Enter the plains—Meet a flood—Reach Fort Carlton.
We now caught glimpses of prairie every little while. The country was changing, the banks were becoming higher, the soil richer. We were on the divide between the swampy and rocky regions of the east and north, and the rich pastures and agricultural lands of the Saskatchewan valley. Several times as the boats were being tracked up the river, I jumped ashore and ran across land, and was delighted to breathe the air of the plains, and scent the aroma of the wild roses, and behold for myself the rich grass and richer soils of this wonderland, for I had never dreamed of such a country as was now presenting itself on every hand. Being a loyal Canadian, I was delighted with what I saw, and already began to speculate on the great possibilities of such a land as I was now entering. We passed Fort la Corne, and later on the mouth of the south branch.
I remember distinctly climbing the bank near where the town of Prince Albert is now situate, and the present terminus of the Regina and Prince Albert Railway. Then it was without a single settler; but the whole land seemed to me as speaking out in strong invitation to someone to come and occupy.
When near Fort Carlton, we met a fresh volume of water. Suddenly the river rose, the current strengthened, and the work became harder. The summer heat had loosened the ice and snow in the distant mountains. Fortunately for us we were near our objective point when this heavy current met us, and presently the bows of our boats were hugging the bank at the landing-place at Fort Carlton.
The Fort—Buffalo steak—"Out of the latitude of bread."
Fort Carlton I found to consist of some dwellings and stores, crowded together and surrounded by a high palisade, with bastions at its four corners, and built on a low bench, on the south side of the river.
The high banks of the river, alternating with prairie and woodland, formed a fine background to the scene. A few buffalo-skin lodges added a fresh item to my experience, and told me I was now in reality in the famous buffalo country.
Very soon I had another proof of this, for on going ashore I was told to run up to the fort, as dinner was now on.
Finding the dining-room, I sat down at the only vacant place, and was asked by the gentleman at the head of the table if I would have some buffalo steak. I assented gladly, and enjoyed it heartily. I had eaten pemmican and dried meat, but this was my first steak, and I relished it very much. Presently mine host asked me to have some more, but I thought I had eaten enough meat, and inadvertently I said to my nearest neighbor, "Will you please pass the bread." This produced a laugh all around the table, and an old gentleman said to me, "Young man, you are out of the latitude of bread." And so it was; for looking down the table, I saw there was no bread, no vegetables, only buffalo steak. This was an entirely new experience to me; though born on the frontier I had never until now got beyond bread. I was sorry I had not taken some more steak, but determined to be wiser next time.
New surroundings—Plain Indians—Strange costumes—Glorious gallops—Father and party arrive.
Here I was to remain till father came across the plains, which might be any day now, as we had taken a long time to come up the river.
My surroundings were now entirely different from anything heretofore in my life. The country was different, the food was different, and the Indians were distinctly different from all I had previously met. Their costume, or rather lack of any often, their highly painted faces and feathered and gew-gaw bedecked heads, their long plaits or loosely flowing hair, their gaudy blankets or fantastically painted buffalo robes, their ponies and saddles and buffalo hide and hair lines, their sinew-mounted and snakeskin-covered bows and shod arrows, their lodges and travois, both for horses and dogs—all these things were new to me. I was among a new people, and in a new land I had plenty to do in taking in my new surroundings.
Previously canoe and dog-train had been our means of transport; now horses took the place of canoes. This was a big grass country. Horses and ponies were at a premium here.
The gentlemen of the Hudson's Bay Company were exceedingly kind to me. Mr. P. Tait, who was in charge of the fort, lent me horses, and I took glorious rides out on the prairie.
Some of us arranged a party to go and meet those we expected to be now near by on the long trail from Red River to this point. Some Hudson's Bay clerks and myself formed the party. Several horses had been driven into the yard, but I was not on the ground when they came, and when I got there all were taken but one, which seemed to me unfit to ride any distance. Just then Mr. Tait came along and whispered, "Take him, and when you reach the horse-guard, who is not far from here on your road, tell him to catch my horse Badger for you." I thanked him, and saddled the "old plug," and off we rode. Many a joke I took because of my sorry steed; but I could very well stand it all, for I had quietly asked the Indian boy if he knew the horse "Badger," and his eyes glistened as he said, "I think I do; he is one of the best saddle horses around here." So I was patiently waiting my turn; and it came, for we soon reached the horse-guard, and I told him what Mr. Tait had said. He took his lariat and went and caught a beautiful bay, "fat and slick," and handsome as a picture. I saddled him and came up to my companions on the jump, and astonished them with the magnificence of my mount. Now I was the envied of the party, and proud I was as my horse frisked and jumped and played under me.
Ah, those first gallops on the plains! I will never forget them. They seemed to put new blood in me, and I felt even then how easy it would be for me to cast in my lot with such a life in such a land as this. We galloped past Duck Lake, which long years after became the scene of the first actual outbreak in the rebellion in 1885. We rode down to the north bank of the south Saskatchewan, and camped there without any bedding; and waiting part of the next day, finally turned back without any sign of our friends, and went into a grand duck hunt on the way back to Carlton, which we reached late in the evening.
At this time the old fort and the plain around was a busy scene—our crews from the boats, hunters from the plains, parties of Indians in to trade, the air full of stories about the southern Indians and the tribal wars to and fro, scalps taken and horses stolen, the herds of buffalo said to be within a hundred miles from the fort, or less than two days out. Buffalo-skin lodges and canvas tents dotted the plain in every direction. Horse-races and foot-races were common occurrences. I championed older Canada against Indians, half-breeds and Hudson's Bay officials and employees, and in the foot-racing and jumping—high, long, and hop, step and jump—"cleaned out the crowd" and made a name for myself and country, and amid such doings spent fifteen days, when father and his party came up and we moved on.
FORT CARLETONFORT CARLETON
Father told me that the first two days in the saddle had been trying times with him. The everlasting jog of the all-day journey made him feel so stiff and sore the first night that he was hardly able to mount his horse the next day. But after three or four days this wore off, and the trip had been to him not only a pleasant one, but a revelation as to the resources and beauty of our own country. "Why," said father, "every mile we came is abundantly fit for settlement, and the day will come when it will be taken up and developed."
Continue journey—Old "La Gress"—Fifty miles per day.
Mr. Hardisty, the Hudson's Bay officer who had brought father across the plains thus far, soon made arrangements for our continuing our journey westward. He furnished us with horses and saddles and a tent, and also a man as a guide. Swimming our horses across the North Saskatchewan opposite the fort, and crossing ourselves and saddles in a boat, we saddled up and packed our one pack-horse and set out up the big hill, ascending it with more ease than the American I once met at the top of it, who said to me, "That is the mostest biliousest hill I ever did climb."
We were now on the north side of the North Saskatchewan, and away we went at the orthodox jog-trot for Fort Pitt, the next post in the chain established by the Hudson's Bay Company.
