I killed quite a number of lynx that winter, and got many of these on the ice of the lake. Whenever I saw an object moving on the snow-covered ice, I concluded it was either a lynx or a wolf, and as I had an opera glass I could very soon determine which, for the wolf had a long, bushy tail, and the lynx a very stumpy one—in fact, hardly any. Therefore, if the object I saw was tailless, I saddled my horse and rode for him. My dogs would also join the hunt, and when we came within a half-mile or so, the lynx generally noticed us and started off with tremendous leaps as if he would leave all creation behind. His strong feature, however, was in the height rather than the length of his jumping, and soon his half circles in the air came to a stop. While I was coming up on the steady jump, slow and sure, he would crook up his back, straighten up the fur on it and turn fiercely on me, but a shot from my gun would quickly keel him over. Later I found that one of my dogs could kill a lynx at one bite across the small of the back, and then I let him do the killing, for ammunition was none too plentiful in those days.
I made several trips to Victoria and visited a number of camps, and in March took my family through to Whitefish Lake by dog-train. When we reached home, towards the last of the month, winter was breaking; but what nearly broke our hearts was an epidemic, a sort of distemper, that took hold of my sleigh-dogs, and one after the other I had to shoot the poor brutes. They seemed to have a kind of hydrophobia. They did not attack human beings, but we thought it best to kill them. I felt the parting with the faithful fellows more than the loss of their usefulness. A pagan Cree who had come to us asked permission to skin two of my biggest and swiftest dogs, and I told him he could. The reader will note this, and see later what his purpose was.
And now our people were straggling in to the Mission. That spring a number of mountain Stonies visited us for the first time, and our week-day and Sabbath services were full of interest. More of our own people than ever before were desirous of doing some gardening, and we helped all as far as our means allowed us to do. Moreover, a good many expressed a desire to accompany us to the plains for an early summer provision trip, and as we wanted the provisions for the year, and as this was the very best way to have a number of our people with us for a time, I arranged for such a trip, to start about the middle of May.
This time our camp was quite large, numbering about forty lodges, and we felt quite able to go anywhere on the plains. We followed for the first hundred and fifty miles our route of the previous summer. We lived on ducks, rabbits, beaver and a few deer and antelope, until about thirty miles out from the last point of woods, where we found our first buffalo, and from thence on until we reached herds of them we were never without food.
At the spot where we found the first bulls Samson and little William and myself were of the party, and I came very near being killed. We had come suddenly upon the animals, and I was crossing in front of William to higher ground when he, not noticing me, fired at them, and the ball whizzed right past my ear. I turned and saw that William was fairly pale with fright. We were too much engaged for words. "Almost!" he cried, and I answered, "Yes, almost," and we dashed after the flying bulls. This narrow escape bothered poor William for some time, and I verily believe had he killed me by accident at that time Samson would have shot him right then and there, for he was angry at the other's carelessness, as he termed it.
In our camp at that time we had seven distinct classes of men. There were mountain Stonies and wood Stonies, plain Crees and wood Crees, French and Indian mixed bloods, and English and Indian mixed bloods; myself the only white man in the party. Environment, language and dialect had each differentiated these people. And now we were, because of the Gospel and for Christ's sake, seeking to bring them together. It was serious work at times. They could not possibly see eye to eye. Old feuds kept stirring their bile. Old memories of wrongs and slights and bloody scenes were constantly being brought most vividly before their minds, and my every resource was tried in quieting and quelling and pacifying them. Even the children partook of mutual distrust and hatred. We were leagued against the common enemy; but we might have a row among ourselves at any time, and I was forever on my guard so as not to intensify or afford any excuse for what was clearly apparent. In fact I was hoping for signs of the enemy to help allay this condition for the time being, when sure enough we began to track fresh camps and hunting parties of the Blackfeet tribes. As I had thought, this brought our discordant elements more into line, and we organized and watched and hunted together under the spur of a common danger.
Of course, our meetings every day and all through Sunday, our constant uplifting of the Gospel, and its resultant forces, were telling upon this conglomeration of humanity, but the inbreeding of centuries is not to be weeded out in a few weeks, nor yet in a few years. Early in life I was given to learn the lesson of patience.
