, bringing a brother and sister from Ontario
We return to Pigeon Lake—"Scarred Thigh" exchanged for "Blackfoot"—Planting Gospel seed—We organize a buffalo hunt—A moose chase—The buffalo as a "path-finder"—We encounter a hostile camp—All night on guard—My friend Mark's daring exploit—Wood Stonies visit the Mission—Gambling, polygamy and superstition among the Indians
We return to Victoria—War parties abroad—Father's influence over the Indians—We organize a big fresh meat hunt—David's first buffalo hunt—Mark's adventure with a war party—Surrounded by wolves—Incidents of our journey—Preparing for the winter
A visit to Whitefish Lake—A devoted Indian missionary—Mark and I go out after buffalo—Mark proves himself a brilliant hunter—Our camp visited by wolves—Muddy Bull's generosity—We reach home with full loads of meat
A run to Edmonton—Mr. Hardisty and other Hudson's Bay Company officers spend New Year's with us—Sports and amusements—Our party sets out for Mountain House—I experience a "scare"—Intense cold—A cunning dog—Mishaps to a cariole—In the foot-hills—My first view of the Rockies—Hearty reception at Mountain House—Back to Victoria
Home occupations—A course of lectures—Mark and Jimmie as raconteurs—Mark's success as a deer-killer—A buffalo chase on a dog-sled—Our first child is born—Chickens at eight shillings apiece!
David and I visit Lac la Biche—High-priced seed wheat—Our party sets out for Pigeon Lake—Old Joseph—Paul Chian—Samson—Our larder depleted—We organize a bunt—Precarious living—Old Paul proves himself a skilful guide—Samson tells of a tragic murder by Blackfeet—We move cautiously—Broiled owlets as a delicacy—I shoot an elk—Little Paul's flint-lock hangs fire—Samson's brilliant hunting feats—Feasting on antlers
Samson and I go on a moose hunt—Samson's clever tracking—He comes up with the moose and tries a shot—No bullet in the gun—Two dejected hunters return to the camp—We have better luck next time—Roses make a thorny path—We disturb a band of wolves—Samson stampedes them with his riding-whip—"Firing Stony" and I go hunting—I bring down a noble elk—Novel method of fishing
Our camp visited by a band of Mountain Stonies—My schooling in the university of frontier life—Back to our Mission again—Limited cuisine—Home-made agricultural implements—We visit Victoria—Off to Fort Carlton for Mission supplies—Inquisitive Chippewyans—My eldest sister married to Mr. Hardisty, of the Hudson's Bay Company—The honeymoon trip to Mountain House—Rival sportsmen—Charging a flock of wild geese at full gallop—Return to Pigeon Lake—Our work extending
Father visits our Mission—A dream that proved a portent—Drowning of Mr. Connor—"Straight fish" diet—We are visited by a war party of Crees—I am given a problem to solve—Francis and I set out to seek fresh provisions—Feasting on fat bear steaks—A lonely Christmas—Mr. Hardisty visits us—We in turn visit Mountain House—A hard winter in the Saskatchewan country—Rations on short allowance—A run to Victoria—David and I have a hard experience—Father and mother as "good Samaritans"
We start out to hunt for buffalo—Fish and frozen turnips—A depleted larder—David's bag of barley meal—At the point of starvation—We strike Maskepetoon's camp—An Indian burial—Old Joseph dying—We leave the camp—Generous hospitality—A fortunate meeting—Frostbites—A bitterly cold night—Unexpected visitors—Striking instance of devotion—I suffer from snowshoe cramp—Arrival at Victoria—Old Joseph's burial—Back to Pigeon Lake
My brother a "ready-made pioneer"—Hunting rabbits—Two roasted rabbits per man for supper—I find my friend, Firing Stony, in a flourishing condition—Poisoning wolves—A good morning's sport—I secure a wolf, two foxes and a mink—Firing Stony poisons his best dog—I enjoy a meal of bear's ribs—I meet with a severe accident—Samson treats me to a memorable feast
Alternate feasting and fasting—We start out on a buffalo hunt—Old Paul brings down a fine moose—Providential provision—Enoch Crawler kills another moose—Magnificent landscapes—Entering the great treeless plains—-Wonderful mirages—We come upon the tracks of buffalo—Our men shoot a huge grizzly—Charging a bunch of cows—A lively chase—Samson's plucky plunge over a bank after the buffalo—I chase and kill a fine cow—The camp busy killing and making provisions—Guarding against hostile Indians
A busy camp—Process of butchering and drying meat—How pemmican is made—Our camp in peril—Chasing a herd of buffalo up a steep bank—Mark scores a point on me—We encounter a war party of Blackfeet—A fortunate rain-storm—A mirage gives us a false alarm—Unwritten laws as to rights of hunters
Into the timber country again—Craving for vegetable food—Wild rhubarb a treat—I shoot a big beaver—My horse objects to carrying it—A race for the life of my child—Terrific fight between my dogs and a huge wolverine—Reach Pigeon Lake and find father there—Anxiety felt for our party—A meagre bill of fare—A visit to Victoria—I narrowly escape drowning—Father leaves for Ontario, taking with him my three sisters—Francis leaves us to return to Victoria—My varied offices among the Indians
Our first interment—Jacob's tragic death—Hostile Flatheads in quest of horses, scalps and glory—Stonies attacked by a party of Blackfeet—A hot fusilade—Mark's father is killed—Destitution prevalent—Hunting lynx—My dogs seized with distemper—All have to be shot—Another provision hunt organized—Among the buffalo—I narrowly escape being shot—Heterogeneous character of our camp—Mutual distrust and dislikes—United by fear of a common foe—The effects of Christianity
Through new country—"Greater Canada"—Antelopes—Startling effects of mirage—War parties keep us on the alert—Remarkable speed of a plain Cree—A curious superstition—A Cree's gruesome story—Returning with carts fully loaded—Followed by hostile Indians—I sight and chase a "sitting" bull—My shot wounds him—Paul's son thrown under the brute's feet—Firing Stony's clever shot to the rescue—We arrive at the Mission—Road-making
Another visit to Victoria—Fall in with a war party of Kootenays and Flatheads—Samson and I go moose-hunting—A Sabbath afternoon experience—A band of moose enjoy Sabbath immunity—I start out to meet father returning from the East—The glorious Saskatchewan Valley—Call at Fort Pitt—Equinoctial storms—Entertained by a French half-breed family—Meet Mr. Hardisty and one of my sisters—Camp-fire chat—Meeting with father—Rev. Peter Campbell and others with his party—Father relates his experience in the East—Rev. Geo. Young sent to Red River Settlement and Rev. E. R. Young to Norway House
Father pushes on for home in advance—Hard times for the "tenderfeet"—A plunge into icy water—My brother David gallops into camp—His high spirits prove infectious—Kindness of the Hudson's Bay Company—Oxen sent to help us in to Victoria—A mutinous camp-follower—My threat of a sound thrashing subdues the mutineer—Our long journey is ended—Adieu to my readers
ILLUSTRATIONS.
[ "Here one of the bravest of our men was slain"] ... Frontispiece
[ "The brilliant flashes of the aurora light" ]
[ "My cap ... falling right in the face of the bull, for the moment blinded him" ]
[ "I saw more buffalo than I had ever dreamed of before" ]
[ "I went at him with firebrands" ]
[ "Rising up I let drive at the larger of the two" ]
[ "Down we ran, and chased them across the full length of the bar" ]
[ "We carried the haycocks in between us on two poles" ]
[ "And now I ... tapped his nose for him so effectually that he was stunned" ]
[ "I succeeded in getting hold of the end of a tree" ]
[ "With unerring aim he shot the bull through the head" ]
[ "He was a funny-looking specimen as he picked himself up out of the icy stream" ]
PATHFINDING ON PLAIN AND PRAIRIE.
CHAPTER I.
"Thin leather homes"—Drudgery of the Indian women—Occupations of the men—Hunting parties and scalping forays—Triumphs of endurance.
It was during the last days of January, 1865, in the story of my experiences in our great Canadian West, that I parted company for a time with my readers in "SADDLE, SLED AND SNOWSHOE." We were domiciled for the night in Muddy Bull's lodge. The weather was intensely cold. I believe I am safe in saying that all through January the mercury never rose above 10° below zero, and that it ranged from this down to 50° below.
In our lodge, which was one of the best, with ordinary travelling costume on, a blanket or a robe over our shoulders, and a brisk fire in the centre of the tent, we were passably cosy; but even then we had to turn around every little while and "warm the other side." Great bright, brisk fires were kept up in those "thin leather homes" of our Indian people, entailing a vast amount of work upon the women and girls of the camps. Gradually, by example, perhaps, more than precept, we brought about a lessening of the labor of the women; but in the meantime, during the cold winter months, the furnishing of wood to keep those huge fires going gave them constant employment. It must be said, however, they accepted the labor and drudgery with cheerful alacrity, and could be seen at all hours of the day stringing over the hills and across the plains with dogs and horses and travois, their own backs loaded to the utmost carrying capacity with wood.
The life of an Indian woman in those early days was, indeed, an extremely busy one. Packing and unpacking dogs and horses, making camps, providing wood, making and mending moccasins and wearing apparel, cooking, cutting up, drying and pounding meat, rendering grease, chopping bones to get out the marrow fat, making pemmican, stretching, scraping and dressing buffalo hides to make robes or leather—a long, tedious process, in which not only the brains of the worker were needed in order to excel, but also those of the dead animals as well—kept her going early and late. Besides all this, the manufacturing of saddles, travois, tents and shagganappi also devolved upon the women; and yet, notwithstanding all this, they seemed, generally speaking, to be contented and happy, and with true feminine resource still found time to give to attire and adornment, and the practising of all those mysterious arts which have charmed and magnetized the other sex, doubtless through all the past of our race. No wonder these women and girls were at a premium, and cost all the way from a blanket up to a band of stolen horses! The more of them a man had, then the greater man was he.
Nor was the life of the male Indian altogether that of a sinecure. Somehow or other the idea has gone abroad that these Indians led a very lazy life. But if the man who thought this had spent some time with either wood or plain Indians, and had accompanied them on their hunting and war expeditions, he would have materially changed his views.
To follow a wood hunter on foot from before daylight in the short days, through brush and copse and heavy timber, over big hills and across wide valleys, on and on for many miles, sometimes until noon or late in the afternoon before a "kill" is made; or, having started game, to run for miles at a terrific pace, hoping to head off the quarry and at last secure a shot; then, having killed, to butcher or secure from wolf, or coyote, or wolverine the desired meat and strike as straight as possible for the camp, sometimes many, many miles distant, with thick forest and dense darkness now intervening; or it may be to have all the labor and exhaustion of such a chase without the chance of a shot, reaching camp late at night wearied and disappointed. To continue this for days, sometimes feasting and again famishing—and all this not from choice but of necessity—could be counted no easy matter. It is not for fun, but life; health, income, influence, honor, respect, all these are dependent on your efforts.
It may be with the same wood hunter you start a prime buck moose or elk during those glorious days in the beginning of autumn, and he bounds away in his strength and swiftness. Your Indian says, "We must run him down," and leads off in long, regular strides, and for a time you feel as if your lungs were in your throat and your heart is beating a double tattoo. Over and under fallen timber, down precipitous banks, up steep hills, and it takes some time for you to "catch your second wind," and to brace up your will and say to yourself, "I am also a man," and then settle down like your Indian to steady work.
He, however, is doing more than you, who are but following him. He is noting lay of land and direction of wind, calculating in order to cut across where your game may have gone around, watching the tracks, gauging the distance the buck is ahead of you, noting the settling of the earth at edge of pool or creek where the big fellow left his tracks as he ran. and you are encouraged and spurred on, or contrariwise, as the crafty hunter tells you in hushed tones what he knows.
Then, by and by, after an hour or two, or three, perhaps, of such work, you stand beside the fallen carcase and wipe your forehead and wish you had a dozen towels; but while your exultations and congratulations are hot within you, a word of caution comes from the Indian beside you: "The sun is low and the camp is far; let us hurry," and the work of butchering and skinning the meat goes on, till presently, with a load of meat on your back, you start for the distant camp. Suppose, as you tramped and climbed and panted, some one had said, "What a lazy life yours is," you would have shouted back, "No, sir; not in any sense is this a lazy life!"
Or it may be your hunter friend is in for a "fur hunt," and you start with him to make a line of dead-falls for marten, or to hang a hundred or so of snares for lynx. The snow is deep, and at every step several pounds of it fall in on your snowshoe; but from early morn until late in the evening you tramp and toil, chopping and stooping and grunting over snare and deadfall, and when night is on, having carried your provisions, blanket and kettle all day, besides the baits for dead-falls and snares for lynx traps, you dig away the deep snow, cut some wood and make a fire for the night. While the fire burns, you doze and chill, and pile on fuel and wait for morning, only to repeat yesterday's work, and so on, until, having made a big detour and hung your snares and carefully fixed your deadfalls, you in three or four days reach home. Then in a short time you must visit all these, and in the intervening days make your forays for food. No one who has tried this manner of obtaining a living will pronounce it a lazy life.
But suppose you were with some plain or buffalo Indians, and, as was about the average condition in the winter time, the buffalo were from fifty to two hundred miles from your camp—the rigor of the winter and the condition of grass and wood forbidding the camp moving any nearer to them—the hunting parties had constantly to be organized and the meat and robes brought from long distances home. Under such circumstances the hunter not only had to undergo great hardships, but also to run very great risks. Storms on the bleak, treeless plains, with deep snow, and travel of necessity slow and difficult, were indeed as "the powers of the air" and darkness to encounter and overcome, and the really indolent man was not in it when such work was engaged in.
