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THE spring packet in March
brought us word that during the coming summer a missionary conference would
be held in the little village of Winnipeg; that the Rev. Drs. Punshon and
Wood and other noted men would come that far west to attend it, and that the
missionaries would be required to meet these august brethren. The
Saskatchewan District Meeting, which took place during the winter,
determined on some changes. Peter Campbell was to come to Victoria, and John
McDougall to go to Pigeon Lake; and as the best time to move was in the
early spring, both parties made ready to do so. These Mountain and Wood
Stoneys and western Crees had petitioned the Chairman for "John," and the
Chairman and the brethren thought this was the best disposition of our
forces in sight; therefore, early in April, I sent my outfit of carts and
material around by the south of the Beaver Hills, in charge of my man,
Donald Whitford, a worthy fellow who had engaged with me for a year. Several
lodges that had been wintering in the vicinity of Victoria accompanied the
party back to Pigeon Lake.
Bidding my good sister-in-law
and little daughters farewell, and with the company of my brother David as
far as Edmonton, I took my buffalo runners, Bob No. 1, Archie and Tom, and
started up on the north side of the river, visiting father and mother and
friends at Edmonton, and then on to the lake, where I met many old friends.
Here, too, I had a fine chance of joking the Dutchman, who had been my
companion as I have related, on a trip the year before. I had not seen him
since our parting during the night between here and Edmonton, and now,
standing in the midst of a crowd of Indians and seeing him approach, I said,
"Ah! and here comes the Dutchman! I left him last spring down the trail, and
he is but now coming up!" All saw the point and laughed at the boastful
little fellow.
Meetings and council, lecture
and sermon, fishing and gardening, teaching and helping other men to do
so—thus the spring passed and our congregations grew, and we arranged to
move out on the plains about the middle of May. Our camp numbered between
forty and fifty lodges, largely Stoneys, with some Crees and a couple of
camps of half-breeds. A moving village, a travelling school, a migratory
church, we almost literally "nightly pitched our moving tent," though not "a
day's march nearer home." On and out through the beautiful valley of the
Battle River, across many beaver dams, whose builders became our food en
passant, and in ten days we had cut our poles and triangles and loaded with
dry wood, and were again steadfastly facing the great plains. When camp was
moving I generally was far in advance or away to one side. The camp might
make from fifteen to twenty miles a day, but I rode from forty to sixty
miles, exploring the country and thus keeping myself healthy in both mind
and body. A short service every morning, weather permitting; a longer one at
night, and practically all day Sunday; but between times away with some
interesting hunter or good lively companion and changing these day by day,
and thus we explored and hunted and travelled, and still this big land was
before us.
Our route from the edge of
the woods at this time was almost all new to me. We were days travelling in
a south-easterly direction before we found even a few straggling bulls;
then, when we came to buffalo and began the work of making provisions, we
fell in with a party of Blackfeet and Bloods. These were anxious to make
peace; and this entailed a vast deal of visiting and receiving, which was
all right in its place, yet took much time from what was our main purpose in
coming out to these plains. With all native peoples time is not in question,
and it was a part of our mission to make these people feel its value. Then
there was the constant need of being on guard. These men professed a desire
for peace just now, but there were many who only wanted the opportunity to
make war; and thus, instead of taking your turn, as was the ordinary
condition when travelling and hunting, while these alien camps were near us
every man in our camp had to stand guard all the time, for the others
outnumbered us ten to one. Moreover, the Bloods especially had come in from
the Missouri recently and were well armed, while in our camp I was the only
man with a breech-loading gun, and this not a "repeater." Moreover, these
warriors had repeating rifles, mostly Henry's sixteen-shooters, and
breech-loading revolvers, and plenty of fixed ammunition, all of which were
new to us dwellers north of the forty-ninth parallel, and we saw most
clearly how much disadvantaged we were. But it did me good to note how
carelessly my Stoneys carried themselves, armed as they were with only
muzzle-loading, single- barrelled shotguns, and many of the young fellows
with only bows and arrows. In spite of this they moved among these Plain
Indians with their superior arms and superior numbers as if all this did not
matter one whit; indeed, their whole air was one of pure unconcern. To me
every man of the Stoneys seemed to say by his conduct, "Never mind numbers
and guns; we can whip them anyway," and doubtless those cunning plainsmen
had by experience found this out, and therefore were quite willing to act
peaceably.