Through new country—"Greater Canada"—Antelopes—Startling effects of mirage—War parties keep us on the alert—Remarkable speed of a plain Cree—A curious superstition—A Cree's gruesome story—Returning with carts fully loaded—Followed by hostile Indians—I sight and chase a "sitting" bull—My shot wounds him—Paul's son thrown under the brute's feet—Firing Stony's clever shot to the rescue—We arrive at the Mission—Road-making.
We were now in what was new country to me, and indeed to nearly all our camp. Few of these Stonies had ever been so far out on the plains before. We were crossing new valleys, climbing over new ranges of hills, camping by new creeks and springs, and every day I was turning over new leaves of the topography and geography of this "greater Canada." What an immense pasturage this, wherein the "cattle of the Lord upon a thousand hills" were grazing! There were millions of these cattle, and yet so big was the field that you might travel for days and weeks and not see one of them. But their tracks were everywhere—paths and dust-pans and bones and chips were omnipresent as you journeyed. Over these plains also roamed large and small flocks of antelopes. Beautiful, graceful and agile creatures these looked as they would gather on the crest of a hill and curiously survey our passing train. How often under the spell of the mirage these appeared as a body of Indian horsemen, and many an alarm they caused to the wandering bands of natives as they moved with their heads erect and on the steady regular lope across the plains. One would almost swear they were horsemen. It took a first-class horse to catch buffalo, but it required one of exceptional speed and wind to come up to these antelopes.
Within three weeks of our start from the Mission we were hard at work making provisions. Several times the Blackfeet and their allies came close to us, but such under Providence was the care we took of our camp and hunting expedition that these did not dare to attack us. As our party would act only on the defensive, there was no collision between us. One evening some were seen close to the camp, and as I generally kept the saddle on one of my best horses, very soon I and some of my men were out in the direction they were seen; but darkness dropping fast, they easily disappeared. Our demonstration was largely for the purpose of letting the hostiles know they had been seen and that we were prepared for them. What did astonish me, however, was that the plain Cree whom I mentioned in the chapter preceding this was on the spot as quickly as any of our horsemen, though he was on foot. When I expressed surprise, he quietly pointed to the strip of dog-skin which he had over his shoulders with the tail attached hanging behind (this was the back of the dog-skin, from tip of nose to tip of tail, now nicely tanned and lined with colored cloth). "This," said he, "is the cause. If I had put on the swifter dog's skin I should have been here before you." I then noticed that he had the bigger and slower dog's skin as part of his dress, and he believed (if I did not) that the wearing of this gave him speed. He claimed that the spirit of his dream told him so. I told him that the "Great Spirit" had given him a good set of lungs and a pair of strong, quick legs, and that was why he could run with horses.
This same fellow was a very good shot, and an expert at selecting fat animals—in which, after all, lies the real skill of a buffalo hunter. Many a man could kill on the dead jump, and by constant practice learn to load a gun quickly, but to pick good fat meat while dust and powder and perspiration were each doing what they could to blind your eyes, and while madly galloping over rough country with numberless badger-holes, dust-pans, cut-banks, etc., seemingly seeking to break either the horse's or the rider's neck or limbs, required practice, and quickness of vision, and ready judgment. This man had these qualities, and several times I put him on one of my buffalo runners. Thus we got acquainted, and presently he began to come to our meetings, where he was a thoughtful listener. Once he told me of a strange experience he had. Said he, "Several of us started in the depth of winter from the extreme point of timber on the Touchwood Hills to hunt for buffalo. Our camp was very short of meat. We carried wood on flat sleds, and when we killed the first buffalo I went back to camp with two sled loads for those at home. All day I travelled on the bare plain, hoping to reach timber that night; but my loads were heavy and my horses tired, and in the afternoon a storm came on, and I saw that I could not make the main woods that night. Then I bethought me of a small island of timber to one side of my course which would afford me shelter. But then I also knew, a couple of moons before this, a noted Indian had died at that point, and his tent was left standing for him to rest in; that his best horse had been led to the door and shot, and the line fastened round his neck passed to the dead man. Thinking of this I felt a strong reluctance to go near the place, but the storm was raging and my horses were tired, and at last I made up my mind to go and seek shelter with the dead man.
"When I reached the spot there was the lodge, and I drew up my horses close to the door; but before I unhitched them I first addressed the occupant of the tent. I told him it was not in the spirit of curiosity or bravado or irreverence that I thus came near his resting-place, but that I was a poor lonely brother seeking shelter for the night; that if he would accord me hospitality I would be very careful and thankful. I then proceeded to unhitch my horses. I noticed that there was a fine pile of dry wood near the tent, and knew there would be more within, for such is the custom. After fixing my horses for the night I went to the door of the lodge and again apologized to my dead friend. Then I removed the fastening of the door and stood, fearing to enter.
