When we came nearer the lake we were glad to find that the land around the lake, being higher than that over which we had come, was comparatively dry, and that spring was further advanced than anywhere else along our route. Thankful for this, we put up our skin lodge near the place where we proposed to build our house.
We were not the first in the same line on this spot. Nearly twenty years before Benjamin Sinclair, a native lay agent, under the direction of the Rev. R. Rundle, began a Mission, but the coming into the vicinity of a party of Blackfeet, and their killing of some of the people, had created a stampede from here to Lac la Biche, some two hundred miles north-east, and this place was abandoned.
The little clearing had well-nigh grown up again, and with the exception of the lake in front we were surrounded with dense forests. The surrounding country was altogether more like my native land than any other spot I had seen in the North-West. The lake was approximately some five by eighteen miles in size, and full of fish—too full of the whitefish for these to be of good quality. But just now we could not test them, as the ice was in such condition that it was not safe to attempt to set a net under it. There was nothing to do but to wait until it melted before attempting any fishing.
Our first work was to put up a house. Humble though it might be, we hoped to make it better than the "smoking skin lodge." As we had most of the logs on the ground, we were not long in raising the shanty. It was another thing, however, to whip-saw the lumber for flooring, etc. The building of the chimney, too, was altogether a new experience to me; and when I had built this to the proper height, I was terribly disgusted to have it smoke worse than the lodge did. But I soon saw my mistake, and pulling the greater portion down began anew on a different plan, which proved a great success.
One morning bright and early Providence sent us a deer. Paul took his gun and went towards the lake to get, as I thought, a shot at some ducks. But it was a deer he had seen, and soon he had it secured, for which we were very thankful, as our stock of fresh meat was now low. But what is the meat of a small deer to the eating capacity of five healthy people—especially those of our party who were now fairly over the epidemic? When you are on the one diet, and that wild meat, the consumption thereof is rather startling. In the meantime the ice melted, and we made a raft, set a net and caught some poor whitefish. We caught plenty of pike and suckers, too, and to ourselves and dogs these were a wholesome change.
The first Indians to come to us were some pagans, having with them two genuine old conjurers, whose drums and rattles and medicine songs were thum-thumming and yah-yahing almost all the time they stayed with us. As some of the older members of this camp, and nearly all the younger ones, came to our services, which we held every evening and three times on Sunday, these "high priests of this old faith" renewed their efforts, if one might judge by the noise they made; but do what they would they could not keep their young people from our meetings. After a time a larger camp came to us, nearly all of whom were Mountain Stonies and mostly Christian or semi-Christian in adherence, and our gatherings became very much more interesting. But as all of these people had the measles or were convalescing from the epidemic, and had lost many friends because of the fearful mortality which this caused, we were hard worked in attending to the sick and in comforting the bereaved. As to the former, Providence smiled upon us, and all of our patients, young and old, recovered, which helped us in our first acquaintance and gave us the beginning of an influence which grew with the years.
Here I first met many who became my warm friends and bosom companions around many a camp-fire and on many a hunting field, when danger and darkness and hunger and storm alternated with peace and sunlight and plenty and calm. Here was great big Adam, who from being a first-class Pharisee, with demeanor a voicing of "Lord, I thank Thee," etc., became, through the instrumentality of a hymn I taught him to sing, humbled and penitent, and sought forgiveness and light. He found it; and oh, how changed he became! And there was his son Jacob, one of the grandest men I have known, for whom both nature and grace had done great things. When I first saw him he was recovering from the prevailing scourge. A noble fellow he was in form and feature. He had a big record as a moose-hunter, and was famed as a long distance runner. As he spoke both Stony and Cree fluently, I very soon saw he was a man to be cultivated and made useful for God and country.
Then there was "Little Beaver," a Southern Mountain Stony, who very soon let me know that while he was glad to see me, he could never make up his mind to live down here in the woods and lowlands, but was always sighing for the mountains and foot-hills of his own section of the country, and who by his descriptions made me wish to start west with him and view for myself the land he loved. Another genuine character was "Has-no-hole-in-his-ear," an old man with a large family of boys who became my allies and faithful friends. The father was an ardent Christian in his way, and thoroughly loyal to the new Mission and the young missionary.
Later there came in a camp of Crees, amongst whom was Samson, then in his prime as a hunter, and who afterwards became the successor of Maskepetoon as chief of the wood Crees. Samson and I soon found that we were congenial spirits, and our warm friendship continues to this day. There was also Paul Chian, a French mixed blood, who had grown up amongst the Indians, and was one of them in everything but appearance. He had been a noted gambler and warrior, and the blood of men was on his hands; but he had found that the blood of Christ is efficacious to the cleansing from sin, and he became a splendid character, a solid man, a class leader and a local preacher, always in his place, and a "genuine stand-by." And there were many good women in these camps who became our staunch friends, and in whose lodges we received true hospitality and many real evidences of a solid appreciation of our work and message.
These various people came and went at short intervals. I suppose during our stay at Pigeon Lake for about two months that spring of 1865 no camp of Indians remained longer than two weeks at a time. Until I provided them with nets they had none. Indeed, some of the plain and wood Indians did not know how to set a net, much less how to make or mend one. To provide twine and teach them to make nets was an undertaking that took time to accomplish. Then to live in one place very long was a hardship in itself to these nomads of wood and plain, while to live on fish alone would be foolish to them so long as buffalo were on the plains or moose and elk in the woods. No matter as to time in the obtaining of these animals. The days and months might come and go—these men did not value time; that appreciation is an evolution belonging to a permanent or settled life.
We are visited by a band of Crees—Our guests steal away with a bunch of horses—Stonies set out in hot pursuit—Little William's strategy—Horses recaptured—We begin farming operations—Arrival of Mr. Steinhauer—Home to Victoria again—A memorable Sabbath—My gun bursts—Narrow escape—My mother's cares and anxieties—Home-made furniture.
While we were building our house, and during the stay of the Stonies with us, a small war party of Crees came to our little settlement on their way (so they said) to the Blackfoot country. As they knew me they came to our lodge, and all went well the first day and night; but during the second night they stole out of our lodge, took a bunch of the Stonies' horses and put for home. Awakened by their retreating footsteps, I roused Paul and we struck a light and found our guests were gone, Then we ran down to the path leading eastward, and lighting some matches found the tracks of the horses. Immediately we aroused
I travel with Maskepetoon's camp—Effects of environment on the Indians—Nature's grandeur and beauty—Degradation through paganism—The noble Chief Maskepetoon—Indian councils—On the fringe of the buffalo herds—Indian boy lost—A false conjurer—The lad recovered.