Our guide was an old man with the name of La Gress, or as the Indians called him, "Grease." Mr. Hardisty had said of him, "He is a good traveller and a quick cook," all of which we found to be true.
He was small and wiry, and sat his horse as if he had grown there.
When on the jog his little legs incessantly moved, and his pipe seemed to everlastingly smoke.
He had been to Red River and had crossed the mountains several times, had been on the plains and in the north, had been chased many a time by the enemy, had starved and almost perished once for the lack of food on one of his trips.
He was the man of whom it is told that as he sat picking the bones of a raven, he vehemently maintained to his partner that "this was a clean bird." Indeed our guide was a man full of adventure and travel; to me he was full of interest, and I plied him with questions as we jogged side by side through the country.
And what a country this was we were riding through—bluff and plain, valley and hill, lake and stream, beautiful nook, and then grand vistas covering great areas! Every little while father would say, "What a future this has before it!"
We rode through the Thickwood Hills. We skirted the Bear's-paddling Lake. We passed the springs into which tradition said the buffalo disappeared and came out from occasionally. Trotting by Jack-fish Lake, on for miles through most magnificent land and grass and wood and water, we crossed the valley of the Turtle River. We rode at the foot of Red Deer Hill and Frenchman's Butte, where in 1885—just twenty-three years later—our troops retreated before an unknown and practically invisible foe.
We picked up Peter Erasmus; who was associated with the Rev. Henry Steinhauer, and was now freighting for the latter from Red River to White-fish Lake. Peter was, and is, an "A1" interpreter, and father concluded to take him on as guide and interpreter for the rest of our journey.
We ate up all the rations, consisting of a ham of buffalo meat and a chunk of hard grease. This we accomplished the last day at noon, and we rode into Fort Pitt the evening of the fourth day from Carlton, having averaged about fifty miles per day, which was not so bad for men new to the saddle.
Fort Pitt—Hunter's paradise—Sixteen buffalo with seventeen arrows—"Big Bear."
Fort Pitt we found on the north bank of the Saskatchewan, standing on a commanding bench near the river, and having a magnificent outlook—a wide, long valley, enclosed by high hills, which rose terrace beyond terrace in the distance, and the swiftly flowing river coming and going with majestic bends at its feet.
This was then the buffalo fort of the Saskatchewan District, the great herds coming closer and oftener to this point than to any other of the Hudson's Bay posts.
This was also a famous horse-breeding spot, the grasses in the vicinity being especially adapted for that business.
Here was a hunter's paradise—plenty of buffalo and fine horses. No wonder good hunters would be the result!
AN EXPERT HUNTERAN EXPERT HUNTER
From here the party went out which had the Indian with it, to whom the Hudson's Bay officer gave seventeen arrows, and said, "Now, let us see what you can do;" and the Indian modestly answered, "I can but try," and killed sixteen buffalo in the straight "race set before" him.
This was the trading home of Big Bear, who for years was hunter for the fort, and who, later on, much against his own will, was deceived and persuaded to join the foolish rebellion of 1885.
On to White-fish Lake—Beautiful country—Indian camp—Strike northward into forest land.
We remained over Sunday at the fort. Father held service, and Monday morning saw us away, mounted on fresh horses, which had been provided by the gentlemen in charge of the fort.
Our course was now more northerly, and the country increased in interest as we travelled. Away in the distance to the south and west, we caught glimpses of the winding valley of the big river. Around us, on every hand, were beautiful lakes with lawn-like banks; gems of prairie with beautiful clumps of spruce and poplar, and birch and willow artistically intersecting them; great hills, and broad valleys, and gently rippling streams; a cloudless sky; an atmosphere surcharged with ozone above us; good horses under us; father, and guide, and myself all thoroughly optimistic in thought and outlook. No wonder that I, in the full tide of strength, and health, and youth, was fairly intoxicated amid such surroundings! Father was only a little more sober or a little less "drunk" than I was.
We were travelling steadily and fast, and amused ourselves by locating farms and homesteads, and villages and centres of population, and running imaginary railroads through the country as we trotted and cantered from early morn until night, through those never-to-be-forgotten lovely August days of 1862.
For food we had pemmican and dried meat.
Occasionally we shot chickens or ducks, but the distance we had to travel and the limited time father had at his command forbade us doing much shooting while pemmican or dried meat lasted.
We rode over the Two Hills; we galloped along the sandy beach of Sandy Lake; we saw Frog Lake away to the right; a few miles farther on we crossed Frog Creek, then Moose Creek, then the Dog Rump.
Here I missed my first bear. He was down in a deep ravine, almost under me, and, as is usual with a "tenderfoot" at such a time, I shot over him, and as my gun was a single-barrelled muzzle-loader, the bear had plenty of time to disappear into the thick brush down the ravine. We had no time to follow him.
On we went, over hills and across broad plains, thickly swarded with pea-vine and rich grasses, passing Egg Lake to the left.
Early the third day we came to Saddle Lake, on the north side of which we found a camp of Cree Indians.
Some of these belonged to White-fish Lake, and were nominally Christians. Others were wood and plain Indians, still pagan, and without any settled home, but all glad to see us. Most of the leading men and hunters had gone across the river and out on to the plains for a hunt.
From these people we learned that Mr. Steinhauer and his people, still at the Mission, contemplated a trip out to the plains for provisions, and that they and these were but awaiting the return of the hunters to this camp to decide from the report they would bring as to the direction of their trip. This determined father to hurry on to White-fish Lake, and catch Mr. Steinhauer at home if possible.
We spent about three hours with this camp, and had lunch in one of the tents, where we were the guests of Mrs. Hawke, who very kindly loaned father a fresh horse, a fine animal, to take him to the Mission.
Father held a short service, and late in the afternoon we started on, two of the patriarchs of the camp accompanying us to where we stopped for the night.
Many were the questions they asked, long was the talk father held with them, and it was late when we rolled into our blankets and went to sleep. Early next morning we parted company with our venerable friends and continued our journey.
Our course lay almost north-east. We were entering the fringe of the forest lands of the north country. We were going farther out of the course of the war-paths of the plain Indians. The more bush and forest, the less danger from these lawless fellows.
A plain Indian dreads a forest, does not feel at home in it, and this was the reason for the selection of White-fish Lake as a mission centre, a place where the incessant watchfulness and unrest (the prevailing condition of the times) on the plains south of the Saskatchewan might, for the time, at least, be largely laid aside. On into this thickening forest-land we trotted, a narrow bridle-path our road.
Water became abundant, and mud correspondingly so.
Within a few miles of the Mission we came to the thickly wooded banks of a stream where we had to swim our horses. Here we met some Indians who were starting out on a moose hunt, and, to my astonishment, one of them seemed to be speaking English—at least I thought so. He was shouting "Dam, dam," but like all men who presume on a too hasty judgment, I was mistaken, for the old fellow was only calling to his horse, "Tom, Tom," urging him to swim across the stream. With his accent, "t" was "d."