"It was now late at night and very dark outside, and how much darker it would be in the lodge I shuddered to think. But once more speaking humbly to the dead man I ventured in, and, as I had thought, there was plenty of dry wood near the door; so I made some shavings and took the dry grass I had carried for the purpose from my bosom, and soon I had a light, but did not dare to look up. As my fire brightened I took my pipe and filled it, and lighting it drew a few puffs and then looked up. There sat the dead man with the line from his horse's neck in his hand, and with his bow and quiver standing beside him. He looked as if alive, and I now held my pipe-stem toward him and said, 'Smoke, my brother, and believe me when I tell you that the storm has driven me to presume upon your good-nature. I hope you will not think strange of my venturing as I have into your home. I will bring in some meat and cook food that we may eat together.' This I began to do, and after awhile my feeling of dread began to wear away. When the meat was cooked I set a portion by the side of the dead man and then ate my own meal. While doing this I told him of our hunt. I talked to the dead man as if he were listening to me, and I think his spirit was. Then I again lit my pipe and offered him a smoke. Now as the night was far spent, I made my bed, stretched myself by the fire, and went to sleep. I did not wake until daylight, and there sat my friend looking at me, as I thought. I told him I was very tired and hoped he would not mind me sleeping so long as I had; now I would again cook, and we would eat together once more. This I did, placing his portion beside him. Then I thanked him for giving me shelter, and telling him I would often think of his goodness to me, bade him good-bye. Fixing the door of the tent as I had found it, I hunted up my horses and set out for the camp. When I told our people where I had spent the night, they were astonished at my foolhardiness and said, 'It was not right to thus trouble the departed.' I told them I would not do it again if I could help it."
This poor fellow and his companion were killed some years afterwards by a war party rushing upon them, not far from the spot where we now were. The Blackfeet afterwards told me that he died bravely as became a man. Crowfoot himself was with the party which killed him.
We were very fortunate in our hunting. The buffalo were not numerous, but we found enough to load us fully, and by the first of the sixth week from the Mission we were on the home-stretch, making for the woods as fast as our heavily laden carts would permit. The enemy followed us for several days, but we did not give them a chance to either steal horses or charge upon our camp. As we began to leave the buffalo far behind us they gave up the chase for the time; but we did not slacken our discipline one whit until far into the woods.
Before we left the treeless plains we camped one afternoon near a big lake. On the side on which we were the country was low and flat for many miles. Riding on alone I came to a small knoll, and from this I saw a dark speck in the distance, which the more I looked at it the more it shaped into a "sitting" bull. Finally, as the sun was still well up, I rode towards the object, and then I saw some riders start straight from our camp for the same object. When we converged, I said to the leader, "Where are you going?" and he answered, "To the same place as you are." Then he asked, "What did you see that made you ride across this way?" and I answered, "What did you see that made you start out from camp at this hour?" I then told them that I thought there was a bull over there, but as the country was very flat no object at that distance could be seen.
I galloped on and the Indians came after; but presently the older one said, "We had better go back to camp; we are now too far away from it. They may be attacked before we return. It is now evening." But we kept on, and soon my "sitting" bull was in sight, but there was an arm of the lake between us and him, and again the old Indian insisted on returning. "It is likely he will see you long before you come near; you cannot catch him to-night. Let us turn back." But I had gone too far to thus turn back, and I said "No," and suiting the action to the word got off my horse to lead him over the soft place. Firing Stony and old Paul's son followed me, while the others stayed with the old man. Then he, to balk us, when we were about two hundred yards from him, fired his gun to scare the bull, and sure enough the bull jumped up. Firing Stony said, "It's no use, he has frightened him, and the race will be too long." I was more determined than ever, and rather vexed with the rascal for firing his gun, so I said to those with me, "He will not have his way. My will shall overcome his in this matter. The bull will not frighten until we rush him," and sure enough the bull turned around and quietly sank into his bed. Then said I, "Do you see that? Come on, we will kill him." And while the others were now riding back fast to camp, we three went on picking our way around the soft places, and presently were across, and mounting our horses charged the bull.
"With unerring aim he shot the bull through the head.""With unerring aim he shot the bull through the head."