Maskepetoon's camp had now been gone about two weeks, and my instructions were to accompany this camp for part of the summer in its movements, and to do what I could towards the Christianizing of the people. Accordingly, taking Paul with me, and leaving our wives and Oliver with mother, we started for the big camp. We took two oxen and carts and several horses, as father had made arrangements with Muddy Bull to make dried provisions for home use. Our course was down the valley of the Vermilion, and then out through the hilly country that runs by Birch Lake to Battle River.
We killed several moulting geese as we travelled, and enjoyed them as food. On our fourth day out we came up to the camp, and turning the oxen and carts over to Muddy Bull, we domiciled ourselves in his lodge, and at once became part of this moving town. My work was all around me. Here was paganism intensely conservative, the outcome of many centuries of tradition. And here were its high priests, and the novitiate following which thronged after them, seeming to me as "the blind leading the blinder," if this were possible; the whole causing a devolution which was lowering the range of thought and life and ideal, and all the while producing a profundity of ignorance as to things moral and spiritual which in turn, as a logical sequence, affected the physical and material life of this people.
Doubtless environment has a great deal to do with the formation of character and being, but in the environment of these men, outside of buffalo and tribal communism, I failed to find anything that might be thought degenerating in its tendencies. The great herds of buffalo as abused by man were hurtful to himself, and therefore in the fulness of time the Great Father, in the interests of His children, wiped them from the face of the earth. Tribal communism has always been hurtful to individuality, and without this no race of men can progress. But apart from these factors in the life of this people, the rest of their environment was, in my judgment, of the nature and kind to help them, and to give them large, broad and fine views of life and all things. Why, then, this degradation witnessed on every hand? This intense superstition and ignorance, to my mind, is all due to the faith and religion of this people. Their faith is a dead one; no wonder they are dead in trespasses and sins. We believe we are now coming to them with a living faith, but even then we require infinite patience. The change will come, no doubt, but when? O Lord, Thou alone knowest when.
To come back to environment. So far as nature's realm affected the sojourners in this part of the valley of the Saskatchewan, these should be among the best of men. Beauty and wealth and power and a mighty purpose are apparent on every hand. These hundreds of miles of territory, these millions of acres of rich grass and richer soil, these hundreds of days of glorious sunshine in every year, these countless millions of cubic feet of healthful atmosphere, surcharged with ozone so that one ever and anon feels like "taking the wings of the morning"—what a splendid heritage!
Look at this delightful spot where we are encamped for the day. It is now nearing the midsummer, and the hills and valleys are clothed in the richest verdure. Take note of these hills and valleys. Behold the shapeliness of yonder range of hills, and the sweep of this vale at your feet. See the exquisite carvings of this ascent, and the beautiful rounding of that summit. Drink in the wonderful symmetry displayed in planting those islands of timber. Behold as yon fleecy cloud comes between the sun and the scene of sylvan beauty, how the whole is hallowed and mellowed by the shading of light! Think of the corrosions of ice and the cleansings of flood necessary to create such a variety of hill and dale as this. Ponder over the ages of later development, and calculate the layers of vegetable matter needed to make this wealthy soil and produce this infinite variety of flora and herb and forest and grass. Now to my mind all this is exceedingly helpful, and every time I look upon such environment I am made a better and stronger man. Then why not all men be thus helped and made better? All?—there it is, our faiths are not alike. Even a wrong faith is mighty to the pulling down of "strongholds," and man under such influences descends.
But even here there are exceptions, and environment has its way in a measure. Amongst these men and women you will come across those who are big and broad and grand and noble. Blessed be the Lord for this! And one of these latter even now is calling to me and speaking in broken English, "John Mak-e-doo-gal-un, come here now," with big emphasis on the "now," and I readily recognize the voice and walk over to the lodge of the old Chief Maskepetoon.
"So you have come, John? I asked your father to let you come with my camp for a few weeks. There is plenty for you to do, my boy. But I called you just now, as my tent is empty, to tell you that I am sorry and ashamed that my son was with those young rascals who tried to steal horses from the Stonies at Pigeon Lake.
"I told him that under the circumstances I could not have done anything if he and his party had been killed: that he must remember that all men were now my friends, and especially all missionaries, and if I ever fought again it would be on the side of the missionary. That he should have gone from your lodge to steal the horses of your people made me much ashamed and sorry in my heart. I told your father about it, and he said the young men were foolish to act in that way towards you—that you were the Indians' friend; and I believe that, and I want you to work hard, and will pray the Great Spirit to help you to gain a power over young men."
I thanked the old Chief for his confidence, and told him I should always expect his advice and help in my work. Then I gave him my news, and he told me what the camp's movements were to be, and that there was to be an immense gathering of several camps for the holding of the annual festival and "Thirst Dance" of the pagan Indians. He also told me that the buffalo were coming northward and westward, and we should move slowly to give them a chance to come in; that the plain Crees who were coming up country to join us were behind the herd of buffalo; and further informed me that the peace was effectually broken on both sides, and we might expect more or less trouble all summer.
I sat and chatted with the Chief and had supper in his lodge, and then arranged for an evening service in the open camp. These services elicited much interest. Paul, who was a good singer and a fine young fellow, would take his stand by my side. Then as we sang the people gathered, and our service would begin. I would take advantage of our surroundings or the occurrences of the day in the selection of my subject, and then call upon our old Chief or some one of our native Christians to lead in prayer.
In the meantime warriors and hunters on horseback and on foot and curious women and children with "tattooed" and painted faces would come around and watch and listen, but with native courtesy keep silence and act orderly and seem interested.
Thus day after day we publicly proclaimed the Gospel and teaching of the Master according to our ability, for I was but a child in these things myself; and yet the Lord did not despise the day of small beginnings, but blessed us and our work. While during the week conjuring and gambling and heathenish riots went on in many portions of the camp, such was the respect in which Maskepetoon was held by all these people that they desisted from these things on the Sabbath. They even gave up hunting on that day because he wished it. Not that he thus commanded. Oh, no; he was too much of a real gentleman and too wise in his ideas of chieftainship to do this.
Slowly we moved out on the plains. Every day brought fresh scenes, and steadily I was becoming acquainted with these people. Maskepetoon always invited me to their councils, and seated beside him I listened to argument and oratory, and beheld genuine gesticulation, natural and true. Sometimes the Chief would ask me to tell about white men and how they conducted matters. I would respond with a short address on government and municipal organization, or at another time speak of civilization and some of its wonders, or give a talk on education, and Maskepetoon would say, "Listen to John. Although he is only a child in years he is a man in experience; he has seen far and wide, he has gone to school, he has listened for years to that wise man his father." Then at the closing up of these council gatherings Maskepetoon would give judgment on what had been said, either approving or condemning, and settle the matter in discussion in his own way, when the Council would break up for the time.
Day after day we moved slowly out on the plains, the prairie openings growing larger. All this time strict guard was kept, and the camp travelled, when the country would permit of it, in several parallel lines of march. At night scouts were sent out in every direction, and all of the horses either tethered or hobbled up close within the circle of tents.