Resaddling and galloping on, early in the afternoon we came to the Mission, and found Mr. Steinhauer and family well; and as we had heard at Saddle Lake, Mr. Steinhauer and people were making preparations for a trip out to the plains for provisions.
As with everybody in the West in those days, their storehouse and market was the buffalo, which, after all, was exceedingly precarious, for pemmican, dried meat, or any kind of provision, and even fish, were alike at a premium when we arrived at White-fish Lake, and it behoved all parties, both residents and visitors, to move somewhere very soon.
The new Mission—Mr. Steinhauer—Benjamin Sinclair.
In the meantime father was delighted with what he saw.
Here in the wilderness was the beginning of Christian civilization. Mr. Steinhauer had built a mission house and school-house, and also assisted quite a number of Indians to build comfortable houses. Quite a settlement had sprung up, and this mission seemed to have a bright future.
Of course, the bulk of all effort had rested on the missionary, but he proved equal to his work. Preacher, judge, doctor, carpenter, sawyer, timberman, fisherman, hunter, and besides this a great deal of travel in that country of long distances. Mr. Steinhauer had his time fully occupied.
Here we met Benjamin Sinclair, who had come into the Saskatchewan country as assistant to the Rev. Robert Rundel, who was the first missionary of any church to the tribes of this western country.
Benjamin was a swampy half-breed from the Hudson's Bay region. Big, strong and honest, and a mighty hunter, was old Ben Sinclair. In his use of English he made "r" "n," and "t" "d," and used "he" for "she." For instance (introducing us to his wife), he said, "He very fine wo-man, my Mangened" (Margaret being his wife's name).
He had settled close to the Mission, and was a great help to the missionary. Side by side these worthies labored, and side by side sorrowing families and a sorrowing people some years later laid them to rest.
A few hours after our arrival, "the Hawk" and a few of the Indians whose families we had passed at Saddle Lake came in.
They had returned from their hunt and had been successful, and brought Mr. Steinhauer some of the meat. They had been attacked by a crowd of Indians, who turned out to be friends from Maskepetoon's camp, and thus they brought us word of the whereabouts of the chief and his people, whom father was most anxious to see before he returned to Norway House.
Accordingly it was arranged that we should meet some fifteen or twenty days later on the plains "somewhere." This was very indefinite, but as near as we could plan under the conditions of the time.
Mr. Steinhauer would go with his people, and joining those at Saddle Lake, cross the Saskatchewan and on to the plains and buffalo; and we would go to Smoking Lake, and finding Mr. Woolsey, would then strike out also for the plains and buffalo, and there we hoped to meet in a large gathering before long.
Measurement of time—Start for Smoking Lake—Ka-Kake—Wonderful hunting feat—Lose horse—Tough meat.
Nights and days, and months and seasons, I found, were the measurements of time out here. Minutes and hours would come by and by with railroads and telegraphs. If you questioned anyone about time or distance, the answer would be, "In so many nights, or days, or moons." The Indian had no year; with him it was summer and winter.
We left White-fish Lake Friday evening, having with us for the first few miles "Ka-Kake," or "the Hawk," and some of his people, who were returning to Saddle Lake. "Ka-Kake" was far more than an ordinary personality. His very appearance denoted this. The elasticity of his step, the flash of his eye, the ring of his voice—you had to notice him. To me he was a new type. He filled my ideal as a hunter and warrior.
From Peter I learned that he was brave and kind, and full of resource, tact, strategy and pluck; these were the striking traits of this man, by whose side I loved to ride, and later on, in whose skin-lodge I delighted to camp.
He had figured in many battles, and been the chief actor in many hunting fields. He had surpassed other famous buffalo hunters, inasmuch as he had ridden one buffalo to kill another.
To do this, it is related that he and others were chasing buffalo on foot, and coming to an ice-covered lake, the surface of which was in spots like glass, some of the buffalo fell, and Ka-Kake, with the impetus of his run, went sliding on to one of them, and catching hold of the long, shaggy hair of its shoulders, seated himself astride of its back. Then the buffalo made an extra effort and got to its feet and dashed after the herd, and Ka-Kake kept his seat. In vain the animal, after reaching the ground, bucked and jumped and rushed about. Ka-Kake was there to stay—for a while, at any rate. Then the buffalo settled down to run and soon overtook the herd, which spurted on afresh, because of this strange-looking thing on the back of one of themselves. Now, thought Ka-Kake, is my chance. So he pulled his bow from his back, and springing it and taking an arrow from his quiver, he picked his animal, and sent the arrow up to the feather in its side, which soon brought his victim to a stop. Then he took his knife and drove it down into his wild steed, just behind his seat, and feeling that the buffalo was going to fall, he jumped off to one side, and thus had accomplished something unique in the hunting-field.
Around at the end of the lake our roads diverged, or rather, our courses did, for we found very little road through the dense woods, as we bore away north and west for Smoking Lake, where we expected to find Rev. Mr. Woolsey. Pathless forests, and bridgeless streams, and bottomless muskegs were some of the features of the scene we now entered. Our progress was slow, and instead of reaching Mr. Woolsey's Saturday night, or early Sunday morning, we lost one of our horses by the way, and did not reach Smoking Lake until Monday afternoon. By this time our provisions were about finished, and had not Mr. Woolsey killed an ox the day we arrived, we, and others also, would have gone supperless to bed that night. As it was, we had the privilege of chewing at some of the toughest beef I ever tackled—and my experience along that line has been a very wide one.
Mr. Woolsey—Another now mission.
Mr. Woolsey, his interpreter, and two hired men comprised this settlement at the time. One small house and a roofless stable were the only improvements. Mr. Woolsey had begun here within the year, and his difficulties had been neither few nor small. Any Indians who might look upon this place as a home in the future were now either moose-hunting in the north, or out on the plains after buffalo.
The reason for establishing at this place was like that at White-fish Lake, to be somewhat out of the way of the contending tribes; and it was thought that thirty-five or forty miles into the wooded country north of the northernmost bend of the Saskatchewan would give some respite from the constant danger and dread which was a condition of this western country at that time.
Father's plan was that Mr. Woolsey should accompany us out to the rendezvous, already arranged for with Mr. Steinhauer and his people, and as most of Mr. Woolsey's Indians were out on the plains, he expected to see the people of both missions as also the missionaries together.
Strike south for buffalo and Indians—Strange mode of crossing "Big River"—Old Besho and his eccentricities—Five men dine on two small ducks.
Thursday evening found us striking southward, Mr. Woolsey and his interpreter, William Monckman, making our party up to five. Peter was guide and father's interpreter. Both positions he was well able to fill.