Here I met Sotanow, a leading
Blood Chief, who, when I came to know him, furnished also a reason for this
unexpected attitude. Sotanow, or "Rainy Chief," was a Quaker by instinct. He
had fought many battles, but not of his own option or desire; he was amongst
his fellows a brave man, but was always against war. And now when he met me
as a "Godman," and one decidedly for peace, we became friends at once, and
thus all his influence was thrown into the maintenance of peace while our
camps were close to each other. He visited our camp with a large retinue,
and he invited me to his camp, so the next day with a half dozen Stoneys we
rode over to return the chief's visit and to see his people.
Yesterday, when Sotanow and
his following visited our camp it was pageantry and pomp and barbaric
splendor, saddles and costumes, horses and men, in glorious array and
wonderfully fitting display on the great plain; a wonderful environment,
with its beautiful undulating surface, the sloping hill, the bending valley,
the winding stream on the bank of which we were encamped, and the
grass-covered hills in the distance. It was a sight to behold these
aborigines in the bravery of paint and brass and cotton and blanket and
buckskin and moose skin and buffalo skin, according to their own ideas of
what was artistic and scenic and beautiful; and certainly they looked fine,
and for place and purpose their horsemanship was without criticism. To our
mountain and wood people their appearance was decidedly strange and
impressive. To-day it is a small party of one white man and six Stoneys
(half of the camp wanted to go with me, but I forbade them, knowing that it
would not be well for us to thus divide our party), and our horses are
plainly caparisoned and costumed, and our demeanor is quiet and unassuming,
but we represent a distinct life and entirely different conditions. We come
as the forerunners of Christian civilization, and can afford to do without
merely human numbers of pageantry or pomp; nevertheless, we are met after a
three hours' gallop by an escort, and amid growing numbers, falling into
line with our approach, we draw near to this big camp, which, because of its
position, we could not see until we were upon it. Already there are a
hundred or more warriors surrounding us, and now coming to the top of the
brae we see a large camp stretched at our feet.
It is a wonderful scene that
now meets our gaze: the beautiful valley; the hundreds and possibly
thousands of horses singly and in bands everywhere; the many white lodges,
tasselled and bedecked and gorgeous with the hieroglyphics descriptive of
glorious exploits; women and children seemingly without number. On horseback
and on foot, and through lanes of curious spectators gazing upon us, we are
escorted to the chief's lodge, where we are ushered in and welcomed by
Sotanow, who introduces us to the assembled aristocracy of his camp. Seating
ourselves, we look around at the faces we now see for the first time.
Right here we met (not for
the first time, however) with a piece of sublime presumption. The chief had
been on the lookout for an interpreter for me, and an old fellow who had
professed to be a great linguist was brought in and began speaking to me in
what was only a mumbling of unintelligible sounds. I shook my head, and
again he tried with an attempt at other sounds, but again I shook my head,
and after a few more futile attempts the crowd laughingly dismissed the
fraud and the chief sought for another interpreter. This time he was
successful in finding a woman who understood Cree very well. She did not
speak it as well as she understood it, because of lack of practice, but I
soon found that she would make a good interpreter, and through her I spoke
to those wild men.
By this time the sides of the
lodge were lifted and a big crowd had pressed in all around to listen to the
speaker, who told them where he came from and the conditions there; why he
was here, and who sent him thus afar and among strange and distinct peoples.
I dwelt largely on the benefits of peace; spoke of the future and of the
inevitable change soon to come; told them that now the land was without
government men did as they pleased, but the day was near when murder and
wrong and theft would be stopped, and that the power to do this would, at
the same time, be all-powerful and all-merciful. They need not fear the
future so long as they aimed at doing the right thing between one another
and all men; also that this great power coming would make no distinctions,
the white man and the Indian of every tribe and nation would stand the same
before it; there would be no favoritism whatever; this was the Great
Spirit's wish, this was what His Word enjoined; we were brethren, and the
land was big and we could all dwell in it in peace. There were in my
audience many who had every reason to hate the white man; every better
instinct in them had been insulted and beaten down by the selfishness of the
white man; wrong and injury and bestiality and crime had they suffered from
his hands; moreover, their idea of the white man's government was of a
ruthless, despotic, absolute power breaking treaties, hounding men hither
and thither, building prisons and erecting gallows. Oh! these liberty-loving
people hated the very mention of government. But to-day, if what I said was
true, and some of them had heard that "John" told the truth, then there was
hope for them as a people.
My interpreter, she who was
once a captive and now had been bought by her present husband, who was also
the husband of three other women, as I found out by asking her, was glad to
again listen to the tones of her own mother- tongue, and also to listen and
be a party to such a message. She modestly thanked me, but I said it was my
part to be grateful and hoped we might again meet.
