Chapter Fourteen.Conjurers—Old Tapastanum—Boasting—Challenge Accepted—Medicine Man’s Tent—Bogus Bullet—Detected—Conjurer’s Defeat and Fall.Not long after the visit to the mission and the School Mr Ross was visited by a number of old pagan medicine men and conjurers, the most noted of them being old Tapastanum, who, having heard of the visit of the young gentlemen from across the sea to the family of Sagasta-weekee, was anxious to make them a visit of ceremony. Tapastanum’s principal reason for a ceremonious visit was that he should not be eclipsed by “the Black-coat Man with the Book.”Mr Ross, while receiving these old men as he received all Indians, in a civil manner, was not at all kindly disposed toward them, as he knew their influence was harmful and that they were a curse and a malediction to the people. Their very presence in an Indian village is a source of terror and fear. They never hunt or fish themselves as long as they can frighten other people into being blackmailed by them.The coming of these men very much excited Sam and Alec, who had heard such extraordinary things about them. Some firmly believe that they are in league with the devil, and by his direct assistance are able to perform all the wonderful things of which they boast. Others, however, believe that they are rank impostors. The boys, who had heard so many conflicting things about these conjurers, tried to coax Mr Ross to get them to show off some of their pretended power.For a time Mr Ross, who considered them only as clever scoundrels or unmitigated humbugs, objected, as he did not wish to seem in any way to encourage them. However, one day as they, from Mr Ross’s reluctance to put them to the test, became exceedingly boastful of their powers to do such wonderful things it was decided to give them an opportunity.“What do you say you can do?” asked Frank of old Tapastanum.“Do,” he replied, “I can so conjure that you cannot hit me with a bullet, or tie me so that I cannot spring up loose; and fire will not burn me, or water drown me.”“All right,” said Frank, “one thing at a time. We will try the first, and see if we cannot hit you with a bullet.”“What you give?” was the request of the old fellow.“O, indeed, that is what you are after; well, what do you want?”At first his demands were very unreasonable, but after some dickering it was decided that if he stood the ordeal he was to get an agreed amount of flour, tea, sugar, and tobacco. It was also settled that the ordeal should come off the next day. The conjurer said that he would spend the night with his medicine drum and sacred medicine bag, to call back his familiar spirit, who might be away hunting. The boys discussed very much the coming contest, and, of course, were profoundly interested. They had learned much since their coming into the country about these strange, wild, fearsome people, and this with what they had read in other days filled them with great curiosity to see what would be the outcome.With Mr Ross and the family the matter was well talked over, and it was determined—as Mr Ross considered the conjurer who was to go through the ordeal an unmitigated fraud—that he should be taught a lesson that he and his cronies would never forget.When the morning arrived the old fellows were there in good time, and the ordeal, which was to-day to be by bullet, was decided upon.The conjurer selected for the ordeal had not proceeded far in his talk before he asked to see laid down at his wife’s feet his pay. This was brought out and measured to his satisfaction, with the understanding that it was not to be his unless he succeeded.His preparations were soon completed. Aided by his comrades, a small conjuring tent was made by sticking some long green limber poles in the ground, and bending them over like bows until the other ends were also made fast in the earth. Then over these poles a skin tent, made by sewing a number of dressed deerskins together, was thrown. Taking his medicine bag and magic drum into this tent, the conjurer disappeared. Soon the monotonous drumming began. In addition there were heard the barks and howls and cries of nearly all the animals of the forest and prairies. The sounds were like that proceeding from a wild beast show when all the animals are let louse and are uttering their discordant notes. The tent quivered as though in a cyclone. Thus, for a time it went on—the drum beating, the beasts howling, the tent quivering—until it seemed utterly inexplicable how one man, could create such a din.Among the boys, Sam was most excited at these strange proceedings. Much to the amusement of those around, he said:“I’m thinking the safest place would be on the top of the house, if all those reptiles should break loose.”The conjurer now began crying out in his own language: “To help me he is coming, my own familiar spirit. Soon the bullet cannot pierce me; soon waters cannot drown me; soon fires cannot burn me. To help me he is coming! coming! coming!”Thus on he went, while the drumming and howlings were almost incessant.Mr Ross, who had resolved that there should be no nonsense, had asked one of his servants, who was an unerring shot, to do the firing. In the meantime one of the conjurer’s associates had asked to see the gun that was to be used, and kindly offered to load it. The suspicions of Mr Ross were at once aroused by this request, but wishing to see through the man’s trick he did not oppose his request. Soon after a good gun was sent for, and also some powder and bullets. Full measure of powder was poured into the gun, and the usual wadding was well driven down upon it. When Mr Ross selected a bullet the friend of the conjurer, with a great pretence of awe, asked to see it, and holding it in his hand said, “This is the bullet that the familiar spirit will turn aside.”Mr Ross let him look at it, and saw him handling it with much apparent reverence, but he also saw him quickly and deftly change it for another bullet.“That’s your game, is it?” said Mr Ross but not out loud. After a little more humbuggery the bullet was handed back to be dropped into the muzzle of the gun.If Mr Ross’s thoughts could have been heard they would have been something like this:“I have seen through that little trick, and will show you that two can play at that game.”And so without exciting the suspicion of the Indian, whose trick he had detected, he changed the bullet for another, and dropped it into the gun. When the wadding was driven in and placed upon it, the confederate of the conjurer asked for the privilege of being allowed also to help ram it down. Mr Ross saw his meaning and cheerfully granted it. The weapon was now loaded and ready for use. All this time the drumming and the conjuring had continued with all their accompaniments of howls and shrieks.In a short time a shrill, low whistle, like the call of some bird, was heard, and Mr Ross observed that it was from the lips of the old Indian who had pretended to examine the bullet with such awe, but who had in reality exchanged it for a perfectly harmless one. He and the conjurer were associates in their trickery. The bullet had been made in this way: A pair of bullet moulds had been heated quite hot, and then some bear’s fat, which is like lard, had been put inside of them. Holding the moulds shut, and placing them in very cold water, they kept turning them around until the melted fat had hardened into a thin shell exactly the size of a bullet. Then a small puncture was made through this thin casing of fat, and the interior carefully filled up with fine sand. It was not difficult then to stop up the orifice with a little fat. It was then carefully coloured like a bullet, and at a distance could hardly be distinguished from one. When put in a gun and well pounded with a ramrod, of course, it would break all to pieces, and when fired at anything like an ordinary distance for ball firing would be perfectly harmless.But Mr Ross’s cleverness had been too much for the rogues, and so he had changed the bogus affair for a genuine bullet of lead. To his servant, who was to fire, he explained exactly how matters were, and had said to him:“Do not kill the rascal, but give him a wound that will forever stop his boastings, and break his power over the poor deluded hundreds, who firmly believe he can do what he has so boastfully declared.”The low, shrill whistle call had made a great change upon the conjurer in the tent. He was now all boastfulness, and his cries were like the shouts of triumph:“Waters cannot drown me; bullets cannot pierce me; fires cannot burn me.”“Are you sure you are ready?” said Mr Ross.Shouting his defiance, the conjurer came out from the tent, and walking to a place where he knew the fine sand in the bullet of bear’s grease would not hurt him, he boldly stood up, and stretching out his hands defied the shooter to do his best.“You are sure, are you, that bullets will not hurt you?” said Mr Ross.Very haughty was the conjurer’s reply. Then said Mr Ross again; “If you are hurt, no one will be to blame.”“No, indeed,” was the conjurer’s reply, “for I have given the challenge, and my familiar spirit has told me that the bullets cannot pierce me.”“If you are struck, then you will give up your conjuring, and go and hunt for your own living, like other people?”He hesitated for a moment, but the low, shrill whistle was once more heard, and so he fairly shouted out:“If bullets can pierce me I will forever give up my conjuring, and destroy my magic drum and medicine bag.”“All right,” said Mr Ross; then, turning to his servant, he said, “Now, Baptiste, fire!”Taking deliberate aim, the man fired, and, as the report rang out, from one of the uplifted hands of the conjurer who was standing about fifty yards away—there fell a finger, as neatly cut off by the bullet as though a surgeon’s knife had done the work.With a howl of rage and pain most decidedly un-Indian-like, the conjurer began dancing about, much to the amusement of the boys, who a moment before were pale with pent-up excitement; for it is rather trying to look on and see in the hands of a skillful marksman a gun loaded with ball and pointed at this boastful man, who was willing to put his magic against the skill of the finest shot of the country.Much to the surprise of all but Mr Ross and one or two others who saw through the trick, the old fellow, with his wounded hand still profusely bleeding, rushed over to his confederate and began abusing him most thoroughly for having deceived him. This attack the man resented, and a first-class quarrel was the result. Around them gathered numbers of Indians, and in the mutual recriminations of these two the truth came out, and the people saw that they had long been deluded by a pair of impostors. From that, day they were discredited men, and never after regained any power or influence.That evening Mr Ross explained to the boys the whole affair. He showed them the bogus bullet, and explained to them how it was made. The boys admitted that it was a clever trick, and were not satisfied until they had made several of them in the manner described.Thus ended their first and last experience with Indian conjurers, and it thoroughly convinced them that they are only cunning impostors.
Not long after the visit to the mission and the School Mr Ross was visited by a number of old pagan medicine men and conjurers, the most noted of them being old Tapastanum, who, having heard of the visit of the young gentlemen from across the sea to the family of Sagasta-weekee, was anxious to make them a visit of ceremony. Tapastanum’s principal reason for a ceremonious visit was that he should not be eclipsed by “the Black-coat Man with the Book.”
Mr Ross, while receiving these old men as he received all Indians, in a civil manner, was not at all kindly disposed toward them, as he knew their influence was harmful and that they were a curse and a malediction to the people. Their very presence in an Indian village is a source of terror and fear. They never hunt or fish themselves as long as they can frighten other people into being blackmailed by them.
The coming of these men very much excited Sam and Alec, who had heard such extraordinary things about them. Some firmly believe that they are in league with the devil, and by his direct assistance are able to perform all the wonderful things of which they boast. Others, however, believe that they are rank impostors. The boys, who had heard so many conflicting things about these conjurers, tried to coax Mr Ross to get them to show off some of their pretended power.
For a time Mr Ross, who considered them only as clever scoundrels or unmitigated humbugs, objected, as he did not wish to seem in any way to encourage them. However, one day as they, from Mr Ross’s reluctance to put them to the test, became exceedingly boastful of their powers to do such wonderful things it was decided to give them an opportunity.
“What do you say you can do?” asked Frank of old Tapastanum.
“Do,” he replied, “I can so conjure that you cannot hit me with a bullet, or tie me so that I cannot spring up loose; and fire will not burn me, or water drown me.”
“All right,” said Frank, “one thing at a time. We will try the first, and see if we cannot hit you with a bullet.”
“What you give?” was the request of the old fellow.
“O, indeed, that is what you are after; well, what do you want?”
At first his demands were very unreasonable, but after some dickering it was decided that if he stood the ordeal he was to get an agreed amount of flour, tea, sugar, and tobacco. It was also settled that the ordeal should come off the next day. The conjurer said that he would spend the night with his medicine drum and sacred medicine bag, to call back his familiar spirit, who might be away hunting. The boys discussed very much the coming contest, and, of course, were profoundly interested. They had learned much since their coming into the country about these strange, wild, fearsome people, and this with what they had read in other days filled them with great curiosity to see what would be the outcome.