Because of Mr. Woolsey's physical infirmity, we were obliged to travel more slowly than we had thus far.
Our road ran along the east side of Smoking Lake, and down the creek which runs from the lake to the Saskatchewan. We had left most of the ox for the men at the Mission, and were to depend upon our guns for food until we should reach the Indian camp on the plains. We shot some ducks for supper and breakfast the first night out, and reached the north bank of the river Friday afternoon. The appearance of the country at this point and in its vicinity pleased father so much that he suggested to Mr. Woolsey the desirability of moving to this place and founding a mission and settlement right here on the banks of the river, all of which Mr. Woolsey readily acquiesced in.
The two missionaries, moreover, decided that the name of the new mission should be Victoria.
The next move was to cross this wide and swiftly flowing river. No ferryman appeared to answer our hail. No raft or canoe or boat was to be seen, no matter where you might look. Evidently something must be improvised, and, as it turned out, Peter was equal to the occasion.
Father and Mr. Woolsey had gone to further explore the site of the new mission, William was guarding the horses, and Peter was left with myself to bridge the difficulty, which, to me, seemed a great one. If we had even a small dug-out or log canoe, I would have been at home. "But what is Peter going to do?" was the question I kept asking myself. Presently I said, "How are we going to cross?" "Never you mind," said he; "do as I tell you." "All right," said I; and soon I received my instructions, which were to go and cut two straight, long green willows about one and a half inches in diameter. I did so, and Peter took these and with them made a hoop. While he was making this he told me to bring the oilcloth we were carrying with us and to spread it on the beach. Then he placed the hoop in the centre of the oilcloth, and we folded it in on to the hoop from every side. Then we carried our saddles, and blankets, and tent, and kettle, and axe—in short, everything we had, and put them in this hoop. Then William came and helped us carry this strange thing into the water. When we lifted by the hoop or rim our stuff sagged down in the centre, and when we placed the affair in the water, to my great astonishment it floated nicely, and I was told to hold it in the current; and Peter, calling to the missionaries, said, "Take off your shoes, gentlemen, and wade out and step into the boat." I could hardly credit this; but the gentlemen did as bidden, and very soon were sitting in the hoop, and still, to my great wonder, it floated.
A NEW KIND OF BOATA NEW KIND OF BOAT
Peter, in the meantime, took a "chawed line."
This is made of buffalo hide, and is literally what its name signifies, having been made by cutting some green hide into a strand, about an inch or more wide, and stretching this, and as it dried, scraping the hair and flesh from it. When thoroughly dry the manufacturer began at one end and chewed it through to the other end, and then back again, and continued this until the line was soft and pliable and thoroughly tanned for the purpose. Great care was taken while chewing not to let the saliva touch the line. These lines were in great demand for lassos, and packing horses, and lashing dog-sleighs and as bridles.
Peter tied one end of this securely to the rim of the hoop, and then brought a horse close and tied the other end of the line to the horse's tail; then fastening a leather hobble to the under jaw of the horse, he vaulted on to its back and rode out into the stream, saying to me, "Let go, John, when the line comes tight;" and gently and majestically, like a huge nest, with the two missionaries sitting as eaglets in it, this strange craft floated restfully on the current.
For a moment I stood in amazement; then the fact that William and myself were still on this side made me shout to Peter, "How are we to cross?" By this time he was swimming beside his horse, and back over the water came the one word, "Swim!" then later, "Drive in the horses and take hold of the tail of one and he will bring you across." I could swim, but when it came to stemming the current of the Saskatchewan, that was another matter.
However, William and I did as our guide ordered, and soon we were drying ourselves on the south bank, horses and men and kit safely landed. The willow pole and our oilcloth had borne our missionaries and guns and ammunition, and the whole of our travelling paraphernalia, without wet or loss in any way.
As soon as the backs of our horses were dry, we saddled and packed, and climbing the high bank of the river, proceeded on our journey.
Peter cautioned us by saying, "We must keep together as much as possible; there must be no shooting or shouting towards evening; we are now where we may strike a war party at any time."
All this made the whole situation very interesting to me. I had read of these things; now I was among them.
We stopped early for supper, and then went on late, and camped without fire, another precaution against being discovered by the enemy.
Next morning we were away early, and were now reaching open country. Farms and homesteads ready made were by the hundred on every hand of us.
Our step was the "all-day jog-trot."
Presently father, looking around, missed Mr. Woolsey, and sent me back to look for him and bring him up. I went on the jump, thankful for the change, and finding Mr. Woolsey, I said, "What is the matter? They are anxious about you at the front." He replied by saying, "My horse is lazy." "Old Besho is terribly slow. Let me drive him for you," said I; and suiting the action to the word, I rode alongside and gave "Mr. Besho" a sharp cut with my "quirt." This Besho resented by kicking with both legs. The first kick came close to my leg, the second to my shoulder, the third to my head. This was a revelation to me of high-kicking power. Thinks I, Besho would shine on the stage; but in the meantime Mr. Woolsey was thrown forward, for the higher Besho's hind-quarters came, the lower went his front, and Mr. Woolsey was soon on his neck, and I saw I must change tactics. So I rode to a clump of trees, and securing a long, dry poplar, I came at Besho lance-like; but the cunning old fellow did not wait for me, but set off at a gallop on the trail of our party. Ah! thought I, we will soon come up, and I waved my poplar lance, and on we speeded; but soon Mr. Woolsey lost his stirrups and well-nigh his balance, and begged me to stop, and I saw the trouble was with my friend rather than his steed.
However, we came up at last, and were careful after that to keep Mr. Woolsey in the party.
This was Saturday, and we stopped for noon on the south side of Vermilion Creek, our whole larder consisting of two small ducks. These were soon cleaned and in the kettle and served, and five hearty men sat around them, and father asked Mr. Woolsey what part of the duck he should help him to. Mr. Woolsey answered, "Oh, give me a leg, and a wing, and a piece of the breast," and I quietly suggested to father to pass him a whole one.
As we picked the duck bones, and I drank the broth, for I never cared for tea, we held a council, and finally, at father's suggestion, it was decided that Peter and John (that is, myself) should ride on ahead of the party and hunt, and if successful, we would stay over Sunday in camp; if not, we would travel.
Bear hunt—Big grizzlies—Surfeit of fat meat.
In accord with the plan mentioned in last chapter, Peter and I saddled up sooner than the rest, and rode on. I will never forget that afternoon. I was in perfect health. My diet for the last few weeks forbade anything like dyspepsia—the horseback travel, the constant change, the newness of my surroundings, this beautiful and wonderful country. Oh, how sweet life was to me! Then the day was superb—bright sunshine, fleecy clouds, and intensely exhilarating atmosphere; everywhere, above and around us, and before and beneath us, a rich and lovely country—quietly sloping plains, nicely rounded knolls, big hills on whose terraced heights woodland and prairie seemed to have scrambled for space, and someone, with wonderful artistic taste, had decided for them, and placed them as they were; lakelets at different altitudes glistening with sun rays, and that quiet afternoon sleeping as they shone; the early autumn tinting the now full-grown grass and foliage with colors the painter might well covet. As I rode in silence behind my guide, my eyes feasted on these panoramic views, and yet I was sharply and keenly looking for some game that might serve the purpose of our quest.