Then it was incumbent upon every able-bodied man, under the code of honor of the time, to make an annual or bi-annual or even more frequent foray for horses and scalps. These trips generally took place in the spring and fall. With the melting of snow and ice in spring, or the making of the same in autumn, parties large and small would be made up. Each with lariat and a few pairs of moccasins, and, if possessed of a gun, with as much ammunition as he could obtain, or armed with bow and quiver full of shod arrows, in the dead of night these men would start for the enemy's country, depending on sustaining life by the chase on their way. Journeying on, sometimes by day and sometimes by night, fording rapid streams and swimming wide rivers, what signified the breaking up of the season or the plunge into ice-cold water of river and swamp to them? These must be considered as trifles. By and by, when the enemy's presence is felt there will come the weary watching and waiting, amid cold and hunger, for cunning and strategy are now pitted the one against the other, and endurance and pluck must back these up or the trip will be a failure. One, two, three hundreds of miles of steady tramping, with your camp always facing in the direction of where your enemy is supposed to be. Every day or night the scouts, making thrice the distance covered by the party, keep up their constant effort to discover and forestall counter war-parties, or to find the enemy's camp; and when this is found sometimes to hang for days on its movements, and, following up, watch for a favorable spot and time either to make a charge or to steal in under cover of storm or darkness and drive off bands of horses. Then in either case to start for home, and push on regardless of weather so long as men and horses will hold out.
After a successful raid those long runs for home were great tests of horse-flesh and human endurance. With scalded legs, blistered feet and weary limbs, and with eyes heavy for want of sleep, these men, now exultant with victory, would vie with each other in the race for camp. A lazy man assuredly had no place in such trials of endurance and of hardship. Furthermore, upon the men and boys of the camp devolved the care of the horses. The herding and guarding of these gave many a weary tramp or ride, and many a night in cold and storm, without sleep or rest. And finally, the constant need of protecting their camps from the wily enemy was a source of permanent worry, and always rested as a heavy responsibility upon these men.
CHAPTER II.
Camping in the snow—Our costume—Brilliant sunrise effects—Maple and her pups found at last—Striking example of "dog sense"—The Fort Garry packet.
Just now we are surrounded by both wood and plain hunters. Maskepetoon in my time always had a following of both parties. The gambling and conjuring drums are beating in several lodges. In others, as in ours, the evening hymn is being sung and prayer offered, and presently we roll in our blankets and robes, and sleep, though it takes me some time to forget my lost train of Maple and her pups.
By 2 a.m. we are up boiling our kettle and snatching a bite of breakfast. Then by the clear moonlight we begin the loading of our sleds. This is tedious work, and had it not been for the innumerable host of dogs, our own to boot, we would have had this over and all ready last evening. Now in the keen cold of early morn even old Joseph has to move quickly to keep from freezing. To put from five to six hundred pounds of frozen meat on a narrow dog-sled, and as nearly as possible to maintain the equilibrium is no light task. But by four o'clock sleds are loaded and dogs harnessed, we bid Mr. and Mrs. Muddy Bull a hasty good-bye, and are off to make the sixty-mile drive home in the day if we can. And who doubts our doing it? Not ourselves, at any rate, for the road is fair, our dogs fresh and strong, and we, costumed as we are, must move or freeze.
Perhaps I am the best clad in the party, and my clothes altogether will not weigh much. A flannel shirt, moleskin pants, full length leggings with garters below the knees, duffil socks and neat moccasins, a Hudson's Bay capote, unlined and unpadded in any part, a light cap, and mittens which are most of the time tied on the load, while I wear a pair of thin unlined buckskin gloves. This is in a sense almost "laying aside every weight," but the race which was set before the ordinary dog-driver in the days I am writing of was generally sufficient to keep him warm.
In my own case, I did not for several years wear any underclothing, and though in the buffalo country, and a buffalo hunter, I never had room or transport for a buffalo coat until the Canadian Pacific Railroad reached Alberta, and the era of heavy clothing and ponderous boots came in, with ever and anon men frozen to death in them! Not so with us; we run and lift and pull and push, and are warm. Old Joseph has for a leader a big dog called "Blucher," and every little while there rings out in the crisp air the call "Buchen," for in Joseph's soft, euphonious tongue there is no use for "l" and "r."
Before daylight we have pulled up in the lee of a clump of poplars, and, kicking away the snow and gathering wood, have built a glorious fire. A hasty second breakfast, and again we are off, while the day-sky is still faint in the eastern horizon. And now the cold seems to double in rigor; old "Draffan's" breath solidifies ere it disappears into the infinity of frozen air on every hand. Even the smooth toboggan and the soft moccasin are not noiseless on the hard crisp snow of the road. It is cold, but the colder it becomes the harder we drive. "Marse, Buchen!" from old Joseph, "Yoh-ho! Put-eyo," from Susa.
The only dog inclined to sneak in my train is "Grog." I ring out his name so sharply as to make him think his last day has come, and he springs into his collar with such vim as to quicken the whole train into a faster step.
Now the morning is upon us, and presently the clear sunlight glorifies the waking world. Tiny shrub, willow bush, timber clump, valley and hill, with their millions of glittering ice crystals, are brilliantly illumined. The scene is dazzling and beautiful in the extreme. For miles on every hand as we run the shadows give way to the most brilliant light, and here and yonder the dark spots, denoting buffalo, singly or in groups, stand out with startling distinctness on the great white expanse.
Stopping for our mid-day meal, we jerk our dogs out of their collars to give them a chance to lick snow and gambol around and freshen themselves generally, while we hurriedly boil our kettle and get out our supply of dried meat. While doing this we also give our dogs about two ounces each of the dried meat, just to liven them up and give them an agreeable anticipation of their supper—the one square meal in twenty-four hours they will have at the end of the day's journey. As we gnaw at our dried meat, thankful that what teeth we have left are sound, we drink hot tea and discuss dogs, Indians, white men, and the broad questions of civilization and Christianity. Susa is thoroughly optimistic and joyously sanguine. Joseph is also as to Christianity, but civilization and men and dogs, "well, he kinder doubts"—at any rate he will wait and see. But we cannot wait long now, so we tie on our kettle and cups, catch our dogs, and start away, leaving our camp-fire to burn itself out. As the shades of night are commencing to fall we turn our loads on their sides, and thus run them down the steep long banks of the Saskatchewan, then righting them at its foot, dash across the big river, and with dogs pulling for all they are worth, and we pushing behind, we climb the other more moderate bank, and are at home once more.
There is general lamentation over the loss of Maple and her pups. The girls shed tears. Little George cannot understand how big brother John could lose a whole train of dogs and sled. Father had taken a great fancy to those pups ever since the Blackfoot trip, and he is sorry because of their loss. Never mind, we are at home, and we unharness and unload, pile away our meat and feed our dogs, visit with our friends, and long before daylight next morning are on the out-bound journey for more meat.
Reaching the Indian camp that evening, I was disappointed at there being no tidings of my lost train. But again we loaded, and started home in the night, and before daylight we came to the camp of a solitary hunter, John Whitford by name, where to my great delight we found the missing team. They had come to John's camp a few hours before us. John said that he heard a jingle of bells, and expected some travellers were either coming to or passing his camp. Then, hearing no further sounds, he went out to see what it was, when he found Maple alone in harness, but dragging the other four sets of harness behind her. Evidently the sled had caught in some bush and the young dogs had become impatient, and one by one wriggled out of their bonds. Then the wise old mother dog had gone back to the sled and bitten off the traces close up to it, thus freeing herself from the sleigh and saving the harness. She then started for home, and concluding to rest by the way at John's camp, we found her there with her pups.
One often hears about "horse sense," but here was a good large sample of dog sense. That this dog, with her own traces and those of four other dogs between her and the sleigh, should pass all these and go back to the sleigh to cut away and liberate herself, and thus save to us these harnesses, was amazing. I would have rejoiced over the dogs alone, but to receive these back with the harness was great good fortune. I hitched Maple and her pups beside my own train, and taking some meat from Joseph and Susa, lightened their loads and on we went at a much quicker step. On reaching home that evening I need not say there was general rejoicing over the recovery of our lost dogs.
As the buffalo moved so did also the Indian camps, and gradually our meat trails went westward for the month of February. This trip it was fresh meat, and the next it would be a mixed load of pounded and dried meat cakes and bladders of grease and tongues, and as the distance was never more than a big day's run, we would put on tremendous loads, so that gradually our storehouse was being filled up.
Through storm and cold, and sometimes very heavy roads, or no roads at all, Joseph, Susa and myself kept at the work of providing for our mission party. Those at home in the meantime were constantly busy holding meetings, doctoring the sick, taking out timber, whipsawing lumber, or hauling hay and wood. Indeed, there was no time to become lonely or to think of the onions and garlic of the former Egypt. Our party knew it was out in a larger wilderness, but, full of Christian resolution, each one felt as did Joshua and Caleb.
The event of the winter was the arrival of the February packet from Fort Garry. A few letters from Eastern friends it might bring, with two or three newspapers several months old; but this was the one connecting link, and the dwellers in the Hudson's Bay posts and at mission stations in the North-West, though far apart, felt a common interest in this packet, for it not only brought news from the far East, but also from one another. For days before its expected arrival at the post or mission the packet was the chief item of conversation. Many an eye was turned to the direction whence it should come. Many a person the last thing at night would stand out in the cold and listen for the sound of bells which might indicate the approach of the eagerly looked-for mail. And when at last it came, how many were disappointed. The one lone chance, and still no news where so much had been expected.
And for the swarthy-faced, wiry-built, hardy men who brought this packet, as you looked at them you could see fifty miles a day stamped on their every move; fifty miles and more through deep snow, blinding storms and piercing cold. Picked men these were, and they knew it, and held themselves accordingly, heroes for the time being at every post they touched. Nor did these faithful fellows tarry long at any one place. Arriving in the morning, they were away the same afternoon. Coming in late at night, off before daylight next morning. This was the manner of their faithful service to the great Company which somehow or other had the faculty of inspiring its employees with splendid loyalty to itself.
CHAPTER III.
We visit Edmonton—Nature's grand cathedral—Adventure with a buffalo bull—A trip to Pigeon Lake—Racing with dog-teams—An infidel blacksmith—Old Joseph proves an unerring guide—Caching our provisions.
About the last of February father determined to visit Edmonton, and mother also went for a change. Father took Joseph's dogs, and drove himself. Peter, with the team Susa had been using, drove the cariole in which mother rode. I had charge of the baggage and camp equipage, the provisions, and the wood-work of a plough which we were taking to the blacksmith's to have ironed. We kept the river all the way and made the hundred or more miles in less than two days. It has always seemed to me in travelling, up or down our ice-bound northern rivers, either by night or by day, that a solemn, reverential feeling well befitted the scene. The long gentle sweeps, and the succeeding abrupt turnings of the river's windings; the high and sometimes precipitous forest-covered banks, always like great curtains casting shade and gloom and sombre colors; the fitful gleaming of sun or moon, or the brilliant flashes of the aurora light; the howling-of the timber wolf or the barking of a family of coyotes, sending echoes to reverberate through the canyons formed by tributary streams—all these could not fail to impress the traveller. To me, thoughtless and light-hearted as I was in those early days, there always came a feeling as though I were in the aisles of a tremendous cathedral.
"The brilliant flashes of the aurora light."
The great temple was completed. The Master Architect was satisfied. The glorious creation calmly waited. By and by the thronging multitudes would enter. In the meantime in humble faith and trust we worshipped. From a little ledge of bank in the thickly clustering pines, while our camp-fire lit up the nook with ruddy glow of warm light, our evening song of praise made the steep banks and the tall woods ring with lofty cheer.
We spent the Sabbath at Edmonton, father attending to his duties as chaplain and our whole party enjoying for a day or two the sojourn in the depot fort or miniature metropolis of this great West; then back down the great river, reaching home early the afternoon of the second day, which enabled Joseph, Susa, and myself to make ready for an early start the next morning to the Indian camps.
During the first part of March we made several trips of various distances, and fairly rushed the provisions and meat into our storehouse at the Mission. On one occasion, on our outward journey, as we were dashing through some scrub timber, a small tree which had been bent almost to the ground by the weight of some horse-sleds passing in, and had its sharp end projecting into the narrow road, caught me on its point and tore me from the sled on which I was stretched. At first I feared my ribs were pierced, but on examination found only my coat and shirt torn and the skin but slightly abrased. Driving on, congratulating myself on my escape from what might have been serious injury, presently as my dogs swung round a point of bush what should I see but a great buffalo bull, standing with his nose right over the track. Already my dogs were beside him, and feeling that it was too late to attempt to stay our course, or to throw myself from the sled, I called to them to go on, which they did, jerking me along at a jump right under the monster's head. I can assure you, my reader, that for the moment my heart was in my mouth. But now as we were safe I stopped the dogs, and shouted to Susa, who was coming next, and in the meantime succeeded in driving the huge fellow away from our track.
When we reached home from that trip, while I was unloading my sled, I told Larsen, the carpenter, about the bull blocking the road, and he, noticing that my coat and shirt were torn, rushed off and told our party that John had been gored by a mad bull. Mother came rushing out to see what was wrong with her boy, and I had quite a time explaining about the tree and the bull. I note this incident in passing to show how stories are made up from imagination.
March of 1865 was a stormy month. The snow deepened, and many a hard piece of road we had to encounter. About the middle of the month we made another trip to Pigeon Lake. The readers of "SADDLE, SLED AND SNOWSHOE" will remember that Oliver and myself had visited the lake in December of 1864. Now our purpose was to take in some provisions, together with the plough, which was being ironed at Edmonton. As old Joseph knew the country well, we hoped to find a straighter road than the one we had taken before.