With Mr Ross and the family the matter was well talked over, and it was determined—as Mr Ross considered the conjurer who was to go through the ordeal an unmitigated fraud—that he should be taught a lesson that he and his cronies would never forget.
When the morning arrived the old fellows were there in good time, and the ordeal, which was to-day to be by bullet, was decided upon.
The conjurer selected for the ordeal had not proceeded far in his talk before he asked to see laid down at his wife’s feet his pay. This was brought out and measured to his satisfaction, with the understanding that it was not to be his unless he succeeded.
His preparations were soon completed. Aided by his comrades, a small conjuring tent was made by sticking some long green limber poles in the ground, and bending them over like bows until the other ends were also made fast in the earth. Then over these poles a skin tent, made by sewing a number of dressed deerskins together, was thrown. Taking his medicine bag and magic drum into this tent, the conjurer disappeared. Soon the monotonous drumming began. In addition there were heard the barks and howls and cries of nearly all the animals of the forest and prairies. The sounds were like that proceeding from a wild beast show when all the animals are let louse and are uttering their discordant notes. The tent quivered as though in a cyclone. Thus, for a time it went on—the drum beating, the beasts howling, the tent quivering—until it seemed utterly inexplicable how one man, could create such a din.
Among the boys, Sam was most excited at these strange proceedings. Much to the amusement of those around, he said:
“I’m thinking the safest place would be on the top of the house, if all those reptiles should break loose.”
The conjurer now began crying out in his own language: “To help me he is coming, my own familiar spirit. Soon the bullet cannot pierce me; soon waters cannot drown me; soon fires cannot burn me. To help me he is coming! coming! coming!”
Thus on he went, while the drumming and howlings were almost incessant.
Mr Ross, who had resolved that there should be no nonsense, had asked one of his servants, who was an unerring shot, to do the firing. In the meantime one of the conjurer’s associates had asked to see the gun that was to be used, and kindly offered to load it. The suspicions of Mr Ross were at once aroused by this request, but wishing to see through the man’s trick he did not oppose his request. Soon after a good gun was sent for, and also some powder and bullets. Full measure of powder was poured into the gun, and the usual wadding was well driven down upon it. When Mr Ross selected a bullet the friend of the conjurer, with a great pretence of awe, asked to see it, and holding it in his hand said, “This is the bullet that the familiar spirit will turn aside.”
Mr Ross let him look at it, and saw him handling it with much apparent reverence, but he also saw him quickly and deftly change it for another bullet.
“That’s your game, is it?” said Mr Ross but not out loud. After a little more humbuggery the bullet was handed back to be dropped into the muzzle of the gun.
If Mr Ross’s thoughts could have been heard they would have been something like this:
“I have seen through that little trick, and will show you that two can play at that game.”
And so without exciting the suspicion of the Indian, whose trick he had detected, he changed the bullet for another, and dropped it into the gun. When the wadding was driven in and placed upon it, the confederate of the conjurer asked for the privilege of being allowed also to help ram it down. Mr Ross saw his meaning and cheerfully granted it. The weapon was now loaded and ready for use. All this time the drumming and the conjuring had continued with all their accompaniments of howls and shrieks.
In a short time a shrill, low whistle, like the call of some bird, was heard, and Mr Ross observed that it was from the lips of the old Indian who had pretended to examine the bullet with such awe, but who had in reality exchanged it for a perfectly harmless one. He and the conjurer were associates in their trickery. The bullet had been made in this way: A pair of bullet moulds had been heated quite hot, and then some bear’s fat, which is like lard, had been put inside of them. Holding the moulds shut, and placing them in very cold water, they kept turning them around until the melted fat had hardened into a thin shell exactly the size of a bullet. Then a small puncture was made through this thin casing of fat, and the interior carefully filled up with fine sand. It was not difficult then to stop up the orifice with a little fat. It was then carefully coloured like a bullet, and at a distance could hardly be distinguished from one. When put in a gun and well pounded with a ramrod, of course, it would break all to pieces, and when fired at anything like an ordinary distance for ball firing would be perfectly harmless.
But Mr Ross’s cleverness had been too much for the rogues, and so he had changed the bogus affair for a genuine bullet of lead. To his servant, who was to fire, he explained exactly how matters were, and had said to him:
“Do not kill the rascal, but give him a wound that will forever stop his boastings, and break his power over the poor deluded hundreds, who firmly believe he can do what he has so boastfully declared.”
The low, shrill whistle call had made a great change upon the conjurer in the tent. He was now all boastfulness, and his cries were like the shouts of triumph:
“Waters cannot drown me; bullets cannot pierce me; fires cannot burn me.”
“Are you sure you are ready?” said Mr Ross.
Shouting his defiance, the conjurer came out from the tent, and walking to a place where he knew the fine sand in the bullet of bear’s grease would not hurt him, he boldly stood up, and stretching out his hands defied the shooter to do his best.
“You are sure, are you, that bullets will not hurt you?” said Mr Ross.
Very haughty was the conjurer’s reply. Then said Mr Ross again; “If you are hurt, no one will be to blame.”
“No, indeed,” was the conjurer’s reply, “for I have given the challenge, and my familiar spirit has told me that the bullets cannot pierce me.”
“If you are struck, then you will give up your conjuring, and go and hunt for your own living, like other people?”
He hesitated for a moment, but the low, shrill whistle was once more heard, and so he fairly shouted out:
“If bullets can pierce me I will forever give up my conjuring, and destroy my magic drum and medicine bag.”
“All right,” said Mr Ross; then, turning to his servant, he said, “Now, Baptiste, fire!”
Taking deliberate aim, the man fired, and, as the report rang out, from one of the uplifted hands of the conjurer who was standing about fifty yards away—there fell a finger, as neatly cut off by the bullet as though a surgeon’s knife had done the work.
With a howl of rage and pain most decidedly un-Indian-like, the conjurer began dancing about, much to the amusement of the boys, who a moment before were pale with pent-up excitement; for it is rather trying to look on and see in the hands of a skillful marksman a gun loaded with ball and pointed at this boastful man, who was willing to put his magic against the skill of the finest shot of the country.
Much to the surprise of all but Mr Ross and one or two others who saw through the trick, the old fellow, with his wounded hand still profusely bleeding, rushed over to his confederate and began abusing him most thoroughly for having deceived him. This attack the man resented, and a first-class quarrel was the result. Around them gathered numbers of Indians, and in the mutual recriminations of these two the truth came out, and the people saw that they had long been deluded by a pair of impostors. From that, day they were discredited men, and never after regained any power or influence.
That evening Mr Ross explained to the boys the whole affair. He showed them the bogus bullet, and explained to them how it was made. The boys admitted that it was a clever trick, and were not satisfied until they had made several of them in the manner described.
Thus ended their first and last experience with Indian conjurers, and it thoroughly convinced them that they are only cunning impostors.
Chapter Fifteen.Outing—Alec and Mustagan’s Shooting Contest, or Gun versus Bow and Arrow-Shooting the Swans—Was Sam Cross-eyed?—The Return Trip—The Escape of the Doe and Fawn from the Wolf.As Mr Ross had quite recovered, it was resolved to go again on an extended trip to the country in the region of Montreal Point, and have some hunting in that section of country. Some Indian hunters had come in from that place, and reported the entire absence of wolves. This was not to be wondered at, on account of the number that had been shot in the fierce conflict which there took place. It is also a fact well-known to wolf hunters that when a pack has been severely defeated the survivors at once retreat to some distant regions.As the weather was very fine, Mrs Ross and the younger members of the family accompanied them as far as to the Old Fort. They travelled in a large and roomy canoe especially made for them. It was manned by four Indians, who were very proud of their charge. Frank and Sam, with an Indian hunter, occupied another canoe, while Mr Ross had with him Alec and Mustagan.As the ducks and other gamy birds were numerous, they had some good shooting from their canoes as they paddled along. At times they were able to fire into large flocks, then again they tried their skill on a single bird as it rapidly flew by.Said Mustagan to Alec: “You take gun, I take bow and arrow, and we see who shoot best.”“All right,” said Alec, “I’ll try.”So it was decided that when the next duck flew over them Alec was to try first. If he missed, Mustagan was to shoot, and thus they would alternately fire—first Alec, and then Mustagan; then Mustagan first, and then Alec. The one who killed five ducks or other game first was to be considered victor. Mr Ross, who entered heartily into the spirit of the contest, took the steering paddle while the white lad and the old Indian tried their skill. It was a contest between gun and powderversusbow and arrow.Soon a fine mallard duck came flying along. Alec let drive at it, and missed. Quick as a flash Mustagan’s bow was up and his arrow sighted and sent after it with such accuracy that it caught it fairly under one of the wings, killing it instantly.“The best shot I ever saw!” shouted Alec, in genuine admiration.The head of Mustagan’s arrow was the thigh bone of the wild swan, which is about solid, and makes a capital arrow head for duck shooting, as it is heavy, and can be made so sharp as to easily pierce the body of the game.The next object was a solitary beaver sitting on a bank quite unconcerned. Mr Ross said afterward that in all probability it was an old, sullen fellow that had been driven away by the others from some distant beaver house, and had come and dug a burrow somewhere in that bank and was there living alone.As it was Mustagan’s turn to shoot first, he carefully selected his heaviest arrow, the head of which was a piece of barbed steel. Having examined the shaft to see that it was perfectly straight, he shot it with all his strength. No need for Alec to fire, for deep down into the skull of the animal had the steel head gone, instantly killing him. When it was lifted into the canoe Alec was surprised at the size of its tail, and more than amazed when told that it was one of the luxuries of the country. It was one of the favourite dishes of the supper that evening. The other luxuries, Mr Ross added, were the bear’s paws and the moose’s nose.As they paddled on Mustagan suddenly shaded his eyes for a moment, then quickly said:“Wap-i-sew! wap-i-sew!” (“Swans! swans!”)Word was quickly shouted to the other boats of their coming, and to try and shoot some of them if possible. Swans’ feathers are much prized in that land for beds. Their meat, however, is not considered equal to that of the wild goose. As they fly with great rapidity they were not long in coming within range. There was a large flock of them, and they were flying, as they usually do, in a straight line. This flock must have risen up very recently, as they were not more than fifty feet above the water.