When suddenly I saw a dark object in the distance, seeming to come out of a bluff of poplars on to the plain, I checked my horse and watched intently for a little and saw it move. I whistled to Peter, and he said, "What is it?" and I pointed out to him what I saw. Said he, "It is a buffalo." Ah! how my hunting instincts moved at those words. A buffalo on his native heath! Even the sight of him was something to be proud of. The plain this animal was crossing was on the farther side of a lake, and at the foot of a range of hills, the highest of which was called "Sickness Hill."
It may have been about four or five miles from us to the spot where I had seen the dark object moving.
After riding some distance, we came upon a ridge which enabled Peter to make up his mind that what he now saw was a bear and not a buffalo. This was to both of us somewhat of a disappointment, as it was food more than sport we wanted.
I said to Peter, "Will the bear not be good to eat?" "Of course he will, and we will try and kill him," was Peter's reply; and carefully scanning the ground he laid his plan for doing this. The bear was lazily coming to the shore of the lake, and Peter said, "I think he is coming to bathe, and in all probability will swim across to this side of the lake."
There was a gully running down through the hills to the lake, and Peter told me to follow that to the shore, and said he would ride around and thus give us a double chance.
Accordingly we separated, and I made my way down the gully, and coming near the lake dismounted and crawled up the little hill which alone was my cover from that portion of the lake where I expected to see our game.
Parting the grass at the summit of the hill, what I saw almost made my heart jump into my mouth, for here was Bruin swimming straight for me.
How excited I was! I very much doubted my ability to shoot straight, even when I got the chance.
Crawling back under cover I endeavored to quiet my nerves, and waited for my opportunity. Then, looking through the grass again, I saw the bear swimming, as hard as he could, back to the shore he had come from, and though he was far out I concluded to try a shot at him, and doing so, saw my ball strike the water just to the left of his head.
Mine was but a single-barrelled shot-gun at best, and here I was with an empty gun and a restive horse, and looking for the reason of the bear's sudden change of front, I saw Peter galloping around the end of the lake to intercept the bear, if possible.
Jumping on my horse, I followed as fast as I could, and began to load my gun as I rode.
This was an entirely new experience for me, and took me some time to accomplish. I spilled the powder, and got some of it in my eyes. In putting the stopper of my powder-horn, which I held in my teeth, back into the horn, I caught some of the hairs of my young moustache, and felt smart pain as these were pulled out as the horn dropped.
But, in the meantime, my horse was making good time, and at last I was loaded, and now nerved and calm and ready for anything.
During all this I kept my eyes alternately between Peter and the bear; saw the bear reach the shore; saw Peter come close to him; saw Peter's horse plunge, and jump, and kick, and try to run away; saw Peter chance a shot while his horse was thus acting; saw that he tickled the bear's heel; saw the bear grab up its heel and, giving a cry of pain, settle down to run for the nearest woods; heard Peter shout to me, "Hurry, John; head him off;" and I was coming as fast as my horse could bring me, and thinking, far in advance of my pace, "What shall I do if I catch the bear before he reaches that thicket? My horse may act like Peter's has, and I will miss the bear, as sure as fate.".
Just then I saw a lone tree standing on the plain right in the course the bear was taking and it flashed upon me what to do. I will ride up between the bear and the tree, jump off, let the bear come close, and then if I miss him I will drop my gun and make for that tree. I felt I could leave the bear in a fair run for that distance. We required the food, and I wanted to kill that bear. With all my heart I wished to do this, and now I was opposite, and my horse began to shy and jump; so I uncoiled my lariat and let it drag, to make it easier to catch my horse, and, jumping from his back, I let him go; and now the bear, seeing me between him and the brush, showed the white of his teeth, put back his ears, and came at me straight.
I looked at the tree, measured the distance, cocked my gun, and let him come until he almost touched the muzzle, and then fired.
Fortunately my bullet went into his brain, and down he dropped at my feet, and I was for the time the proudest man in Canada.
Mark my astonishment when Peter came at me vehemently in this wise: "You young rascal! what made you jump off your horse? That bear might have killed you. It was all an accident, your killing him. Your father put you in my care. If anything had happened to you, what could I say to him?"
I KILL MY FIRST BEARI KILL MY FIRST BEAR
I stood there in my folly, yet proud of it; but I saw I must change the subject, so I looked innocently up at Peter, and said, "Do you think he is fat?" Then a smile lit up Peter's face, and he said, "Fat! Why, yes; he is shaking with fat;" and jumping from his horse, he grasped his knife and laid open the brisket of the bear to verify his words, and sure enough the fat was there.
And now, as the food supply was fixed for a day or two, the next question was to bring our party together.
For this purpose Peter said to me, "Gallop away to the top of yonder hill and look out for our people, and when you see them, ride your horse to and fro until they see you, and when they see you and turn toward you, you can come back to me."
So I galloped away to the distant hill, and presently saw our party coming over another; and riding my horse to and fro in short space, soon attracted their attention, and they diverged towards me; and when I was sure of the direction, I rode back to Peter, who had the bear skinned and cut up by this time, and when our folks came to us, we concluded to camp right there for Sunday.
We could not have had a lovelier spot to dwell in for a time.
Very soon we had bear ribs roasting by the fire, and bear steak frying in the pan.
After supper we saw three large "grizzlies" not far from us. They entered a small thicket, which we surrounded, but after waiting for the huge brutes to make a move, and taking into consideration that our guns were but shot, and muzzle-loading, that our camp was well supplied with bear meat, and that it is written, "Prudence is the better part of valor," we retired to our camp and left the bears alone.
The fact of the matter was, as General Middleton would have described it, we "funked."
Two nights and one whole day and parts of two other days on fat bear meat straight was quite enough for our party.
We did not carry much with us as we left that camp next Monday morning bright and early. Our appetites for this special kind of food had changed since last Saturday evening. Then we ate a hearty supper, but less for breakfast Sunday morning, and this went on in a decreasing ratio at each subsequent meal. Even Mr. Woolsey, a hardened veteran and ordinarily fond of fat, weakened on this diet. How often did we think and even say, "If we only had some bread or some potatoes, or anything to eat with this;" but there was none, and gladly we left that camp and pushed on our way, hoping to reach the Indians or buffalo before long.
The first buffalo—Father excited—Mr. Woolsey lost—Strike trail of big camp—Indians dash at us—Meet Maskepetoon.
