CHAPTER IV

55CHAPTER IVTHE IROQUOIS OF THE CANADIAN BOUNDARY

The Iroquoian branch of the red race is considered by the best authorities to be far superior, mentally and physically, to any other. Before British rule was definitely established in Canada, they were a power (known as “The Six Nations”) duly recognised by English and French alike; and to-day, though less numerous than the Algonquins, they show fewer signs of dying out than the other families. Ontario is, and has ever been, a favourite district of theirs, and it was while living in this province that Dr. John Bigsby, who died in 1881, jotted down the notes concerning them which one often sees quoted in works dealing with the study of races.

Surgeon-Major Bigsby had the good fortune, as a young man, to be appointed geologist and medical officer to the Canadian Boundary Commission, a post decidedly congenial to a zealous student of ethnology, since it brought him in constant touch with the Cherokees, who, with the Hurons, Mohawks, etc., constitute the Iroquoian family. The inspection of military and native hospitals, together with his56geological researches, necessitated frequent journeys north, south, and west from Montreal; and it was on one such journey, in the year 1822, that he met with a string of adventures both comical and exciting.

From Montreal he set out in a light waggon for Kingston, where he fell in with an acquaintance, Jules Rocheblanc, a fur-trader who, like himself, had various calls to make on the shores of Lake Ontario. Rocheblanc had already arranged to travel with Father Tabeau, the diocesan inspector of missions, and the doctor very willingly joined their party. The mission boat, unlike the birch canoes, was a well-built, roomy craft paddled by eight or ten Indians—Cherokees and Hurons—all of whom spoke Canadian-French fluently. The weather, though cool, was far from severe, and as all three travellers had frequent engagements ashore, these made welcome breaks in the journey.

After Toronto was passed, the white stations became scarcer, and villages inhabited by Indians more frequent; and, at the first of these, the young army surgeon began to fear that the treachery so often justly imputed to the redskins was going to betray itself.

Three of the Indians had asked leave to go ashore for a day’s hunting, and, as the meat supply had run short, Père Tabeau was glad to let them go, on the understanding that they were to await him that evening at a spot below the next Indian village, at which he was to halt for a few hours. Owing to some minor accident, it was well on in the afternoon before the boat came in sight of the village, which stood at the foot of a hill, immediately on the lake shore.

Two or three dozen Indians could be seen on a grassy space, engaged in their national ball-play—a mixture of tennis, lacrosse, and Rugby football, which will be more closely described in the next chapter. By the goal nearest the water, the absent canoemen were standing, a goodly heap of game piled at their feet. The moment they caught sight of their boat they drew the attention of the players to it; these immediately abandoned the game and, running to the farther goal, picked up muskets and hastened with them towards the quay.

“This is something new,” said Bigsby, “and I don’t like the look of it. For whom do they take us?” He took a pistol from his bag, and Rocheblanc did the same; then, looking towards the bank again, they saw that every redskin had pointed his gun-muzzle on the boat.

“I think it is only a salute,” said the priest, “though I must confess I have never been so honoured before. They are harmless, hard-working men, and all know me perfectly well.”

He had scarcely finished speaking when the guns began to go off in twos and threes and sixes, anyhow, in fact. Then the surgeon put away his pistol and laughed, for there was not a splash on the water anywhere.

“The Father was right; it’s only a salute. Do they often do this?” he asked of the nearest of the canoemen. “I’ve not seen it before.”

The Indian looked very knowing and mysterious, and, after a pause, answered:

“It is a royal salute. They only fire like this for a58great Iroquois chief, or for a messenger from the white king.”

Very soon another succession of reports came, the guns all the while trained so accurately on the boat that even Bigsby, fresh from three years’ constant active service at the Cape, began earnestly to hope that no one had, in the excitement of the moment, dropped a bullet into a gun-muzzle by mistake. Before the muskets could be loaded a third time the travellers were safely at the landing-stage.

At other Indian villages the doctor had noticed that the priest was always subjected to lengthy greetings, speechifyings, and very elaborate homage. The homage and the greetings were not absent to-day, but they were of the hurried and perfunctory sort, for everyone, after a word and an obeisance to his reverend fellow-traveller, turned to Bigsby himself; and the old chief, coming forward with tremulous respect, began to address a long oration to him, calling him the lord of lakes and forests, the father of the red man, the slayer of beasts, and a score of other titles; in short, “describing him ever so much better than he knew himself,” as John Ridd says. While he was stammering out a suitable acknowledgment in French, the parish priest came hurrying to greet his superior, and then the mystery was explained, for Père Tabeau introduced the lord of lakes, etc., to him as plain “Surgeon Bigsby.”

The oldcurélaughed heartily.

“I understand. Your uniform is responsible for all this, monsieur. Your boatmen had told us that an ambassador from the king was coming with the Père59Supérieur.” He pointed at the doctor’s regimental coat.