“I killed beaver. Your turn first now,” said Mustagan to Alec. “But I fire just after you.”Alec had at Mr Ross’s suggestion dropped a half dozen big buckshot in the barrel of his gun on the top of the charge of duckshot. The instant the first swan of the long straight line was in range he fired. To his amazement, while the first and second passed on unhurt, the third swan dropped suddenly into the water; and a second or two after another, about the twentieth in the line, also fell. Soon reports from other guns were heard, as the friends in the other canoes in the rear fired, and Mrs Ross was delighted to have the feathers of six beautiful white swans to take home with her when she returned.The most perplexed one in the party for the time being was Alec. Mr Ross had observed it, and half suspecting the cause asked what it was that was bothering him. His answer was:“I cannot understand how it should have happened that when I aimed and fired at the first swan it and the second should pass on unhurt and the third fall dead.”He was very much surprised when Mr Ross explained that he had not calculated for the speed with which the wild swan flies. Although such a large and heavy bird, the swan flies with a rapidity excelled by very few. The wild ducks and geese are easily left behind by the beautiful and graceful swans.When the swans were picked up the journey was resumed, and the friendly contest between Alec and Mustagan continued. Soon a large flock of ducks flew over them. It being Mustagan’s turn he fired, and as his arrow returned it was in the heart of a splendid duck. Alec, watching his opportunity, fired where a number were flying close together, and had the good fortune to bring down four at the one shot. This, of course, gave him the victory. And no congratulations could have been more kindly or sincere than were those of the big-hearted Mustagan.In the meantime those in the other canoes had their own adventures and excitements. Sam had the good fortune to kill one of the swans, although he said afterward that he thought he must have been cross-eyed when he fired, as the one which fell was the third or fourth behind the one at which he aimed.In his amusing way Sam’s irrepressible spirit was up, and, in a half-moralising way at such erratic shooting, he said: “indeed, when I saw that swan fall I began to think I must have been like the old schoolmaster that my father used to tell about, in the old times when he was a boy, that when he was angry would shout out, ‘Will that boy I am looking at stand up?’ And do you believe it, ten or a dozen would rise trembling to their feet in different parts of the schoolhouse.”The Old Fort was reached early in the afternoon, and at one of the favourite camping places on the western side of the rushing waters of the great river that comes pouring out of Lake Winnipeg they went ashore. The active Indians soon had an abundance of dry wood cut and gathered. The fires were soon brightly burning, and the meal was prepared. Around it clustered the happy hungry ones, and very much did they enjoy their dinner out in the sunshine amid the beauties of this romantic spot.Mrs Ross and the children, escorted by Mr Ross and our three lads, went for a long ramble through the woods, looking for some rare and beautiful ferns which here abound. They succeeded in getting quite a number of fine specimens, which they carefully dug up to be planted in the grounds around Sagasta-weekee. Some beautiful wild flowers were also found, and several small young mountain ash trees were carefully dug up and carried home.After this delightful ramble, which was without any exciting adventure, they all returned to the camp, where they found that tea had already been prepared for them by the thoughtful Indian canoemen. When this was partaken of, Mrs Ross and the young people embarked in their capacious canoe for the return trip, and under the vigorous paddling of their four canoemen reached Sagasta-weekee before midnight.The only excitement they had on the way was the seeing a beautiful deer and her young fawn swimming in the water a long way out from the shore. They gave chase and caught up to the beautiful frightened creatures. Mrs Ross would not allow the men to kill either of them, as she did not want the children to be shocked by the death of such beautiful, timid animals, especially as the solicitude manifested by the mother deer was very interesting to observe.At first even the experienced Indians were perplexed at the sight of the deer with her young fawn in this broad water so far from land. Generally while the fawns are so small the mother deer keeps them hid in the deep, dark forests, only going to them when it is necessary for them to suckle.It was not very long before these Indians had an idea of the cause for the unusual conduct of this deer. So they began watching very carefully the distant shore, from which the deer had come, and after a while one who had been shading his eyes gave a start and whispered earnestly:“Wolf! wolf!”And sure enough there was, for trotting up and down on the shore was a great, fierce, northern grey wolf, he must have got on the trail of the deer and alarmed her, but not before she had time to rush from her retreat with the fawn and spring into the water. They must have got quite a distance out from shore before the wolf reached the water, as the Indians said, judging by the way the wolf ran up and down on the beach, trying to find the trail; he had not seen them in the water.Wolves do not take to water like bears. It is true they can swim when necessary, but they cannot make much of a fight in the water. A full-grown deer can easily drown a wolf that is rash enough to dare to attack him in the deep water. The Indians would have liked to have gone ashore and made an effort to get in the rear of the wolf and had a shot at him, but this was at present out of the question. So they only paddled in between the swimming deer and fawn and the shore from whence they had come. This enabled them to escape to the shore opposite from the wolf. Shortly after, as the wolf, so angry at being baffled of his prey while the scent was so hot on the shore, came running along in plain sight. The Indians carefully fired a couple of bullets at him. These, while not killing him, went near enough to cause him to give a great jump of surprise and alarm, and to suddenly disappear in the forest.“Sometime soon we get that wolf,” said one of the Indians.How he did get it we will have him tell us some time later on.
As Mr Ross had quite recovered, it was resolved to go again on an extended trip to the country in the region of Montreal Point, and have some hunting in that section of country. Some Indian hunters had come in from that place, and reported the entire absence of wolves. This was not to be wondered at, on account of the number that had been shot in the fierce conflict which there took place. It is also a fact well-known to wolf hunters that when a pack has been severely defeated the survivors at once retreat to some distant regions.
As the weather was very fine, Mrs Ross and the younger members of the family accompanied them as far as to the Old Fort. They travelled in a large and roomy canoe especially made for them. It was manned by four Indians, who were very proud of their charge. Frank and Sam, with an Indian hunter, occupied another canoe, while Mr Ross had with him Alec and Mustagan.
As the ducks and other gamy birds were numerous, they had some good shooting from their canoes as they paddled along. At times they were able to fire into large flocks, then again they tried their skill on a single bird as it rapidly flew by.
Said Mustagan to Alec: “You take gun, I take bow and arrow, and we see who shoot best.”
“All right,” said Alec, “I’ll try.”
So it was decided that when the next duck flew over them Alec was to try first. If he missed, Mustagan was to shoot, and thus they would alternately fire—first Alec, and then Mustagan; then Mustagan first, and then Alec. The one who killed five ducks or other game first was to be considered victor. Mr Ross, who entered heartily into the spirit of the contest, took the steering paddle while the white lad and the old Indian tried their skill. It was a contest between gun and powderversusbow and arrow.
Soon a fine mallard duck came flying along. Alec let drive at it, and missed. Quick as a flash Mustagan’s bow was up and his arrow sighted and sent after it with such accuracy that it caught it fairly under one of the wings, killing it instantly.
“The best shot I ever saw!” shouted Alec, in genuine admiration.
The head of Mustagan’s arrow was the thigh bone of the wild swan, which is about solid, and makes a capital arrow head for duck shooting, as it is heavy, and can be made so sharp as to easily pierce the body of the game.
The next object was a solitary beaver sitting on a bank quite unconcerned. Mr Ross said afterward that in all probability it was an old, sullen fellow that had been driven away by the others from some distant beaver house, and had come and dug a burrow somewhere in that bank and was there living alone.
As it was Mustagan’s turn to shoot first, he carefully selected his heaviest arrow, the head of which was a piece of barbed steel. Having examined the shaft to see that it was perfectly straight, he shot it with all his strength. No need for Alec to fire, for deep down into the skull of the animal had the steel head gone, instantly killing him. When it was lifted into the canoe Alec was surprised at the size of its tail, and more than amazed when told that it was one of the luxuries of the country. It was one of the favourite dishes of the supper that evening. The other luxuries, Mr Ross added, were the bear’s paws and the moose’s nose.
As they paddled on Mustagan suddenly shaded his eyes for a moment, then quickly said:
“Wap-i-sew! wap-i-sew!” (“Swans! swans!”)
Word was quickly shouted to the other boats of their coming, and to try and shoot some of them if possible. Swans’ feathers are much prized in that land for beds. Their meat, however, is not considered equal to that of the wild goose. As they fly with great rapidity they were not long in coming within range. There was a large flock of them, and they were flying, as they usually do, in a straight line. This flock must have risen up very recently, as they were not more than fifty feet above the water.
“I killed beaver. Your turn first now,” said Mustagan to Alec. “But I fire just after you.”
Alec had at Mr Ross’s suggestion dropped a half dozen big buckshot in the barrel of his gun on the top of the charge of duckshot. The instant the first swan of the long straight line was in range he fired. To his amazement, while the first and second passed on unhurt, the third swan dropped suddenly into the water; and a second or two after another, about the twentieth in the line, also fell. Soon reports from other guns were heard, as the friends in the other canoes in the rear fired, and Mrs Ross was delighted to have the feathers of six beautiful white swans to take home with her when she returned.
The most perplexed one in the party for the time being was Alec. Mr Ross had observed it, and half suspecting the cause asked what it was that was bothering him. His answer was:
“I cannot understand how it should have happened that when I aimed and fired at the first swan it and the second should pass on unhurt and the third fall dead.”
He was very much surprised when Mr Ross explained that he had not calculated for the speed with which the wild swan flies. Although such a large and heavy bird, the swan flies with a rapidity excelled by very few. The wild ducks and geese are easily left behind by the beautiful and graceful swans.
When the swans were picked up the journey was resumed, and the friendly contest between Alec and Mustagan continued. Soon a large flock of ducks flew over them. It being Mustagan’s turn he fired, and as his arrow returned it was in the heart of a splendid duck. Alec, watching his opportunity, fired where a number were flying close together, and had the good fortune to bring down four at the one shot. This, of course, gave him the victory. And no congratulations could have been more kindly or sincere than were those of the big-hearted Mustagan.
In the meantime those in the other canoes had their own adventures and excitements. Sam had the good fortune to kill one of the swans, although he said afterward that he thought he must have been cross-eyed when he fired, as the one which fell was the third or fourth behind the one at which he aimed.
In his amusing way Sam’s irrepressible spirit was up, and, in a half-moralising way at such erratic shooting, he said: “indeed, when I saw that swan fall I began to think I must have been like the old schoolmaster that my father used to tell about, in the old times when he was a boy, that when he was angry would shout out, ‘Will that boy I am looking at stand up?’ And do you believe it, ten or a dozen would rise trembling to their feet in different parts of the schoolhouse.”
The Old Fort was reached early in the afternoon, and at one of the favourite camping places on the western side of the rushing waters of the great river that comes pouring out of Lake Winnipeg they went ashore. The active Indians soon had an abundance of dry wood cut and gathered. The fires were soon brightly burning, and the meal was prepared. Around it clustered the happy hungry ones, and very much did they enjoy their dinner out in the sunshine amid the beauties of this romantic spot.
Mrs Ross and the children, escorted by Mr Ross and our three lads, went for a long ramble through the woods, looking for some rare and beautiful ferns which here abound. They succeeded in getting quite a number of fine specimens, which they carefully dug up to be planted in the grounds around Sagasta-weekee. Some beautiful wild flowers were also found, and several small young mountain ash trees were carefully dug up and carried home.
After this delightful ramble, which was without any exciting adventure, they all returned to the camp, where they found that tea had already been prepared for them by the thoughtful Indian canoemen. When this was partaken of, Mrs Ross and the young people embarked in their capacious canoe for the return trip, and under the vigorous paddling of their four canoemen reached Sagasta-weekee before midnight.
The only excitement they had on the way was the seeing a beautiful deer and her young fawn swimming in the water a long way out from the shore. They gave chase and caught up to the beautiful frightened creatures. Mrs Ross would not allow the men to kill either of them, as she did not want the children to be shocked by the death of such beautiful, timid animals, especially as the solicitude manifested by the mother deer was very interesting to observe.