It was storming heavily, with the snow drifting in good style, as early one morning we took the river for the journey. Our party had heavy loads, and we were glad when Smith, who was with us in 1863 and 1864, and who had recently come home from Edmonton, drove up with a flashing train of dogs and a light load, and signified his intention of accompanying us as far as Edmonton. We thought he would take a generous share in making the road, but in this we were sorely disappointed, for Mr. Smith and his five dogs kept well back in the rear. All day long Susa and I in turn ran ahead on snowshoes. The storm seemed to increase in strength, but our hardy dogs trotted steadily on up the river, and we camped for the night above the Vermilion, which was the half-way post on the road to Edmonton. The stormy March wind howled around in fierce gusts, and the snow swirled in all directions, but in the comparative shelter of our pine camp we were happy. Starting before daylight, on we went, Susa and myself in turn ahead, and our friend Smith never once offering to take the lead. The snow was growing deeper and our progress slower, and it was with glad hearts that about noon we saw the sign of sleigh tracks crossing the river, and soon were climbing the bank above the mouth of the Sturgeon, some twenty-three miles from Edmonton. "Now we will have a track; now we will make better time," we said to each other, as we climbed the bank. Then unhitching our dogs, we turned them loose to rest, while we chopped wood and made a fire in preparation for our dinner.
After awhile Smith came up, and seeing the track ahead, had the impudence to drive his dogs past us and place his sled on the road ahead of ours, which action said louder than words, "Now, gentlemen, I will show you my heels from here to Edmonton." Susa and I looked at each other and winked, as much as to say, "Well, Mr. Smith, it is still twenty-three miles to the Fort, and perhaps we will be there as soon as you."
While we felt rather hard toward this man, who with his light load and fresh dogs had sneaked behind thus far, still this was our camp, and for the present he was our guest, so we treated him accordingly. However, when lunch was over and he had his last dog hitched, ours was also, and old Joseph stood with whip in hand, putting the last coal into his pipe, and pressing it down with his fingers. In so doing there was a spirit manifest in the action and attitude of the old stoic which seemed to say, "Well, young man, when you reach Edmonton, I expect to be there also."
When Smith said "Marse" John and Susa and Joseph said "Marse" likewise; and away we went, climbing the banks and on up the sloping valley of the Big Saskatchewan. It was a glorious day for the testing of muscle and wind and endurance on the part of men and dogs. The clouds hung low. The gusts came quick and strong. The track was fast drifting full, the footing was bad, the sleds pulled heavily. Even before we reached the summit of the long incline to the river, Smith's dogs began to show distress. Old Draffan was rubbing against his heels all the time with his traces loose, as much as to say to Smith and his dogs, "My three companions are more than able to keep up to you, though our load is much the heavier," and Susa and Joseph were right up. Presently Smith ran up to thrash his dogs, and I saw my chance; so did old Draffan, and with a quick "Chuh" my noble dogs sprang past, and once more we had the road, and on we went. Gradually widening the distance between us and Smith, I knew that both Susa and Joseph would also watch their opportunity to pass. At any rate with even one ahead our credit as a travelling party was safe. After two or three miles of steady run in the loose snow, I looked back, and was delighted to see that Susa and Joseph had passed Smith and were coming on splendidly; and now our quondam companion was far in the rear. I waited for my men, and when they came up we congratulated ourselves, while old Joseph made us laugh when he said, referring to Smith, "He likes being behind anyway; let him have what he likes so much." And on we went to the Fort, reaching there a long time before our friend did.
The same evening I met with what was to me a new experience. I had gone to the blacksmith's shop to see about the plough, and the blacksmith began to question me as to what we intended to do at Pigeon Lake. I told him that father hoped to establish a Mission there. "Oh," said he, "you want to delude some more people with your fanciful stories about God and heaven and hell."
"Why," said I, "do you not believe in God?"
"No, I do not," was the emphatic answer I received, and a strange feeling came over me. I was afraid of that man, and took the plough away as quickly as I could.
The wild storm, the lonely night, the savage beast, or even more savage man, how often I had come in contact with these, and all this had not worried me very much. But here was something new and awful to my young and unsophisticated mind. No God! I found it hard to shake off the thought suggested by that man's expression.
The next day, when we were away from the Fort on our journey, I told my companions. Susa's eyes fairly bulged with astonishment, and Joseph said, "He must be without any mind," and we dismissed the subject; but as my father thoroughly believed in God, and we were abroad to do his bidding along the line of that faith, we tied on our snowshoes and took the straight course for Pigeon Lake. Old Joseph now became guide. This was the scene of his young manhood. Here he had trapped beaver (ever and anon we crossed the creeks and saw the dams), here he had tracked and slain many a moose and elk. In this vicinity huge grizzlies had licked the dust at the crack of his old flintlock. Long years ago he had helped to make this small winding trail which he now hoped to pick up and to keep to the lake. Big fires and wonderful growth had changed the scene. More than twenty years had elapsed since this road was frequented, but with unerring memory and skill the old man picked up the road, and on we went slowly through the deep snow, across bits of prairie, and while all around looked the same, without a miss we would again enter the bush on the unused trail. It must have taken centuries to develop a brain capable of thus having photographed upon it the topography of a country.
Saturday night found us some seven or eight miles from the lake and in a dense forest, with the snow about three feet deep on the level. Here we camped for Sunday, and again I noticed Joseph's consistent Sabbatarianism, for except for supper he never ceased to chop and pack wood until midnight, and thus obviated our working any on the Sabbath. From early morn this Indian had been tramping down the deep snow ahead of our trains, and working his brain in order to pick up the old trail. He had lifted thousands of pounds of snow in the course of the long day's travel, and now he willingly and gladly works until midnight to provide wood for our camp, which, being an open one, consumes a very large quantity. And all because it is written, "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy." I do not know what my readers will think about this, but I do know what I thought at the time, and it was this: I would undergo hardship and danger with such a man beside me a great deal rather than live in the same house in comfort and plenty with the man who a few days since said to me, "I do not believe there is a God."
We spent the Sabbath quietly, and early Monday morning continued our way, reaching the site of the proposed Mission about noon. Here we found the cache Oliver and I had made, still secure, but surrounded with the tracks of a wolverine, who thus far had been baffled. Into this cache we put the balance of the provisions we had brought, and making it doubly secure, as we thought, placed the plough on top, and then retraced our steps back to the camp we had left in the morning. From this we reached Edmonton Tuesday night, and were home early Thursday afternoon.
CHAPTER IV.
Epidemic breaks out among the Indians—Snow-blindness—I take to me a wife—Our modest dowry—My father officiates as a Stationing Committee—Fearful mortality among the Indians—Our journey to Pigeon Lake—The epidemic attacks our camp—A rude hospital—An exciting buffalo hunt—Chased by a maddened bull—Narrow escape.
At Edmonton we heard an epidemic was raging among the southern Indians, and that many were dying. As to the nature of the disease or particulars concerning it we had no information. But even the rumor of its approach was startling, for in the absence of any Government or other quarantine regulations and with tribal war existing this disease would soon cover the whole country with its ravages. In the meantime, as the season was advancing, we redoubled our efforts to bring in supplies. To do this we had to travel largely at night, the March sun making it too warm for our dogs in the daytime. This night-work with the strong glare of the bright snow was exceedingly hard on the eyes. Many a poor fellow became snow-blind, and the pain of this was excruciating. Fortunately for myself, my eyes were never affected; but it made me feel miserable to witness so much suffering and be helpless to give relief.
The Indians as a preventive would blacken their faces with charcoal or damped powder, but as nearly all the natives had dark eyes, they were most susceptible to snow-blindness. My experience was that those with lighter colored eyes were generally free from this dreaded malady.
Old Joseph, Susa and myself made a number of quick trips to and from different camps during these March days and nights; and about the end of the month we gave this up for the season. Then it came to pass that I put into execution a project I had been contemplating for some time and that was to take unto me a wife. My bride to be was the daughter of the Rev. H. B. Steinhauer. I had met her in the autumn of 1862, when I accompanied father on his first visit to Whitefish Lake. Our acquaintance, which had grown into a courtship on my part, was now between two and three years old. Our parents willingly gave us their consent and blessing. Father and Peter accompanied us to Whitefish Lake, and father married us in the presence of my wife's parents and people. Our "honeymoon trip" was to drive from Whitefish Lake to Victoria with dog-train, when the season was breaking up, and in consequence the trip was a hard one. Then after a short sojourn at Victoria we set out for the purpose of establishing the new Mission at Pigeon Lake, father having signified his strong desire that such should be done, notwithstanding that the Board of Missions had not as yet either consented to or approved of such a course. But father was thoroughly impressed with the wisdom and necessity of such action, and finally told me I ought to go and begin work out there; and, said he, "You can live where any man can." Of course I was proud to have father think this of me. His knowledge of the work required, and his confidence in my ability to do this work, more than made up to me at the time for the fact that there was not a dollar of appropriation from the Missionary Society. But father gave us a pair of four-point Hudson's Bay blankets, two hundred ball and powder, and some net twine, together with his confidence and blessing; to which in all things mother said, "Amen."
In the meantime the epidemic we had heard rumors of came to us, and proved to be a dangerous combination of measles and scarlet fever. Among the Black feet and the southern tribes hundreds had died, and already the mortality was large among the northern Crees. From camp to camp the disease spread. As winter still lingered and the deep snow was again turning into water on the plains and in the woods, these lawless, roving people without quarantine protection, lacking the means of keeping dry or warm, and altogether destitute of medicine or medical help, became an easy prey to the epidemic.
Already many lodges of sick folk were camped close to the Mission, and others were coming in every day. Father and mother and Peter had their hands full in attending to the sick, ministering to the dying, and burying the dead. And as this was a white man's disease, there were plenty of the wilder Indians to magnify the wrongs these Indians were submitting to at the hands of the whites. Some of them were exceedingly impudent and ugly to deal with; indeed, if it were not for Maskepetoon and his own people, many a time our Mission party would have suffered. As it was life was constantly in danger. Men and women crazed and frenzied because of disease and death were beside us night and day. Nevertheless father said "Go," and we started from among such scenes on our journey to Pigeon Lake.
Father had loaned us two oxen and carts for the trip. I had some eight or ten ponies, about all I had to show for five years' work; but as I had been helpful to father in educating my brother and sister in Ontario, I was thankful I had come off as well as I did. A great part of the way was under water. The streams were full, but on we rode and rolled and rafted and forded.
Our party consisted of my wife and self, Oliver, a young Indian, Paul by name, and his wife. Our provisions were buffalo meat, fresh and dry and in pemmican. We had five bushels of potatoes with us, but these were saved for the purpose of starting the new Mission. I purposed having every Indian who might come to me begin a garden, and these potatoes were for seed, and should not be eaten. Paul and I supplemented our larders by hunting. Ducks and geese, chickens and rabbits saved the dried provisions and proved very good fare.
We scouted carefully across and past those paths and roads converging from the plains and south country to Fort Edmonton. Not until we had made sure, so far as we could, that the enemy was not just then in the vicinity, did we venture our party across these highways of the lawless tribes. Then passing Edmonton we struck out south-westward, into a country wherein as yet no carts or waggons had ever rolled; and now it kept Paul and myself busy hunting and clearing the way, while Oliver and the women brought up the carts and loose horses. Our progress was slow and tedious, but we were working for the future as well as the present.
When up here in the winter I concluded that we could on the first trip with carts take them to within some twenty-five miles of the lake to which we were going. Working along as best we could, Saturday night found us at this limit, and as we were very tired, and the weather was fine, we merely covered our carts, made an open fire in front, and thus prepared to spend the Sabbath in rest and quiet.
Because of the dense forest and brush we had come through, and also as we were some thirty miles from Edmonton, we felt comparatively safe from any war parties of plain Indians that might be roaming the country, as these men were more or less afraid of the woods. Sunday was a beautiful day, but towards evening there came a change, and during the night a furious snowstorm set in. Monday morning there was nearly a foot of snow, and the storm continued all day and on into Tuesday night. We kept as quiet as possible under our humble shelter without fire or any warm food until Wednesday morning, when the sun came out and the storm was over. Then to our dismay Mrs. McDougall and Paul's wife were taken with the measles, and sending Oliver to look after the stock, Paul and I sought the highest ground in the vicinity, cleared away the snow, cut poles and put up our leather lodge.
This we floored thickly with brush. Then we laid a brush causeway from our carts to the lodge, and moved our sick folk into the tent. In the meantime I had put some dried meat and pounded barley into a kettle to boil over the fire, and as the only medicine we had was cayenne pepper, I put some of this into the soup, and this was all we had for our sick ones. Just then Oliver came in, having found the stock, but was complaining of a sore back and headache. I gave him a cup of my hot soup to drink, and as he sat beside the fire warming his wet feet and limbs and drinking the soup, I saw he was covered with the measles. So I quietly told him to change his clothes and go into the tent. Thus in our small party of five three were down with the epidemic which was now universal in the North-West.
For the next five or six days Paul and I had our hands full to attend to the sick night and day, to keep up the supply of firewood (for the nights were cold and we consumed a great amount) and to look after the stock.
Our patients in the one-roomed buffalo-skin-walled hospital were very sick, and as we had no medicine to speak of, and nothing in the way of dainties to tempt their appetite, often caused us extreme anxiety. Hard grease pemmican, dried meat, or pounded meat and grease are all right when one is strong and well, but it was more than we could do to cook or fix these up for sick folk. When we could Paul and I took it in turn to seek for ducks and chickens to make broth with, but there were very few of these to be found near to us, and it was not until the fever abated that, by leaving wood and water ready and making our patients as comfortable as possible, we went farther afield for game, and were successful in finding ducks and geese and the eggs of wild-fowl as our reward.