The chief spoke after me, and
the woman gave to me what he said as follows: "My people, you see now why I
asked John to come to our camp. I saw he was different, and when he spoke to
me I felt this is indeed 'God's man.' I must listen, and I heard good things
which touched my heart, and now you have heard him also. Let us remember,
oh, my people, and try and be ready for the change which John says is
coming. He tells me that there are many white men like him who are the
friends of the red man, who wish us well and will help us to a better
future. I long for it, I am tired of war and hatred, I am glad to hear John,
and from this out I will count him as my friend and brother."
They gave us food and poured
in questions while we ate, and after spending some three hours in their camp
we asked for our horses and these were brought up. The chief said: "I am
coming again to see you; I will come almost alone, for I want to hear more
of your talk, John." And now, feeling that, after all, our ride over and
sojourn in this camp for a little time might result in good, I rode away on
the jump for the home camp, carrying within me a thankful heart.
True to his word, the chief
came over and spent a night in our camp. He was full of questions, and I did
what I could to enlighten him, and when he had returned to his own people we
moved away into another part of the country that we might the sooner find
buffalo sufficient to ensure loads of provisions. In this we were fairly
successful. The Stoneys and Crees were fully loaded, and as the buffalo had
been in small bands passing us into the north they were anxious to march
woodward. My plan was, when we were loaded, to let my man Donald accompany
the Indians into Pigeon Lake, and I take the straight course to Edmonton to
join my father there and go on with him to Winnipeg to the missionary
conference; but before our carts were nearly full the Indians became
anxious, and I concluded to let them go, while my own party and a couple of
lodges of half-breeds would move slowly in, picking up buffalo and loading
as we might be able to do. So on a Sunday afternoon I told the assembled
camp what I proposed, and suggested that they move in as they wished on the
morrow. They expressed anxiety about us, but I told them we would be very
careful, and after a general prayer-meeting it was thus arranged that we
should part on the morrow.
Monday morning there was much
handshaking, and in a few hours, as our start had been simultaneous, there
were many miles between us. We found a few buffalo the same afternoon, and,
securing some meat, concluded to move on until finding a suitable camp we
would dry our provisions, make pemmican, and bale our meat. We were moving
northward when suddenly we found ourselves almost into a camp coming from
the east. The first man to reach us was Bull Head, the Sarcee chief, and I
was glad when I found that he could talk some Cree and we were able to
converse. Here we were, a very few, with a crowd of the wildest fellows on
the plains insight. "What shall we do?" asked my men; and as I saw that our
lines of march were convergent, I said to Bull Head, "We will camp together,
my friend," and now his solemn look disappeared, and with a smile he said,
"I am glad to hear you say so;" and in an hour or two we found our three
lodges surrounded by some thirty lodges of Sarcees, and with the not wholly
pleasing intelligence that as many more would join us on the morrow. I felt
queer, and wished in my heart that we had stayed with the Stoneys. So far as
man was concerned, we were fully in the hands of these fellows; what they
might do was the question. My brother George was quite afraid of them, and
no wonder, for here were some of the hardest and wildest-looking men to be
seen anywhere. I resolved to cultivate Bull head; he was a big fellow and
evidently very impulsive. Just now he was, or seemed to be, on our side.
With him I walked through the camp, and when7 his lodge was fully set I went
with him into it, and soon a crowd collected. As the Sarcees were a buffer
people between the Crees and Blackfeet, and could understand Cree and speak
it some, I told them pretty much what I had told the Bloods. Some of them
laughed when I said we were brothers, but all were reverent when I spoke of
the Great Spirit.
In the evening my men asked
me what we would do with our horses. I said, "We will give them into the
care of the chief." I then went to him and told him we were few, he was
many; we were really his guests, and I wanted him to take charge of our
camp, and especially of our horses, and again that peculiar smile lit up his
big face. I returned to my tent and went to sleep beside my little brother,
and when daylight came and the camp noise made me fully conscious of
surroundings, I was almost surprised that we were alive. In going out I
could not see any of our horses, but, walking to the out- skirts of the
encampment, I recognized them coming in ahead of a rider, and on near
approach was astonished to see Bull Head himself on one of my runners, he
having relieved his young men and taken charge of our horses himself. As he
came up he smiled and said, "I suppose you thought, John, that your horses
were stolen," and I answered, "No, Chief, I slept in your camp just as I
would expect you to sleep in my house. The one Great Father watched over us
all, for are we not His children?" Again the smile, "Do you think so, John?"
and I gave an emphatic "Yes." "Well, I like that," said this man whose hand
had hitherto been against every man's.