On every hand were scenes which acted as stimulators in the exercise of care to most of the inhabitants of our moving village. Here had been a fight. Yonder some one would point out where many had been killed. "This is where the camp was when we brought in so many scalps and horses;" and as I listened to these people I could in a measure begin to realize how exceedingly romantic their lives had been, and how constantly the excitement of tribal war had followed them.
One evening we were startled by the wail of a mother. Her eight-year-old son was missing. The camp was searched and the boy not found. For two nights and a day we remained in the one place and made diligent search; but as we were now in the fringings of the large herds of buffalo, and the whole country was tracked up, it was impossible to find any trace of the lad.
One old conjurer drummed all night, and said that the boy was killed, locating the place of his death in a little valley near the line of our march the day the boy was missed. He was so particular in his description of the place and as to the manner in which the Blackfeet had waylaid the boy, that many thought the old conjurer was telling the truth, and quite a number went with the "Medicine Man" to the spot he had so vividly described. But while they found the spot just as he had indicated, there were no traces of the lost boy, nor yet any signs of the enemy. Needless to say, the party came back very much disgusted with their "false prophet."
Another "sight-seer" went into his mysterious lodge, and when he came out he said the boy was alive, that he had passed to the east of our course, and gone on until he was bewildered, and continuing his wanderings he was found by Indians from another camp which was now coming up country from the east to intercept us. This was more comforting, but who could vouch for its truth! Nevertheless this did prove true, for some three or four days later, after we had encamped for the day, some strangers were seen approaching, and when they were formally seated, and each had taken a few whiffs of the big pipe, one of them deigned to open his lips and tell us that a strange boy had been found and was now in their camp; that at first he was quite out of his head, but after a day or two came to himself, and told them where he came from, and the place to which our camp was heading, and thus they had intercepted us. These couriers also told us of several other camps which were coming up to join ours for the Thirst Dance Festival. The poor mother was overjoyed to hear of her boy's safety, and our whole camp rejoiced with her.
The "Thirst Dance"—"Tobacco messages"—The head conjurer—"Dancing lodges"—The rendezvous—The "idol tree"—Meeting of the head conjurer and the chief of the warriors—An anxious moment—Building the "temple"—Self-torture, dancing and sacrifices—The festival concluded—Romantic situation for our camp.
We now were drawing close to the spot which had been indicated by the chief priest of the season as a desirable place for the annual religious festival. Couriers came and went from the several camps. The excitement intensified, and our camp was all astir in anticipation of meeting with the multitudes who, like us, were making for this common ground of appointment. I will here give my readers a brief description of this great festival, known as
THE THIRST DANCE.
This religious gathering has been for ages an annual occurrence. It is an occasion for the fulfilment of vows, and an opportunity for the more religious of this pagan people to make sacrifices and to endure self-inflicted torture and hardship in meeting the requirements of the traditional faith of their fathers.
As the season for this approached some leading men sent "tobacco messages" to different camps near and far, intimating that the time had come for the annual festival, and suggesting the most desirable locality. This latter was determined largely by the proximity of buffalo and the conditions of tribal war.
These tobacco messages were carefully worded and wrapped in the presence of trusty couriers, who would make all haste in reaching their several destinations, often travelling night and day, and generally on foot. When they reached the camps to which they were sent their message was received with solemn dignity and themselves treated with hospitable respect.
Then in quiet council the tobacco was unwrapped and the proposition discussed. If assented to the tobacco was smoked and the head man commissioned to send a return message signifying assent and willingness to come to the appointed place. And now from long distances these camps would move steadily towards the location indicated. The big meeting, the rites to be observed, the blessings that would ensue, the character and prestige and the temporal and supernatural ability of those leaders expected to attend to all these things, were the constant topics of conversation of all these converging camps.
The conjurer rehearsed his medicine hymns, sorted over his medicine bag, fixed his rattles and bells, and retouched his ghastly costume. The warrior went over in memory his bravest deeds and most notable exploits, and carefully arranged his war dress, mending here and fixing there, and generally burnishing up for this grand chance for glorious display. And the women and belles of the camp, notwithstanding all the work of constant moving and making extra provisions to be used during the festival, missed no opportunity to make ready their finery for special use on this great occasion, though all they might have would be contained in a small bag made of calfskin, and would consist mainly of beaded leggings and shoulder straps and a much-brassed leathern girdle.
In the meantime the originator of this concentrative movement was having a hard time of it. The responsibility of the whole gathering rested heavily upon him, and to prepare himself for his duties he fasted and thirsted, left his home and camp, and stayed nights and days alone in cold and wet with little or no covering for his naked body. He petitioned and prayed to "the Spirits," and seemed to commune with them. He grew wan and wasted physically; but he developed spiritually, and there seemed to come to his very appearance that which was supernatural. As the time drew near this intensified. There was a weird mystery about this man, which was felt through all the camp.
The conjurers prepared their medicines, and night and morning before camp moved the drums beat furiously, "dancing lodges" were erected at every encampment, and the four orders of dancers took their turns. The "wood partridges," the "prairie chickens," "medicine rattlers," and the "kid foxes," each in turn to vocal and drum music went through their evolutions of movement. Sacrifices were got ready and consecrated, and amidst night and day alarms from the enemy, and all the necessary hunting for the maintenance of these camps, this work of preparation went on for days and sometimes weeks. And now the chosen spot is reached, which is accomplished almost at the same time, for the scouts and couriers have kept the different camps in touch, and the movement of each has been governed for the purpose of reaching the rendezvous about the same day. But this strange crowd is gathered for a specific purpose, and no time is lost. The conjurers and medicine-men convene in one part of the camp, the warriors in another; and while the priests and medicine-men intensify their petitions and incantations, the warriors go out to scout the country and search for a suitable tree to be used as the centre or "idol tree."
A sharp watch is kept for the scouts, and when these are seen returning to camp the medicine-men form in procession with their chief (pro tem.), the originator of this whole movement, at their head, and march through camp singing and incanting and speaking in unknown tongues. The chief medicine-man holds a big pipe with a sacred stem in his hands, and with this he points heavenward and earthward and all around, following the sun, and thus in solemn aspect and with dignified movement these high priests of an old faith march out of camp to meet the warriors. Now comes the crucial time for this chief medicine-man. If these warriors accept the pipe from him then the success of his venture is assured. But if they do not take the pipe as he offers it to them the whole scheme is a failure, and a new chief priest and a new location will have to be sought. No wonder it is a tense moment for the would-be high priest of this great gathering.