I have noticed that while man's stomach seems to need a lot of stimulating, yet there are circumstances when this organ, in turn, becomes a great stimulator; and the slowest in our party seemed to me to feel this that day, so we rode steadily and fast.
South-east was our course into the big bend of the Battle River.
In the afternoon we did sight a buffalo. There he stood in his hugeness and ugliness, on a plain, without any cover.
The only way was to run him; so father and Peter made ready for the race.
Father was tremendously excited, and rushed around like a boy, pulled off his big riding-boots and left them on the prairie, then threw down his coat, untied his waterproof from his saddle and flung that down also, and putting on a pair of moccasins, he vaulted into the saddle with all the spring and vigor of youth, and rode off with Peter towards the bull, who presently noticed them, and lifting up his big, shaggy head, snuffed the air, and pawed the ground, and then started.
His legs seemed to have no bend in them, and his gait at first was slow, but as the horses came near on the dead run his gait increased in speed. As he ran he turned his head from side to side to catch a glimpse of his pursuers.
At first I thought I could catch him on foot; then he spurted, and the hunters drove their horses to their best. Still the brute was too far ahead for them to shoot, and thus buffalo and hunters disappeared in the hills from our view, and, after them, William; only our pack-horses, and Mr. Woolsey and myself, were left.
I gathered up what remained, boots, coats, etc., tied them to my saddle, and we followed slowly at Mr. Woolsey's pace.
"We are lost, John. We may never find our friends again." These were the comforting sentences Mr. Woolsey addressed to me, but I thought otherwise, and said so, and comforted my venerable companion, all the while keeping my eye on the spot where I had last seen our friends disappearing.
On into the rolling hills we rode, and I did wish Mr. Woolsey would come faster. Repeatedly he broke out about our big loss. Then I heard voices, and we came up to our hunters and found them skinning the buffalo. Taking some of the meat, we pushed on.
And now the whole country gave signs that recently large herds had been roaming and feeding here, and our guide said we might strike the Indians very soon.
But it was not until Tuesday afternoon we came to a large trail; indeed, too many large trails, for these paralleled each other. Thus the large camp kept in a compact mass, which was wise, as the enemy was always on the lookout for stragglers, and as our party was small, we were constantly on the watch against surprise.
But in the early afternoon, notwithstanding all our watchfulness, we were surprised by a troop of Indian cavalry dashing at us from out of the bluff on one side, and another from the other side.
WE WERE SURPRISED BY A TROOP OF INDIAN CAVALRYWE WERE SURPRISED BY A TROOP OF INDIAN CAVALRY
With whoops and yells and fine horsemanship they bore down upon us, and I did not know what to think for a while. But Peter did not seem to mind them; he only sat his horse straighter than before, and soon I knew these were friends sent out to escort us into camp.
Then, as we kept on the trail, presently we saw a flag, and coming up over the hill a small body of riders, and in the centre a "kingly-looking man."
"That is Maskepetoon," said Mr. Woolsey. We alighted as we met, and the chief, addressing the Deity, expressed his thankfulness because of father's coming, and invoked a blessing on our meeting. They all shook hands, and in company with the chief and escort, we continued on our way to the camp.
I was taking stock of the Indians around us, as also of their horses. The men were fine specimens generally, a large percentage very good-looking; their costumes were varied and unique, and ranged from a breech-cloth and looking-glass on to perforated leather shirts and leggings. Also fancy-colored calico was common for little shirts, which were not more than waists, and the sleeves of which came a little past the elbow. Most of the young men had their hair "banged," and I believe that fashion, now so common everywhere, originally came from the plains. Most of them had brass pendants hanging from the hair and ears, also brass collars and armlets. Some had sea-shells on their necks. All were armed with either bow and quiver or flint-lock guns; nearly all were painted, red, yellow and blue being the chief colors, red predominating.
The saddles were home-made—some with a bone and wood frame, covered with rawhide; others a pad of dressed leather, stuffed with moose or deer hair. Stirrups were wood, covered with rawhide; stirrup leathers and girths were softened rawhide. Saddle-cloths were home-made, consisting of the skins of bear, wolf, dog, buffalo, etc., and trimmed with strips of red and blue Hudson's Bay strouds (a strong kind of cloth made for this trade).
Horses were of all colors and sizes, some very smart and frisky, and many of them exceedingly handsome. The whole scene was harmonious and picturesque, and highly interesting to me. All my previous life had been spent among Indians, but they were canoe men, and wood hunters, and fishermen, and for some generations at peace. Here were plain hunters, and buffalo Indians, and warriors. Some of these rode horses recently taken from the enemy. Some of them wore scalp-locks dangling from arm or leg, which not many moons since were the pride of the original owners, and on whose heads they had grown. But as I took in these new surroundings, we were approaching the camp, and the crowd around us had increased.
Many more men had ridden out to meet us, and crowds of boys, two and three on one pony, were joining ourcortègeall the while.
So far as I could see, the ponies were as full of fun as the boys.
Many of the latter were naked, except for the paint and brass ornaments and beads with which they were bedecked.
Large camp—Meet Mr. Steinhauer—Witness process of making provisions—Strange life.
Ascending a ridge, the large camp was before us—rings within rings of white tents, varying in size but all of one shape, and all made from the buffalo's hide; many of them covered with hieroglyphics and paintings indicative either of supernatural power or of martial achievement; their projecting ventilators tasselled with buffalo hair and gently flapping in the breeze.
In and out among their tents, and beyond them for a mile all around, hundreds of horses were feeding, while on almost every knoll groups of guards could be seen, whose duty it was to watch over these herds of horses, and, in so doing, the camp also.
MASKEPETOON'S CAMPMASKEPETOON'S CAMP
Everywhere among the tents were stagings made of peeled poles, on which was spread the meat of recent hunts in various stages of curing; for here meat was cured without either sugar or salt, with only the sun and wind and the chemicals which may be in the atmosphere; and this meat, either as dried meat, or pemmican, or pounded meat and grease, will keep for many years in a perfect state of preservation.
Women were dressing skins, scraping hides, rendering tallow, pounding meat, making pemmican, slicing up the fresh meat and hanging it on the stages; some were cooking; some were sewing, with awl for needle and sinew for thread. Scores of naked children were playing and eating and crying in every direction.
Hundreds of dogs, half wolf, were fighting and stealing and barking as we rode through the circle of lodges on into the centre, where a small cluster of large tents stood.
Here we alighted, and again the chief welcomed the strangers to his country and camp, and once more invoked Heaven's blessings upon the meeting, and then invited us to enter a large tent, which was to be our home while in the camp.
Here we found Mr. Steinhauer and his people, who had reached the rendezvous ahead of us.
This was the first time in the history of the country that three Protestant missionaries had met on the plains. This was the first time in the history of the Methodist Church that a Chairman of a District had visited the Saskatchewan country. The lone and often very isolated missionary's heart was cheered, the Christian native was delighted, and the pagan people were profoundly interested at such an event.