“Then that is why all the canoemen have been so distant and servile with me to-day,” said the young surgeon. “I’ve not been able to get a word out of them.”

Usually he wore a perfectly plain, blue relief-jacket, but on this particular morning he had donned a very old scarlet tunic, of the dragoon regiment to which he belonged, merely because the day happened to be too chilly for the thin serge jacket, and not cold enough for him to trouble about unpacking a winter coat; and if this had raised him in the canoemen’s estimation, he had been quite unconscious of it. As a matter of fact, when the Indians left the boat that morning, they had already made of him a British potentate who was at last throwing off his disguise, and this they honestly believed him to be; but, before the morning was out, their imagination had run away with them so far as to promote him to the rank of envoy extraordinary; in other words, they had exaggerated, as more civilised people sometimes will, for the sake of a little reflected greatness.

“Mr. Rocheblanc,” said the doctor, “if you will lend me a spare coat till I unpack to-night, I think I can sweeten that chief’s declining years.”

A coat was soon produced, and, to the wonderment of the Indians, Bigsby removed the old tunic which, with a grave bow, he begged the old chief to accept as a memento. So great, indeed, was the surprise of the redskins that the donor was in no danger of the contempt which they might otherwise have shown60for a broken idol—a daw despoiled of its peacock’s plumage. Such liberality was stupefying.

But the chief was not to be outdone in self-sacrifice. After a tremendous struggle with himself he stifled his vanity and desire for possession, and turning to the old parish priest, begged him to wear the garment, as being more worthy of the honour; nor was it till he was made to understand that, neither in nor out of church, would it be seemly for the staid old clergyman to go flaunting in a cavalry officer’s scarlet and gold, that the chief would consent to wear it. And then his appearance and his self-satisfaction were such that none of the white men dared look at him for long, lest they should hurt the dear old fellow’s feelings by a burst of laughter.

The gift led to an invitation to dinner from the chief, so persistent and impassioned that it was impossible for the visitors to refuse it, though thecuréhad a meal awaiting them at his presbytery. And now the doctor was to achieve even greater popularity, for thecuré, who usually acted as village surgeon and herbalist, took the opportunity of asking his advice in the case of a baby of one of the parishioners that suffered from what seemed to be incurable fits. Bigsby at once went to examine the child and recommended the application of a little blistering lotion to the back of the neck; he sent to the boat for his medicine-case, gave thecuréa small supply of the lotion, and instructed him how to make more. This was, of course, the signal for everyone in the village to require doctoring. Ailments were discovered or invented with astonishing rapidity, and the whole time, till dinner was ready,61was occupied in feeling pulses, drawing teeth, lancing abscesses, and salving sores. But if the surgeon had been a vain man, the reverence paid to his skill would have been ample reward.

At last the white men were conducted in state to the chief’s hut. The dinner was laid on the floor, and mats and cushions arranged round it in a circle; the two priests sat on the chief’s right, the doctor and Rocheblanc on his left, and his son opposite him, while the wife and the daughter-in-law brought in, helped, and handed round the various courses. The first of these wassowete, a really villainous concoction of bruised sunflower seeds,camash(a very insipid kind of truffle), and the gristly parts of some fish-heads, all boiled together to the consistency of porridge. Of this the guests ate sparingly, and of the next course not at all, though it looked and smelt so inviting that Bigsby and the fur-trader would have done full justice to it, had it not been for a warning look from Père Tabeau, and the ejaculation of the single word “Puppy!” which was lost upon the Indians, as they spoke only the Canadianpatoisand their own Iroquoian. The dish might have been a roasted hare; but Bigsby suddenly recalled, with a shudder, having seen a fresh dog-skin spread to dry on the outside wall of the hut. But the remaining courses were unexceptionable: various fish, a kind of grouse, venison, and a right good beefsteak to finish with.

The chief implored his guests to stay for at least one night, but the mission superior had an appointment early the following day; and, when he had inspected the parish books, all returned to the boat,62conducted by the red-habited chief. At the landing-stage the canoemen were busy stowing away presents which half the parish had brought down for the mighty medicine man: fruits of all kinds, small cheeses, carvings on horn, bone, and wood, and—to Bigsby’s great delight—several lumps of nickel and copper ore and some bits of gold quartz. These he knew were to be found in the vicinity, though he had not yet succeeded in discovering them; and here were valuable specimens which he might have spent weeks in trying to find.

As a good deal of time had been lost, no halt was made that night, each man sleeping in the boat, where and when and how he could; and, long before noon of the following day, the next stopping-place was reached. This was a small fur-trading centre where Rocheblanc also had affairs to transact; and he and Père Tabeau went about their respective business, agreeing to meet the doctor at the boat at three o’clock.