This time the bull was started in earnest and went for all his speed, but the ground was good, and as my little Bob very soon overhauled him, I saw he was fat and worth coming a great way for. I was now some distance in advance of my companions, as Bob was the speediest horse in camp. As I came up I shot the bull, but struck him too far behind, so that my ball only broke his thigh. He went squat at first, but flung himself around in a flash. I went flying past him with the impetus of my horse's speed, leaving the big fellow facing my companions, and as I pulled up I turned and saw young Paul being thrown straight at the bull's head. His horse had come up as the bull faced around, and was so startled by the brute's angry roar that he stopped quick, and, the saddle-girth snapping, the rider was thrown straight ahead. There he lay with the bull standing over him on three legs, trying to get his horns under his body. For a moment I was horrified, for I knew that all the blame would rest upon me if any hurt should come to our party. I shouted, "Lie still—keep flat!" and the boy heard me; and though the bull was nosing him, he failed to put his horns under the prostrate form. In the meantime Firing Stony was coming up as fast as his horse could run. I saw him lean over his pony and shove out his old flint-lock, and thought it looked as if he might shoot the lad, for the bull's head was right there also. But with unerring aim he shot the bull through the brain, and as Paul rolled away the animal dropped dead. We were thankful for this escape, and in a short time were on our way to camp with our horses heavily loaded with prime meat. Contrary to the old man's premonitions, too, we found all well when we reached there.
In a few days we were in the woods and luxuriating again on wild rhubarb and poplar sap, but finding less enjoyment from the attentions of innumerable mosquitoes and "bulldogs," as this was one of the rainy seasons and insect life abounded. Out on the plains the buffalo were sufficient at that time to sanitate the land. They drank up the surface-water and ate the grass, and there was no necessity for the smaller insect life; but here in the woods, with surface-water and rank growth in rich abundance, Nature's force of sanitation was a tremendously big one, and they bled us on every hand. Our forty-lodge camp was but a speck on their big field of enterprise.
We found the creeks full, and this caused no end of work in ferrying and bridging. Up to this time our cart road had terminated about fifteen miles from the Mission, but now I determined to chop a road right through; and when those who had no carts left us at Battle River to take the straight pack-trail to the lake, I told them to begin at that end and make the road to meet us. This they did, and after some days' hard work chopping out the forest, and corduroying swamps, and bridging streams, I had the pleasure of mounting the lead cart and drawing this right up to our Mission house door. In this humble instance the "star of empire" was trending westward. Soon the Indians who had been with us cached their provisions, and scattered into the woods to hunt moose and other wood game. But we were seldom without some of these restless nomads of the plains.
Another visit to Victoria—Fall in with a war party of Kootenays and Flatheads—Samson and I go moose-hunting—A Sabbath afternoon experience—A band of moose enjoy Sabbath immunity—I start out to meet father returning from the East—The glorious Saskatchewan Valley—Call at Fort Pitt—Equinoctial storms—Entertained by a French half-breed family—Meet Mr. Hardisty and one of my sisters—Camp-fire chat—Meeting with father—Rev. Peter Campbell and others with his party—Father relates his experience in the East—Rev. Geo. Young sent to Red River Settlement and Rev. E. R. Young to Norway House.
When we were nicely settled at home I made a hurried trip on horseback to Victoria, for I knew mother and the rest of our people would be extremely anxious about us; and it was with joy they met me as I rode into the older Mission. Father was expected home in September, and mother said he hoped I would meet him somewhere down the Saskatchewan with some fresh horses. Here I learned that there had been considerable fighting on the plains east and south of where we had been. A number of scalps had been taken on both sides, and the reports of these encounters had made our people very anxious about our party.
I spent a Sabbath with the Victoria people, and then made for home. At Edmonton I lost my horses for a whole day, and did not succeed in finding them until evening. In the meantime a war party of Southern Kootenays and Flatheads had come across and spent a few hours at the fort, where they were on their very good behavior. Had I not been delayed by the losing of my horses I should have been alone amongst them that morning, and when I sized the wild fellows up I was exceedingly thankful that I had been frustrated in my desire to push on. These strangers went back the same evening, but when I swam my horses across about sunrise the next morning, and started up the hill to take the trail for Pigeon Lake, I almost ran into the same war party. They had gone across my road just as I came up, as I could tell from the tracks on the grass, on which the dew was still heavy. I immediately took to cover, and went on the steady gallop, never stopping except to change horses until I was thirty-five or forty miles from Edmonton. The greater part of the time I kept away from the trail, and early in the afternoon was once more at home, having swam my horses across the big Saskatchewan that morning, and with the two made the sixty miles in less than three-quarters of a day. This same war party took a number of horses from a camp of Indians situated at the time some fifty miles south of us, and I was very thankful they did not take mine nor yet have a shot at myself.