The two companies draw near to each other, and while the priests are chanting in doleful notes petitionary and sacrificial hymns, and the warriors are lustily singing songs of victory, the whole camp is hushed in silent expectation as to the outcome. The warriors know the issue lies with them, and carry themselves accordingly. In all the pride and pomp of martial dignity and costume they sit their picked steeds and await the priest's action. This personage is now almost unnerved. The long vigils and fastings and hardships have emaciated his body, and this is weak; but his communings with the spiritual have made him feel that he has a mission, and that he is essential to the well-being of his people. He has grown within the last few days to believe he is an apostle and a bringer of good, and in his mind he feels these warriors must in their own interest accept him. Nevertheless there is the possibility of their not doing so. No messenger has reached him from the secret conclave held yonder behind the hills. Soon he will know. And now he pulls himself together, and, at first with quavering voice and trembling limbs, he holds the sacred pipe aloft and prays. Immediately in front of him is the chosen chief of the warriors, who gives no indication of what he is going to do in this matter. In silence he and the entire assemblage listen as the aspirant for priestly honors seems to forget himself in the intenseness of his purpose. His voice gathers strength, his limbs cease to tremble, and with native and pure eloquence he calls upon the Deity to bless this gathering, to pity his children, to accept their sacrifices, to smile upon their effort. His metaphors are beautiful, his similes are fine; the range of his thought reaches the heavens above and covers the earth beneath. There is a spell that accompanies the prayer. His whole soul is in it. If you and I had been there, my reader friend, we would have seen the countenance of the warrior chief undergo a change. Fence as he will, he is caught, and as we look we say to ourselves, "He will accept the sacred pipe." And presently as the priest stops he steps forward, and with a majestic wave upward and downward and all around, he hands the sacred emblem to the warrior. While the crowd watch him in breathless expectancy the latter takes it from him, also lifts it heavenward and then earthward, and then all around the complete circle, and the air rings with joyous acclamations. The feast is to take place, and the time is now.
This being settled the warriors parade around the camp in full review. Others go and cut down the "idol tree," and now the warriors break ranks, and dashing into the camp open the lodges and take from them the young women of the camp and hurry these along with them to haul home the idol tree. Many long lines are fastened to this tree, and the women on foot and the warriors on horseback take hold of these lines and pull together, and thus proceed homeward. Others act as drivers and shout and fire off their guns to urge on the men and women. As the camp is neared immense crowds of the old and infirm and of women and children join in the march, and thus the idol tree is brought to the spot where the temple is to stand.
Meanwhile others are cutting and hauling home the posts and pillars and beams required for the "big lodge." Not a nail or pin is used in this structure. Each joint and splice is firmly secured with green hide, which as it dries becomes very tight and strong. All work with alacrity. Everything about the erection of the temple is done on the principle that "the king's business requires haste."
When the idol tree is raised in place the conjurers make a special effort with medicine-rattles and religious singing. Some make the "nest" in the idol tree, or, as it might be called, the sacrificial table, and fasten in and on this the sacrifices which had been purchased long before at the trading-posts for this purpose. All the timbers in place, the whole is covered with the lodges of the principal men of the camp, it being thought an honor to have these used in this way. And now the high priest approaches. He has a big buffalo head mask, both himself and the head well covered with earth. Stepping slowly, and wailing as he walks, he enters the temple. Immediately on his entrance is made the inner circle for those who have vows and will dance through the long hours. Then a spot in the temple is selected for the drummers and singers, and these come in turns, so that the choir is continuous day and night during the festival. Fire is placed in four places, and on these fires are put sweet smelling herbs, which as they burn create incense. Then the high priest takes a whole parchment and speaks to the Great Spirit, and to all the lesser powers; then swings the parchment four times, while all the dancers blow their horn whistles. The high priest now throws the parchment into the centre, all the drummers and singers start up, and the entire company join in the chorus. In the inner circle, and immediately around the "idol tree," the real dancers who are to undergo torture are arranging themselves.
Some of these attach long lines to the "idol tree," and then passing the end through the muscles of their arms thus dance and swing around the circle. Others hang guns to the tendons of their back, and dance with these swinging and jerking about them. Others go from out the camp, and finding a bull's skull with horns attached, pass a line through the eyelets, and then hitch themselves to the other end of the line through the tendons of the back, and drag the head to the temple, entering amongst the dancers for the rest of the festival.
One man, at the time I am writing of, thus hitched himself to a big skull, and dragged this around the big encampment seven times, wailing as he pulled and tugged, and thus sought for forgiveness and salvation.
The self-tortured and the dancers do not eat or drink until the afternoon of the third day. At that time the warriors in costume come in a body to the temple, the bravest ten in the lead, all singing as they march, either on foot or on horseback, and forming a circle just outside the "thirst lodge." Then come those who make gifts; and horses, guns, blankets, etc., are placed in the ring as a general offering, being afterwards distributed to the needy and the infirm. Then the bravest warriors are led out into the centre, and made to recite their exploits and escapades, and between these recitals the various orders of dancers alternate in exhibition of their peculiar skill. Inside the temple torture and thirst and exhaustion; outside, declamation and glory and joyous celebration. And as the sun draws near to the earth on the evening of the third day the annual festival is finished. A day or two later the big camp divides into several smaller camps, each going its own way, leaving only the bare poles around the "idol tree," from the tops of which flutter in the breeze the various-colored sacrificial cloths to remind of this great religious gathering of the wood and plain Crees.
Our camp, having in it the high priest or chief conjurer for this year, might fittingly be called the "Convenor," and therefore it was in place for us to reach the rendezvous before the others. This we did one lovely afternoon, and I could not but admire the selection made by the high priest as the scene of this year's festival.
We camped on the crest of a plateau or table-land, where to the south and west from our feet the country sloped gently to the valley of the Iron Creek, which wound its way from the west and then with a majestic sweep turned southward to the Battle River, its terraced banks with their beautifully timbered heights giving grace to the scene. Where we stood was a fine large plain, with very little, if any, cover for the wily enemy to approach from behind. But within a few miles, and thence on as far as the eye could reach, were ranges of hills, in the valleys of which, as also on their stately summits, prairie and timber were struggling for supremacy, each alternately being beaten, but the whole making a lovely picture.
To-day we have the wild nomadic heathen life, but doubtless in the near to-morrow this will give way to permanent settlement, and the church and school will bring in the clearer light of a larger and fuller revelation.
Our great camp a study of native types—I attend a "wolf feast"—A disgusting orgie—Paul and I start for home—Our horses stampede—Difficult tracking—Enormous herd of buffalo—Home again and all well—Party of half-breeds from the Red River settlement at our Mission—Father returns, bringing a brother and sister from Ontario.
In two or three days our camp grew immensely, and many distinct types of men were at hand for one to study and become acquainted with. The absorbing theme was the approaching festival. For this warriors were preparing, and many devotees were praying; for this every conjurer in the camp was making medicine, and day and night the tapping of drums and the intoning of religious songs went on. Morning and evening we also sang our hymns and held our services, and were ardently studying this new strange life—every day acquiring a better grip of the language and beginning to waken up to the largeness of its vocabulary.