Bigsby, having nothing special to do, explored the tiny settlement and, strolling a mile inland, collected one or two geological specimens. This occupation attracted a knot of Indian idlers, who stood gaping at the childishness of a white man who could find nothing better to do than picking stones off the road, throwing them down again or putting them in his pocket, and varying these puerilities by producing a hammer and knocking chips off unoffending wayside boulders. Geologists and painters are too much accustomed to being stared at, as marvels or lunatics, to heed such curiosity; and it was not till he heard a strident voice63in French, ordering the Indians to go away, that he even troubled to turn his head.

“Sales chiens,” “salauds,” and “sacrés cochons” were the mildest terms that were being hurled at the simple redskins by an over-dressed and much-bejewelled being whose European toilette could not conceal the fact that he was a negro-Indian (or a Zambo, as he would have been termed farther south), with possibly a streak of white blood in him.

“Out of the way, reptiles, redskinned animals,” he shouted. “White gentlemen don’t want to be pestered by you,” and pushing his way roughly through the little crowd, he came and stood by the scientist, bestowing on him a most princely bow and a gracious smile.

Now as Bigsby had not sought this very loud young man’s acquaintance, and wouldn’t have had it at any price he could have offered him, he took no notice of him beyond a civil nod, and returned to his task of examining a chip of quartz with a pocket-lens. But the Zambo, having established the fact that he was “somebody” in these parts by driving away the shrinking natives, endeavoured to press on the doctor a card that bore a string of names beginning with César Auguste and ending with the historic surname of de Valois. Convinced that the man was not sober, and unwilling to be the centre of a disturbance, Bigsby turned away with a curt “good morning” and followed the retreating Indians.

At three o’clock he returned to the boat. The others were already in their places, and sitting next to Rocheblanc was a coloured person, resplendent in64white hat, fur-collared surtout, and an infinite number of waistcoats, pins, brooches, chains, and rings; Dr. Bigsby’s acquaintance of a few hours before.

“I took the liberty of inviting Mr. de Valois to join us as far as the next station, where he has business,” said Rocheblanc, who, like the Indians, seemed more or less in awe of the stranger. Bigsby concealed his annoyance and comforted himself with the reflection that the next station would be reached in less than three hours’ time. It turned out that the fellow was a millionaire fur-buyer, with whom Rocheblanc had often done business and wished to do more, and who, from his great size, his wealth, his powers of bullying, and his pretensions to white blood, was a terror to all the more civilised Indians. To the doctor, as a “king’s officer,” he condescended to be more friendly than was desired; but his manner towards the two Canadians was insufferably patronising, while a curse or a kick was the sole form of notice he could spare for the canoemen, and that only when they happened to splash him. Father Tabeau and the doctor pocketed their disgust as well as they could, and Rocheblanc endeavoured to hold his guest tightly down to business conversation. The worst of it was that the canoemen, though strong, able fellows, seemed fascinated by their fear of him, and had it not been still broad daylight, a serious accident might have happened to the boat. Even as it was, the men paddled nervously and irregularly, more than once getting her into a crosscurrent, and growing only more frightened and helpless as the half-breed became noisier and more abusive.

A Bully Well ServedThe over-dressed Zambo, after bullying the canoemen to the verge of mutiny, was ordered by Bigsby to leave the canoe. The bully clenched his fist, but Bigsby planted a powerful blow on his throat, and sent him right over the gunwale.

“There’ll be trouble if we’re not careful, Father,”65said Bigsby in English, now at the end of his patience. “If you’ll allow me I’ll try and get rid of him.”

He made a sign to the Indians to pull sharply in, which Mr. de Valois did not perceive. But, when the confused redskins suddenly ran the boat among a number of projecting stakes, where an old landing-stage had been broken up, the Zambo, splashed and shaken, began to behave like a maniac. He jumped up, cane in hand, and lashed the three nearest Indians savagely over the head and face, swearing, gesticulating, and threatening till the doctor was minded to pitch him into the water straight away.

“Steady her; hold by those stakes,” he cried to the men in the bow, who, being farthest from the stick, were the coolest. Then, throwing himself between the half-breed and the canoemen, he said, “There’s one redskin too many here, my man, and I thinkyou’dbetter clear out,” and at the same time he wrenched the stick from his hand and flung it on shore.

The bully clenched his fist, but again Bigsby was too quick for him, and planted a powerful blow neatly under his throat; he staggered, tried to steady himself, and, in so doing, toppled clean over the gunwale.

“All right; push off,” said Bigsby coolly. “He’s got plenty to catch hold of there.”

The water was still fairly deep, but the stakes were so numerous that even a non-swimmer could be in no danger. The boat was soon in clear water again, and Cæsar Augustus could now be seen—a truly pitiable figure—helping himself ashore from stump to stump, a sadder if not a wiser man.