And now what with hay-making and doctoring and preaching and teaching, our time went quickly. Soon September was with us, and I was thinking of starting for Victoria, when Samson came in, and we went for a moose-hunt. On Saturday afternoon he killed a huge buck moose, and we camped beside the carcase and spent a very quiet Sunday in the woods. During the afternoon I took our horses down to a lake about half a mile from our camp, there being no water nearer, and while the horses were drinking I sat upon the bank admiring the scene. The lake before me was several miles long and about half a mile wide. The banks were quite high and densely covered with forest trees in the full rich glory of their autumn tints. The day was calm, and the whole picture was exceedingly beautiful, specially fitting to the Sabbath evening. My horses, having slaked their thirst, were lazily browsing on the rushes which grew on the edge of the water, and I was being lifted up into a higher, purer atmosphere of experience consistent with my environment, when suddenly my ear caught the splash of water, and looking across the lake I saw five moose doing exactly the same as my horses. Having waded out into the water they were biting at the rushes, and as I watched them one swam out into the lake straight for me. Soon the whole five were quietly and gracefully swimming towards me, and I confess that as I watched those fine big moose coming, I for a moment wished for my gun (which I had left in camp), and wished, also, that this was any other day than Sunday. But as all this was of no use, I decided to keep perfectly still and note how close those moose would come before detecting my presence. Soon they were touching bottom close to my horses, and then there was a moment of mutual surprise, as horses and moose stared at one another. Both, however, again took to nipping rushes, and by and by the big cow moose which was leading came up the bank within a few feet of where I was, and shook herself, sprinkling me copiously with the water from her big sides; another followed, and then all of them went on into the woods, quietly browsing as they disappeared from my sight. For them, also, it was the Sabbath day.
Monday we went home, our four horses having all they wanted to carry in the meat of the one monster moose. The fellow was in such good condition that I made a big bag of pemmican with his inside fat.
Soon after this I started with my family and two Indian boys for Victoria. Reaching that point, I took with me the two boys and started with the three carts and some loose horses to meet father. Mother had not heard from him since I was last at Victoria, but we thought he must now be on the north side of the Saskatchewan, between Carlton and Fort Pitt. Our horses were in good flesh, and this was hardened on them as we drove early and late down through the northern slopes of the great Saskatchewan valley, the lovely country which had so enamored my more youthful senses when first in 1862 I rode through its rich pastures and over its richer soils. Six years of wider range and larger view had been mine since then, but now as I ride over the many leagues my previous judgment is but strengthened. As we pass Saddle and Egg lakes and cross the Dog Rump, and Moose and Frog creeks, and wind between and over the Two Hills, and all the time behold fresh and picturesque landscapes, and note the wealth of nature's store, self-evident on every hand, my patriotism is enthused and my faith invigorated. And to one born on the frontier, and already having witnessed great changes, it is easy to imagine this easily reclaimed part of our great heritage dotted with prosperous homes. All day long (and somehow those autumn days were unsurpassable in the combination of their glorious make-up) as I rode on in advance of my boys and carts, I was locating homes, and selecting sites for village corners, and erecting school-houses and lifting church spires, and engineering railway routes, and hoping I might live to see some of this come to pass, for come it would.
While my boys went straight on I rode in to Fort Pitt, hoping that I might find word of father's coming up the country, but receiving none, I spent an hour or two with my friend John Sinclair, who was for the summer in charge of the fort. Then I rode on fast and steady, and late in the evening rejoined my boys. On we went, leaving Frenchman's Butte far in the rear, across the Red Deer Creek, past Horse Hill, through Turtle River valley, and across the river, all the while constantly on the lookout for signs of our friends or tidings of them.