Conjurers and medicine-men looked askance, and may have felt premonitions that their craft was in danger; yet all were apparently friendly and courteous to us.
Soon a steaming repast was served, consisting of buffalo tongues and "boss"; the latter is the third set or back ribs, in the possession of which the buffalo is alone among animals on this continent.
To us this nice, fresh, delicious meat was a feast indeed. We had fed on comparatively nothing, then surfeited on fat bear meat, and made our jaws weary with tough bull meat; but this—no epicure could ask for more or better in the way of meat food. Our table was the ground, our mats buffalo robes, our dishes tin. Had we not brought a little salt and tea there would have been none, for you might have searched the whole camp in vain for these, to many, "indispensables"—-the western Indian had not as yet acquired the taste for either. But the kindly manner and princely hospitality, and the delicious quality and large quantity of the meat our hosts served us with, more than made up for anything we might have thought necessary or lacking.
Great meeting—Conjurers and medicine-men look on under protest—Father prophesies—Peter waxes eloquent as interpreter—I find a friend.
In due time, after our meal was over, the chief asked father when he would be ready to address his people; and father said as soon as the camp could be gathered he was ready. Then the chief summoned two men, and said to them, "Ride forth on either side and shout to my people, and say, Our friends, the praying men, have arrived. One of them is from afar. He is now about to speak to us words of truth and wisdom. All who can be spared from care of camp and guard of horses, come and listen." And the criers went forth and shouted as they rode, and presently from the whole circumference of the big camp, throngs of men and women and children gathered to where we were with the chief. The Christians were intensely interested, but the pagans were intensely curious.
What a gathering of strange people, strange costumes, tattooed and painted faces, painted robes, grotesque and also picturesque headdresses!
What diverse thought! Old pagans, and conjurers, and medicine-men, strongly conservative, and inclined to look upon these praying men and this meeting as altogether "unnecessary" and "unrequired." The religion of their fathers was good enough for their people. Let the white man keep his faith, and let them alone in theirs.
These wondered that men of the type of Maskepetoon should bother themselves in any way with these new-fangled notions, and while they counselled kindness and courtesy, at the same time they said, "Listen only with your ears, and let your minds be unaffected by what these strangers may say." But notwithstanding this, the larger number were eager for something better and stronger and more certain than they had in the faith of their fathers, and these were ready to give close attention to the message of the missionary. All were reverent and respectful, for all were religious in their way.
Our little company, with the native Christian following, sang some hymns while the crowd gathered.
Then the Rev. Mr. Steinhauer prayed, after which father began his address. He told of the coming of Jesus, how He found the world in darkness, and men worshipping idols, etc.; of the commission given to man to preach the Gospel to every creature; what this Gospel had done for the nations who had accepted it. He showed that true civilization originated in and was caused by Christianity. He said that it was because of the command of Jesus, eastern Christians were constrained to send missionaries to the Saskatchewan; that the purpose was for the best good of the people, both present and eternal.
He congratulated them on their country.
He foretold the extinction of the buffalo, and the suppression of tribal war, and the necessity of this people's preparing for a great change in their mode and manner of life; that it was the business of himself and brethren to teach and prepare them for the change which was bound to come.
He prophesied the ultimate settling of this country.
He assured them that the Government would do the fair and just thing by them; that this had been the history of the British Government in her dealings with the Indians, always to do justly and rightly by them.
He congratulated them on having a chief like Maskepetoon, who, while brave and strong, was a lover of peace, and earnestly desirous of helping his people in every way.
He urged them to listen to him and obey him.
He told them that, if God spared his life, his purpose was to come and dwell with them, and become one with them in this great country God had given them.
He assured them of the profound interest all Christian people had in them, and urged them to have faith in the Great Spirit and in His Son Jesus.
Peter waxed warm and eloquent in his interpreting.
What signified it to him that Mr. Steinhauer and William and even myself were closely watching his rendering of this address to the people.
He caught the thought and entered into the spirit and purpose of the speaker, and proved himself to be an earnest friend of this people and a prince of interpreters.
And that congregation, assembled on the highlands of the continent, under the canopy of heaven, amid such strange, and, to me, new and crude surroundings, how they listened! With what reverence and decorum they gave attention! No getting up and going away, no restless movements. On the other hand, the instinctive courtesy of the natural man was clearly apparent.
Civilization does a great deal for man, but it does not always make a gentleman of him.
When the service was over, the chief arose, and with quiet dignity spoke to the crowd as follows: "My people, I told you that my friend from the east would speak to you words of wisdom and truth. You have listened to him, and I want you to think of what you have heard. Let this sink into your hearts, for all my friend has said will come to pass. The Great Spirit has sent these praying men to teach us His will. To-morrow we will show our friends our manner of obtaining a livelihood. My runners have brought word that the buffalo are in large numbers near by, and we will go on a grand hunt to-morrow. Only the necessary guards will remain with the camp. Now let the guards be set for to-night, and let there be no recurrence of what took place last night. Someone slept at his post, and the enemy came within the circle of tents, and if he had not been detected, would have stolen, and perhaps killed. Shame on the young man who would allow that to happen! Go now to your tents, put the camp in order, and remember our friends are tired; they have ridden far. Let there be no unnecessary noise, no drumming or gambling to-night. Let the camp be quiet; let our friends rest in peace."
When I heard of the grand hunt planned for to-morrow, and of the great numbers of buffalo near by, my whole being was excited with the prospect of witnessing this, and perhaps participating in it. Ah, thought I, if I only had a fresh horse! And while I was wondering how to secure one, a young Indian, as if he divined my thought, said to me, "Will you go to-morrow? will you hunt with us?" I said I would like to, and he at once kindly offered me his horse. "Come and see him," said my new friend; and I went with him to his tent, where he showed me a beautiful little black, who was standing near the tent door, eating at a bundle of hay his owner had cut and carried in for him.
The lariat around the horse's neck was passed into the door of the tent, and fastened near where my friend slept. He evidently was taking extra precaution for the safety of his beloved horse. I thanked him for his kindness in thus providing me a mount, and as I sauntered back to our tent I took in the scene.
Horses were being driven in from all sides. Picket pins were being re-driven and made secure. Favorite steeds were being led up to tent doors. Women were busy putting away meat and hides. Others were cooking the evening meal over the flickering camp-fires. Old men were walking through the camp, urging to great caution about horses, and some of them enforcing the advice of the afternoon.
Soon came darkness and quiet, but though tired I could not sleep. My thought was busy with all these new experiences, and then the hunt promised for to-morrow kept me awake. When I did sleep I dreamt of painted savages and buffalo.
Soon it was morning, and with daylight the camp was astir again. Horses were turned loose under guard, breakfast was cooked and eaten and another service held, and then at the command of the chief, all who could go got ready for the hunt.