Bigsby never had the felicity of seeing him again, but he heard, some months later, that his power over the redskins was very much diminished, and that he had grown considerably less ready to domineer over the race which certainly had more claim to him than any other.

67CHAPTER VCREEK INDIANS AT PLAY

A great deal of abuse has been poured, from time to time, on the United States Government for its treatment of the North American Indians. In point of fact, much of this abuse was quite undeserved, for, as the well-known traveller, Captain Basil Hall, R.N., has shown, constant endeavours were made by Congress to render the savages self-supporting; large grants of money and land were given to those who were dispossessed of their forest or prairie homes, and the remainder were allowed and encouraged to preserve as many of their own customs and laws as were not connected with blood-feud or revolt.

The redskins with whom Captain Hall came most in touch were the Creeks, who—with the Choctaws, Chicasas, etc.—belong to the great Muskhogean family, at one time the possessors of Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama, and Florida. When the Captain first set foot in the State of Georgia, in 1828, he knew little or nothing of the Indians, save from books; and on entering upon the prairies near the Savannah River, he was prepared for adventures thrilling and abundant. He and his attendants were68all well armed, for they had before them a lonely ride that would occupy two days, to a small Government settlement on the edge of a hilly forest, where they were to meet a United States agent to whom the Captain had letters of introduction.

They rode all that day, however, without meeting a soul; and the greater part of the next also. Then, as they crossed a stream which formed a natural frontier between prairie and forest, smoke became visible among the trees, and, shortly after, the travellers began to catch glimpses, not of the wigwams which they had looked to see, but of tarred log huts that were certainly not the work of unreclaimed savages. But every man examined the loading of his firearms and prepared to defend himself: a very needless precaution, as it turned out. For, amid a confused barking of dogs and screaming of women, a dozen or more redskins crept gloomily out from one or other of the huts, and Captain Hall’s heart sank in chill disappointment. Werethesethe noble savages whom, all his life, he had burned to see? The “Black Eagles” and “Sparrowhawks” and “Pathfinders” of the romance-writers?

The skinny, stooping, half-starved-looking group drew near. Not one carried arms, not one appeared to have nerve enough to slay a spring chicken; and the moment the white men reined up, all began a chorus of whining appeals for tobacco, drink, or money, such as you may hear from the gypsies along the Epsom Road. Hall hastily distributed some small change and a handful of cigars and rode on again, having scarcely the heart to look round on the dismal69little village with its scolding women, its disreputable fowls and dogs, and its little company of loafing, unkempt men, the most energetic of whom could find no more vigorous employment than the making of toy bows and arrows for sale, or the listless sowing of seeds in ground that had never been properly dug. Andthesewere the famous Creek Indians!

But compensation for the disappointment awaited him when, some hours later, the forest path which he was following widened into a large clearing where wigwams, as well as permanent huts, well-fed horses, and camp fires announced at least a more virile and natural form of life. A robust and well-dressed young white man came running out of the first and largest of the huts and, greeting the Captain warmly, introduced himself as the Government agent.

“Oh, pooh! They’re not all so bad as that,” he said when, seated over a comfortable meal in the hut, Captain Hall dwelt on what he had seen at the edge of the forest. “They’re only the dregs and leavings. I’ll show you something different to that by and by. Poor beggars; I’m afraid they’ve no one but themselves to thank for their condition.”

“How do you make that out?” asked the Englishman.

“Well, when Congress claimed that bit of prairie land, these fellows were given the patch where you saw them—and considerable money grants as well. They went off to the towns and spent the money like children, and when they hadn’t got a red cent left, calculated to try farming. I reckon you saw the sort of farmingtheygo in for, Captain. They’re too lazy70to fell the trees, let alone grub out the roots or break up the soil. We’ve given ’em corn for seed, but they only chaw it up and then come back and ask for more. They had the option of coming out here, but they ain’t partial to forest hunting; they won’t help themselves, and they won’t let us help them.”

“But what’s the good of their coming out here if you fellows are going to turn them off when you think good?” asked the Captain.

The agent shrugged his shoulders. “Look here, sir, these chaps won’t be disturbed for another twenty years. The chiefs have had fair warning, and if they don’t turn to and help themselves before then, it’ll be their own look-out. Finer men you needn’t wish to see—at present.”

Hall felt that the last remark was fully justified when, later in the evening, his new friend conducted him to the middle of the clearing, where the whole tribe had foregathered.

“Couldn’t have come at a better time, Captain,” said the Yankee. “To-morrow’s their Derby Day, University match, or whatever you like to call it—the greatest day of the year. A team of up-forest Creeks is now on the way to play against them at ball.”

“Ball?”

“Ay, you’ll see to-morrow. Come and be presented to the chiefs now—and mind the dogs.”

The caution was needful enough, for at the entry of every hut or wigwam was a brace of half-wild Indian hounds, each fastened by a thong to a stump, and ready to spring on the unwary.