At first even the experienced Indians were perplexed at the sight of the deer with her young fawn in this broad water so far from land. Generally while the fawns are so small the mother deer keeps them hid in the deep, dark forests, only going to them when it is necessary for them to suckle.
It was not very long before these Indians had an idea of the cause for the unusual conduct of this deer. So they began watching very carefully the distant shore, from which the deer had come, and after a while one who had been shading his eyes gave a start and whispered earnestly:
“Wolf! wolf!”
And sure enough there was, for trotting up and down on the shore was a great, fierce, northern grey wolf, he must have got on the trail of the deer and alarmed her, but not before she had time to rush from her retreat with the fawn and spring into the water. They must have got quite a distance out from shore before the wolf reached the water, as the Indians said, judging by the way the wolf ran up and down on the beach, trying to find the trail; he had not seen them in the water.
Wolves do not take to water like bears. It is true they can swim when necessary, but they cannot make much of a fight in the water. A full-grown deer can easily drown a wolf that is rash enough to dare to attack him in the deep water. The Indians would have liked to have gone ashore and made an effort to get in the rear of the wolf and had a shot at him, but this was at present out of the question. So they only paddled in between the swimming deer and fawn and the shore from whence they had come. This enabled them to escape to the shore opposite from the wolf. Shortly after, as the wolf, so angry at being baffled of his prey while the scent was so hot on the shore, came running along in plain sight. The Indians carefully fired a couple of bullets at him. These, while not killing him, went near enough to cause him to give a great jump of surprise and alarm, and to suddenly disappear in the forest.
“Sometime soon we get that wolf,” said one of the Indians.
How he did get it we will have him tell us some time later on.
Chapter Sixteen.The Old Fort again—Aurora Borealis—Unexpected Arrivals—Fur Traders—Head Winds—Camp Annoyances—Camp Fire Yarns.We must now return to our other friends, whom we left at the Old Fort. Some days were spent at this favourite old hunting ground.With Mr Ross the boys visited the site of their former camp, where the cyclone wrought such havoc, and where they had had such a narrow escape. They were all amazed as they examined the trunks of the trees twisted off, and saw how, like a swath of grass cut through a meadow, the irresistible hurricane had swept through the dense forest.Never had any of them seen anything to equal this, and they were very grateful for providential deliverance. They investigated the rocks and boulders, and Mr Ross gave them his ideas as to the formation of the great prairies of the West, over which he had so often wandered, and where Sam, Alec, and Frank expected, in a year or so, to spend some happy months.To the boys the evening camp fire on the rocks, with the rippling waters of lake or river at their feet and the dark back ground of unexplored forest, was always intensely interesting, with its review of the day’s adventures, the picturesque Indians, and preparation for the evening meal, enjoyed with such glorious appetites. Then, after the sun had gone down in splendour, and the long twilight began to fade away, the stars came out of their hiding places, one by one, until the whole heavens seemed aglow with them, for they shone with a radiance and beauty that was simply indescribable. Then, if not too tired to wait for their arrival, how fascinating often were the auroral displays, the mysterious “northern lights.” If they were sleepy and tired, when some of these field night displays began, they soon forgot their weariness as they gazed, at times fairly fascinated by the wondrous visions that were theirs to witness. Never did they see a glorious display exactly repeated. There was always a kaleidoscopic change; yet each was very suggestive and beautiful. Sometimes they mounted up and up from below the horizon like vast arrays of soldiers, rank following rank in quick succession, arranged in all the gorgeous hues of the rainbow. They advanced, they receded, they fought, they conquered, they retreated, and they faded away into oblivion. Then great arches of purest white spanned the heavens, from which streamers red as blood hung quivering in the sky. Then, after other transformations, a corona filled the zenith and became a perfect crown of dancing, flashing splendour that long hung suspended there above them, a fit diadem, they thought, for the head of Him who was the creator of all these indescribable glories.Thus in the beauties of the night visions, and in other sights peculiar to the North, there were compensations for some of the privations incident to being so remote from the blessings of civilisation. These new scenes, both by night and by day, were sources of great pleasure to the boys, as their tastes were fortunately such that these visions had a peculiar charm for them. Then, with their full program of delightful sports, they were indeed having a most joyous holiday.But our readers are not to understand that during all these months there was nothing but continued enjoyment without some genuine hardships. There were at times some very serious drawbacks, and the boys had to muster up all their courage and face some annoyances that were exasperating in the extreme. And these hardships and trials were as likely to meet them when they would have rejoiced in refreshing slumber as during the weariness of a heavy day’s marching on the trail of some game.One of the great drawbacks to quiet slumber during the sultry hours of the hot summer nights were those intolerable pests, the mosquitoes. At times they were simply unendurable. They came in such multitudes that they were irresistible. They presented their bills so importunately that payment had to be made promptly in blood. Some nights the boys could hardly sleep at all. Every expedient was tried to drive them off. Smoke fires were kindled, and all other known remedies were tried, but all in vain. Blistered hands, swollen faces, eyes that would only half open, some mornings told of the long-continued, unsuccessful battles that during the nights past had been fought; and, to judge from appearances, the lads had been most thoroughly defeated. Said Sam one morning, after a night of misery with the insatiable pests:“I see now why the rascals are called pious animals—because they have been singing over us and preying on us all the night; but in spite of all their efforts I am sure I am none the better, but much the worse, both in body and spirits.”“I say, Big Tom,” said Alec, “what is the good of mosquitoes anyway?”“To teach young white gentlemen patience, to see what stuff they are made of,” said the old man, while all were amused at his apt reply.“We hardly notice them,” continued Big Tom, in his slow, deliberate manner; “and so it will be with you all after a time. Mosquitoes are peculiar, and have their likes and dislikes. One of their likes is to be fond of fresh blood, and so they go for the latest arrivals, and one of their dislikes is not to care much for tough old Injun. When you have been here some time, and have been bitten by a great many, you will not mind them so much.”“How many?” said Frank.“About a million,” replied Big Tom, “though I don’t know how many that is.”This answer was too much for Sam, so he sprang up in a hurry and, in a semi-tragic manner, exclaimed:“When does the next train start for home? I want to see my mother.”This inquiry from the irrepressible Sam provoked roars of laughter, and caused them to forget the mosquitoes and their bills.When the boys arose one morning they were surprised to find a whole brigade of boats drawn up on the shore, and the men at various camp fires busily preparing their breakfast. They had slept so soundly that they had not heard the slightest sound.Mr Ross and the men were up quite a time, and had gone over to chat with the two officers of the Hudson Bay Company who had charge of the brigade, which was from the Cumberland House and Swan River district, and was now on its way up from York Factory with its cargo of goods for the next winter’s trade.As breakfast was now ready, Mr Ross invited the two officers of the company, Mr Hamilton and Mr Bolanger, to eat with them. This invitation was gladly accepted, and to them were introduced Frank, Alec, and Sam, who became very much interested in them, and in the recital of various adventures and reminiscences of trading with the Indians in various parts of the great country.The officers, on their part, were very anxious to hear all about the gunpowder explosion that had occurred at Robinson’s Portage, as all sorts of rumours had gone abroad throughout the country about it, and especially a story that many persons were killed, among them some young English gentlemen, who for a bit of a lark had laid the train of gun powder which caused the general flare-up. The boys were amazed and indignant at first, then vastly amused as they saw by the twinkle in Mr Ross’s eye that he was well acquainted with fondness for banter, which was a strong characteristic of some of those Hudson Bay gentlemen.At first the boys hardly knew how to reply to this absurd reflection. Sam was the first to thoroughly understand them, and so in the richest brogue of his own green isle, which we will not try to produce in all its perfection, he said:“Och, thin, it’s roight ye are, av course. An’ wasn’t it too bad intoirely, the spalpeen to the loikes of you, an’ he too an Englishman! Shure, thin, an’ didn’t he fire the powther through downright invy. Do ye believe me now, didn’t he, an’ Alec, the Scotchman, sitting there foreninst ye, wish to blow John Company, body and breeches, all at wanst into the Nelson River for your rascally chating the poor Injuns, that they might be after starting a company thimselves.”This sally of Sam’s created roars of laughter, and even the slap he gave them about their close dealings with the Indians was much enjoyed. Soon all were on the best of terms, and it was a mutual pleasure, in that lonely place, to meet and interchange the news of the country, as well as to have the flashings of wit and fun and pleasant raillery.Of course the men of the brigade were anxious to get on, as they still had a journey before them. They had only come from Norway house, a distance of twenty miles, the previous day. They had started, as was customary, quite late in the afternoon. The wind was anything but favourable, and so they were obliged to remain where they had drawn up their boats. Their old guide, after scanning the heavens and watching the movements of the different strata of clouds, declared that a fierce south wind was brewing, and that if they dared to start they would soon be driven back to that place. This was bad news to all, especially to the young officers, who were very anxious to get on. They very much dislike long delays in their journeys. Then it is always in favour of an officer seeking promotion in the service if it is known that he has a good record for making speedy trips with his brigades.Here, however, were reports from one whose word was law; so there was no help for it, and thus they were here to remain until the wind changed. As the indication was for high winds, with perhaps heavy rains, orders were issued for the complete safety of the boats and cargoes. In making their preparations for a severe storm the crews of two or three of the boats seized hold of the strong rope which was attached to the stem of each boat, and by their united strength dragged them, one after another, well up on the sand, out of the reach of the waves. As there are no tides in these great American lakes the boats have not to be shifted. Heavy tarpaulins were carefully lashed down over the cargo, thus preventing the rain from doing any damage. These precautions turned out to be quite unnecessary, as the threatened storm either did not appear or passed round them. Still the wind blew constantly from the south for a number of days, and thus the brigade was obliged to remain. So long, indeed, was it detained that the officers had to order the removal of the cargo from one of the boats and send it back to Norway House for an additional supply of food.This delay of the brigade was a glorious time for the boys, for among the men were some remarkable characters from the great prairies and the distant mountains. Some of them were full of incidents of thrilling adventures and wonderful stories; and so, while waiting during the long days for the wind to either change or go down, many a capital story was told at the pleasant camp fires. Some of them were narrated with wondrous dramatic power. These Indians are true sons of nature, and, while not taught in the schools of oratory, have in many instances a kind of eloquence that is most effective, and a dramatic way of speaking that is most telling.There were stories of war parties and of scalping scenes, as well as of thrilling horse-stealing escapades. In addition there was the narration of various kinds of hunting adventure from these bronzed old hunters, who had frequently met in deadly conflict various kinds of fierce animals, from the mountain lion to the grizzly bear.
We must now return to our other friends, whom we left at the Old Fort. Some days were spent at this favourite old hunting ground.
With Mr Ross the boys visited the site of their former camp, where the cyclone wrought such havoc, and where they had had such a narrow escape. They were all amazed as they examined the trunks of the trees twisted off, and saw how, like a swath of grass cut through a meadow, the irresistible hurricane had swept through the dense forest.
Never had any of them seen anything to equal this, and they were very grateful for providential deliverance. They investigated the rocks and boulders, and Mr Ross gave them his ideas as to the formation of the great prairies of the West, over which he had so often wandered, and where Sam, Alec, and Frank expected, in a year or so, to spend some happy months.