It was on one of these hunts, and while our sick people were steadily convalescing, that we came upon the fresh tracks of a buffalo bull. As we thought he might provide good meat we determined to follow him up. I think we had kept his track steadily for three hours, when all of a sudden my sleigh dogs, whom I had left as I thought secure at camp, came up to us on the jump, and now took the lead on the track, and very soon were at the bull, as we knew from their furious barking. We rode as fast as we could in the soft ground and through the dense bush, and presently galloped out on an old beaver-meadow. Sure enough the dogs had the bull at bay, and the old fellow as soon as we came in sight charged straight at us. As there was an opening into another part of the meadow I thought he was making for that, so sat my horse, gun in hand, ready to shoot him as he passed. But this was not in the bull's programme. He was in for a fight, and putting down his head came right at me. My horse knew what that meant, for he already had been gored by a mad bull, and the little fellow did not wait for a second dose, but bounded on as fast as he could. My gun was a single-barrelled, muzzle-loading shot-gun, and though I had a ball in, I did not care to risk my one shot under such circumstances. In fact I very soon had all I could do to sit on my horse, keep my gun, and save my head from being broken; for in a few bounds we were across the meadow and into the woods, where, the ground being soft, my horse was hard pressed by the big fellow, who was crashing along at his heels. Fortunately "Scarred Thigh," as the Indians called him, was no ordinary cayuse, but strong and quite speedy. Yet owing to soft ground and brush the bull seemed to be gaining on us at several times. Paul afterwards told me he was so close to me as to raise my pony's tail with his horn, but could not come nearer to his much desired victims.
I knew that my horse could not, sinking as he was at every jump into the soft ground, keep this gait up much longer, and because of the trees and brush I had no chance to shoot back at the bull. I was momentarily expecting to feel him hoisting us, when I spied a thick cluster of big poplars just ahead. Now, I thought, if we can dodge behind these we may gain time on our enemy. So I urged on my noble beast, and as if to help us, just as I pulled him around the clump of poplars, a projecting limb knocked my cap off. This falling right in the face of the bull for the moment blinded him, and with an angry snort he went thundering past as I pulled behind the trees.
"My cap ... falling right in the face of the bull, for the moment blinded him."
"That was close," said Paul, who was following up as fast as his pony would bring him; "if he had been a bear he would have bitten your horse, but every time he put his head down to toss you, your horse left him that much." I jumped from my horse and patted his neck, rubbed his nose, and felt thankful for our escape. Then we tied our animals in the shelter of the large trees, and followed after the bull on foot, for in such ground and such timber we were much safer on foot than on horseback.
Already our dogs had again brought the bull to bay, as we could hear, and approaching with caution we soon saw him fighting desperately. Alert as we were he heard us coming and again charged, but we met him with two balls, and the old fellow staggered back to the middle of a swamp of ice and snow-water and fell dead.
"That fellow had a bad heart, or he would not have gone out into the middle of a pond of water to die," said Paul; and it was cold enough work skinning and butchering him, with the ice-water up to our knees. But those were the days when stockings and boots and rubbers were beyond our reach in more ways than one. However, the meat was good and a providential supply to us and our sick folk. Moreover, our dogs needed an extra feed, and they got it.
It was late in the day when two heavily laden horses and two tired men came in sight of camp, and it was as good medicine to Oliver, who saw us approaching and noted the fresh meat with a smile all over his gaunt and pale face, for the disease had wofully thinned the poor fellow. Only those who have been in such circumstances can truly appreciate the relief experienced by our sorely-tried party.
CHAPTER V.
Our caravan moves on—Difficulties of packing—Oliver's adventure with a buffalo—Novel method of "blazing" a path—Arrival at Pigeon Lake—House-building—Abundance of fish—Indians camp about the Mission—I form many enduring friendships—Indians taught fishing with nets.
Now that our people were convalescing we began to make ready for a fresh start, this time without carts. Everything had to be packed on the backs of our oxen and horses, entailing no small amount of work on the part of Paul and myself. As the ground was everywhere wet, I was afraid to run the risk of a relapse with any of our patients, and would not let them step off the brush flooring we had placed to keep them out of the water. The distance we had to travel to bring us to the lake was about twenty-five miles, and we purposed making it in two days. Our sick folk would find twelve miles far enough for one day, and our thin and weak horses would also find the distance sufficient.
Paul and I had two oxen and eight horses to saddle and pack with sick folk and tent and bedding and all our household stuff, and while we did not seem to be possessed of much of anything, yet it was quite a problem to arrange all on the backs of those ten animals. Sometimes while we were fastening the one pack on, three or four of our horses would lie down with their loads, and in thus getting down and up disorganize the whole work.
We put our wives on the strongest and quietest horses, and placed Oliver on a quiet but very hungry Blackfoot cayuse, giving him our guns to carry in addition to his own. Thus we set out along the almost obliterated bridle-path which I had gone over but once and that in the winter time when the snow was deep, and which neither Paul nor Oliver had as yet seen. My memory was sorely taxed to make out the trail where there was open country to pass through. In single file and with slow and solemn steps our sick people rode their steeds, while our horses labored under the burdens of their weak packs. Paul and I were kept busy arranging these packs, for as our saddles were crude and our binding material rawhide, this would stretch, and the saddles or packs become loose, so that we were kept rushing from one to the other of our transports. This made progress so slow that it did seem as if even the twelve miles we hoped to cover would prove too much for the long spring day. But notwithstanding all the worrying and the work we had some fun as well. During the afternoon, while we were behind the rest fixing up a pack on one of the horses, I heard Oliver in a greatly excited voice shouting, "John! John! Hurry—come quick!" I sprang away to the front, and found that our train was crossing a small bit of prairie, and from one end of it, and coming out of the woods, there was a buffalo bull charging right straight for Oliver.
My dogs were worrying the big fellow, but it was Oliver who demanded my attention. He had our three guns on the saddle before him, but seemingly never thinking of them, he kept shouting to me to "shoot the bull." In his excitement he had let go his bridle, and this had fallen on the ground, while his hungry horse was intent on cropping grass and would not budge from the spot. In vain Oliver kicked and shouted; what cared that Blackfoot pony for the charge of a buffalo? He was accustomed to this, and moreover was hungry, and here was grass, and so far as he was concerned all else might "go to grass." Not so philosophic, however, was his rider. He was all excitement. With a big muffler wrapped around his face, a blanket around his body and legs, and our three guns in his arms, he kept shouting vehemently for "John." As I ran, not even the possibility of the bull hurting some of us could keep me from laughing.
Oliver dared not jump from his horse into the water that surrounded us, for I had threatened him all manner of punishment if he got wet and ran the risk of a relapse, and he was in mortal fear of the huge bull that was now coming quite close to him. But as I ran up, and before I could reach for my gun from Oliver, the brute took away in another direction, thus happily relieving the situation. He evidently was, as Paul put it, "a good-hearted fellow," and as we had all we could very well manage, we did not fire any shots after him. But this excitement and fun helped to break the monotony of our journey.
It was late when we reached a point that I thought would be half way to the lake, and we hurriedly cut brush for our patients to alight on, and unsaddled the oxen and horses. I had put the whole of our seed potatoes on my saddle horse, "Scarred Thigh," and he had behaved extremely well all the day, carrying his load without a jar or disarrangement, as if he instinctively knew we had enough trouble with the rest. But now he insisted on my taking the load from him before I should relieve the others. As soon as I went to a horse to unpack him the little fellow would step in between me and the other horse, and plainly say by his actions that his was the first claim, so all our party said, "Help him first, he deserves it." To unsaddle the ten animals and unpack seven of them, to cut lodge-poles and erect the lodge and floor it with brush, to chop firewood and cook supper kept Paul and I on the jump until late, but our patients though tired were gaining strength and appetite, and we were thankful.
The next day was a repetition of the one just described, only more so—water deeper, timber denser, and creeks multiplying. My wife and I each had an old-fashioned Hudson's Bay trunk. One was painted blue and the other red, and we packed these on the biggest of the oxen, firmly securing them by the handles before and behind, with collar straps and breeching of harness; and now as these boxes rubbed alternately on the trees on either side of the narrow path, one could track them by the paint, this side red and the other blue, which often was a source of wonder to travellers who came later along this path.
When we came nearer the lake we were glad to find that the land around the lake, being higher than that over which we had come, was comparatively dry, and that spring was further advanced than anywhere else along our route. Thankful for this, we put up our skin lodge near the place where we proposed to build our house.
We were not the first in the same line on this spot. Nearly twenty years before Benjamin Sinclair, a native lay agent, under the direction of the Rev. R. Rundle, began a Mission, but the coming into the vicinity of a party of Blackfeet, and their killing of some of the people, had created a stampede from here to Lac la Biche, some two hundred miles north-east, and this place was abandoned.
The little clearing had well-nigh grown up again, and with the exception of the lake in front we were surrounded with dense forests. The surrounding country was altogether more like my native land than any other spot I had seen in the North-West. The lake was approximately some five by eighteen miles in size, and full of fish—too full of the whitefish for these to be of good quality. But just now we could not test them, as the ice was in such condition that it was not safe to attempt to set a net under it. There was nothing to do but to wait until it melted before attempting any fishing.
Our first work was to put up a house. Humble though it might be, we hoped to make it better than the "smoking skin lodge." As we had most of the logs on the ground, we were not long in raising the shanty. It was another thing, however, to whip-saw the lumber for flooring, etc. The building of the chimney, too, was altogether a new experience to me; and when I had built this to the proper height, I was terribly disgusted to have it smoke worse than the lodge did. But I soon saw my mistake, and pulling the greater portion down began anew on a different plan, which proved a great success.
One morning bright and early Providence sent us a deer. Paul took his gun and went towards the lake to get, as I thought, a shot at some ducks. But it was a deer he had seen, and soon he had it secured, for which we were very thankful, as our stock of fresh meat was now low. But what is the meat of a small deer to the eating capacity of five healthy people—especially those of our party who were now fairly over the epidemic? When you are on the one diet, and that wild meat, the consumption thereof is rather startling. In the meantime the ice melted, and we made a raft, set a net and caught some poor whitefish. We caught plenty of pike and suckers, too, and to ourselves and dogs these were a wholesome change.
The first Indians to come to us were some pagans, having with them two genuine old conjurers, whose drums and rattles and medicine songs were thum-thumming and yah-yahing almost all the time they stayed with us. As some of the older members of this camp, and nearly all the younger ones, came to our services, which we held every evening and three times on Sunday, these "high priests of this old faith" renewed their efforts, if one might judge by the noise they made; but do what they would they could not keep their young people from our meetings. After a time a larger camp came to us, nearly all of whom were Mountain Stonies and mostly Christian or semi-Christian in adherence, and our gatherings became very much more interesting. But as all of these people had the measles or were convalescing from the epidemic, and had lost many friends because of the fearful mortality which this caused, we were hard worked in attending to the sick and in comforting the bereaved. As to the former, Providence smiled upon us, and all of our patients, young and old, recovered, which helped us in our first acquaintance and gave us the beginning of an influence which grew with the years.
Here I first met many who became my warm friends and bosom companions around many a camp-fire and on many a hunting field, when danger and darkness and hunger and storm alternated with peace and sunlight and plenty and calm. Here was great big Adam, who from being a first-class Pharisee, with demeanor a voicing of "Lord, I thank Thee," etc., became, through the instrumentality of a hymn I taught him to sing, humbled and penitent, and sought forgiveness and light. He found it; and oh, how changed he became! And there was his son Jacob, one of the grandest men I have known, for whom both nature and grace had done great things. When I first saw him he was recovering from the prevailing scourge. A noble fellow he was in form and feature. He had a big record as a moose-hunter, and was famed as a long distance runner. As he spoke both Stony and Cree fluently, I very soon saw he was a man to be cultivated and made useful for God and country.
Then there was "Little Beaver," a Southern Mountain Stony, who very soon let me know that while he was glad to see me, he could never make up his mind to live down here in the woods and lowlands, but was always sighing for the mountains and foot-hills of his own section of the country, and who by his descriptions made me wish to start west with him and view for myself the land he loved. Another genuine character was "Has-no-hole-in-his-ear," an old man with a large family of boys who became my allies and faithful friends. The father was an ardent Christian in his way, and thoroughly loyal to the new Mission and the young missionary.
Later there came in a camp of Crees, amongst whom was Samson, then in his prime as a hunter, and who afterwards became the successor of Maskepetoon as chief of the wood Crees. Samson and I soon found that we were congenial spirits, and our warm friendship continues to this day. There was also Paul Chian, a French mixed blood, who had grown up amongst the Indians, and was one of them in everything but appearance. He had been a noted gambler and warrior, and the blood of men was on his hands; but he had found that the blood of Christ is efficacious to the cleansing from sin, and he became a splendid character, a solid man, a class leader and a local preacher, always in his place, and a "genuine stand-by." And there were many good women in these camps who became our staunch friends, and in whose lodges we received true hospitality and many real evidences of a solid appreciation of our work and message.
These various people came and went at short intervals. I suppose during our stay at Pigeon Lake for about two months that spring of 1865 no camp of Indians remained longer than two weeks at a time. Until I provided them with nets they had none. Indeed, some of the plain and wood Indians did not know how to set a net, much less how to make or mend one. To provide twine and teach them to make nets was an undertaking that took time to accomplish. Then to live in one place very long was a hardship in itself to these nomads of wood and plain, while to live on fish alone would be foolish to them so long as buffalo were on the plains or moose and elk in the woods. No matter as to time in the obtaining of these animals. The days and months might come and go—these men did not value time; that appreciation is an evolution belonging to a permanent or settled life.