“What’s all the din about?” asked Hall, as they came to the village square orplace.

“Local band,” said the American briefly, and just then they came upon the gifted instrumentalists, two in number, though making noise enough for two dozen. One “uneasy imp of darkness” was beating with his fist a drum made of deer-skin stretched over a short length of hollow tree-trunk; the other had a gourd, so dry that it resembled wood, which contained a double handful of pebbles and which he shook as a child shakes a rattle, only with more disastrous results to Christian ears.

The “square” was formed by four long huts or pavilions, in one of which sat an assembly of chiefs, cross-legged and smoking; and to these the Captain was introduced with a good deal of ceremony. In the middle of the quadrangle was an enormous fire of pitch-pine, and, between it and the hut where Hall was now seated, were over twenty young women, who sat—in accordance with local etiquette—with their backs turned to the chiefs and visitors. These were the dancers, and at a given signal they all rose, and went through some manœuvres far more tedious than interesting.

Perhaps the Englishman’s face showed that he was bored, for the oldest of the braves ordered the dancing to cease after a while, and remarking to the agent that he had something in store thatwouldamuse the stranger, banged a copper vessel which did duty for a gong. Immediately thirty fine young men sprang up from various quarters of the court, and made a dash for a heap of sticks or clubs which lay close to72where the white men were sitting. Certainly these Indians were a contrast to the poor wretches encountered at the edge of the wood; every one of them looked as hard as iron and as agile as a puma. Uttering fearful shrieks, and swinging their clubs round their heads, they performed the wild sort of war-dance that Captain Hall had heard of and had despaired of seeing, and followed it up with a series of very ingenious and difficult somersaults, round and round the fire.

“That’s only the first part of the preparation for to-morrow,” said the agent. “Come along, we must go to the town hall for the second.”

They followed the chiefs to a very large circular hut beyond the far side of the square, which was lighted and heated by another pitch-pine fire; and they had no sooner sat down than the thirty athletes crowded into the building and at once stripped off ornaments and clothes. Supporting the roof were six stanchions, and to each of these one of the Indians betook himself and stood embracing it. Then six of the chiefs rose solemnly, and at once every voice was hushed. Each of these had provided himself with a short stick, at the end of which was a tiny rake—in some cases consisting of a row of garfish teeth, in others of a dozen or more iron needle-points, with their blunt ends stuck in a corn-cob. Every chief approached his man, and having drenched him from head to foot with water, commenced an operation calculated to set any civilised man’s teeth and nerves on edge.

Scroop-scroop, sounded the rakes, like razors being drawn over very bristly chins; and Captain Hall73realised that these young men had given themselves up to be scraped and scarified with the rows of teeth. All stood quite passive while both thighs, both calves, and both upper-arms were scored with cuts seven or eight inches in length, the pleasantness of which proceeding may be gauged by the fact that, in a few minutes, the victims were bathed in blood from heel to shoulder.

“But what’s itfor?” whispered the Captain, fretted by the long silence and the whole uncanny exhibition, as batch after batch of athletes submitted themselves to the ordeal.

“They reckon it makes them more limber for to-morrow’s performance,” explained the agent. “They’re the ‘ball’ team, you know.”

Captain Hall had seen enough for one day, but early the next morning he rode further into the forest with his guide, towards the playing ground, some six miles away. This turned out to be another clearing—a space two hundred yards by twenty, at either end of which were two large green boughs stuck six feet apart in the earth, evidently meant to act as some sort of goals.

Here was the ground, right enough, and batches of spectators were continually adding themselves to those already in attendance. But where were the players, and what were they going to play?

“They go to meet the other team,” said the agent; “and they usually take their time over getting here, for there’ll be a score or two of private fights, that have been carried over from last year, to settle by the way.”

When the white men had waited for more than two hours, they lost patience and rode further into the forest in search of the rival companies, guiding themselves more or less by the warlike howls that proceeded from the distance. And presently they came upon the bulk of the missing men, some walking in twos and threes, others stopping to adjust private grievances with the strangers or their own people (they did not seem particular), and a third contingent lying in the rank grass, singing war-songs, sleeping, smoking, or bedizening themselves. These latter, who had left the putting on of their bravery till the eleventh hour, were painting their eyelids (one black and the other yellow) and adorning their persons artistically with feathers and the tails of monkeys or wild cats. Clearly it would be idle to suggest their hurrying themselves; and the Captain and his conductor rode back to the field very much at their leisure.

Shortly after midday, however, both teams arrived, and having inspected the ground for a bare minute, made a sudden stampede, each side for its own goal.

“There’s one thing, they don’t waste any time about beginning, when theydoget here,” said Hall relievedly, at which remark the agent only grinned.