Mornings and evenings and long nights and many miles came and were passed, and still no signs. Then the equinoctial storms burst upon us, with winds from the north and ice-cold rain in torrents. We drew up our carts in the shelter of bluffs of timber, and hastily covering them built our fire, and piling on the dry wood became ourselves the clothes-horses on which to dry our soaked garments. Then when partially warmed and dried we would resume our journey. And now our matches were all but run out, and wet and cold we sought shelter under the lee of a wooded hill, and making cover did what we could to ensure the success of our last match. But alas! the first scratch sent the brittle thing into many pieces, and it took time and preparation to ignite some old cotton with a percussion gun. Hands were cold and wet and everything was wet, but after what seemed hours our fire blazed, and all through that long night we kept it blazing as in turn we gathered wood and piled it on to slowly dry and burn. And those boys! children of the wood and plain, full of healthy optimism,
"Theirs not to sulk or sigh,Theirs to grin, and bear, and fry."
We kept those soaked logs frying until day came, and fortunately for us the storm stayed and we rolled on in hope. That afternoon we saw a lodge to one side of our course, and while the boys kept on, I rode over to it and found a French half-breed and his family, who received me gladly and treated me as if I was one of their family. They were on their way from the Red River to Edmonton. They made for me a pancake, for they had a small quantity of flour. What a treat this was may be imagined when it is considered that I had not tasted bread for months.
They gave me a bunch of matches, and, better still, they told me that father was heard from at the South Branch; that in all probability he would now be this side of Fort Carlton. This was something definite to travel on, and thanking my kind entertainers, I hurried on, catching up with and passing the boys and carts. That same evening I met my brother-in-law, Mr. Hardisty, and one of my sisters, Georgiana, who, unable to stand the damp and cold of Ontario, was returning to the North-West. With these there were quite a number of Hudson's Bay Company gentlemen, and the whole party were posting westward in quick style. They had left father the day before. As my boys were far behind, I turned back with this company fresh from the outside world, to glean the news and to visit with my friends. When we met my boys I sent them on to camp at Bear's Paddling Lake, while I continued with Hardisty's party, camping with them for the night.
Some of these had been at the Hudson's Bay council at Fort Garry. Others were returning from furlough in Eastern Canada and the Mother Country. My sister had spent the winter in Hamilton, and had come across with father's party from St. Paul. I alone was fresh from the West and the big plains. Around our campfire until late that night we exchanged news and related incidents, and before daylight next morning had breakfasted together and parted. I found my boys sleeping soundly when I rode in on them at the lake. From there we went for lunch to the forks of the road in the Thickwood Hills. Here I pitched camp and, as I was not sure which of these roads father would come by, I rode rapidly along the old trail, and reaching the eastern branching of the road, found that my friends had gone the other trail. Returning on this I came up to where they were "nooning," and was received by father with open arms. Job and Joseph, the two Indian boys father had with him, were also delighted, for I brought them tidings of their friends, and once more they had someone to talk to in their mother-tongue.
I found that father had with him quite a number of Eastern people. There were the Rev. Peter Campbell and family, and the two Sniders, who subsequently became teachers in our Mission schools. There were also a cousin of mine, John Chantler, and a lad, Enoch Skinner, from Toronto. Besides those who belonged to the Mission party, there were three men from Minnesota, a father and his two sons, Barlett by name, who had accompanied them from the Mississippi to the Saskatchewan; also two families of Red River settlers, who had taken this opportunity of travelling in father's train to visit their friends in the Saskatchewan country, and take part once more in a buffalo hunt.
We moved on almost immediately on my arrival, and camping short of where I left my boys I galloped ahead and brought them in. I had ridden in the saddle between ninety and one hundred miles that day, but so glad was I to meet father and these new friends from the East that I did not feel the least fatigue. The next day was Saturday, and by pushing through the Thickwood Hills we camped in the evening at Bear's Paddling Lake. All day as we travelled father and I rode in our saddles side by side, as he recounted to me the work of the year in Eastern Canada. He told me how he had pled with our missionary authorities until they concluded to establish in the Red River Valley, and had sent the Rev. George Young to that work, and the Rev. Egerton R. Young to Norway House. He gave me a description of the journey by steamer to the Upper Mississippi, and thence by carts and waggons through the plains of Minnesota and Dakota, and on into the Selkirk Settlement, where they parted from the Youngs, and, continuing the journey up the valley of the Assiniboine, had crossed the divide and the south branch of the great Saskatchewan. "And now," said he, "I am tired of the long journey, and of handling tenderfeet, and I purpose to start bright and early Monday morning for home, leaving the whole company and outfit to your care for the rest of the trip." I said that I thought I could handle the concern, and that he was welcome to my horses and one of my boys. I wished him a quick trip, and having been a sailor in his youth, he answered me, with a twinkle of his eye, "When I leave you next Monday morning I will not take a reef in my rigging until with the blessing of Heaven I reach Victoria."