To the boys the evening camp fire on the rocks, with the rippling waters of lake or river at their feet and the dark back ground of unexplored forest, was always intensely interesting, with its review of the day’s adventures, the picturesque Indians, and preparation for the evening meal, enjoyed with such glorious appetites. Then, after the sun had gone down in splendour, and the long twilight began to fade away, the stars came out of their hiding places, one by one, until the whole heavens seemed aglow with them, for they shone with a radiance and beauty that was simply indescribable. Then, if not too tired to wait for their arrival, how fascinating often were the auroral displays, the mysterious “northern lights.” If they were sleepy and tired, when some of these field night displays began, they soon forgot their weariness as they gazed, at times fairly fascinated by the wondrous visions that were theirs to witness. Never did they see a glorious display exactly repeated. There was always a kaleidoscopic change; yet each was very suggestive and beautiful. Sometimes they mounted up and up from below the horizon like vast arrays of soldiers, rank following rank in quick succession, arranged in all the gorgeous hues of the rainbow. They advanced, they receded, they fought, they conquered, they retreated, and they faded away into oblivion. Then great arches of purest white spanned the heavens, from which streamers red as blood hung quivering in the sky. Then, after other transformations, a corona filled the zenith and became a perfect crown of dancing, flashing splendour that long hung suspended there above them, a fit diadem, they thought, for the head of Him who was the creator of all these indescribable glories.
Thus in the beauties of the night visions, and in other sights peculiar to the North, there were compensations for some of the privations incident to being so remote from the blessings of civilisation. These new scenes, both by night and by day, were sources of great pleasure to the boys, as their tastes were fortunately such that these visions had a peculiar charm for them. Then, with their full program of delightful sports, they were indeed having a most joyous holiday.
But our readers are not to understand that during all these months there was nothing but continued enjoyment without some genuine hardships. There were at times some very serious drawbacks, and the boys had to muster up all their courage and face some annoyances that were exasperating in the extreme. And these hardships and trials were as likely to meet them when they would have rejoiced in refreshing slumber as during the weariness of a heavy day’s marching on the trail of some game.
One of the great drawbacks to quiet slumber during the sultry hours of the hot summer nights were those intolerable pests, the mosquitoes. At times they were simply unendurable. They came in such multitudes that they were irresistible. They presented their bills so importunately that payment had to be made promptly in blood. Some nights the boys could hardly sleep at all. Every expedient was tried to drive them off. Smoke fires were kindled, and all other known remedies were tried, but all in vain. Blistered hands, swollen faces, eyes that would only half open, some mornings told of the long-continued, unsuccessful battles that during the nights past had been fought; and, to judge from appearances, the lads had been most thoroughly defeated. Said Sam one morning, after a night of misery with the insatiable pests:
“I see now why the rascals are called pious animals—because they have been singing over us and preying on us all the night; but in spite of all their efforts I am sure I am none the better, but much the worse, both in body and spirits.”
“I say, Big Tom,” said Alec, “what is the good of mosquitoes anyway?”
“To teach young white gentlemen patience, to see what stuff they are made of,” said the old man, while all were amused at his apt reply.
“We hardly notice them,” continued Big Tom, in his slow, deliberate manner; “and so it will be with you all after a time. Mosquitoes are peculiar, and have their likes and dislikes. One of their likes is to be fond of fresh blood, and so they go for the latest arrivals, and one of their dislikes is not to care much for tough old Injun. When you have been here some time, and have been bitten by a great many, you will not mind them so much.”
“How many?” said Frank.
“About a million,” replied Big Tom, “though I don’t know how many that is.”
This answer was too much for Sam, so he sprang up in a hurry and, in a semi-tragic manner, exclaimed:
“When does the next train start for home? I want to see my mother.”
This inquiry from the irrepressible Sam provoked roars of laughter, and caused them to forget the mosquitoes and their bills.
When the boys arose one morning they were surprised to find a whole brigade of boats drawn up on the shore, and the men at various camp fires busily preparing their breakfast. They had slept so soundly that they had not heard the slightest sound.
Mr Ross and the men were up quite a time, and had gone over to chat with the two officers of the Hudson Bay Company who had charge of the brigade, which was from the Cumberland House and Swan River district, and was now on its way up from York Factory with its cargo of goods for the next winter’s trade.
As breakfast was now ready, Mr Ross invited the two officers of the company, Mr Hamilton and Mr Bolanger, to eat with them. This invitation was gladly accepted, and to them were introduced Frank, Alec, and Sam, who became very much interested in them, and in the recital of various adventures and reminiscences of trading with the Indians in various parts of the great country.
The officers, on their part, were very anxious to hear all about the gunpowder explosion that had occurred at Robinson’s Portage, as all sorts of rumours had gone abroad throughout the country about it, and especially a story that many persons were killed, among them some young English gentlemen, who for a bit of a lark had laid the train of gun powder which caused the general flare-up. The boys were amazed and indignant at first, then vastly amused as they saw by the twinkle in Mr Ross’s eye that he was well acquainted with fondness for banter, which was a strong characteristic of some of those Hudson Bay gentlemen.
At first the boys hardly knew how to reply to this absurd reflection. Sam was the first to thoroughly understand them, and so in the richest brogue of his own green isle, which we will not try to produce in all its perfection, he said:
“Och, thin, it’s roight ye are, av course. An’ wasn’t it too bad intoirely, the spalpeen to the loikes of you, an’ he too an Englishman! Shure, thin, an’ didn’t he fire the powther through downright invy. Do ye believe me now, didn’t he, an’ Alec, the Scotchman, sitting there foreninst ye, wish to blow John Company, body and breeches, all at wanst into the Nelson River for your rascally chating the poor Injuns, that they might be after starting a company thimselves.”
This sally of Sam’s created roars of laughter, and even the slap he gave them about their close dealings with the Indians was much enjoyed. Soon all were on the best of terms, and it was a mutual pleasure, in that lonely place, to meet and interchange the news of the country, as well as to have the flashings of wit and fun and pleasant raillery.
Of course the men of the brigade were anxious to get on, as they still had a journey before them. They had only come from Norway house, a distance of twenty miles, the previous day. They had started, as was customary, quite late in the afternoon. The wind was anything but favourable, and so they were obliged to remain where they had drawn up their boats. Their old guide, after scanning the heavens and watching the movements of the different strata of clouds, declared that a fierce south wind was brewing, and that if they dared to start they would soon be driven back to that place. This was bad news to all, especially to the young officers, who were very anxious to get on. They very much dislike long delays in their journeys. Then it is always in favour of an officer seeking promotion in the service if it is known that he has a good record for making speedy trips with his brigades.
Here, however, were reports from one whose word was law; so there was no help for it, and thus they were here to remain until the wind changed. As the indication was for high winds, with perhaps heavy rains, orders were issued for the complete safety of the boats and cargoes. In making their preparations for a severe storm the crews of two or three of the boats seized hold of the strong rope which was attached to the stem of each boat, and by their united strength dragged them, one after another, well up on the sand, out of the reach of the waves. As there are no tides in these great American lakes the boats have not to be shifted. Heavy tarpaulins were carefully lashed down over the cargo, thus preventing the rain from doing any damage. These precautions turned out to be quite unnecessary, as the threatened storm either did not appear or passed round them. Still the wind blew constantly from the south for a number of days, and thus the brigade was obliged to remain. So long, indeed, was it detained that the officers had to order the removal of the cargo from one of the boats and send it back to Norway House for an additional supply of food.
This delay of the brigade was a glorious time for the boys, for among the men were some remarkable characters from the great prairies and the distant mountains. Some of them were full of incidents of thrilling adventures and wonderful stories; and so, while waiting during the long days for the wind to either change or go down, many a capital story was told at the pleasant camp fires. Some of them were narrated with wondrous dramatic power. These Indians are true sons of nature, and, while not taught in the schools of oratory, have in many instances a kind of eloquence that is most effective, and a dramatic way of speaking that is most telling.
There were stories of war parties and of scalping scenes, as well as of thrilling horse-stealing escapades. In addition there was the narration of various kinds of hunting adventure from these bronzed old hunters, who had frequently met in deadly conflict various kinds of fierce animals, from the mountain lion to the grizzly bear.