CHAPTER VI.
We are visited by a band of Crees—Our guests steal away with a bunch of horses—Stonies set out in hot pursuit—Little William's strategy—Horses recaptured—We begin farming operations—Arrival of Mr. Steinhauer—Home to Victoria again—A memorable Sabbath—My gun bursts—Narrow escape—My mother's cares and anxieties—Home-made furniture.
While we were building our house, and during the stay of the Stonies with us, a small war party of Crees came to our little settlement on their way (so they said) to the Blackfoot country. As they knew me they came to our lodge, and all went well the first day and night; but during the second night they stole out of our lodge, took a bunch of the Stonies' horses and put for home. Awakened by their retreating footsteps, I roused Paul and we struck a light and found our guests were gone, Then we ran down to the path leading eastward, and lighting some matches found the tracks of the horses. Immediately we aroused
CHAPTER VII.
I travel with Maskepetoon's camp—Effects of environment on the Indians—Nature's grandeur and beauty—Degradation through paganism—The noble Chief Maskepetoon—Indian councils—On the fringe of the buffalo herds—Indian boy lost—A false conjurer—The lad recovered.
Maskepetoon's camp had now been gone about two weeks, and my instructions were to accompany this camp for part of the summer in its movements, and to do what I could towards the Christianizing of the people. Accordingly, taking Paul with me, and leaving our wives and Oliver with mother, we started for the big camp. We took two oxen and carts and several horses, as father had made arrangements with Muddy Bull to make dried provisions for home use. Our course was down the valley of the Vermilion, and then out through the hilly country that runs by Birch Lake to Battle River.
We killed several moulting geese as we travelled, and enjoyed them as food. On our fourth day out we came up to the camp, and turning the oxen and carts over to Muddy Bull, we domiciled ourselves in his lodge, and at once became part of this moving town. My work was all around me. Here was paganism intensely conservative, the outcome of many centuries of tradition. And here were its high priests, and the novitiate following which thronged after them, seeming to me as "the blind leading the blinder," if this were possible; the whole causing a devolution which was lowering the range of thought and life and ideal, and all the while producing a profundity of ignorance as to things moral and spiritual which in turn, as a logical sequence, affected the physical and material life of this people.
Doubtless environment has a great deal to do with the formation of character and being, but in the environment of these men, outside of buffalo and tribal communism, I failed to find anything that might be thought degenerating in its tendencies. The great herds of buffalo as abused by man were hurtful to himself, and therefore in the fulness of time the Great Father, in the interests of His children, wiped them from the face of the earth. Tribal communism has always been hurtful to individuality, and without this no race of men can progress. But apart from these factors in the life of this people, the rest of their environment was, in my judgment, of the nature and kind to help them, and to give them large, broad and fine views of life and all things. Why, then, this degradation witnessed on every hand? This intense superstition and ignorance, to my mind, is all due to the faith and religion of this people. Their faith is a dead one; no wonder they are dead in trespasses and sins. We believe we are now coming to them with a living faith, but even then we require infinite patience. The change will come, no doubt, but when? O Lord, Thou alone knowest when.
To come back to environment. So far as nature's realm affected the sojourners in this part of the valley of the Saskatchewan, these should be among the best of men. Beauty and wealth and power and a mighty purpose are apparent on every hand. These hundreds of miles of territory, these millions of acres of rich grass and richer soil, these hundreds of days of glorious sunshine in every year, these countless millions of cubic feet of healthful atmosphere, surcharged with ozone so that one ever and anon feels like "taking the wings of the morning"—what a splendid heritage!
Look at this delightful spot where we are encamped for the day. It is now nearing the midsummer, and the hills and valleys are clothed in the richest verdure. Take note of these hills and valleys. Behold the shapeliness of yonder range of hills, and the sweep of this vale at your feet. See the exquisite carvings of this ascent, and the beautiful rounding of that summit. Drink in the wonderful symmetry displayed in planting those islands of timber. Behold as yon fleecy cloud comes between the sun and the scene of sylvan beauty, how the whole is hallowed and mellowed by the shading of light! Think of the corrosions of ice and the cleansings of flood necessary to create such a variety of hill and dale as this. Ponder over the ages of later development, and calculate the layers of vegetable matter needed to make this wealthy soil and produce this infinite variety of flora and herb and forest and grass. Now to my mind all this is exceedingly helpful, and every time I look upon such environment I am made a better and stronger man. Then why not all men be thus helped and made better? All?—there it is, our faiths are not alike. Even a wrong faith is mighty to the pulling down of "strongholds," and man under such influences descends.
But even here there are exceptions, and environment has its way in a measure. Amongst these men and women you will come across those who are big and broad and grand and noble. Blessed be the Lord for this! And one of these latter even now is calling to me and speaking in broken English, "John Mak-e-doo-gal-un, come here now," with big emphasis on the "now," and I readily recognize the voice and walk over to the lodge of the old Chief Maskepetoon.
"So you have come, John? I asked your father to let you come with my camp for a few weeks. There is plenty for you to do, my boy. But I called you just now, as my tent is empty, to tell you that I am sorry and ashamed that my son was with those young rascals who tried to steal horses from the Stonies at Pigeon Lake.
"I told him that under the circumstances I could not have done anything if he and his party had been killed: that he must remember that all men were now my friends, and especially all missionaries, and if I ever fought again it would be on the side of the missionary. That he should have gone from your lodge to steal the horses of your people made me much ashamed and sorry in my heart. I told your father about it, and he said the young men were foolish to act in that way towards you—that you were the Indians' friend; and I believe that, and I want you to work hard, and will pray the Great Spirit to help you to gain a power over young men."
I thanked the old Chief for his confidence, and told him I should always expect his advice and help in my work. Then I gave him my news, and he told me what the camp's movements were to be, and that there was to be an immense gathering of several camps for the holding of the annual festival and "Thirst Dance" of the pagan Indians. He also told me that the buffalo were coming northward and westward, and we should move slowly to give them a chance to come in; that the plain Crees who were coming up country to join us were behind the herd of buffalo; and further informed me that the peace was effectually broken on both sides, and we might expect more or less trouble all summer.
I sat and chatted with the Chief and had supper in his lodge, and then arranged for an evening service in the open camp. These services elicited much interest. Paul, who was a good singer and a fine young fellow, would take his stand by my side. Then as we sang the people gathered, and our service would begin. I would take advantage of our surroundings or the occurrences of the day in the selection of my subject, and then call upon our old Chief or some one of our native Christians to lead in prayer.
In the meantime warriors and hunters on horseback and on foot and curious women and children with "tattooed" and painted faces would come around and watch and listen, but with native courtesy keep silence and act orderly and seem interested.
Thus day after day we publicly proclaimed the Gospel and teaching of the Master according to our ability, for I was but a child in these things myself; and yet the Lord did not despise the day of small beginnings, but blessed us and our work. While during the week conjuring and gambling and heathenish riots went on in many portions of the camp, such was the respect in which Maskepetoon was held by all these people that they desisted from these things on the Sabbath. They even gave up hunting on that day because he wished it. Not that he thus commanded. Oh, no; he was too much of a real gentleman and too wise in his ideas of chieftainship to do this.
Slowly we moved out on the plains. Every day brought fresh scenes, and steadily I was becoming acquainted with these people. Maskepetoon always invited me to their councils, and seated beside him I listened to argument and oratory, and beheld genuine gesticulation, natural and true. Sometimes the Chief would ask me to tell about white men and how they conducted matters. I would respond with a short address on government and municipal organization, or at another time speak of civilization and some of its wonders, or give a talk on education, and Maskepetoon would say, "Listen to John. Although he is only a child in years he is a man in experience; he has seen far and wide, he has gone to school, he has listened for years to that wise man his father." Then at the closing up of these council gatherings Maskepetoon would give judgment on what had been said, either approving or condemning, and settle the matter in discussion in his own way, when the Council would break up for the time.
Day after day we moved slowly out on the plains, the prairie openings growing larger. All this time strict guard was kept, and the camp travelled, when the country would permit of it, in several parallel lines of march. At night scouts were sent out in every direction, and all of the horses either tethered or hobbled up close within the circle of tents.
On every hand were scenes which acted as stimulators in the exercise of care to most of the inhabitants of our moving village. Here had been a fight. Yonder some one would point out where many had been killed. "This is where the camp was when we brought in so many scalps and horses;" and as I listened to these people I could in a measure begin to realize how exceedingly romantic their lives had been, and how constantly the excitement of tribal war had followed them.
One evening we were startled by the wail of a mother. Her eight-year-old son was missing. The camp was searched and the boy not found. For two nights and a day we remained in the one place and made diligent search; but as we were now in the fringings of the large herds of buffalo, and the whole country was tracked up, it was impossible to find any trace of the lad.
One old conjurer drummed all night, and said that the boy was killed, locating the place of his death in a little valley near the line of our march the day the boy was missed. He was so particular in his description of the place and as to the manner in which the Blackfeet had waylaid the boy, that many thought the old conjurer was telling the truth, and quite a number went with the "Medicine Man" to the spot he had so vividly described. But while they found the spot just as he had indicated, there were no traces of the lost boy, nor yet any signs of the enemy. Needless to say, the party came back very much disgusted with their "false prophet."
Another "sight-seer" went into his mysterious lodge, and when he came out he said the boy was alive, that he had passed to the east of our course, and gone on until he was bewildered, and continuing his wanderings he was found by Indians from another camp which was now coming up country from the east to intercept us. This was more comforting, but who could vouch for its truth! Nevertheless this did prove true, for some three or four days later, after we had encamped for the day, some strangers were seen approaching, and when they were formally seated, and each had taken a few whiffs of the big pipe, one of them deigned to open his lips and tell us that a strange boy had been found and was now in their camp; that at first he was quite out of his head, but after a day or two came to himself, and told them where he came from, and the place to which our camp was heading, and thus they had intercepted us. These couriers also told us of several other camps which were coming up to join ours for the Thirst Dance Festival. The poor mother was overjoyed to hear of her boy's safety, and our whole camp rejoiced with her.
CHAPTER VIII.
The "Thirst Dance"—"Tobacco messages"—The head conjurer—"Dancing lodges"—The rendezvous—The "idol tree"—Meeting of the head conjurer and the chief of the warriors—An anxious moment—Building the "temple"—Self-torture, dancing and sacrifices—The festival concluded—Romantic situation for our camp.
We now were drawing close to the spot which had been indicated by the chief priest of the season as a desirable place for the annual religious festival. Couriers came and went from the several camps. The excitement intensified, and our camp was all astir in anticipation of meeting with the multitudes who, like us, were making for this common ground of appointment. I will here give my readers a brief description of this great festival, known as
THE THIRST DANCE.
This religious gathering has been for ages an annual occurrence. It is an occasion for the fulfilment of vows, and an opportunity for the more religious of this pagan people to make sacrifices and to endure self-inflicted torture and hardship in meeting the requirements of the traditional faith of their fathers.
As the season for this approached some leading men sent "tobacco messages" to different camps near and far, intimating that the time had come for the annual festival, and suggesting the most desirable locality. This latter was determined largely by the proximity of buffalo and the conditions of tribal war.
These tobacco messages were carefully worded and wrapped in the presence of trusty couriers, who would make all haste in reaching their several destinations, often travelling night and day, and generally on foot. When they reached the camps to which they were sent their message was received with solemn dignity and themselves treated with hospitable respect.
Then in quiet council the tobacco was unwrapped and the proposition discussed. If assented to the tobacco was smoked and the head man commissioned to send a return message signifying assent and willingness to come to the appointed place. And now from long distances these camps would move steadily towards the location indicated. The big meeting, the rites to be observed, the blessings that would ensue, the character and prestige and the temporal and supernatural ability of those leaders expected to attend to all these things, were the constant topics of conversation of all these converging camps.
The conjurer rehearsed his medicine hymns, sorted over his medicine bag, fixed his rattles and bells, and retouched his ghastly costume. The warrior went over in memory his bravest deeds and most notable exploits, and carefully arranged his war dress, mending here and fixing there, and generally burnishing up for this grand chance for glorious display. And the women and belles of the camp, notwithstanding all the work of constant moving and making extra provisions to be used during the festival, missed no opportunity to make ready their finery for special use on this great occasion, though all they might have would be contained in a small bag made of calfskin, and would consist mainly of beaded leggings and shoulder straps and a much-brassed leathern girdle.
In the meantime the originator of this concentrative movement was having a hard time of it. The responsibility of the whole gathering rested heavily upon him, and to prepare himself for his duties he fasted and thirsted, left his home and camp, and stayed nights and days alone in cold and wet with little or no covering for his naked body. He petitioned and prayed to "the Spirits," and seemed to commune with them. He grew wan and wasted physically; but he developed spiritually, and there seemed to come to his very appearance that which was supernatural. As the time drew near this intensified. There was a weird mystery about this man, which was felt through all the camp.
The conjurers prepared their medicines, and night and morning before camp moved the drums beat furiously, "dancing lodges" were erected at every encampment, and the four orders of dancers took their turns. The "wood partridges," the "prairie chickens," "medicine rattlers," and the "kid foxes," each in turn to vocal and drum music went through their evolutions of movement. Sacrifices were got ready and consecrated, and amidst night and day alarms from the enemy, and all the necessary hunting for the maintenance of these camps, this work of preparation went on for days and sometimes weeks. And now the chosen spot is reached, which is accomplished almost at the same time, for the scouts and couriers have kept the different camps in touch, and the movement of each has been governed for the purpose of reaching the rendezvous about the same day. But this strange crowd is gathered for a specific purpose, and no time is lost. The conjurers and medicine-men convene in one part of the camp, the warriors in another; and while the priests and medicine-men intensify their petitions and incantations, the warriors go out to scout the country and search for a suitable tree to be used as the centre or "idol tree."