The big hunt—Buffalo by the thousand—I kill my first buffalo—Wonderful scene.
My friend led up the little black, who in the morning light looked more beautiful than ever. I speedily saddled him, and awaited in nervous expectancy the start.
At last the chief mounted, and in company with father and Messrs. Woolsey and Steinhauer, led the way; and from all parts of the camp riders came forth, many of them leading their runners, so as to have them as fresh as possible for the coming race.
I found myself in the centre of a group of young men, and in a little while, without any formal introduction, we were quite acquainted and friendly.
They plied me with questions about my previous life, the kind of country I had lived in, and how many people there were in "Mo-ne yang," which to them signified Older Canada. They were astonished when I said there were no buffalo there. "What did the people live on?" They were even more astonished when I explained that it was quite possible to live without buffalo. What about war? Did the people where I came from fight?
Thus we rode through prairie and woods about evenly mixed; around us multiplying evidences of the recent presence of thousands of buffalo, the country in some places smelling like a barnyard.
Then, after riding some five or six miles, we came upon a ridge which enabled us to look down and across a plain or open country, some ten by twenty miles in size, and which seemed to be literally full of buffalo.
As I looked, I asked myself, "Am I dreaming? Is this so?" I never could have realized it had I not seen it.
The whole country was a black, moving mass. The earth trembled to their tread and roar. Sometimes the clouds of dust from the dustpans as the bulls pawed the earth, rose in the air like smoke from a prairie-fire. It seemed impossible, and yet here was the fact, or rather thousands of them; for every bull and cow and calf was a reality, and so was this long line of strangely equipped Indians on either side of me, and so was I, for my horse became excited with the sight and smell of the great herds, and I found myself a living fact on a very lively steed. As our line moved down the slope, the outer fringe of buffalo fell back on the larger herds, until there seemed to be one living wall before us.
Presently the captain of the hunt gave the command, "Alight! see to your girths and arms, and make ready!"
I watched my companions, and as they did so did I. They tightened their girths, and then they began to look to their arms. Most of them had bow and quiver, and I turned to one with a gun and watched him. He rubbed his steel and pointed his flint, then took from his ball-pouch some balls, selected some of them, and put these in his mouth. I took several balls from my pouch, selected six, and put them in my mouth. These balls were heavy (twenty-eight to the pound), "but when you are in Rome you must do as Romans do."
In a very short time our captain called, "Mount!" and we formed in one long line; and if it had been ten miles long the buffalo would have extended away beyond. If these huge animals had only known their power and estimated their numbers, our line would have been overwhelmed and trampled under foot in a very short time. Instead of this, they moved away as we advanced, increasing their speed as they went, and, following our captain, we increased ours. The horses were all excitement; the men were pale, nervous and quiet. Under foot was rough ground, and there were any number of badger holes. The possibilities were, being shot, or thrown, or gored.
Now we were at half speed, line as yet unbroken, every eye on the captain. Suddenly he held his gun in the air and shouted, "Ah-ah-how," putting strong emphasis on the last syllable, and away we went, every man for himself. Whips flew; horses tried to. Men were sitting well forward, and seemed to go ahead of their steeds. We were in the dust-cloud, eyes and ears and nose filled with it; then we were through, and here were the buffalo speeding before us. Already the fast horses were into the herd. The swish of an arrow, the blast of an old flint-lock, and the wounded animals jumped aside, streams of blood gushing from their nostrils and mouths, showing that they were mortally hit; others fell dead as soon as shot; others had either a fore or hind leg broken, and stood around at bay challenging another shot—and thus the carnage went on, thicker and faster as the slow-mounted hunters came up.
THE BUFFALO HUNTTHE BUFFALO HUNT
As for myself, I soon found that six bullets in my mouth were at any rate five too many, and I slipped the five back into my shot-pouch. Then my horse would spring over several badger holes, and my hair would lift; I fancied he would come down in another. When I neared the buffalo, I cocked my gun, and in the intensity of my excitement, and because of an extra jump of my horse, I touched the trigger and off it went, fortunately into the air, and thus I lost my shot. I felt very much mortified at this, but hoped no one would notice what I had done; in fact, all had enough to do in looking after themselves and the game before them.
To load under these conditions is no small matter—horse at full speed, greatly excited, and because of the nature of the ground, now making a plunge, now a short jump, and again a long one; and then a dead buffalo right in the way and your horse jumping over him, another struggling and rising and falling in the throes of death straight ahead of you, some winded bulls coming athwart your course, heads down and tails up, which you have been told are sure signs of a fight; and to put on the climax of difficulties, you a "tenderfoot," or, as in the Hudson's Bay country dialect, a "greenhorn."
However, after spilling a lot of powder and getting some of it in my eyes, I was loaded at last, and now I saw that the buffalo were driven from me; but just then an Indian chased a cow at an angle towards me, and I also saw that his horse was winded, and I closed in. Yet I did not like to intrude, but the friendly fellow said, "Chase her, my brother," and then I went in gladly. Again he shouted, "That is a good horse you are on. Drive him!" I touched the black with my whip and he speeded. "Drive him!" shouted my friend, "go close!" and again I struck the black, and like the wind he carried me up, and I did go close, and shot the cow. Down she dropped, and I jumped to the ground beside her, a very proud boy. Ah, thought I, just give me a chance; I will make a hunter as good as the best.
My friend came up and said, "You did well, my brother." I thought so too, and though I have killed many hundreds of buffalo since then, and often under far more difficult and trying circumstances, yet that first race and dead-shot can never be forgotten.
My new brother would fain have me take part of the meat. I told him the animal was his, but if he would give me the tongue I would be thankful. This he did, and fastening it to my saddle, I rode on to look over the field of slaughter, as also to find father and party if I could.
Ascending a hill, I could see men and women at work skinning and cutting up. In little groups they dotted the plain. The pack-horses were waiting for their loads, and the runners were feeding quietly beside them, their work for the day finished. I think I am within bounds when I say there must have been between eight hundred and a thousand buffalo slain in that run.
Many of the hunters killed four, some of them six and seven.
Hunting to kill was considered a small matter, but to kill real good animals was where the skill of the hunter came in. To select a fat one out of scores and hundreds, all on the dead run and mixing as they ran, and to keep your eye on that particular one, watch your horse, load your gun, and look out for wounded and enraged animals in your way, required both skill and nerve, and even among the Indians and mixed bloods born on the plains, there were but few who excelled.
It was late in the afternoon when I found the chief and our party, and I was heartily glad to partake of some dried meat the chief had thoughtfully brought along for the strangers' benefit.
Towards evening we were all converging in the direction of the camp and thousands of pounds of meat and many hides were being packed home by hundreds of horses.
Much of this meat would be eaten fresh, but the greater portion would be cured for future use, or for sale to the Hudson's Bay Company and traders.