Chapter Seventeen.The Story of Pukumakunun—Loosing his Tongue—His Early Days—Excursion for Buffalo—Treacherous Quicksands—Sinking Mother—Sagacious Horse—Sneaking Wolves—Rattlesnake and Prairie Dog.One old Indian with a splendid physique much excited their curiosity. They were specially anxious to know the story of that fearful scar across his face. He was evidently getting up in years, and was treated with much respect by his comrades. However, he was so quiet, and at times so reticent, that hardly a word could be got out of him. That there was some thrilling adventure associated with that scar the boys were very confident. The question among them was how to get him to tell it. They made friends with some of his Indian associates, and tried to get from them his history. But all the information they would impart was:“Yes, he has a great story. It very much please you. You get him tell it.”This, of course, only increased their curiosity to hear his narrative. For a time all their efforts met with poor success. At length Alec, the shrewd Scottish lad, said:“I have an idea that I can break through his reserve and get him to talk.”“Let us hear what your scheme is,” said Frank.“It is this,” replied Alec. “I have been watching him, and I have noticed that the only two things he seems to have any love for are his red-beaded leggings and his brilliant red neckerchief. So I have been thinking that if I offer him that red tartan shirt of mine it will so please him that it will break through his reserve, and will get his story.”“A capital plan!” shouted Sam; “and if you succeed in getting the adventure from him we will gladly pay for the shirt.”The question now was how to find out if this plan would be successful. Some of the Indians are very sensitive, and require careful handling. However, Mustagan, the famous Indian guide, who had become so very friendly with this Indian, undertook at the desire of the boys to present their request and, as it were, incidentally to hint at the present of the brilliant shirt.The scheme worked admirably, and here is his interesting story:His name was Pukumakun, which means a club or a hammer. He was a Kinistenaux Indian, and when he was a boy his family and people lived a part of each year on the banks of the Assiniboine River. Here he grew up as other Indian lads, and was early taught the use of the bow and arrows, and how to skillfully throw the lasso. He had his share of excitements and dangers, living in those days when warlike tribes were not far away. The war-whoop was no unusual sound, and so they lived in a state of constant expectation of defence or attack.Living on the prairies, he was, as soon as he was large enough, taught how to ride the fiery native horses until he could manage the wildest of them. Living such a life, he naturally had many adventures. The one that is most vividly impressed on his mind, and the constant reminder of which he carries in the great scar on his face, is the one that he here gives the boys.It was many years ago when, as a boy of about twelve years of age, he was living with his father and mother in an Indian village not far from the Assiniboine. As game was not very plentiful that season in that part of the country, it was decided that they should break camp and go on a great buffalo hunt, which would last for several weeks. While the men went to kill the buffalo the women had to go also to dry and pack the meat and to make pemmican. The buffalo herds were far away, and so it was many days’ journey before they were found.One day while they were travelling along over the prairies Pukumakun had the misfortune to be bitten on his leg by a poisonous snake. His mother, having first killed the snake, then sucked the wound until she had drawn out nearly all the poison. By this brave act she undoubtedly saved his life. However, there was still enough of the poison left in his system to make him very sick and cause his leg to swell greatly. The result was he could not travel as fast as the buffalo hunters, who were anxious to reach the herds. So it was decided that he should be left with his mother to follow as rapidly as they could. So painful became his leg from the exercise of the riding that at length he was unable to mount his horse. His brave mother stuck to him, and continued to help him along for some days. To make matters worse, one of their two horses disappeared one night. Still, on they pushed as well as they could with the remaining one, and at length reached a river with many sandbars. Here the noble woman, in trying to carry him across, got into the quicksands and began to sink. In vain she tried to pull her feet out of the treacherous sands. When she would try to lift up one foot the other only sank deeper and deeper. Failing to succeed in this way, she lifted him off her shoulders, and, placing him gently beside her, tried again to struggle loose from the sands. But it was all in vain. She was held with too tight a grip. Seeing this, and fearing that Pukumakun might also begin to sink in the sands, she again put him upon her shoulders, and then both of them shouted and called loudly for help. But no help came. No human beings were within many miles’ distance. Some prairie wolves heard their voices, and came to the river’s bank to see what it meant. They found the bundle of meat there and quickly devoured it, but they did not dare to attack the horse, that was eating the grass not two hundred yards away. When they had fought over and devoured the food they came to the bank again, and their howls and yelps seemed to mock the cries for help of the perishing ones, as deeper and deeper they sank in the treacherous quicksands. But that woman never wept, for she was the daughter of a chief. But we must let Pukumakun tell the rest of the story, which fairly thrilled and fascinated the boys:“By and by my feet began to touch the water, which ran a few inches deep over the bad sands, that had so caught hold of my mother, and into which she was sunk now nearly up to her waist. Still she cried not, but spake brave words to me. Hoping some Indians might be near, we called and called, but the wolves only answered with their mocking howls. Deeper and deeper we sank, until the waters were up to my mother’s neck, and my feet were beginning to feel the grip of the treacherous sand.“All at once I saw the horse coming down to the water to drink. Around his neck was tied the long Indian lariat made of braided deerskin, and therefore very strong. As I saw the horse, hope sprang up in my heart, and I began to feel that we were going to be saved. The water was now close up to my mother’s lips, but we both called to the horse, which had been in our camp for years. He raised up his head and seemed startled at first, and then he plunged into the river. It did not take him long to get through the deep water, and then as his feet began to touch the quicksands he seemed at once to know that it was not right, so he kept lifting up his feet one after the other very rapidly. Still on he came, until he was so close that I was able to seize hold of the lariat.“Then spake my mother: ‘My son, you will escape. Tie the lariat quickly around your waist, and the horse will be able to drag you out. Here I must die. The spirits of my ancestors call me away to the happy hunting grounds, and I must obey. Remember your mother tried hard to save you, and only failed with her life. Tell my people how I perished, and give my message to the avengers of blood, and tell them not to be angry toward you. Farewell. Remember you are the grandson of a chief.’“At first I wanted to die with my mother. It seemed dreadful to leave her alone, but she would not hear of it. As the waters were coming into her mouth she cried, ‘Obey me, my son; obey me, and do it quickly, for the horse is impatient and knows the place is dangerous.’“So I called sharply to the horse, and he sprang forward, and with a great wrench jerked me from my mother’s shoulders out of the quicksands, and dashed through the water with me to the shore.“As soon as I could loose myself from the lariat I turned round to look, and there I saw my mother’s head just sinking out of sight. I was wild with terror and sorrow, and bitterly chided myself for not having died with her. But I had the consolation that she herself had insisted on my escaping when the strange chance offered itself.“What was I to do now? My father and other friends were far away; my mother had perished; and here I was an almost helpless cripple on the great prairies, and night was rapidly approaching.“Fortunately my horse stuck to me, and I saw that I must keep him close to me all night, or the wolves that were prowling around would, in the darkness, make short work of me. So, miserable and wet though I was, I tied the loose end of the lariat around my waist, and selecting a spot where the grass was good, I sat down in the middle of it, there to pass the night.“It was, indeed, of all nights the saddest and most miserable. I could not sleep. I was full of sorrow. If I tried to shut my eyes, there was before me the sight of my mother, sinking, sinking down, down in that treacherous quicksand.“The wolves were very troublesome. They would sit out in the gloom and howl in their melancholy way. Then they would arouse themselves and try to get hold of me. But my horse, well accustomed to fighting these animals, would rush at them as far as the lariat would allow, and would either strike at them with his fore feet, or, swinging around quickly, would so vigorously lash out with his hind legs that the cowardly brutes would quickly skulk back into the gloom.“The long night ended at length, and the welcome morning came. I found that my poor leg, which had caused all the trouble, was much better. Perhaps this was from having been so long in the water. I was able to ride, and so I hurried away from the sight of the river that had so cruelly swallowed up my mother. My faithful horse, that had already been my deliverer, was very patient while, in my crippled state, I managed to get up on his back. I had eaten nothing since yesterday, but I thought nothing of that; I only wanted to get my sinking mother out of my eyes, and get away from that dreadful river which we had to cross. Horses are very wise about these quicksands, and so I just held on to the lariat, which I had made into a kind of a halter, and let him choose his own course. Very quickly and safely did he convey me across, and soon did we find the trail along which my father and the other hunters had travelled. We hurried on very rapidly, until my horse was tired, and then we stopped for a few hours in a ravine where we were well sheltered from hostile Indians, if any should be lurking about. The grass was luxuriant and abundant, and my horse enjoyed it very much.“When the hottest part of the day was over we again found the trail and pushed on until sundown. Where the grass was good I tethered my horse with the lariat, and for the first time began to feel hungry. But I had nothing to eat, neither had I bow nor arrow. However, I noticed that the burrows of the prairie dogs were quite numerous where we had left the trail. So I took the strings of my moccasins, and making in the ends of each a running noose I fastened them over the burrows that seemed very fresh. Returning to my horse, I there waited for a time, and then went back to see if anything had been caught. I was much startled to find that in the first noose a great rattlesnake had been caught. He was lashing the ground at a great rate, while his rattles kept up a constant buzz. With a pole from some dried willows I soon killed him, for I wanted the moccasin string with which he was caught.“I was more fortunate with the other noose, for in it was caught by the neck a fine young plump prairie dog. Quickly killing him, I carried him and the two strings back to the protection of my horse. As I had my knife, it did not take me long to skin the prairie dog, and as I had no fire I had to eat him raw. It tasted very good, for I was now feeling very hungry. As I had done the night before, I slept with my horse close to me as a protection from the wolves.”
One old Indian with a splendid physique much excited their curiosity. They were specially anxious to know the story of that fearful scar across his face. He was evidently getting up in years, and was treated with much respect by his comrades. However, he was so quiet, and at times so reticent, that hardly a word could be got out of him. That there was some thrilling adventure associated with that scar the boys were very confident. The question among them was how to get him to tell it. They made friends with some of his Indian associates, and tried to get from them his history. But all the information they would impart was:
“Yes, he has a great story. It very much please you. You get him tell it.”
This, of course, only increased their curiosity to hear his narrative. For a time all their efforts met with poor success. At length Alec, the shrewd Scottish lad, said:
“I have an idea that I can break through his reserve and get him to talk.”
“Let us hear what your scheme is,” said Frank.
“It is this,” replied Alec. “I have been watching him, and I have noticed that the only two things he seems to have any love for are his red-beaded leggings and his brilliant red neckerchief. So I have been thinking that if I offer him that red tartan shirt of mine it will so please him that it will break through his reserve, and will get his story.”
“A capital plan!” shouted Sam; “and if you succeed in getting the adventure from him we will gladly pay for the shirt.”
The question now was how to find out if this plan would be successful. Some of the Indians are very sensitive, and require careful handling. However, Mustagan, the famous Indian guide, who had become so very friendly with this Indian, undertook at the desire of the boys to present their request and, as it were, incidentally to hint at the present of the brilliant shirt.
The scheme worked admirably, and here is his interesting story:
His name was Pukumakun, which means a club or a hammer. He was a Kinistenaux Indian, and when he was a boy his family and people lived a part of each year on the banks of the Assiniboine River. Here he grew up as other Indian lads, and was early taught the use of the bow and arrows, and how to skillfully throw the lasso. He had his share of excitements and dangers, living in those days when warlike tribes were not far away. The war-whoop was no unusual sound, and so they lived in a state of constant expectation of defence or attack.
Living on the prairies, he was, as soon as he was large enough, taught how to ride the fiery native horses until he could manage the wildest of them. Living such a life, he naturally had many adventures. The one that is most vividly impressed on his mind, and the constant reminder of which he carries in the great scar on his face, is the one that he here gives the boys.
It was many years ago when, as a boy of about twelve years of age, he was living with his father and mother in an Indian village not far from the Assiniboine. As game was not very plentiful that season in that part of the country, it was decided that they should break camp and go on a great buffalo hunt, which would last for several weeks. While the men went to kill the buffalo the women had to go also to dry and pack the meat and to make pemmican. The buffalo herds were far away, and so it was many days’ journey before they were found.
One day while they were travelling along over the prairies Pukumakun had the misfortune to be bitten on his leg by a poisonous snake. His mother, having first killed the snake, then sucked the wound until she had drawn out nearly all the poison. By this brave act she undoubtedly saved his life. However, there was still enough of the poison left in his system to make him very sick and cause his leg to swell greatly. The result was he could not travel as fast as the buffalo hunters, who were anxious to reach the herds. So it was decided that he should be left with his mother to follow as rapidly as they could. So painful became his leg from the exercise of the riding that at length he was unable to mount his horse. His brave mother stuck to him, and continued to help him along for some days. To make matters worse, one of their two horses disappeared one night. Still, on they pushed as well as they could with the remaining one, and at length reached a river with many sandbars. Here the noble woman, in trying to carry him across, got into the quicksands and began to sink. In vain she tried to pull her feet out of the treacherous sands. When she would try to lift up one foot the other only sank deeper and deeper. Failing to succeed in this way, she lifted him off her shoulders, and, placing him gently beside her, tried again to struggle loose from the sands. But it was all in vain. She was held with too tight a grip. Seeing this, and fearing that Pukumakun might also begin to sink in the sands, she again put him upon her shoulders, and then both of them shouted and called loudly for help. But no help came. No human beings were within many miles’ distance. Some prairie wolves heard their voices, and came to the river’s bank to see what it meant. They found the bundle of meat there and quickly devoured it, but they did not dare to attack the horse, that was eating the grass not two hundred yards away. When they had fought over and devoured the food they came to the bank again, and their howls and yelps seemed to mock the cries for help of the perishing ones, as deeper and deeper they sank in the treacherous quicksands. But that woman never wept, for she was the daughter of a chief. But we must let Pukumakun tell the rest of the story, which fairly thrilled and fascinated the boys:
“By and by my feet began to touch the water, which ran a few inches deep over the bad sands, that had so caught hold of my mother, and into which she was sunk now nearly up to her waist. Still she cried not, but spake brave words to me. Hoping some Indians might be near, we called and called, but the wolves only answered with their mocking howls. Deeper and deeper we sank, until the waters were up to my mother’s neck, and my feet were beginning to feel the grip of the treacherous sand.