Soon the other part of the
Sarcee camp came up, and here was a multiplying of the problem as to our
future movements. Evidently there had been a split in camp, and now we were
to be made the occasion of mending the breach. Were we to be the common
prey, or might we be the instruments of healing in the ease? The morning
passed anxiously and things to us were growing tense, when in came some
scouts with the startling intelligence that within a few miles there was a
large camp of half-breeds and Crees from the north—many carts, a big ring,
very many lodges. And now there was apprehension on the part of the Sarcees,
and I saw that our time had come to take the lead; so when Bull Head hurried
over to tell me, I at once said, "Let us down tents and go over to them and
join forces with them." He looked surprised, but I continued, They are my
friends. I give my word, Chief, all will be well." This seemed to satisfy
him, and turning with stately stride towards his lodge he shouted forth the
news and announced the programme to "down lodges and make ready to travel
with John to the big camp; John has given his word that all will be well." I
can assure my readers the announcement was welcome to my own party, and soon
camp was astir with preparations for the march. At the head of the column,
along with Bull Head and some of his leading braves of both factions, we
rode towards our friends, and in three or four hours came in sight of a
large camp. Then I said to my man Donald, "I will ride ahead and announce
our coming." What I had in hand was a rather ticklish business; here were
life-long enemies, hereditary foes, cherishing deep-rooted hatred and long
unsatisfied revenge; no government, no law but such as we might make
convenient for ourselves for the moment. I confess I was sobered at the work
I had undertaken. However, I galloped on and into the camp, where I was
welcomed on every hand. Very soon, to my great relief, I was surrounded by
leading half-breeds and Indians whom I knew, such men as Kakake, and John
Hunter, and our own people from Victoria and White Fish Lake, and I sat on
my horse and told them that I had the whole Sarcee camp with me. "These are
my friends," I said; "will you truly accept them as such ?" "Yes, yes," they
replied. Then I said, "Let some of you go out to meet them, and others
arrange where they shall camp," and on every hand I met the response, "Yes,
it shall be done." I alighted from my horse, and with a circle of friends
around me entered Kakake's lodge, feeling that a burden was rolled from my
mind.
When the Sarcees were all
encamped and our tents were in place, we engaged in a rousing song service,
which made the Sarcees and many others look and listen and wonder. Then with
a heart full of gratitude I lay me down and slept, while my little brother,
why, he was another boy altogether. Alarm, distrust, fear, which had been
plainly written on his face, were gone, and peaceful calm had taken their
place. Donald was with his people, and a strong sense of security had taken
possession of all our minds. We found that just west of us was the fringing
of a large herd of buffalo; that for days this camp had lain quiet in that
direction, and that the morrow was set for a grand hunt.
On the morrow when we rode
forth, an immense company, Crees, Saulteaux, French and English half-breeds,
Sarcees, and one white man, on all manner of horses, and clothed in all
manner of costumes, and with all manner of weapons, and many of our crowd
painted in all manner of colors, we made a wonderful appearance. Behind us
came carts and waggons and packhorses and many riders and drivers, and in
strong array we went forth to "slay and eat." The ground was good, the
country not too hilly, and the buffalo sufficiently plenty to give room for
pick and choice. Moreover, the day was almost calm. Oh! the conditions were
ideal for a hunt with such a crowd. The charge was magnificent. While many
fell, so far as I could learn none were seriously hurt, and hundreds of
buffalo were killed. Long before night many thousands of pounds of meat were
in the camp and undergoing the various processes of slicing and drying,
etc.; also hundreds of hides were being stretched, these in their turn to
undergo the treatment necessary to make tents and clothes, moccasins and
harness, provisions, saddle-bags, etc.
Of course, with this large
camp of diverse people my work was much increased, and I was kept constantly
on the go; it was "John" here and "John" there almost day and night. Thou I
was taken with some kind of fever, and lay for a day or two between life and
death. Oh! how I longed for cold water. The Indian women did all they could
for me; indeed, the whole camp was full of sympathy; they did not move for
six days, waiting for me to gain strength. Moreover, the time was now
approaching for me to strike for Edmonton to join father and start for
Winnipeg. I was extremely anxious, but there was nothing to do but let the
fever take its course.
When Sunday came I was
better, but could do no more than sit beside John Hunter as lie led the
service. In the evening, however, I was so much better that I felt I could
venture on my journey, so I told the people of the coming conference in
Winnipeg, and of the purpose thereof, and bade them good-bye. Next day with
Susa (whom my readers will remember as the man I had disinfected of the
small-pox) driving a cart, and my brother George and self in the saddle
behind some loose horses, we left the camp and started straight for
Edmonton. Sarcees, Crees, half-breeds all wished us "bon voyage," and the
Christian people said, "We will pray for your safe return and many blessings
on your journey. Carry our greetings to the Praying Chiefs and the Christian
people you will see; also tell the "Law Chief" at Red River we hope he will
not allow any fire-water to come west to us. |