In another moment an appalling chorus of yells arose from the neighbourhood of either goal, and both teams began to dance like madmen, waving over their heads the sticks with which they were going to play.

And now—imagine the Oxford and Cambridge crews, as a preliminary to the race, gathering one on either bank and bawling derisively at each other,75cursing like bargemen and screaming themselves hoarse in a struggle as to which side could make the more noise and utter the grosser invective or the more offensive personalities. This is what these unsophisticated savages were doing, and continued to do for a good twenty minutes, the one lot recalling to the other’s memory former defeats or instances of foul play, the other replying with both wholesale and individual charges of lying, theft, etc. Then, when the abuse began to grow monotonous, it dropped suddenly; and, at a sign from one of the chiefs, both parties advanced to the centre and laid down their sticks. These were bits of well-seasoned wood, two feet long and split at one end, the fork thus made being laced across with sinew or skin, so forming a small and very rough sort of tennis-racquet.

A deputation of braves advanced, examined the sticks severally, and carefully counted the men (thirty on each side), and, this being done to universal satisfaction, a chief harangued the teams for a quarter of an hour, bidding them “play the game.” Having finished his speech, he told them to pick up their sticks—each player had two—and go to their places; whereupon they distributed themselves much as we should do at football or hockey, each goal, however, being guarded bytwomen. When all were ready the committee of elders passed the ball from hand to hand, each inspecting it gravely to see that it satisfied the regulations. It was a soft, rough edition of an ordinary cricket-ball, being made of raw hide, neatly stitched, and stuffed with horse-hair.

By this time Hall had begun to understand why his76companion had smiled so subtly at his anticipation of a speedy commencement. They had tethered their horses some distance away, and had secured for themselves a point of vantage near the scorers. At last the old chief threw the ball in the air and beat a hasty retreat. As it fell it was caught deftly by one of the home team between his two bats, and, regardless of tripping, kicking, punching, and snatching on the part of the other side, he began bravely to force a way towards the opposite goal, backed up sturdily by his fellows, who were waiting for him to throw the ball to them as soon as he saw himself brought to a final stop by his adversaries. And thus the match proceeded, being—as may be seen—not at all unlike our Rugby game; and whenever a goal was scored by either team, the delirious shouting of the spectators might have added to the impression of a modern onlooker that he was witnessing a Crystal Palace cup tie.

But there were two respects in which their rules would have profited by a little overhauling. We consider an hour and a half ample time for a match to last; but, though Captain Hall watched the Indians’ game for five hours, it was not quite finished when he left. Twenty “was the game,” and any footballer knows that that number of goals is not to be scored all in a hurry, when both teams are equally active, powerful, and skilled men. The scoring, by the way—or the counting of the goals—was done by the two mathematicians of the tribe, each of whom was supplied with ten sticks, and stuck one of them in the ground every time a goal was gained by his side. The dear old gentlemen could not count above ten, so, when the77eleventh goal had to be marked, the sticks were pulled up and the reckoning was begun a second time.

A Game at BallThis game is a mixture of tennis, lacrosse, and Rugby football. The rules are few and simple, the object being to gain possession of the ball by any means and hurl it between the goalposts of the opponents. The safety or comfort of the onlookers is of no consequence whatever.

The other direction in which the Indian laws cried loudly for amendment concerned the spectators even more closely than the players. There was no “touch” line, nor was the ball, no matter where it went, ever regarded asin“touch.” With a pitch only twenty yards wide, it will easily be seen that the ball was, from time to time, knocked or thrown among the onlookers; but that was their own affair, argued the players, who rushed pell-mell among them, screaming and struggling, hitting or kicking, or trampling right and left.

Indeed, it was one of these wild rushes that was the means of bringing Captain Hall’s interest in the contest to an abrupt end. The ball had come within a yard or two of him, plump between the two scorers, each of whom wisely made an instantaneous dash into the open and so avoided the onrush of the players. If Hall had had two more seconds at his disposal he would have seized the ball and flung it into play again; but the sportsmen were too near.

“Tree, tree,” shouted the agent behind him; and waiting for no second reminder, the active sailor sprang at the bough above him and hoisted himself into safety just as the crowd swarmed over and half killed a boy who was trying to follow him into the tree.

When the ball was safely on the other side of the ground he climbed down.

“I’m going,” he said resolutely.

They reached their horses and were riding slowly78back towards the village when shouts resounded behind them, eclipsing the loudest and noisiest of any they had heard that day.

“The end of the game,” said Hall. “Our side were nineteen when we came away.”

“Ay, the end of the game,” assented the young American; “and the beginning of the fighting. The losers are getting ready to whop the winners. Are you keen on going back again?”