One day I was invited to a "wolf feast." Being a learner I went, and was both shocked and amused at what I saw. About two dozen sat around in the large buffalo lodge, and before each one a big wooden dish of thick soup was placed. This soup was made by boiling slices of fat buffalo meat and wild lily roots together. Neither Maskepetoon nor myself took part. When each guest was served an old medicine-man began to chant in an unknown tongue, accompanying himself by swinging his rattles. By and by all who were to partake joined in the song of blessing. This over, each one drew his big bowl to him and at a signal put both hands into the hot soup, and feeling all through it for chunks of meat, pulled these to pieces and then began to cram the contents of the dish down his throat. While doing this, each one made a noise like the growling of a wolf. And now the race was fast and furious as to who should soonest swallow all that was given to him. The growling and snarling and gulping was terrible, and I was glad when it was over and one and another turned his wooden dish over. I had seen a wolf feast, but, as I told my friend the old Chief, I did not wish to see another. It was almost as nauseating as a drunken carousal amongst the cultured white men in the east! I noticed that it was only a certain class of these pagan men who thus brutalized themselves—that even in those early days the larger percentage of the Indians held aloof from such beastly orgies. Muddy Bull, mine host, laughed when I told him what I had seen, and said that only a few of his people ever thus disgraced themselves.
While the camp was all excitement in preparation for the annual festival, word was brought in that the buffalo had gone into the north between us and the Mission. This made it possible for war parties to go north also; and from what I heard in camp I began to be anxious about our folk at home. Finally I conferred with Maskepetoon and he said that it might be better for me to go in to the Mission. So I left the oxen and carts with Muddy Bull, held an evening service with our people, and then as darkness was coming on one night Paul and I left the large camp and took our course northward.
We went out in the dark because signs of the enemy had been noted, and as our party was small we did not want to be seen by those hostile to us. Steadily and in silence we rode, taking a straight course for Victoria. Some time after midnight we stopped on a hill to rest our horses. We had one horse packed with dried provisions, stored in two large saddle-bags, and unpacking and unsaddling I tied the end of the lariat which was on my horse's neck to these saddle-bags, and with my gun at hand stretched myself beside them, while our horses fed around us. The night was very cloudy and dark, and both Paul and I dozed. Suddenly our horses stampeded and made back towards the camp. Seizing our guns we ran after them, but when we could not hear the sound of their hoofs any longer we sat down and waited for daylight. Whether it was hostiles or wolves or buffalo which had stampeded our horses we could not tell; there was nothing to do but wait for daylight, and be ready for anything that might turn up in the meantime. So we sat in silence and in profound darkness, for the clouds had thickened. Soon the rain came down, and in a very short time we were completely drenched. Several times there were noises near us, but these came from buffalo who were on the move past. After what appeared an interminable time, morning broke dark and cloudy, and we began a search for our horses.
As the day grew lighter we found that great herds of buffalo had passed through the country, and it seemed as if every inch of ground was tracked up. The grass was cropped close, and for hours we walked to and fro, never far from where the last sound of our flying steeds had come. At last I caught sight of a buffalo chip which had been broken by something dragging over it, and then I found another, and concluded that my horse was dragging the saddle-bags behind him in his flight.
I signalled to Paul, and he, after examining this clue, came to the same conclusion, and slowly we followed this our only sign. Slowly from one buffalo chip to another we travelled, and when baffled one would stay with the last trace and the other go on and look for another, and finding this we continued our anxious search until about noon, when we came upon all but one of our horses. As my saddle-horse was still fast to the saddle-bags, the first thing we did was to take out some dried meat to appease our ravenous appetites. Then we retraced our way to the place we had stayed during the night. Finding our outfit intact, we saddled up and continued our journey, hoping that the one stray horse would be found later by some friendly hunters. This actually did take place, for some months later I found the horse at Edmonton, to which place he had been brought by some French half-breeds who had recognized him.
Now once more we were on our journey north. During the afternoon I had a revelation given me as to the number and nomadic character of the buffalo. I had by this time spent three years on the plains in the buffalo country, had seen great herds of these wild cattle, and thought I knew something about them. My food had consisted almost altogether of their meat. My bed, travelling or at home, was over and under their robes. But that afternoon, as we steadily trotted northward across country, and ever and anon broke into a canter, I saw more buffalo than I had ever dreamed of before. The woods and plains were full of them. During the afternoon we came to a large round plain, perhaps ten miles across, and as I sat my horse on the summit of a knoll looking over this plain, it did not seem possible to pack another buffalo into the space. The whole prairie was one dense mass, and as Paul and I rode around this large herd I could not but feel that my ideas concerning buffalo and the capability of this country to sustain them were very much enlarged. I had in the three years seen hundreds of thousands of buffalo, had travelled thousands of miles over new trails, but I had seen only a small number of the great herds, and but a very small portion of the great North-West. Truly these were God's cattle upon a thousand hills, and truly this greater Canada is an immense country.
"I saw more buffalo that I had ever dreamed of before.""I saw more buffalo that I had ever dreamed of before."
On we jogged, early and late, watching our horses carefully and taking extreme precaution against surprise. Nothing, however, occurred to disturb us, and by the evening of the third day we were in sight of home, and could see our loved ones moving in and out around the Mission premises.
Crossing the big river we found all well and delighted to have us home again. We had been away a little over a month, and as yet there was no word from father or the east country. Our isolation during those early years was complete if not "splendid." We were in a big world, but it was distinct from the ordinary. No mails or telegrams disturbed its continuous monotony—and yet our life was never really monotonous. The very bigness of our isolation made the life unique and strange, and the constant watchfulness against surprise and danger seemed to give it zest. Then the struggle for food kept us constantly busy.
One day, shortly after our return, we formed a party and made a flying horseback visit to the sister Mission at Whitefish Lake, and came back on the jump; my wife and sister being excellent horse-women, and a sixty-mile canter a common experience. In our party we had Mr. George Flett and wife. Mr. Flett at that time was post-trader for the Hudson's Bay Company. Later on he became a successful missionary in the Presbyterian Church.
Settling down for a little on our return, we went to work cutting hay. Those were the days when men swung the scythe, and muscle and wind told on the unmeasured and unfenced hay-fields of the Saskatchewan. Hard work it was from early morn until evening; but we cut a good bit of hay, and had it stacked by the time father came home.
In the meantime we were surprised and delighted by the arrival of a colony of some twenty-five or thirty families of English half-breeds, who had transplanted themselves from the valleys of the Red and Assiniboine rivers to this of the Saskatchewan. I well remember the first Sunday service after their arrival, how abashed I felt in the presence of these people who could speak both English and Cree, and some of whom had had special advantages in education. But they listened attentively to my preaching in the mother-tongue, and were regular in attendance upon all our services. Their presence, too, made us feel that we were stronger and more able to withstand the enemy than we had been. Many of these people made good neighbors, and all were kindly disposed to the Mission and its work.