A sharp watch is kept for the scouts, and when these are seen returning to camp the medicine-men form in procession with their chief (pro tem.), the originator of this whole movement, at their head, and march through camp singing and incanting and speaking in unknown tongues. The chief medicine-man holds a big pipe with a sacred stem in his hands, and with this he points heavenward and earthward and all around, following the sun, and thus in solemn aspect and with dignified movement these high priests of an old faith march out of camp to meet the warriors. Now comes the crucial time for this chief medicine-man. If these warriors accept the pipe from him then the success of his venture is assured. But if they do not take the pipe as he offers it to them the whole scheme is a failure, and a new chief priest and a new location will have to be sought. No wonder it is a tense moment for the would-be high priest of this great gathering.
The two companies draw near to each other, and while the priests are chanting in doleful notes petitionary and sacrificial hymns, and the warriors are lustily singing songs of victory, the whole camp is hushed in silent expectation as to the outcome. The warriors know the issue lies with them, and carry themselves accordingly. In all the pride and pomp of martial dignity and costume they sit their picked steeds and await the priest's action. This personage is now almost unnerved. The long vigils and fastings and hardships have emaciated his body, and this is weak; but his communings with the spiritual have made him feel that he has a mission, and that he is essential to the well-being of his people. He has grown within the last few days to believe he is an apostle and a bringer of good, and in his mind he feels these warriors must in their own interest accept him. Nevertheless there is the possibility of their not doing so. No messenger has reached him from the secret conclave held yonder behind the hills. Soon he will know. And now he pulls himself together, and, at first with quavering voice and trembling limbs, he holds the sacred pipe aloft and prays. Immediately in front of him is the chosen chief of the warriors, who gives no indication of what he is going to do in this matter. In silence he and the entire assemblage listen as the aspirant for priestly honors seems to forget himself in the intenseness of his purpose. His voice gathers strength, his limbs cease to tremble, and with native and pure eloquence he calls upon the Deity to bless this gathering, to pity his children, to accept their sacrifices, to smile upon their effort. His metaphors are beautiful, his similes are fine; the range of his thought reaches the heavens above and covers the earth beneath. There is a spell that accompanies the prayer. His whole soul is in it. If you and I had been there, my reader friend, we would have seen the countenance of the warrior chief undergo a change. Fence as he will, he is caught, and as we look we say to ourselves, "He will accept the sacred pipe." And presently as the priest stops he steps forward, and with a majestic wave upward and downward and all around, he hands the sacred emblem to the warrior. While the crowd watch him in breathless expectancy the latter takes it from him, also lifts it heavenward and then earthward, and then all around the complete circle, and the air rings with joyous acclamations. The feast is to take place, and the time is now.
This being settled the warriors parade around the camp in full review. Others go and cut down the "idol tree," and now the warriors break ranks, and dashing into the camp open the lodges and take from them the young women of the camp and hurry these along with them to haul home the idol tree. Many long lines are fastened to this tree, and the women on foot and the warriors on horseback take hold of these lines and pull together, and thus proceed homeward. Others act as drivers and shout and fire off their guns to urge on the men and women. As the camp is neared immense crowds of the old and infirm and of women and children join in the march, and thus the idol tree is brought to the spot where the temple is to stand.
Meanwhile others are cutting and hauling home the posts and pillars and beams required for the "big lodge." Not a nail or pin is used in this structure. Each joint and splice is firmly secured with green hide, which as it dries becomes very tight and strong. All work with alacrity. Everything about the erection of the temple is done on the principle that "the king's business requires haste."
When the idol tree is raised in place the conjurers make a special effort with medicine-rattles and religious singing. Some make the "nest" in the idol tree, or, as it might be called, the sacrificial table, and fasten in and on this the sacrifices which had been purchased long before at the trading-posts for this purpose. All the timbers in place, the whole is covered with the lodges of the principal men of the camp, it being thought an honor to have these used in this way. And now the high priest approaches. He has a big buffalo head mask, both himself and the head well covered with earth. Stepping slowly, and wailing as he walks, he enters the temple. Immediately on his entrance is made the inner circle for those who have vows and will dance through the long hours. Then a spot in the temple is selected for the drummers and singers, and these come in turns, so that the choir is continuous day and night during the festival. Fire is placed in four places, and on these fires are put sweet smelling herbs, which as they burn create incense. Then the high priest takes a whole parchment and speaks to the Great Spirit, and to all the lesser powers; then swings the parchment four times, while all the dancers blow their horn whistles. The high priest now throws the parchment into the centre, all the drummers and singers start up, and the entire company join in the chorus. In the inner circle, and immediately around the "idol tree," the real dancers who are to undergo torture are arranging themselves.
Some of these attach long lines to the "idol tree," and then passing the end through the muscles of their arms thus dance and swing around the circle. Others hang guns to the tendons of their back, and dance with these swinging and jerking about them. Others go from out the camp, and finding a bull's skull with horns attached, pass a line through the eyelets, and then hitch themselves to the other end of the line through the tendons of the back, and drag the head to the temple, entering amongst the dancers for the rest of the festival.
One man, at the time I am writing of, thus hitched himself to a big skull, and dragged this around the big encampment seven times, wailing as he pulled and tugged, and thus sought for forgiveness and salvation.
The self-tortured and the dancers do not eat or drink until the afternoon of the third day. At that time the warriors in costume come in a body to the temple, the bravest ten in the lead, all singing as they march, either on foot or on horseback, and forming a circle just outside the "thirst lodge." Then come those who make gifts; and horses, guns, blankets, etc., are placed in the ring as a general offering, being afterwards distributed to the needy and the infirm. Then the bravest warriors are led out into the centre, and made to recite their exploits and escapades, and between these recitals the various orders of dancers alternate in exhibition of their peculiar skill. Inside the temple torture and thirst and exhaustion; outside, declamation and glory and joyous celebration. And as the sun draws near to the earth on the evening of the third day the annual festival is finished. A day or two later the big camp divides into several smaller camps, each going its own way, leaving only the bare poles around the "idol tree," from the tops of which flutter in the breeze the various-colored sacrificial cloths to remind of this great religious gathering of the wood and plain Crees.
Our camp, having in it the high priest or chief conjurer for this year, might fittingly be called the "Convenor," and therefore it was in place for us to reach the rendezvous before the others. This we did one lovely afternoon, and I could not but admire the selection made by the high priest as the scene of this year's festival.
We camped on the crest of a plateau or table-land, where to the south and west from our feet the country sloped gently to the valley of the Iron Creek, which wound its way from the west and then with a majestic sweep turned southward to the Battle River, its terraced banks with their beautifully timbered heights giving grace to the scene. Where we stood was a fine large plain, with very little, if any, cover for the wily enemy to approach from behind. But within a few miles, and thence on as far as the eye could reach, were ranges of hills, in the valleys of which, as also on their stately summits, prairie and timber were struggling for supremacy, each alternately being beaten, but the whole making a lovely picture.
To-day we have the wild nomadic heathen life, but doubtless in the near to-morrow this will give way to permanent settlement, and the church and school will bring in the clearer light of a larger and fuller revelation.
CHAPTER IX.
Our great camp a study of native types—I attend a "wolf feast"—A disgusting orgie—Paul and I start for home—Our horses stampede—Difficult tracking—Enormous herd of buffalo—Home again and all well—Party of half-breeds from the Red River settlement at our Mission—Father returns, bringing a brother and sister from Ontario.
In two or three days our camp grew immensely, and many distinct types of men were at hand for one to study and become acquainted with. The absorbing theme was the approaching festival. For this warriors were preparing, and many devotees were praying; for this every conjurer in the camp was making medicine, and day and night the tapping of drums and the intoning of religious songs went on. Morning and evening we also sang our hymns and held our services, and were ardently studying this new strange life—every day acquiring a better grip of the language and beginning to waken up to the largeness of its vocabulary.
One day I was invited to a "wolf feast." Being a learner I went, and was both shocked and amused at what I saw. About two dozen sat around in the large buffalo lodge, and before each one a big wooden dish of thick soup was placed. This soup was made by boiling slices of fat buffalo meat and wild lily roots together. Neither Maskepetoon nor myself took part. When each guest was served an old medicine-man began to chant in an unknown tongue, accompanying himself by swinging his rattles. By and by all who were to partake joined in the song of blessing. This over, each one drew his big bowl to him and at a signal put both hands into the hot soup, and feeling all through it for chunks of meat, pulled these to pieces and then began to cram the contents of the dish down his throat. While doing this, each one made a noise like the growling of a wolf. And now the race was fast and furious as to who should soonest swallow all that was given to him. The growling and snarling and gulping was terrible, and I was glad when it was over and one and another turned his wooden dish over. I had seen a wolf feast, but, as I told my friend the old Chief, I did not wish to see another. It was almost as nauseating as a drunken carousal amongst the cultured white men in the east! I noticed that it was only a certain class of these pagan men who thus brutalized themselves—that even in those early days the larger percentage of the Indians held aloof from such beastly orgies. Muddy Bull, mine host, laughed when I told him what I had seen, and said that only a few of his people ever thus disgraced themselves.
While the camp was all excitement in preparation for the annual festival, word was brought in that the buffalo had gone into the north between us and the Mission. This made it possible for war parties to go north also; and from what I heard in camp I began to be anxious about our folk at home. Finally I conferred with Maskepetoon and he said that it might be better for me to go in to the Mission. So I left the oxen and carts with Muddy Bull, held an evening service with our people, and then as darkness was coming on one night Paul and I left the large camp and took our course northward.
We went out in the dark because signs of the enemy had been noted, and as our party was small we did not want to be seen by those hostile to us. Steadily and in silence we rode, taking a straight course for Victoria. Some time after midnight we stopped on a hill to rest our horses. We had one horse packed with dried provisions, stored in two large saddle-bags, and unpacking and unsaddling I tied the end of the lariat which was on my horse's neck to these saddle-bags, and with my gun at hand stretched myself beside them, while our horses fed around us. The night was very cloudy and dark, and both Paul and I dozed. Suddenly our horses stampeded and made back towards the camp. Seizing our guns we ran after them, but when we could not hear the sound of their hoofs any longer we sat down and waited for daylight. Whether it was hostiles or wolves or buffalo which had stampeded our horses we could not tell; there was nothing to do but wait for daylight, and be ready for anything that might turn up in the meantime. So we sat in silence and in profound darkness, for the clouds had thickened. Soon the rain came down, and in a very short time we were completely drenched. Several times there were noises near us, but these came from buffalo who were on the move past. After what appeared an interminable time, morning broke dark and cloudy, and we began a search for our horses.
As the day grew lighter we found that great herds of buffalo had passed through the country, and it seemed as if every inch of ground was tracked up. The grass was cropped close, and for hours we walked to and fro, never far from where the last sound of our flying steeds had come. At last I caught sight of a buffalo chip which had been broken by something dragging over it, and then I found another, and concluded that my horse was dragging the saddle-bags behind him in his flight.
I signalled to Paul, and he, after examining this clue, came to the same conclusion, and slowly we followed this our only sign. Slowly from one buffalo chip to another we travelled, and when baffled one would stay with the last trace and the other go on and look for another, and finding this we continued our anxious search until about noon, when we came upon all but one of our horses. As my saddle-horse was still fast to the saddle-bags, the first thing we did was to take out some dried meat to appease our ravenous appetites. Then we retraced our way to the place we had stayed during the night. Finding our outfit intact, we saddled up and continued our journey, hoping that the one stray horse would be found later by some friendly hunters. This actually did take place, for some months later I found the horse at Edmonton, to which place he had been brought by some French half-breeds who had recognized him.
Now once more we were on our journey north. During the afternoon I had a revelation given me as to the number and nomadic character of the buffalo. I had by this time spent three years on the plains in the buffalo country, had seen great herds of these wild cattle, and thought I knew something about them. My food had consisted almost altogether of their meat. My bed, travelling or at home, was over and under their robes. But that afternoon, as we steadily trotted northward across country, and ever and anon broke into a canter, I saw more buffalo than I had ever dreamed of before. The woods and plains were full of them. During the afternoon we came to a large round plain, perhaps ten miles across, and as I sat my horse on the summit of a knoll looking over this plain, it did not seem possible to pack another buffalo into the space. The whole prairie was one dense mass, and as Paul and I rode around this large herd I could not but feel that my ideas concerning buffalo and the capability of this country to sustain them were very much enlarged. I had in the three years seen hundreds of thousands of buffalo, had travelled thousands of miles over new trails, but I had seen only a small number of the great herds, and but a very small portion of the great North-West. Truly these were God's cattle upon a thousand hills, and truly this greater Canada is an immense country.
"I saw more buffalo that I had ever dreamed of before."
On we jogged, early and late, watching our horses carefully and taking extreme precaution against surprise. Nothing, however, occurred to disturb us, and by the evening of the third day we were in sight of home, and could see our loved ones moving in and out around the Mission premises.
Crossing the big river we found all well and delighted to have us home again. We had been away a little over a month, and as yet there was no word from father or the east country. Our isolation during those early years was complete if not "splendid." We were in a big world, but it was distinct from the ordinary. No mails or telegrams disturbed its continuous monotony—and yet our life was never really monotonous. The very bigness of our isolation made the life unique and strange, and the constant watchfulness against surprise and danger seemed to give it zest. Then the struggle for food kept us constantly busy.