“All at once I saw the horse coming down to the water to drink. Around his neck was tied the long Indian lariat made of braided deerskin, and therefore very strong. As I saw the horse, hope sprang up in my heart, and I began to feel that we were going to be saved. The water was now close up to my mother’s lips, but we both called to the horse, which had been in our camp for years. He raised up his head and seemed startled at first, and then he plunged into the river. It did not take him long to get through the deep water, and then as his feet began to touch the quicksands he seemed at once to know that it was not right, so he kept lifting up his feet one after the other very rapidly. Still on he came, until he was so close that I was able to seize hold of the lariat.
“Then spake my mother: ‘My son, you will escape. Tie the lariat quickly around your waist, and the horse will be able to drag you out. Here I must die. The spirits of my ancestors call me away to the happy hunting grounds, and I must obey. Remember your mother tried hard to save you, and only failed with her life. Tell my people how I perished, and give my message to the avengers of blood, and tell them not to be angry toward you. Farewell. Remember you are the grandson of a chief.’
“At first I wanted to die with my mother. It seemed dreadful to leave her alone, but she would not hear of it. As the waters were coming into her mouth she cried, ‘Obey me, my son; obey me, and do it quickly, for the horse is impatient and knows the place is dangerous.’
“So I called sharply to the horse, and he sprang forward, and with a great wrench jerked me from my mother’s shoulders out of the quicksands, and dashed through the water with me to the shore.
“As soon as I could loose myself from the lariat I turned round to look, and there I saw my mother’s head just sinking out of sight. I was wild with terror and sorrow, and bitterly chided myself for not having died with her. But I had the consolation that she herself had insisted on my escaping when the strange chance offered itself.
“What was I to do now? My father and other friends were far away; my mother had perished; and here I was an almost helpless cripple on the great prairies, and night was rapidly approaching.
“Fortunately my horse stuck to me, and I saw that I must keep him close to me all night, or the wolves that were prowling around would, in the darkness, make short work of me. So, miserable and wet though I was, I tied the loose end of the lariat around my waist, and selecting a spot where the grass was good, I sat down in the middle of it, there to pass the night.
“It was, indeed, of all nights the saddest and most miserable. I could not sleep. I was full of sorrow. If I tried to shut my eyes, there was before me the sight of my mother, sinking, sinking down, down in that treacherous quicksand.
“The wolves were very troublesome. They would sit out in the gloom and howl in their melancholy way. Then they would arouse themselves and try to get hold of me. But my horse, well accustomed to fighting these animals, would rush at them as far as the lariat would allow, and would either strike at them with his fore feet, or, swinging around quickly, would so vigorously lash out with his hind legs that the cowardly brutes would quickly skulk back into the gloom.
“The long night ended at length, and the welcome morning came. I found that my poor leg, which had caused all the trouble, was much better. Perhaps this was from having been so long in the water. I was able to ride, and so I hurried away from the sight of the river that had so cruelly swallowed up my mother. My faithful horse, that had already been my deliverer, was very patient while, in my crippled state, I managed to get up on his back. I had eaten nothing since yesterday, but I thought nothing of that; I only wanted to get my sinking mother out of my eyes, and get away from that dreadful river which we had to cross. Horses are very wise about these quicksands, and so I just held on to the lariat, which I had made into a kind of a halter, and let him choose his own course. Very quickly and safely did he convey me across, and soon did we find the trail along which my father and the other hunters had travelled. We hurried on very rapidly, until my horse was tired, and then we stopped for a few hours in a ravine where we were well sheltered from hostile Indians, if any should be lurking about. The grass was luxuriant and abundant, and my horse enjoyed it very much.
“When the hottest part of the day was over we again found the trail and pushed on until sundown. Where the grass was good I tethered my horse with the lariat, and for the first time began to feel hungry. But I had nothing to eat, neither had I bow nor arrow. However, I noticed that the burrows of the prairie dogs were quite numerous where we had left the trail. So I took the strings of my moccasins, and making in the ends of each a running noose I fastened them over the burrows that seemed very fresh. Returning to my horse, I there waited for a time, and then went back to see if anything had been caught. I was much startled to find that in the first noose a great rattlesnake had been caught. He was lashing the ground at a great rate, while his rattles kept up a constant buzz. With a pole from some dried willows I soon killed him, for I wanted the moccasin string with which he was caught.
“I was more fortunate with the other noose, for in it was caught by the neck a fine young plump prairie dog. Quickly killing him, I carried him and the two strings back to the protection of my horse. As I had my knife, it did not take me long to skin the prairie dog, and as I had no fire I had to eat him raw. It tasted very good, for I was now feeling very hungry. As I had done the night before, I slept with my horse close to me as a protection from the wolves.”
Chapter Eighteen.Pukumakun’s Story Continued—Searching for Friends—Pathless Prairie—Angry Relations—Avengers of Blood Unappeased—Race for Life—Overtaken—First Conflict—Arrow against Tomahawk—Opportune Arrival.“Thus I travelled on for some days. At times it was I difficult for me to keep the trail, but my horse was very wise, and somehow he seemed to know that he was following-up his comrades.“I was often very hungry, as I had nothing else to depend upon with which to hunt except my two strings, and then I could only use them when my horse was resting. However, I caught a few more prairie dogs, and one night I caught a prairie chicken, which was very good.“One day, as I rode over a big swell like a hill in the prairie, I saw not very far away a herd of buffaloes. So I knew I must be near my friends. While I was pleased at the sight I began to feel very much alarmed. They would say at once, ‘Where is your mother?’ Then, if they did not believe my story, what then? So I was much troubled in my mind, and, while looking for my people, I dreaded to meet them. I felt that my father would believe my story, but I was afraid of my mother’s brothers, the sons of the chief. They had never had any love for me, or I much for them. Why this was so I found out one day when they were upbraiding my mother in the wigwam for marrying my father, instead of a chief of another village, to whom they had promised her. They thought I was asleep, or they would not have spoken as they did. I remember that my mother spoke up, and said that she was the daughter of a chief, who had given her the right to choose her own husband; and that she was contented and happy in her choice. Just then their sharp eyes seemed to know that I was not very sound asleep, and so their strong words ceased; for Indian men and women do not let their children hear their quarrels.“So I now remember their words, and was afraid. Not long after I saw some of the hunters, and when I met one whom I knew, I inquired for my father. He told me where I would find him, and so I rode on. My father was resting with some others after a great run, in which they had killed many buffaloes. When I drew near to him, although I was the grandson of a chief, I lifted up my voice and wept. At this he was very much surprised and hurt, for as yet he knew not of our great loss. Others jeered and laughed at seeing a young Indian weeping. Then my father arose and led me away and began to upbraid me, for he knew not the cause of my sorrow, but supposed my mother had joined the other women, who were very busy cutting up and preserving the meat of the buffalo. But I could only continue my weeping, and at length was able to cry out: ‘My mother! my mother!’“At this my father quickly ceased his reproofs, and becoming alarmed cried out: ‘tell me what is the matter.’“So I told him all. And as I saw his great sorrow as he listened to my story I knew how great had been his love for my mother, who, in her love for him, had preferred him to the chief whom her brothers wished her to marry. He was crushed to the ground and speechless with sorrow, and as I saw him so overwhelmed with his grief I wished I had died with my mother.“For a time he thus remained, while I, the most miserable, could only sit by and look at him. No words or tears came from him, but the great sorrow had taken such a hold upon him that he seemed as one who would there have died.“Suddenly, as voices were heard and we both knew that some persons were coming near, he turned to me and with a great effort said:—“‘My son, you must flee at once. Your mother’s brothers, who love us not, will not believe your story; and as they are the nearest of kin, the avengers of blood, they will seek your life. You have no witness to your story, not even the body or a grave to show. When they find your mother has not arrived their suspicions will be aroused. I believe your story, strange as it is. When they demand of me the cause of your mother’s non-arrival I will tell them as you have told me; but they will not believe it, and so you must not meet them, as in all probability they will kill you, in spite of all that I can do. So you must flee away from the avengers. You, my only son of your mother, must not fall by the hands of her brothers. Meet me here to-night when the moon is at her brightest, and I will then have decided what you must do. Flee quickly.’“It was indeed time for me to go, for hardly had I slipped away, and hidden in the deep grass, ere I heard angry voices in reply to my father’s quiet words. But I could make out nothing at the time of what was said. For hours I there remained. The day passed on, and the night followed, and yet I waited until the old moon came up to its brightest point. Then, returning to the appointed spot, there I found my father waiting for me. His great sorrow was still on him, his love for the son of her whom he had loved so well had shown itself in his acts. He had with him a good horse and a warrior’s bow and quiver of arrows. In addition he had a supply of food and some other necessary things. He embraced me more tenderly than I ever remember his having done before, and then for an instant his strong Indian nature broke, and with one convulsive sob he said, ‘Kah-se-ke-at’ (‘My beloved’), which was his pet name for my mother. But quickly he regained his composure, and, pointing to the north star, he said I was to direct my course so much west of that and try to reach the friendly band of Maskepetoon, the great chief of the land of the Saskatchewan. He commanded me to ride fast, as he feared trouble, as my uncles, to whom he had told my story in the presence of all the relatives, would not be pacified, but had demanded that I be delivered up. So I was armed and mounted, but ere my father would let me go he drew me down to him and kissed me, and then said:—“‘Be brave, my son; never begin a quarrel; but if the story of your mother’s death is true—and I believe you, for you have never deceived me—then in your innocency, if you are followed and attacked, use your weapons, and if you must die, fall bravely fighting, as does the true warrior.’“In the moonlight there I left him, and dashed away in the direction pointed out.“My horse was a good one, and carried me along without any stumbling, although the prairie was rough and uneven. It was well for me that he was so steady and true, for I was only a boy, and so crushed by my great sorrow that I was hardly able to care for myself. With this good horse I was able to get on rapidly. However, in spite of all the progress I had made, I discovered about the time the day-dawn was coming that I was being followed. My pursuers were my fierce uncles, who had never forgiven my mother for marrying my father; and now that they had heard that she was dead resolved to take vengeance on me, whom they had always hated. They knew that, as was the custom of our people, they as the nearest relatives were the avengers of blood. In vain had my father pleaded for me, and that I was not guilty of her death. They would not be appeased, even though he had offered, as gifts, about all of his possessions. When, in anger and sorrow at their unrelenting spirit, he left them, they cunningly watched him, that they might find where I was hidden away.“But my father was too quick for them, and so was able to get me off, as I have mentioned, before they found my hiding place. However, they were soon on my trail, but they had to ride many a mile before they overtook me, as I had sped on as rapidly as I could. Although I was only a boy I was able to see, when I detected them following after me, that they were not coming as friends. Then also my father’s words had put me on my guard. They seemed so sure of being able to easily kill me that they resorted to no trick or disguise to throw me off my guard. So I remembered my father, and being conscious that I was innocent of my mother’s death I was resolved to die as a warrior. Carefully stringing my bow, I fixed my quiver of arrows so that I could draw them easily as I needed them. Fortunately for me, my father had taught me the trick of riding on the side of my horse and shooting back from under his neck. Soon with the yells and warwhoops of my pursuers the arrows began to fly around me. One of their sharp arrows wounded my horse, but instead of disabling him it put such life into him that for the next few miles we were far ahead beyond their arrows. But their horses were more enduring than mine, and so they gradually gained on me once more. I did not shoot an arrow until I could hear the heavy breathings of their horses, which, like mine, were feeling the effects of this fearful race. Then, swinging quickly to my horse’s side, I caused him by the pressure of my knee to swerve a little to the left, and then, drawing my bow with all my might, I fired back from under his neck at the horse nearer to me. Fortunately for me, my arrow struck him in the neck, and so cut some of the great swollen veins that he was soon out of the race. The uncle on the other horse stopped for a moment to see if he could be of any service, but, when he found that the wounded horse would soon bleed to death, he sprang again upon his own and came on, if possible, more furiously than ever. His brief halt had given me time to get another arrow fixed in my bow as on I hurried, but my horse was about exhausted, and soon again the arrows began to sing about me. One unfortunately struck my horse in a mortal place and brought him down. I could only spring to the ground as he fell, and with my bow and arrow quickly turn and face my pursuer. Very sudden was the end. He drew his tomahawk and threw it with all the fury of his passionate nature. I did not try to dodge it, but facing him I drew my bow with all my strength and shot straight into his face. Our weapons must have crossed each other, for while he fell dead with the arrow in his brain, I fell senseless with the blade of the tomahawk, which, cutting clean through my bow, had buried itself in my face.“When I returned to consciousness my father was beside me. He had sewed up the wounds with sinew, and had succeeded in stopping the flowing of the blood. How he came there seemed strange to me. He told me all about it when I was better. He had found out that the two uncles, well-armed and on good horses, had discovered my trail and had started after me. He was not long in following, and as he had their trail in addition to mine he was able to push on without any delay, and so caught up to the one whose horse I had shot in the neck.“They had no words with each other. They knew that as they joined in battle it was to be a fight unto the death. My father killed my uncle and came out of the battle unwounded. Then he hurried on as quickly as he could, and from a distance saw the fight between my uncle and me. When he dashed up, at first he thought I was dead, but soon he discovered that the life was still in me. He at once set to work to help me, but months passed away ere the great wound made by the tomahawk healed up.“This great scar remains with me to this day, and reminds me of that fierce fight, and tells of how terrible in those days were some of the doings of our people.”