In the Red River country their bane had been the intoxicating cup. Here, far from the temptation, they hoped to better their circumstances. These also were buffalo people, and this was another consideration leading to their removal west. Immediately these people went to work to put up houses in the valley to the east of the Mission. I gave them to understand that the Indians desired the land to the west. It did us good to see these humble homes being erected beside us. Mother and wife and sisters all rejoiced that in a measure our loneliness was past; that a semi-civilization at least had come to us.
Sometime in August we heard that father and party were not more than three days away, and with grateful heart I saddled up and set forth to meet them, which I did about fifty miles down the trail. Father had with him my brother David and sister Eliza. These we had left in Ontario five years before, mere boy and girl, but now they had grown into young manhood and young womanhood, and the long trip across the plains had done them a vast amount of good. My sister was rather astonished to meet her eldest brother clad as he was in leather and with long hair curling on his shoulders, but this was the western fashion, and anything else would have been singular at that time and amid those scenes.
Within a couple of days we were once more a united family and mother's joy was full. I was particularly pleased to note the manner of both my sister and brother towards my wife. The fact of her being a native did not in anywise affect the kindliness of their conduct towards her, for which I was very thankful.
We return to Pigeon Lake—"Scarred Thigh" exchanged for "Blackfoot"—Planting Gospel seed—We organize a buffalo hunt—A moose chase—The buffalo as a "path-finder"—We encounter a hostile camp—All night on guard—My friend Mark's daring exploit—Wood Stonies visit the Mission—Gambling, polygamy and superstition among the Indians.
Now that father was home again I and my party were at liberty to start back to Pigeon Lake, which we did under instructions to remain there until the Indians should start out for the winter, when we were to return to Victoria. I was very sorry to part with Paul at this time, he having decided to go to the plains with the colony of half-breeds for the fall provision hunt. Also with him I separated from "Scarred Thigh," my horse for the last three years.
My readers in "SADDLE, SLED AND SNOWSHOE" will remember that I mentioned a horse called "Blackfoot," taken in battle, and the winner of many a long race. This horse had come to Paul through his wife. He had been stolen from him by those who thought that might was right, but Paul, being a plucky fellow, had taken him back, and as he had more or less trouble guarding the horse, I happened to suggest to him one day that we might make an exchange. He gladly accepted my offer, and now instead of "Scarred Thigh" I had the noted "Blackfoot." Nevertheless I was sorry to see the little sorrel go. Many a glorious gallop we had had together, and I had grown to love the gentle fellow. But Paul was a natural gentleman, and he also must be considered. In the meantime Muddy Bull had come in from the plains with our oxen and carts, the latter loaded with fine dried provisions. Quite a large camp also had come to the Mission, and from these father traded more provisions. Thus we did not start empty-handed on our return trip to the Western Mission at the lake.
Westward we rolled with our carts, every encampment our home for the time. Reaching the spot where we were detained by storm and sickness during the spring, we left the carts and packed on through the woods to the lake, where very soon our people began to settle down around us. Our gardens under the continued neglect now promised little result for the earlier efforts; but the fish in the lakes were exceedingly plentiful, and upon these we almost altogether subsisted. Our dried provisions we were obliged to share with the wandering people who came to us from the north and west, and who had not been out on the plains as we had. We held meetings twice a day on week-days, and, I might almost say, all day Sunday. What our ministrations lacked in quality they fully made up in quantity. And some of those simple services were blessed seasons where souls were born into the kingdom of our Christ. The conjurer might sing and drum as he would, and the intensely conservative pagan decry us as he pleased, our work kept growing as the weeks passed in quick succession, one camp going and another coming to take its place, and we putting in our best efforts to sow the seeds of Christianity.
Presently some Mountain Stonies came to us, men whom I had never seen before. Among them was Mark, of whom I will have more to say as my narrative progresses. These brought word of buffalo near where the village of Lacombe now is, on the line of the Calgary and Edmonton Railway, and as my friend Jacob and his stalwart brothers and cousins were with us at the time, we concluded to take a run out for meat.
Mrs. McDougall remained at the Mission with a few of the older people, and the most of the rest started off early one day. With these I sent my pack-horses and necessary outfit, and with Jacob, Mark and others I followed in the afternoon. Our course was around the north end of Pigeon Lake, then over the "divide" to Battle Lake, and thence down the Battle River. My companions and I had not yet reached the head of the lake, when we saw a big buck moose plunge into the water across the bay and strike out straight for a point of timber which was between us and the Mission. The huge animal was making quick time, and his great antlers and long ears were high out of the water as with strong strokes he cut through the lake.
The nature of the ground where we were was such that we could make better time on foot than with horses. Accordingly we left our mounts, and ran back a distance of about a mile to intercept the moose. I was on the spot some time before the next best, and as the big buck was coming straight for where I was in hiding, I fully expected to have the first shot; but while he was still more than a hundred yards away, and fairly rushing through the water by the force of his swimming power, and even as I stood behind a tree admiring the noble fellow, suddenly there came a shot from down the shore and the moose fell over almost without a struggle, being fairly hit just under the butt of his big antler. I jumped out on the beach, and looking in the direction of the report saw my friend Jacob quietly loading his old flint-lock, a significant smile overspreading his face. I shouted to him, "If you did take my shot you made a very good one;" to which he answered, "It was enough for you to have left us in the race," and thus we were mutually appeased and complimented.
But meanwhile Mark had divested himself of his clothing and was swimming out to the moose, which he soon towed into the shallow water, where we all took hold and pulled the immense carcase up the bank. While Jacob and Mark skinned and cut him up I went back for our horses. Bringing them up, we packed most of the meat back to the Mission, and late in the evening again started after our party of hunters, whom we came up with away down Battle River. Holding an open-air service and stationing our guards, we went to sleep, and with the first dawn of day were astir again. Holding a short morning service, we very soon were jogging down the winding saddle-path which was but the adoption and endorsation by man of the buffalo-path of the preceding ages.
In the course of years I have travelled thousands of miles on buffalo-paths, and often I have wondered at and admired the instinctive knowledge of engineering skill manifested in the selection of ground and route made by those wandering herds of wild cattle. If one was in doubt as to a crossing let him follow the path of a buffalo. Gladly have I often taken to these in the winter time, when the snow was deep. Taking off my snow-shoes, I have run behind my dog-train on the packed trail made by the sharp hoofs of the migrating buffalo. But alas! as I write these paths are about all that we have left to remind us that a short time since these vast plains fairly trembled to the roar and tread of these wonderful herds of nature's stock.