One day, shortly after our return, we formed a party and made a flying horseback visit to the sister Mission at Whitefish Lake, and came back on the jump; my wife and sister being excellent horse-women, and a sixty-mile canter a common experience. In our party we had Mr. George Flett and wife. Mr. Flett at that time was post-trader for the Hudson's Bay Company. Later on he became a successful missionary in the Presbyterian Church.
Settling down for a little on our return, we went to work cutting hay. Those were the days when men swung the scythe, and muscle and wind told on the unmeasured and unfenced hay-fields of the Saskatchewan. Hard work it was from early morn until evening; but we cut a good bit of hay, and had it stacked by the time father came home.
In the meantime we were surprised and delighted by the arrival of a colony of some twenty-five or thirty families of English half-breeds, who had transplanted themselves from the valleys of the Red and Assiniboine rivers to this of the Saskatchewan. I well remember the first Sunday service after their arrival, how abashed I felt in the presence of these people who could speak both English and Cree, and some of whom had had special advantages in education. But they listened attentively to my preaching in the mother-tongue, and were regular in attendance upon all our services. Their presence, too, made us feel that we were stronger and more able to withstand the enemy than we had been. Many of these people made good neighbors, and all were kindly disposed to the Mission and its work.
In the Red River country their bane had been the intoxicating cup. Here, far from the temptation, they hoped to better their circumstances. These also were buffalo people, and this was another consideration leading to their removal west. Immediately these people went to work to put up houses in the valley to the east of the Mission. I gave them to understand that the Indians desired the land to the west. It did us good to see these humble homes being erected beside us. Mother and wife and sisters all rejoiced that in a measure our loneliness was past; that a semi-civilization at least had come to us.
Sometime in August we heard that father and party were not more than three days away, and with grateful heart I saddled up and set forth to meet them, which I did about fifty miles down the trail. Father had with him my brother David and sister Eliza. These we had left in Ontario five years before, mere boy and girl, but now they had grown into young manhood and young womanhood, and the long trip across the plains had done them a vast amount of good. My sister was rather astonished to meet her eldest brother clad as he was in leather and with long hair curling on his shoulders, but this was the western fashion, and anything else would have been singular at that time and amid those scenes.
Within a couple of days we were once more a united family and mother's joy was full. I was particularly pleased to note the manner of both my sister and brother towards my wife. The fact of her being a native did not in anywise affect the kindliness of their conduct towards her, for which I was very thankful.
CHAPTER X.
We return to Pigeon Lake—"Scarred Thigh" exchanged for "Blackfoot"—Planting Gospel seed—We organize a buffalo hunt—A moose chase—The buffalo as a "path-finder"—We encounter a hostile camp—All night on guard—My friend Mark's daring exploit—Wood Stonies visit the Mission—Gambling, polygamy and superstition among the Indians.
Now that father was home again I and my party were at liberty to start back to Pigeon Lake, which we did under instructions to remain there until the Indians should start out for the winter, when we were to return to Victoria. I was very sorry to part with Paul at this time, he having decided to go to the plains with the colony of half-breeds for the fall provision hunt. Also with him I separated from "Scarred Thigh," my horse for the last three years.
My readers in "SADDLE, SLED AND SNOWSHOE" will remember that I mentioned a horse called "Blackfoot," taken in battle, and the winner of many a long race. This horse had come to Paul through his wife. He had been stolen from him by those who thought that might was right, but Paul, being a plucky fellow, had taken him back, and as he had more or less trouble guarding the horse, I happened to suggest to him one day that we might make an exchange. He gladly accepted my offer, and now instead of "Scarred Thigh" I had the noted "Blackfoot." Nevertheless I was sorry to see the little sorrel go. Many a glorious gallop we had had together, and I had grown to love the gentle fellow. But Paul was a natural gentleman, and he also must be considered. In the meantime Muddy Bull had come in from the plains with our oxen and carts, the latter loaded with fine dried provisions. Quite a large camp also had come to the Mission, and from these father traded more provisions. Thus we did not start empty-handed on our return trip to the Western Mission at the lake.
Westward we rolled with our carts, every encampment our home for the time. Reaching the spot where we were detained by storm and sickness during the spring, we left the carts and packed on through the woods to the lake, where very soon our people began to settle down around us. Our gardens under the continued neglect now promised little result for the earlier efforts; but the fish in the lakes were exceedingly plentiful, and upon these we almost altogether subsisted. Our dried provisions we were obliged to share with the wandering people who came to us from the north and west, and who had not been out on the plains as we had. We held meetings twice a day on week-days, and, I might almost say, all day Sunday. What our ministrations lacked in quality they fully made up in quantity. And some of those simple services were blessed seasons where souls were born into the kingdom of our Christ. The conjurer might sing and drum as he would, and the intensely conservative pagan decry us as he pleased, our work kept growing as the weeks passed in quick succession, one camp going and another coming to take its place, and we putting in our best efforts to sow the seeds of Christianity.
Presently some Mountain Stonies came to us, men whom I had never seen before. Among them was Mark, of whom I will have more to say as my narrative progresses. These brought word of buffalo near where the village of Lacombe now is, on the line of the Calgary and Edmonton Railway, and as my friend Jacob and his stalwart brothers and cousins were with us at the time, we concluded to take a run out for meat.
Mrs. McDougall remained at the Mission with a few of the older people, and the most of the rest started off early one day. With these I sent my pack-horses and necessary outfit, and with Jacob, Mark and others I followed in the afternoon. Our course was around the north end of Pigeon Lake, then over the "divide" to Battle Lake, and thence down the Battle River. My companions and I had not yet reached the head of the lake, when we saw a big buck moose plunge into the water across the bay and strike out straight for a point of timber which was between us and the Mission. The huge animal was making quick time, and his great antlers and long ears were high out of the water as with strong strokes he cut through the lake.
The nature of the ground where we were was such that we could make better time on foot than with horses. Accordingly we left our mounts, and ran back a distance of about a mile to intercept the moose. I was on the spot some time before the next best, and as the big buck was coming straight for where I was in hiding, I fully expected to have the first shot; but while he was still more than a hundred yards away, and fairly rushing through the water by the force of his swimming power, and even as I stood behind a tree admiring the noble fellow, suddenly there came a shot from down the shore and the moose fell over almost without a struggle, being fairly hit just under the butt of his big antler. I jumped out on the beach, and looking in the direction of the report saw my friend Jacob quietly loading his old flint-lock, a significant smile overspreading his face. I shouted to him, "If you did take my shot you made a very good one;" to which he answered, "It was enough for you to have left us in the race," and thus we were mutually appeased and complimented.
But meanwhile Mark had divested himself of his clothing and was swimming out to the moose, which he soon towed into the shallow water, where we all took hold and pulled the immense carcase up the bank. While Jacob and Mark skinned and cut him up I went back for our horses. Bringing them up, we packed most of the meat back to the Mission, and late in the evening again started after our party of hunters, whom we came up with away down Battle River. Holding an open-air service and stationing our guards, we went to sleep, and with the first dawn of day were astir again. Holding a short morning service, we very soon were jogging down the winding saddle-path which was but the adoption and endorsation by man of the buffalo-path of the preceding ages.
In the course of years I have travelled thousands of miles on buffalo-paths, and often I have wondered at and admired the instinctive knowledge of engineering skill manifested in the selection of ground and route made by those wandering herds of wild cattle. If one was in doubt as to a crossing let him follow the path of a buffalo. Gladly have I often taken to these in the winter time, when the snow was deep. Taking off my snow-shoes, I have run behind my dog-train on the packed trail made by the sharp hoofs of the migrating buffalo. But alas! as I write these paths are about all that we have left to remind us that a short time since these vast plains fairly trembled to the roar and tread of these wonderful herds of nature's stock.
All day on the steady jog, our company of hardy men and women and little children rode down the valley of the Battle River on to Mossy Creek, thence on to Wolf Creek, and when in the evening we were expecting to see some buffalo, instead of these we met the small party Mark had come from, in hiding from a large camp of Blackfeet and Sarcees which in the meantime had come upon the scene. Again, alas for us, these enemies had driven the buffalo back, and, worse than this, were here in our vicinity in such numbers as to make our little party seem very small. As it was now evening we determined to select as strong a place of defence as possible for the night's bivouac. A brief search revealed a small thicket in a gently sloping hollow, with prairie all around it, into which we put the women and children, who, wearied with the hard day's travel, were soon sound asleep.
The night was dark and long, for it was now the late autumn. Before twilight came we saw the enemy and knew we were discovered; but though they surrounded us for a good part of the night, they knew that we were posted all around our camp, and did not venture to attack, though we fully expected them to do so about day-break. However, they concluded to draw off before that time. Providence and our strong position, and, doubtless, the prestige of the Stony and wood Indians, influenced them, for when day came our scouts brought the welcome word of their departure. Their big camp was south-west of us only some ten miles, and we set off rapidly eastward to lengthen the distance between us, and also, if possible, secure buffalo, so that we should not go home empty-handed.
It was during that long night that Mark, hearing me express my wish for a drink, took a small kettle, and, making his way stealthily through the lines of the enemy to a creek some distance beyond, surprised me by bringing back the kettle full of water. I was truly grateful for the refreshing draught, and could not but admire his pluck and scouting ability. Thus was begun a friendship which has continued through all these years. Full often in the bush and plain, in raging current and dangerous ford, Mark has been by my side, loyal and brave.
As we journeyed next day we saw the many trails made by the Blackfoot and Sarcee camps, and from these could estimate their numbers, which were sufficiently formidable to stimulate us to increase the intervening distance. We camped that night across the narrows of what was called "the lake which runs through the hills," a long narrow body of fresh water, heavily timbered on every side. Here we felt comparative security from the plain Indians, for these dread the woods. The next day we moved on down and across Battle River, below where now our Mission is situate, and were fortunate in killing several bulls, with which we had to rest content and return homewards. If the Blackfeet had not taken this circle into the western timber country, which at this season was an unusual course for them, we would have had great luck; but their large camp effectually drove the game from us. However, we were thankful that there had been no actual collision and no lives lost. As it was we took home a little bull's meat instead of the loads of prime cow's meat we had hoped to bring to reinforce the Mission larder.
Arriving at the lake we found all well, and noted that some more wood Stonies had come in. These latter were inveterate gamblers, and generally pretty wild fellows. Many of them were polygamists, and our hands were full doing what we could to withstand heathenism and ignorance. There was no rest day or night while these people were beside us. I had often to act as judge and arbiter. Old quarrels, domestic and tribal, were brought to me, and these I had to settle as best I could. I also had to act as doctor and surgeon, which taxed to the fullest limit my small store of knowledge and experience in this line. But gamble and conjure and quarrel as they would, nevertheless these people would come to our services and listen with close attention. Slowly but surely the seed took root as the more thoughtful began to consider the Gospel message. One idea we had great trouble with was that they believed all sickness and death was caused by hatred amongst themselves. Some one, they thought, was working bad medicine or casting a blight or spell upon those who were taken sick or in some way met with death. This would generate a strong desire for revenge, and was a source of constant trouble to the early missionary.
One day when I had a large crowd of these people before me I said to them, "I have lived amongst different peoples, and in every case these at times have sickened and died, and from all I can learn this has been going on for thousands of years. These peoples expect this to take place at some time in their experience. Everywhere I have travelled I have seen graveyards, and plenty of evidence that all men in the countries that I have been in are visited by death. But now I have come among a people who, if they did not hate one another, and work bad medicines and poison on one another, would live always—at least, that is what you think and how you talk. You are different from all other men. How is this? Has the Great Spirit treated you with partiality? His word says, 'God is no respecter of persons.' Are you not foolish to think and act as you do? Come, now, think about this, and ask the Great Spirit to give you light." So at service and in the lodge and around the camp-fire we kept at them; but the implantings of centuries cannot be shaken off in one or two generations.
CHAPTER XI.
We return to Victoria—War parties abroad—Father's influence over the Indians—We organize a big fresh meat hunt—David's first buffalo hunt—Mark's adventure with a war party—Surrounded by wolves—Incidents of our journey—Preparing for the winter.
Soon the autumn was past, the most of our wandering people had gone, and we made ready to travel back to Victoria. Mark, whose wife had died during the epidemic of the previous spring, left his motherless children with their grandparents and his brothers, and went with us. He said his heart was sore and he would go with us in order to be comforted.
Carefully we scouted past Edmonton, for this was the season of activity for the scalp-taker and horse-thief, but we reached the older Mission without any mishap. Here we found everybody busy at the necessary work of preparing for the winter, which always involved a considerable amount of labor. The usual excitement over the coming and going of war parties had taken place. Mother and sisters had spent days and nights in a sort of semi-terror because of the wild conduct of these people, which even Maskepetoon's strong influence could not wholly control, though doubtless this grand old man's firm friendship for the white man, and especially for those of our Mission, was the main reason that no violence was attempted.
Under such conditions we were at times glad to see the large camps break up and in sections depart for a season. The great country around us gave the more turbulent and restless of these nomads a fine field wherein to work off their surplus energy in war and hunting. In the management of affairs during the presence of complex multitudes of wild men at the Mission father was well qualified to act prudently. He knew when to concede as well as to demand, and thus wisely never ran the risk of having his authority and influence brought into question. Moreover, he was a thorough democrat. To him an Indian was as good as any other man, and was given precisely the same treatment. There was none of "the inflated, superior style of man" in father's manner to anybody, either white or red. And this was very soon noticed by these "quick-sighted students of their fellow-men." He was a friend, and as such he became known among these western tribes.
Now the keen frosty nights were with us once more, and time was come for our fresh-meat hunt. In this we were joined by quite a number of the half-breeds. Our pickets of guards were more numerous, and larger, and thus one did not come on duty so often, an appreciable change; for it was dismal work during those long cold nights moving about the silent camp, keeping vigilant watch and looking with pardonable longing for the morning.