Father pushes on for home in advance—Hard times for the "tenderfeet"—A plunge into icy water—My brother David gallops into camp—His high spirits prove infectious—Kindness of the Hudson's Bay Company—Oxen sent to help us in to Victoria—A mutinous camp-follower—My threat of a sound thrashing subdues the mutineer—Our long journey is ended—Adieu to my readers.
We spent a quiet Sabbath on the shore of the lake, resting and worshipping. As some of the new-comers were quite songful, we enjoyed listening to and learning some of the beautiful hymns that had come in vogue since we left older Canada. Early Monday morning we were astir. Father, taking with him Mrs. Campbell and her two children and one of my boys, started on to make a flying trip home. Mrs. Campbell was glad to make a change from slow to fast travel, and I also was glad to see the lady and her children go, for this meant very much earlier starting for the rest of the party. Father had said to me, "The stock is in good shape, John; you can push from here." And push we did, sometimes too much so for the taste and convenience of the green hands amongst us. Already the later autumn was upon us with its cold nights, and to turn out long before daylight and prepare breakfast and harness up, and be rolling on sometimes hours before sunrise, was anything but pleasant to flesh and blood not inured to that kind of life.
As with the "Ancient Pilgrims," murmurings and scoldings were frequent; but notwithstanding we continued to start early and drive late, and made good time westward. I well remember coming to Jackfish Creek early one morning. The crossing was rough with big boulders, and there was about an inch of ice on the water. I rode my horse several times through the ford to smash up the ice, and called to my cart driver to dismount and take his "lead" horse by the head and wade in, thus lessening the chances of an upset while passing through. Setting the example myself, I took the lead ox by the head, and wading beside him, passed him and his load safely over. But certain of our tenderfeet were afraid to step into the cold water, and the result was almost disastrous to some of the carts and loads. One of these gentlemen, having at last to jump down into the middle of the creek, made a misstep and fell full length into the ice and cold water; and not until then did he see that someone knew better than he did. He was a funny-looking specimen as he picked himself up out of the icy stream, and in a little while, when he was standing beside the big camp-fire warming himself, I said to him, "You richly deserved your ducking, young man; the next time do what you are told, and it will be better for you."
"He was a funny-looking specimen as he picked himself up out of the icy stream.""He was a funny-looking specimen as he picked himself up out of the icy stream."
Early and late we rolled up the north bank of the Saskatchewan, those of our company capable of estimating the natural advantages of a new country filled with admiration for the rich and lovely region we were traversing. Doubtless a trans-continental railroad will come along some day, and cross and recross this very trail we were using. Thousands of prosperous homes will dot these plains and fill these valleys with that stronger and more permanent life for which they are so richly endowed by nature's God. The whole land from Carlton to Victoria is one great ready-made farm.
From the north branch of the Saskatchewan, extending a hundred miles north and then west up its whole length, is to be found one of the richest portions of Canada. And we were rolling steadily through this. Every hour a new scene, every turn a fresh view; the strength and endurance of our stock testifying to the quality of the natural grasses, the mud and dust on our wheels evidencing the wealth of soil, and the altitude and the large percentage of sunshine vouching for the pureness of atmosphere and healthy condition of climate. This is my sixth trip through this part of the North-West Territories, and as I felt in the morning of my first acquaintance with this immense garden, I now, as the sunlight of my growing knowledge of its many resources is rising and enlarging, am fully convinced as to its great wealth of soil and grass, its water and timber and climate, not to speak of the mineral developments which in all probability will come in the future.
On the twelfth day after father left us, while breakfasting on the bank of Saddle Lake Creek, having come some eight miles already that morning, we were delighted to have my brother David gallop into our camp, bringing us word from home. Father had made a marvellously quick trip, and the whole settlement was now looking for our coming.
David not only brought us news from home, but his jovial noise and wild western boisterous fun put new life into the tenderfeet of our party, who had begun to think the distance without end and the hardships too much to bear, and were constantly reverting to the "onions and garlic of former Egypts." Moreover, his coming lightened my work, for now the roads were newer and the necessity of careful driving more constantly with us. By noon of the thirteenth day of my taking over the party we had surmounted the worst place on the road, crossed the valley, pulled up the precipitous banks of the White Mud River, and were at our dinner, when an Indian came to us with several fresh oxen.