All day on the steady jog, our company of hardy men and women and little children rode down the valley of the Battle River on to Mossy Creek, thence on to Wolf Creek, and when in the evening we were expecting to see some buffalo, instead of these we met the small party Mark had come from, in hiding from a large camp of Blackfeet and Sarcees which in the meantime had come upon the scene. Again, alas for us, these enemies had driven the buffalo back, and, worse than this, were here in our vicinity in such numbers as to make our little party seem very small. As it was now evening we determined to select as strong a place of defence as possible for the night's bivouac. A brief search revealed a small thicket in a gently sloping hollow, with prairie all around it, into which we put the women and children, who, wearied with the hard day's travel, were soon sound asleep.
The night was dark and long, for it was now the late autumn. Before twilight came we saw the enemy and knew we were discovered; but though they surrounded us for a good part of the night, they knew that we were posted all around our camp, and did not venture to attack, though we fully expected them to do so about day-break. However, they concluded to draw off before that time. Providence and our strong position, and, doubtless, the prestige of the Stony and wood Indians, influenced them, for when day came our scouts brought the welcome word of their departure. Their big camp was south-west of us only some ten miles, and we set off rapidly eastward to lengthen the distance between us, and also, if possible, secure buffalo, so that we should not go home empty-handed.
It was during that long night that Mark, hearing me express my wish for a drink, took a small kettle, and, making his way stealthily through the lines of the enemy to a creek some distance beyond, surprised me by bringing back the kettle full of water. I was truly grateful for the refreshing draught, and could not but admire his pluck and scouting ability. Thus was begun a friendship which has continued through all these years. Full often in the bush and plain, in raging current and dangerous ford, Mark has been by my side, loyal and brave.
As we journeyed next day we saw the many trails made by the Blackfoot and Sarcee camps, and from these could estimate their numbers, which were sufficiently formidable to stimulate us to increase the intervening distance. We camped that night across the narrows of what was called "the lake which runs through the hills," a long narrow body of fresh water, heavily timbered on every side. Here we felt comparative security from the plain Indians, for these dread the woods. The next day we moved on down and across Battle River, below where now our Mission is situate, and were fortunate in killing several bulls, with which we had to rest content and return homewards. If the Blackfeet had not taken this circle into the western timber country, which at this season was an unusual course for them, we would have had great luck; but their large camp effectually drove the game from us. However, we were thankful that there had been no actual collision and no lives lost. As it was we took home a little bull's meat instead of the loads of prime cow's meat we had hoped to bring to reinforce the Mission larder.
Arriving at the lake we found all well, and noted that some more wood Stonies had come in. These latter were inveterate gamblers, and generally pretty wild fellows. Many of them were polygamists, and our hands were full doing what we could to withstand heathenism and ignorance. There was no rest day or night while these people were beside us. I had often to act as judge and arbiter. Old quarrels, domestic and tribal, were brought to me, and these I had to settle as best I could. I also had to act as doctor and surgeon, which taxed to the fullest limit my small store of knowledge and experience in this line. But gamble and conjure and quarrel as they would, nevertheless these people would come to our services and listen with close attention. Slowly but surely the seed took root as the more thoughtful began to consider the Gospel message. One idea we had great trouble with was that they believed all sickness and death was caused by hatred amongst themselves. Some one, they thought, was working bad medicine or casting a blight or spell upon those who were taken sick or in some way met with death. This would generate a strong desire for revenge, and was a source of constant trouble to the early missionary.
One day when I had a large crowd of these people before me I said to them, "I have lived amongst different peoples, and in every case these at times have sickened and died, and from all I can learn this has been going on for thousands of years. These peoples expect this to take place at some time in their experience. Everywhere I have travelled I have seen graveyards, and plenty of evidence that all men in the countries that I have been in are visited by death. But now I have come among a people who, if they did not hate one another, and work bad medicines and poison on one another, would live always—at least, that is what you think and how you talk. You are different from all other men. How is this? Has the Great Spirit treated you with partiality? His word says, 'God is no respecter of persons.' Are you not foolish to think and act as you do? Come, now, think about this, and ask the Great Spirit to give you light." So at service and in the lodge and around the camp-fire we kept at them; but the implantings of centuries cannot be shaken off in one or two generations.
We return to Victoria—War parties abroad—Father's influence over the Indians—We organize a big fresh meat hunt—David's first buffalo hunt—Mark's adventure with a war party—Surrounded by wolves—Incidents of our journey—Preparing for the winter.
Soon the autumn was past, the most of our wandering people had gone, and we made ready to travel back to Victoria. Mark, whose wife had died during the epidemic of the previous spring, left his motherless children with their grandparents and his brothers, and went with us. He said his heart was sore and he would go with us in order to be comforted.
Carefully we scouted past Edmonton, for this was the season of activity for the scalp-taker and horse-thief, but we reached the older Mission without any mishap. Here we found everybody busy at the necessary work of preparing for the winter, which always involved a considerable amount of labor. The usual excitement over the coming and going of war parties had taken place. Mother and sisters had spent days and nights in a sort of semi-terror because of the wild conduct of these people, which even Maskepetoon's strong influence could not wholly control, though doubtless this grand old man's firm friendship for the white man, and especially for those of our Mission, was the main reason that no violence was attempted.
Under such conditions we were at times glad to see the large camps break up and in sections depart for a season. The great country around us gave the more turbulent and restless of these nomads a fine field wherein to work off their surplus energy in war and hunting. In the management of affairs during the presence of complex multitudes of wild men at the Mission father was well qualified to act prudently. He knew when to concede as well as to demand, and thus wisely never ran the risk of having his authority and influence brought into question. Moreover, he was a thorough democrat. To him an Indian was as good as any other man, and was given precisely the same treatment. There was none of "the inflated, superior style of man" in father's manner to anybody, either white or red. And this was very soon noticed by these "quick-sighted students of their fellow-men." He was a friend, and as such he became known among these western tribes.
Now the keen frosty nights were with us once more, and time was come for our fresh-meat hunt. In this we were joined by quite a number of the half-breeds. Our pickets of guards were more numerous, and larger, and thus one did not come on duty so often, an appreciable change; for it was dismal work during those long cold nights moving about the silent camp, keeping vigilant watch and looking with pardonable longing for the morning.
Our course this time was south, and on the fourth day out we came upon the buffalo. At once the work of running, killing, butchering and hauling began. This was my brother David's first sight of this kind of game, and in the excitement he lost his hat and had to go the rest of the way bareheaded. But this was a small matter; many a man under like circumstances has lost his head for the time being. No wonder David lost his hat. The novelty and intense excitement of the whole thing and the hunter's rapture in bringing down such noble game was enough to make one's head too large for an ordinary hat.