79CHAPTER VIWITH THE DELAWARES AND CREES

Sir George Head, elder brother of the great South American explorer and Colonial Governor, was a sort of Ralegh on a small scale, inasmuch as he figured in the various rôles of sailor, soldier, traveller, and courtier. The greater part of his time from 1814 to 1830 was spent in and about Nova Scotia, Quebec, and Ungava, his military duties at Halifax, as chief of the commissariat, giving him plenty of opportunity for combining pleasure with business in long journeys northward.

Late in the autumn of 1828 he set out on a tour north-westwards from Halifax, intending to devote his six months’ furlough to hunting among the Cree Indians of New Brunswick and Eastern Quebec. It was not a journey that would commend itself to people who love the sun and the fireside, for though the district for which he was making is in the same latitude as Cornwall, the average winter temperature may be put down as 19° F. A coach took him and his servant across country as far as the Annapolis Basin, whence it was only a sixty-mile run by steam packet to St. John; and here there was no difficulty in80obtaining a large canoe with three Delaware Indians to paddle it and act as guides.

Of the St. John River, up which quite big steamers travel over two hundred miles nowadays, comparatively little was then known, except its lower reaches, and its source, which lies north-westwards in the State of Maine; and even the Indian guides would not undertake to go many miles beyond Fredericton.

“What do you mean by ‘many miles beyond’?” asked Major Head, when, on passing that town some days later, the Indians reminded him of their contract.

“Ten miles, or perhaps fifteen. We are strangers beyond that, and, though the Cree Indians are akin to us, they do not love us.” This was perfectly true, for the Crees, Blackfeet, and other of the less civilised Algonquin redskins despised the Delaware Indians as mere cockneys.

In the end, the guides promised that they would go as far as the next town, which was twenty miles farther, admitting that they might possibly have business there. The nature of that business soon leaked out, for suddenly the Indian in the bow dropped his paddle, snatched up a spear from a small bundle of those implements that lay to hand, leant over the side, and brought up a salmon nearly three feet long. The other canoemen at once abandoned their paddling and stood expectant, spear in hand. The Major had never caught salmon in any other way than with rod and line, and he, too, took up a spear, determined to distinguish himself; but, though they waited patiently for another hour, not a second fish was seen,81and at length the Indians picked up their paddles again and moved on.

“We may get some to-night,” said one of them; “though it is almost too late in the year. Nearly all of them have reached the sea by this time, but it was worth our while to come so far on speculation. Between Fredericton and the sea there is little chance of catching anything, for the timber rafters frighten all the fish, so that they seldom rise.”

At evening they landed to make their camp for the night; but, soon after supper, instead of lying down as usual, the Delawares announced that they were going fishing. By way of a preliminary, each lighted a substantial brand of pitch-pine, and, taking up their spears, got into the boat again, Head following them. And this time there appeared to be considerably more chance for the fishermen; the silence and darkness and loneliness of the spot were, of course, in their favour, but of even more importance were the torches, which would appeal to the curiosity of any salmon that might be about. Even in daylight the Indian fishermen more often than not regard a flame of some sort as a necessary adjunct to their work.

Sport opened briskly and brilliantly. Long before the Englishman’s eyes had accustomed themselves to looking down into the water by this constantly moving artificial light, the Indians had caught over a dozen fish; and still the silly creatures came peeping to the surface or hovering a few feet below it.

With the “beginner’s luck” that is proverbial, the first salmon that came within his reach fell an easy prey to the Major’s spear, so easy, in fact, that the82redskins smiled broadly at his triumphant satisfaction, for they knew that it was the one happy chance in a million. He began to think so, too, when, time after time, he darted the spear into the water without making a second catch. His eye and hand were well trained to every kind of sport; and, of course, he knew that hitting an object in water and out of water are two very different things. Over and over again he would have taken an oath that his spear had struck its mark, and yet it came up empty. He grew more and more impatient and venturesome, and, in the end, naturally met with the reward that he might have expected: lost his balance and went heels over head into the water.

He was a bold and strong man who had faced danger and death in many forms, but the icy chill of that water almost prompted him to scream out; and, as it gurgled and bubbled over his ears, he decided that his chance of ever getting out of it alive was but small, for he was wearing top-boots, thick leather breeches, a seal-skin jacket, and a heavy overcoat. Nevertheless, he struck out desperately and reached the surface again. If he could only keep himself up for a few seconds he was safe. At once catching sight of him, one of the Indians uttered a shout, leant forward with his paddle, and held it towards the drowning man. A couple of laboured strokes brought him near enough to clutch the blade of it, and he was speedily drawn to the stern of the boat.

“Hold there,” cried the Indian. “No, don’t do that,” for Head was trying might and main to draw himself up. As every swimmer knows, it is not the83easiest thing in the world to get into a light boat from the water, even when one has no clothes on and is not numbed to the very marrow with cold.

“What on earth are you trying to do?” he spluttered, as the other two Delawares also took up their paddles. What they were about to do was soon clear enough; they meant to tow him ashore, for suddenly the paddles flashed through the water and, despite the weight behind it, the canoe moved rapidly towards the bank.