Our course this time was south, and on the fourth day out we came upon the buffalo. At once the work of running, killing, butchering and hauling began. This was my brother David's first sight of this kind of game, and in the excitement he lost his hat and had to go the rest of the way bareheaded. But this was a small matter; many a man under like circumstances has lost his head for the time being. No wonder David lost his hat. The novelty and intense excitement of the whole thing and the hunter's rapture in bringing down such noble game was enough to make one's head too large for an ordinary hat.
Our camp of an evening would be a strange sight to one unacquainted with life on the plains. The huge fires, sides of ribs, heads of buffalos, marrow bones, squares of tripe, and other portions of the carcase, all in various processes of cooking; every man armed and fully ready for an attack; the guards occasionally coming within the glare of the camp-fire; horses and cattle closely guarded, and a constant sense of insecurity evident on every hand; men with guns ready at hand eating and drinking, or mending harness, moccasins, or carts. After the evening song and prayer the men stretched themselves to sleep just as they had hunted and worked during the day. There was no taking off of moccasins or clothing. If one removed his powder-horn and shot-pouch he fastened both to his gun, so that with one quick grip he had the whole in his hand and was ready.
My three years of constant life of this kind had made me somewhat familiar with it, but to my brother, fresh from the quiet and security of Ontario, this whole life was a revelation. Nevertheless by heredity and instinct alike he took to it like a native.
When Sunday came we had been two days and a half among the herds and were pretty well loaded, and also pretty well tired, so that the Sabbath rest was exceedingly welcome. Breakfast and a short service, and all who could and were not on duty slept. In the afternoon strange Indians were sighted by our watchful guards, and my man Mark threw his lariat over the neck of "Ki-you-kenos"—the big American horse that ran away with Peter in "SADDLE, SLED AND SNOWSHOE"—and before anyone could stop him was away on the jump to reconnoitre more closely. In the meantime from our camp we could see these strangers gathering on the summit of a distant hill, and knew from their numbers and equipment that they were a war party. Mark, with only his lariat for a bridle, was going nearer to them at every jump. Those of us who knew the horse felt that there would be no stopping or turning him until he reached those men; and our hearts were in our mouths, so to speak, as we watched Mark's progress and realized his peril. We caught up our best horses, and saddling them as quickly as possible started after him. I well remember how I felt as with my horse bounding under me I made for that hill. Momentarily I expected to see the smoke of a flint-lock, and keenly I watched Mark as he sat on his flying steed, for pull up as he might I knew he could not stop him. In a few moments he was in the midst of the party, but to our great relief was given a friendly greeting instead of the fusilade we had feared. Presently he started to come back, and we pulled up our horses and waited to hear from him who these were.
When we met Mark told us that the strangers were plain Crees on the war-path, going into the Blackfoot country, and though unacquainted with us still they were the allies of our people. Mark said they were coming down to visit us, so we returned to our camp. The war party came along in the course of an hour or so, and concluded to camp with us for the night, though I am sure no one in our party gave them a pressing invitation to do this. To be under the necessity of watching within as well as without your own camp becomes rather tiresome.
We put on double guards that night, and were relieved when our friends started away bright and early Monday morning, allowing us to go on with our hunt.
I have seen great numbers of grey wolves, but never, I think, did I see them more numerous than at this time. Troops of these native scavengers would hang around our encampment and prowl very close up during the long night watches. When we were butchering the animals we had killed, they would form a circle around us, and impatiently wait until we had our meat loaded into the carts. Then, as we moved away, they would rush in and scramble and fight for the offal which we left. Many a wild fight amongst them we witnessed, but as ammunition was none too plentiful, we seldom shot any.
Their howling, especially at night, was blood-curdling and terrifying to the inexperienced. Indeed, one could not at any time hear their deep, long, mournful notes without a lonesome and uncanny feeling. There are two distinct kinds of these animals. The coyote and the big grey wolf belong to the plains and are altogether different from the timber or wood wolf. The latter can become dangerous, while the former never seem able to muster enough courage to attack human beings.
By the middle of the following week our carts were loaded to their utmost capacity and were rolling homewards. As the days were short we generally started long before daylight, and while I have had plenty of this ante-dawn travel I confess I never relished it. To roll out of your blankets into the keen cold of a young winter's, morning, and then hastily roll up your bedding, place it in a cart, then rush out into the dark and catch and bring in the horses or oxen you drive, and with tingling fingers harness them into the carts committed to your care; and then as the leading cart begins to signal its onward move by its own peculiar squeak and squeal, to place your carts where they belong in the line of march; to come to ponds and creeks covered with ice as yet not strong enough to bear your weight, and yet through which you perforce must wade in order to secure the safe crossing of your loads, your wet moccasins and nether garments stiffening with the intense cold as you march,—I will say that while I in common with most pioneers in our Canadian North-West frequently did this, still I am free to admit that I was never in love with it.
What a big market-square we have to take our winter's food from—hundreds of miles in length and breadth, with great widely distant valleys like stalls furnishing us with the food we seek, the quality of which depends on the skill of the hunter. And right here my friend Muddy Bull comes in as a reliable guarantor that what we take home will be first-class. On we roll. Our only delays are breaking axles and splitting felloes and snapping dowel-pins; but who cares for such trifles as these while we have the fresh green hides of the buffalos we have killed. The green hide serves as both wheelwright and blacksmith as it dries upon the weak portion of our vehicle. And while the kettle boils and the meat is roasting almost anyone in our party with axe and auger and saw will put a new axle in working trim. Ah! those were the days wherein to cultivate self-help and independence. The man who was not capable of this manner of evolution very soon drifted back into the older countries.
But here is the river and we are almost home. Fording our stock in the rapids, about half a mile down, we unload the meat, "pack" it over in a skiff, and taking some carts to pieces we "pack" them over also in the skiff for use on the north side, leaving the rest until the ice-bridge forms. Then when all is safe on the stage at home we feel that unless a crowd of starving Indians come to us, we have our larder full for some time to come. And this was very satisfactory to us in those days when we were so far away from any outside help and so dependent on the movements of buffalo herds and contending tribes of Indians.
Sometimes the buffalo were far out on the great plains, and inaccessible to us; sometimes hostile Indians intervened, so that we dare not leave our people or in any way divide our forces; but the opening of the winter of 1865 found our stage loaded with prime meat and our party together and in the enjoyment of many blessings. There generally is in our northern country a short period which is neither summer nor winter, and if possible all travel ceases for a time. It would not be prudent to start out with horses, and without snow and ice dogs are of no use. This time we made use of by making ready for the winter. Buildings were to be repaired and washed over with white mud, which by the way is a very good substitute for lime. Hay was to be hauled, fire-wood to be cut in the log and hauled home, then to be sawed and split for use. In the meantime, as now there was a permanent settlement at Victoria, and good congregations, meetings of various character had to be organized. Christianity, temperance, education, civilization must be inculcated, and on all these questions father was thoroughly alive. Then the snow fell and the ice made, and with Mark as my companion we began our evangelistic and missionary trips.
Our first was to Edmonton, and thence to Pigeon Lake, during which time we tried to preach the Gospel to white men and Crees and Stonies. Even then it was becoming easier for me to speak in Cree than in English. My brain and voice functions were almost in constant use in the former, and but seldom did I require them in the language wherein I was born. Steadily I was becoming able to give the glorious Gospel of the Lord Jesus to others in the tongue and idiom of the language "wherein they were born."
CHAPTER XII.
A visit to Whitefish Lake—A devoted Indian missionary—Mark and I go out after buffalo—Mark proves himself a brilliant hunter—Our camp visited by wolves—Muddy Bull's generosity—We reach home with full loads of meat.
The first or breaking-in trip for both men and dogs in the winter of 1865-66 was a three-hundred-mile run, and we lost no time between camps and posts. Although we had the roads to break, still the snow was not deep. Upon our return I took my wife over to Whitefish Lake to visit her parents and people, and we spent Sunday in Mr. Steinhauer's parish, where I learned more of the Cree language and acquired a clearer insight into the religious experience and life and language of these western people. As I have said before I will say here again, Mr. Steinhauer was an ideal missionary. He gave himself with entire devotion to his work. His best was always to the front, and God blessed his efforts. The cycles of eternity will reveal the good this faithful servant accomplished. It was always an inspiration to spend a few days on his mission.
Hurrying back to Victoria, we made a dash out to see where the camps were south and east of us, and finding some of these after a two days' run, we held a series of meetings with them, and shared in their shortage of provisions, for we found that the buffalo had gone far out and there had been considerable hardship in consequence. Moreover Blackfeet and southern Indians had made several successful raids, in which quite a number of horses had been stolen. There had been some reciprocity indulged in, too, by the wood and plain Crees, and these marauding parties had effectually driven the buffalo farther out. "But," said the old men, "cold weather is near, and the men will stay at home, and the buffalo will come into this north country"; a prophecy that we heartily hoped would prove true. We visited several camps and were cordially welcomed, our message being eagerly listened to. Many in these lodges heard for the first time the story of redemption.
It was on this trip that Mark and I, desiring to see for ourselves where the buffalo were, and if possible secure loads of meat to take home, started out bright and early one morning, and following a hunting trail, travelled fast plainward for the whole day. Just as night was setting in we met a small hunting party, and camping with them shared their hospitality, which, as their hunt had been a poor one, was very meagre fare indeed. But even poor meat is better than none, and as these Indians told us of buffalo which they had not disturbed because they were discouraged with poor guns and bad shooting, we went to sleep that night fully determined to have a trial of our luck on the morrow. Accordingly with the first peep of day we were off, and, continuing southward, about ten o'clock came to the edge of a large plain, away out in the centre of which we could see quite a herd of buffalo. Going to the last point of timber, we tied our dogs in the centre of a large bluff and started out on the plain. The buffalo were about five miles distant, but as we had to keep under cover behind hills and along valleys and small gullies—sometimes having to crawl at full length for a considerable distance, where it was impossible to go otherwise without being seen by the advance scouts of the wary herd—it was late in the afternoon when we came within four hundred yards of the nearest buffalo. Here Mark after carefully scanning the lay of the land said to me, "You had better stay here, and I will try and approach alone. You can watch the movement of the herd and follow up after I have shot." So I shoved up a small hummock of snow before me and quietly watched a fine sample of scouting. Centuries of heredity and years of practice were now in full play before my eager eyes. I was almost ravenous. Some poor meat eaten before daylight was all I had had to appease my hunger that day, and miles of travel in the sharp keen frosty air to where we left our dogs, and since then hours of running and walking and crawling to this point, had contributed to give me a tolerably keen appetite.
We wanted meat for urgent present need, and we wanted loads of it to take home, and now the whole matter looked exceedingly doubtful. Yonder were the lines of great bulls, some of them standing and others lying down, some feeding and others quietly chewing their cuds, but all on the alert. Beyond these huge sentinels and surrounded by them were the cows, the meat of which was the object of our quest.
Mark had but a smooth-bore single-barrelled flint-lock. No long distance shooting for him. He must get close. He must pass through the line of bulls. Could he do it? That was the question on my mind as I moved from side to side on my frozen snowy couch. With his white blanket belted around him, and the upper half covering his head and shoulders, Mark was steadily making towards the herd. Fortunately the day was calm, so that the danger of giving scent was small. For interminable periods, as it seemed to me, I lost sight of my companion, and then in a totally unexpected quarter he would reappear, but always nearer to our game. Now he was among the bulls, and I almost held my breath as I saw him push himself past a great big fellow where a blow from horn or hoof might be instant death to the brave hunter. But with consummate skill he made his way past the bull and was right in amongst the great black fellows and quite lost to sight.
Darkness was coming on fast, and the suspense to me as I lay watching became almost unbearable. Cold, anxiety, hunger, each was doing its work on brain and heart and stomach. But presently I saw the whole herd start, and there came in sight a puff of smoke, followed by the report of Mark's first shot, and away I went after the flying buffalo. As I ran I heard another report, and then I came suddenly upon a dead cow. Concluding that this was the result of Mark's first shot, and that in good time he would come back to this point, I set to work to skin the carcase, and was thus engaged when I heard Mark approaching. He was glad to see me, and I delighted at his return in safety. He had killed two cows. This one we were at was his first. Then as the buffalo bunched up and fled he had run to one side and, reloading, had continued running until the herd slowed up. He had then drawn in under cover and shot the second cow. I admired his pluck and skill and speed, and told him so, but he only quietly replied, "These cows are fat, John, and we will have better meat to-night than we had last night."
We were now on the southerly edge of the plain, and about eight miles from where we left our dogs early in the day. After brief deliberation it was decided that Mark should remain to butcher the cows and look up the nearest camping place, while I should cross the plains and bring back our dogs.
Taking my direction, I availed myself of buffalo trails in the snow as much as possible, and when I left one to cross country to another, I marked the spot as strongly as I could upon my memory, and took my bearings of the place as well as I could in the winter's darkness which surrounded me.
In a very short time I was at the bluff and found the dogs. Unfastening them I brought my train, with old Draffan still in the lead, and put them on my track, and then brought out Mark's train and shouted, "Marse, Draffan!" and away we went. Fortunately there was no wind, and though the night was dark Draffan's instinct and my memory as to where to cross from one buffalo path to another worked well. Once or twice I stopped the dogs and struck a match, and was delighted to find we were on a hard buffalo path. Thus we came at a good pace back to where the first cow was. But before we reached the spot Mark came looming up out of the darkness to meet us. The faithful fellow had been anxious; and now he thought it was his turn to tell me that I had done well in finding the dogs and returning them quick and straight.