“Thus I travelled on for some days. At times it was I difficult for me to keep the trail, but my horse was very wise, and somehow he seemed to know that he was following-up his comrades.
“I was often very hungry, as I had nothing else to depend upon with which to hunt except my two strings, and then I could only use them when my horse was resting. However, I caught a few more prairie dogs, and one night I caught a prairie chicken, which was very good.
“One day, as I rode over a big swell like a hill in the prairie, I saw not very far away a herd of buffaloes. So I knew I must be near my friends. While I was pleased at the sight I began to feel very much alarmed. They would say at once, ‘Where is your mother?’ Then, if they did not believe my story, what then? So I was much troubled in my mind, and, while looking for my people, I dreaded to meet them. I felt that my father would believe my story, but I was afraid of my mother’s brothers, the sons of the chief. They had never had any love for me, or I much for them. Why this was so I found out one day when they were upbraiding my mother in the wigwam for marrying my father, instead of a chief of another village, to whom they had promised her. They thought I was asleep, or they would not have spoken as they did. I remember that my mother spoke up, and said that she was the daughter of a chief, who had given her the right to choose her own husband; and that she was contented and happy in her choice. Just then their sharp eyes seemed to know that I was not very sound asleep, and so their strong words ceased; for Indian men and women do not let their children hear their quarrels.
“So I now remember their words, and was afraid. Not long after I saw some of the hunters, and when I met one whom I knew, I inquired for my father. He told me where I would find him, and so I rode on. My father was resting with some others after a great run, in which they had killed many buffaloes. When I drew near to him, although I was the grandson of a chief, I lifted up my voice and wept. At this he was very much surprised and hurt, for as yet he knew not of our great loss. Others jeered and laughed at seeing a young Indian weeping. Then my father arose and led me away and began to upbraid me, for he knew not the cause of my sorrow, but supposed my mother had joined the other women, who were very busy cutting up and preserving the meat of the buffalo. But I could only continue my weeping, and at length was able to cry out: ‘My mother! my mother!’
“At this my father quickly ceased his reproofs, and becoming alarmed cried out: ‘tell me what is the matter.’
“So I told him all. And as I saw his great sorrow as he listened to my story I knew how great had been his love for my mother, who, in her love for him, had preferred him to the chief whom her brothers wished her to marry. He was crushed to the ground and speechless with sorrow, and as I saw him so overwhelmed with his grief I wished I had died with my mother.
“For a time he thus remained, while I, the most miserable, could only sit by and look at him. No words or tears came from him, but the great sorrow had taken such a hold upon him that he seemed as one who would there have died.
“Suddenly, as voices were heard and we both knew that some persons were coming near, he turned to me and with a great effort said:—
“‘My son, you must flee at once. Your mother’s brothers, who love us not, will not believe your story; and as they are the nearest of kin, the avengers of blood, they will seek your life. You have no witness to your story, not even the body or a grave to show. When they find your mother has not arrived their suspicions will be aroused. I believe your story, strange as it is. When they demand of me the cause of your mother’s non-arrival I will tell them as you have told me; but they will not believe it, and so you must not meet them, as in all probability they will kill you, in spite of all that I can do. So you must flee away from the avengers. You, my only son of your mother, must not fall by the hands of her brothers. Meet me here to-night when the moon is at her brightest, and I will then have decided what you must do. Flee quickly.’
“It was indeed time for me to go, for hardly had I slipped away, and hidden in the deep grass, ere I heard angry voices in reply to my father’s quiet words. But I could make out nothing at the time of what was said. For hours I there remained. The day passed on, and the night followed, and yet I waited until the old moon came up to its brightest point. Then, returning to the appointed spot, there I found my father waiting for me. His great sorrow was still on him, his love for the son of her whom he had loved so well had shown itself in his acts. He had with him a good horse and a warrior’s bow and quiver of arrows. In addition he had a supply of food and some other necessary things. He embraced me more tenderly than I ever remember his having done before, and then for an instant his strong Indian nature broke, and with one convulsive sob he said, ‘Kah-se-ke-at’ (‘My beloved’), which was his pet name for my mother. But quickly he regained his composure, and, pointing to the north star, he said I was to direct my course so much west of that and try to reach the friendly band of Maskepetoon, the great chief of the land of the Saskatchewan. He commanded me to ride fast, as he feared trouble, as my uncles, to whom he had told my story in the presence of all the relatives, would not be pacified, but had demanded that I be delivered up. So I was armed and mounted, but ere my father would let me go he drew me down to him and kissed me, and then said:—
“‘Be brave, my son; never begin a quarrel; but if the story of your mother’s death is true—and I believe you, for you have never deceived me—then in your innocency, if you are followed and attacked, use your weapons, and if you must die, fall bravely fighting, as does the true warrior.’
“In the moonlight there I left him, and dashed away in the direction pointed out.
“My horse was a good one, and carried me along without any stumbling, although the prairie was rough and uneven. It was well for me that he was so steady and true, for I was only a boy, and so crushed by my great sorrow that I was hardly able to care for myself. With this good horse I was able to get on rapidly. However, in spite of all the progress I had made, I discovered about the time the day-dawn was coming that I was being followed. My pursuers were my fierce uncles, who had never forgiven my mother for marrying my father; and now that they had heard that she was dead resolved to take vengeance on me, whom they had always hated. They knew that, as was the custom of our people, they as the nearest relatives were the avengers of blood. In vain had my father pleaded for me, and that I was not guilty of her death. They would not be appeased, even though he had offered, as gifts, about all of his possessions. When, in anger and sorrow at their unrelenting spirit, he left them, they cunningly watched him, that they might find where I was hidden away.
“But my father was too quick for them, and so was able to get me off, as I have mentioned, before they found my hiding place. However, they were soon on my trail, but they had to ride many a mile before they overtook me, as I had sped on as rapidly as I could. Although I was only a boy I was able to see, when I detected them following after me, that they were not coming as friends. Then also my father’s words had put me on my guard. They seemed so sure of being able to easily kill me that they resorted to no trick or disguise to throw me off my guard. So I remembered my father, and being conscious that I was innocent of my mother’s death I was resolved to die as a warrior. Carefully stringing my bow, I fixed my quiver of arrows so that I could draw them easily as I needed them. Fortunately for me, my father had taught me the trick of riding on the side of my horse and shooting back from under his neck. Soon with the yells and warwhoops of my pursuers the arrows began to fly around me. One of their sharp arrows wounded my horse, but instead of disabling him it put such life into him that for the next few miles we were far ahead beyond their arrows. But their horses were more enduring than mine, and so they gradually gained on me once more. I did not shoot an arrow until I could hear the heavy breathings of their horses, which, like mine, were feeling the effects of this fearful race. Then, swinging quickly to my horse’s side, I caused him by the pressure of my knee to swerve a little to the left, and then, drawing my bow with all my might, I fired back from under his neck at the horse nearer to me. Fortunately for me, my arrow struck him in the neck, and so cut some of the great swollen veins that he was soon out of the race. The uncle on the other horse stopped for a moment to see if he could be of any service, but, when he found that the wounded horse would soon bleed to death, he sprang again upon his own and came on, if possible, more furiously than ever. His brief halt had given me time to get another arrow fixed in my bow as on I hurried, but my horse was about exhausted, and soon again the arrows began to sing about me. One unfortunately struck my horse in a mortal place and brought him down. I could only spring to the ground as he fell, and with my bow and arrow quickly turn and face my pursuer. Very sudden was the end. He drew his tomahawk and threw it with all the fury of his passionate nature. I did not try to dodge it, but facing him I drew my bow with all my strength and shot straight into his face. Our weapons must have crossed each other, for while he fell dead with the arrow in his brain, I fell senseless with the blade of the tomahawk, which, cutting clean through my bow, had buried itself in my face.
“When I returned to consciousness my father was beside me. He had sewed up the wounds with sinew, and had succeeded in stopping the flowing of the blood. How he came there seemed strange to me. He told me all about it when I was better. He had found out that the two uncles, well-armed and on good horses, had discovered my trail and had started after me. He was not long in following, and as he had their trail in addition to mine he was able to push on without any delay, and so caught up to the one whose horse I had shot in the neck.
“They had no words with each other. They knew that as they joined in battle it was to be a fight unto the death. My father killed my uncle and came out of the battle unwounded. Then he hurried on as quickly as he could, and from a distance saw the fight between my uncle and me. When he dashed up, at first he thought I was dead, but soon he discovered that the life was still in me. He at once set to work to help me, but months passed away ere the great wound made by the tomahawk healed up.
“This great scar remains with me to this day, and reminds me of that fierce fight, and tells of how terrible in those days were some of the doings of our people.”