“Wait a minute, you precious fools,” gasped the Major wrathfully; but they never so much as turned their heads. True, he had never seen a canoe move so swiftly in all his life, yet those forty or fifty yards to the bank were like miles, and when, springing ashore, two of the Indians bent over to help him out of the water, he could scarcely use his feet to scramble up the low bank.

“Why ever didn’t you pull me out straight away, or keep still till I got into the boat?” he asked, as he stood and shivered before the fire while his man gave him a rub down with a blanket. The Delawares looked grave and wise.

“You are a tall and a heavy man. You might have upset the boat—and then we should have lost all our fish.”

Sir George does not record the answer that he made to these curmudgeonly rascals who preferred endangering a man’s life to the risk of losing a few salmon. But perhaps they were only having their revenge on him for having spoilt their night’s work by driving away all the fish.

The next afternoon, fishing and paddling by turns, they came to a town or village of some pretensions—the last on the river. Head again tried to persuade the Indians to agree to go farther, but fruitlessly; and their utmost concession was that, as one of their number was going into the town to buy some goods while the others sold their fish at the wharf, he would make inquiries about procuring new guides. The Major sent his man across with the luggage to the only decent inn of the place, and himself idled about the jetty, talking to the remaining Indians and their customers.

“He has found a guide for you,” said one of the Delawares at last, pointing to a strange figure that came stalking along the quay behind the third Indian.

The new arrival was a middle-aged man of such ferocious aspect that Head fancied he could foresee trouble before they had gone far together. He was one of the Crees, and his personal beauty—probably never at any time great—was not improved by the scars and tattoo marks that covered his face, arms, and chest. Cold though the weather was becoming, he was naked, but for his moccasins and a sort of kilt or petticoat made of feathers and deer-skin. His hair, also decorated with feathers, extended to his waist, and he wore a string of odds and ends round his neck: glass beads, teeth, bits of metal, coins, and buttons. He carried a broad-bladed spear nearly eight feet high in one hand, and an enormous club in the other, while from his neck or shoulders hung bow, quiver, tomahawk, and two knives.

Head, who spoke the Algonquin dialect perfectly85well, bade him give some account of himself, and he replied, in a voice whose mildness scarcely fitted his fierce and repulsive appearance, that he had ridden down from his camp near Presque Isle (in Maine) to guide a Yankee fur-trader across the New Brunswick boundary, and had now been waiting two days on the chance of a similar job for his return journey.

“Who did you suppose would be likely to be going up there fromhere?” asked the soldier suspiciously.

“There are many French people who come from here to buy our furs. Is it not true?” The new guide turned fiercely on the Delawares for confirmation, and they nodded, making little effort to disguise their fear of him. Hitherto they had generally shown themselves cool-headed enough, but in the presence of this forest savage they seemed afraid to say that their souls were their own.

Head reflected that he was becoming very tired of the river, and further, that it might now be frozen hard any day. Moreover, it was but a roundabout way of travelling compared to the forest, which, being only of pine and spruce, offered none of the obstructions of the creeper-clad woods farther south. Could he hire or buy horses? he asked of a negro working close at hand. Ay, any number of them; mustangs were being brought over the boundary every day by enterprising Americans, and could be bought for a couple of pounds a head.

“Very well, then.” The Major turned to the Cree again. “Call for me at the inn to-morrow morning at nine, and I shall be ready to start.”

Arrangements were soon made as to horses, and86Head, who had not slept without his clothes for a week, and might not see a Christian bed for weeks to come, went off to his room, resolved upon at least one night’s good rest. Coming down to his breakfast in the morning, he found that his man had put out, cleaned, and loaded a pair of pistols for him.

“Beg pardon, Major; most disreputable-looking party that guide, sir.”

“Well—yes; we don’t want to know too many of his sort. We’ll keep an eye on him in case he has some idea of leading us into an ambush; but don’t let him imagine that we suspect him.”

Head had finished his breakfast and was strolling into the yard at the back of the house to see if the horses were ready, when a violent uproar arose in the bar, which was at the other end of the passage: women screaming and running hither and thither, loafers shouting and laughing. Yielding to natural curiosity, he turned back along this passage and was just in time to see a stranger sight than he had ever witnessed in all his six-and-thirty years. There, gesticulating, stammering, and struggling, was the terrible Indian of the day before, and, behind him, one hand firmly grasping his long hair, the other buffeting him liberally over head and ears, was the landlady—a sturdy Irishwoman—who was “helping him into the street,” at the same time expressing her opinion of him with great volubility. In her wake followed two chamber-maids, each armed with a mop, and from one of them the traveller learned that the Indian had already been forbidden to enter the house on account of his drunken and riotous behaviour there two days earlier.

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