Our camp of an evening would be a strange sight to one unacquainted with life on the plains. The huge fires, sides of ribs, heads of buffalos, marrow bones, squares of tripe, and other portions of the carcase, all in various processes of cooking; every man armed and fully ready for an attack; the guards occasionally coming within the glare of the camp-fire; horses and cattle closely guarded, and a constant sense of insecurity evident on every hand; men with guns ready at hand eating and drinking, or mending harness, moccasins, or carts. After the evening song and prayer the men stretched themselves to sleep just as they had hunted and worked during the day. There was no taking off of moccasins or clothing. If one removed his powder-horn and shot-pouch he fastened both to his gun, so that with one quick grip he had the whole in his hand and was ready.
My three years of constant life of this kind had made me somewhat familiar with it, but to my brother, fresh from the quiet and security of Ontario, this whole life was a revelation. Nevertheless by heredity and instinct alike he took to it like a native.
When Sunday came we had been two days and a half among the herds and were pretty well loaded, and also pretty well tired, so that the Sabbath rest was exceedingly welcome. Breakfast and a short service, and all who could and were not on duty slept. In the afternoon strange Indians were sighted by our watchful guards, and my man Mark threw his lariat over the neck of "Ki-you-kenos"—the big American horse that ran away with Peter in "SADDLE, SLED AND SNOWSHOE"—and before anyone could stop him was away on the jump to reconnoitre more closely. In the meantime from our camp we could see these strangers gathering on the summit of a distant hill, and knew from their numbers and equipment that they were a war party. Mark, with only his lariat for a bridle, was going nearer to them at every jump. Those of us who knew the horse felt that there would be no stopping or turning him until he reached those men; and our hearts were in our mouths, so to speak, as we watched Mark's progress and realized his peril. We caught up our best horses, and saddling them as quickly as possible started after him. I well remember how I felt as with my horse bounding under me I made for that hill. Momentarily I expected to see the smoke of a flint-lock, and keenly I watched Mark as he sat on his flying steed, for pull up as he might I knew he could not stop him. In a few moments he was in the midst of the party, but to our great relief was given a friendly greeting instead of the fusilade we had feared. Presently he started to come back, and we pulled up our horses and waited to hear from him who these were.
When we met Mark told us that the strangers were plain Crees on the war-path, going into the Blackfoot country, and though unacquainted with us still they were the allies of our people. Mark said they were coming down to visit us, so we returned to our camp. The war party came along in the course of an hour or so, and concluded to camp with us for the night, though I am sure no one in our party gave them a pressing invitation to do this. To be under the necessity of watching within as well as without your own camp becomes rather tiresome.
We put on double guards that night, and were relieved when our friends started away bright and early Monday morning, allowing us to go on with our hunt.
I have seen great numbers of grey wolves, but never, I think, did I see them more numerous than at this time. Troops of these native scavengers would hang around our encampment and prowl very close up during the long night watches. When we were butchering the animals we had killed, they would form a circle around us, and impatiently wait until we had our meat loaded into the carts. Then, as we moved away, they would rush in and scramble and fight for the offal which we left. Many a wild fight amongst them we witnessed, but as ammunition was none too plentiful, we seldom shot any.
Their howling, especially at night, was blood-curdling and terrifying to the inexperienced. Indeed, one could not at any time hear their deep, long, mournful notes without a lonesome and uncanny feeling. There are two distinct kinds of these animals. The coyote and the big grey wolf belong to the plains and are altogether different from the timber or wood wolf. The latter can become dangerous, while the former never seem able to muster enough courage to attack human beings.
By the middle of the following week our carts were loaded to their utmost capacity and were rolling homewards. As the days were short we generally started long before daylight, and while I have had plenty of this ante-dawn travel I confess I never relished it. To roll out of your blankets into the keen cold of a young winter's, morning, and then hastily roll up your bedding, place it in a cart, then rush out into the dark and catch and bring in the horses or oxen you drive, and with tingling fingers harness them into the carts committed to your care; and then as the leading cart begins to signal its onward move by its own peculiar squeak and squeal, to place your carts where they belong in the line of march; to come to ponds and creeks covered with ice as yet not strong enough to bear your weight, and yet through which you perforce must wade in order to secure the safe crossing of your loads, your wet moccasins and nether garments stiffening with the intense cold as you march,—I will say that while I in common with most pioneers in our Canadian North-West frequently did this, still I am free to admit that I was never in love with it.
What a big market-square we have to take our winter's food from—hundreds of miles in length and breadth, with great widely distant valleys like stalls furnishing us with the food we seek, the quality of which depends on the skill of the hunter. And right here my friend Muddy Bull comes in as a reliable guarantor that what we take home will be first-class. On we roll. Our only delays are breaking axles and splitting felloes and snapping dowel-pins; but who cares for such trifles as these while we have the fresh green hides of the buffalos we have killed. The green hide serves as both wheelwright and blacksmith as it dries upon the weak portion of our vehicle. And while the kettle boils and the meat is roasting almost anyone in our party with axe and auger and saw will put a new axle in working trim. Ah! those were the days wherein to cultivate self-help and independence. The man who was not capable of this manner of evolution very soon drifted back into the older countries.
But here is the river and we are almost home. Fording our stock in the rapids, about half a mile down, we unload the meat, "pack" it over in a skiff, and taking some carts to pieces we "pack" them over also in the skiff for use on the north side, leaving the rest until the ice-bridge forms. Then when all is safe on the stage at home we feel that unless a crowd of starving Indians come to us, we have our larder full for some time to come. And this was very satisfactory to us in those days when we were so far away from any outside help and so dependent on the movements of buffalo herds and contending tribes of Indians.
Sometimes the buffalo were far out on the great plains, and inaccessible to us; sometimes hostile Indians intervened, so that we dare not leave our people or in any way divide our forces; but the opening of the winter of 1865 found our stage loaded with prime meat and our party together and in the enjoyment of many blessings. There generally is in our northern country a short period which is neither summer nor winter, and if possible all travel ceases for a time. It would not be prudent to start out with horses, and without snow and ice dogs are of no use. This time we made use of by making ready for the winter. Buildings were to be repaired and washed over with white mud, which by the way is a very good substitute for lime. Hay was to be hauled, fire-wood to be cut in the log and hauled home, then to be sawed and split for use. In the meantime, as now there was a permanent settlement at Victoria, and good congregations, meetings of various character had to be organized. Christianity, temperance, education, civilization must be inculcated, and on all these questions father was thoroughly alive. Then the snow fell and the ice made, and with Mark as my companion we began our evangelistic and missionary trips.
Our first was to Edmonton, and thence to Pigeon Lake, during which time we tried to preach the Gospel to white men and Crees and Stonies. Even then it was becoming easier for me to speak in Cree than in English. My brain and voice functions were almost in constant use in the former, and but seldom did I require them in the language wherein I was born. Steadily I was becoming able to give the glorious Gospel of the Lord Jesus to others in the tongue and idiom of the language "wherein they were born."