These had been sent by Mr. Tait, the gentleman in charge of the Hudson's Bay Post at Victoria, to help us in at the end of our journey. And right here I want to say that this has been all through the years my uniform experience with the officers and employees of the Hudson's Bay Company. I cannot understand the venom and bitterness with which some missionaries always speak and write about this old and honorable company.
These fresh oxen were indeed welcome aids to the more jaded and weaker of our stock, and very soon I had apportioned them to the several drivers, when the very tall gentleman of our party said he would take one for his cart. I said, "No, sir! Your horse is all right for Victoria." But he insisted, and I again refused. Then came a cry from another tenderfoot that his oxen were lost, and I jumped on my horse to hunt up the missing cattle. Having found them, I also found that my tall friend had persisted in taking the ox, and had him hitched to his cart. This nettled me, and I jumped right at him, and said, "Unhitch that ox as quick as you ever did anything in your life;" but the big mutineer simply smiled at me. "I mean it," I said; "unhitch that ox, or I will thrash you most warmly." And now his elongated highness saw I was in earnest, and made haste to turn out the ox. I then gave the animal over to the party to whom I had given him in the first place, at the same time telling my tall gentleman that in a few hours I hoped to bring this party to its destination. After that he could do as he pleased so far as I was concerned; but until then my word was law.
Early that evening we reached Victoria, and the long wearisome overland journey was over, the months of continuous travel across bridgeless streams and lonely stretches of prairie and woodland. Everybody was thankful.
That same evening, as usual with him, David got up some gymnastics. And when I had out-run and out-jumped and out-thrown and out-pulled my long friend, I verily believe he came to the conclusion that he did well to obey me as he did.
And now that I have seen this spot (where in loneliness and poverty extreme I began work scarcely six years since) grow into a flourishing settlement, where Christianity and civilization are to the front as in no other place in this big western country; and now also that I am privileged to form one in the small company of Missionary agents and pioneers here assembled, but which, nevertheless, is the largest gathering of the kind the Saskatchewan country has ever yet seen; and furthermore, as I have many more stirring scenes and incidents to relate at some future time, I will here and now, in the late autumn of 1868, bid my readers a grateful adieu.
JOHN McDOUGALL.
* * * * * * * *
Forest, Lake and Prairie
TWENTY YEARS OF FRONTIER LIFE INWESTERN CANADA, 1842-1862.
By JOHN McDOUGALL.
WITH 27 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. E. LAUGHLIN.
WILLIAM BRIGGS, Publisher, Toronto.
Saddle, Sled and Snowshoe
PIONEERING ON THE SASKATCHEWANIN THE SIXTIES
By JOHN McDOUGALL,
Author of "FOREST, LAKE AND PRAIRIE."
WITH 15 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. E. LAUGHLIN.
WILLIAM BRIGGS, Publisher, Toronto,
BOOKS RELATING TO THE
Canadian North-West
Manitoba Memories. Leaves from My Life in the Prairie Province. By REV. GEORGE YOUNG, D.D.
The Selkirk Settlers in Real Life, by REV. R. G. MACBETH, M.A.
The Making of the Canadian West. By REV. R. G. MACBETH, M.A.
The Warden of the Plains. Stories of Life in the Canadian North-West, by REV. JOHN MACLEAN, M.A., Ph.D.
Life of James Evans. By REV. JOHN MACLEAN, Ph.D.
Across the Sub-Arctics of Canada. Journey of 3,200 Miles by Snowshoe and Canoe Through the Barren Lands. By J. W. TYRRELL, C.E.
Polson's Probation. A Story of Manitoba. By JAMES MORTON.
History of Manitoba. By ROBERT R. HILL.
Life of Rev. George McDougall. By REV. JOHN McDOUGALL.
Forest, Lake and Prairie. By REV. JOHN MCDOUGALL.
Saddle, Sled and Snowshoe. By REV. JOHN McDOUGALL.
Pathfinding on Plain and Prairie. By REV. JOHN MCDOUGALL.
Overland to Cariboo. By M. McNAUGHTON.
WILLIAM BRIGGSPublisher29-33 Richmond St. West, TORONTO