I travel with Maskepetoon's camp--Effects of environment on the
Indians--Nature's grandeur and beauty--Degradation through
paganism--The noble Chief Maskepetoon--Indian councils--On the fringe
of the buffalo herds--Indian boy lost--A false conjurer--The lad
recovered.
Maskepetoon's camp had now been gone about two weeks, and my
instructions were to accompany this camp for part of the summer in
its movements, and to do what I could towards the Christianizing of
the people. Accordingly, taking Paul with me, and leaving our wives
and Oliver with mother, we started for the big camp. We took two
oxen and carts and several horses, as father had made arrangements
with Muddy Bull to make dried provisions for home use. Our course
was down the valley of the Vermilion, and then out through the hilly
country that runs by Birch Lake to Battle River.
We killed several moulting geese as we travelled, and enjoyed them as
food. On our fourth day out we came up to the camp, and turning the
oxen and carts over to Muddy Bull, we domiciled ourselves in his
lodge, and at once became part of this moving town. My work was all
around me. Here was paganism intensely conservative, the outcome of
many centuries of tradition. And here were its high priests, and the
novitiate following which thronged after them, seeming to me as "the
blind leading the blinder," if this were possible; the whole causing
a devolution which was lowering the range of thought and life and
ideal, and all the while producing a profundity of ignorance as to
things moral and spiritual which in turn, as a logical sequence,
affected the physical and material life of this people.
Doubtless environment has a great deal to do with the formation of
character and being, but in the environment of these men, outside of
buffalo and tribal communism, I failed to find anything that might be
thought degenerating in its tendencies. The great herds of buffalo
as abused by man were hurtful to himself, and therefore in the
fulness of time the Great Father, in the interests of His children,
wiped them from the face of the earth. Tribal communism has always
been hurtful to individuality, and without this no race of men can
progress. But apart from these factors in the life of this people,
the rest of their environment was, in my judgment, of the nature and
kind to help them, and to give them large, broad and fine views of
life and all things. Why, then, this degradation witnessed on every
hand? This intense superstition and ignorance, to my mind, is all
due to the faith and religion of this people. Their faith is a dead
one; no wonder they are dead in trespasses and sins. We believe we
are now coming to them with a living faith, but even then we require
infinite patience. The change will come, no doubt, but when? O
Lord, Thou alone knowest when.
To come back to environment. So far as nature's realm affected the
sojourners in this part of the valley of the Saskatchewan, these
should be among the best of men. Beauty and wealth and power and a
mighty purpose are apparent on every hand. These hundreds of miles
of territory, these millions of acres of rich grass and richer soil,
these hundreds of days of glorious sunshine in every year, these
countless millions of cubic feet of healthful atmosphere, surcharged
with ozone so that one ever and anon feels like "taking the wings of
the morning"--what a splendid heritage!
Look at this delightful spot where we are encamped for the day. It
is now nearing the midsummer, and the hills and valleys are clothed
in the richest verdure. Take note of these hills and valleys.
Behold the shapeliness of yonder range of hills, and the sweep of
this vale at your feet. See the exquisite carvings of this ascent,
and the beautiful rounding of that summit. Drink in the wonderful
symmetry displayed in planting those islands of timber. Behold as
yon fleecy cloud comes between the sun and the scene of sylvan
beauty, how the whole is hallowed and mellowed by the shading of
light! Think of the corrosions of ice and the cleansings of flood
necessary to create such a variety of hill and dale as this. Ponder
over the ages of later development, and calculate the layers of
vegetable matter needed to make this wealthy soil and produce this
infinite variety of flora and herb and forest and grass. Now to my
mind all this is exceedingly helpful, and every time I look upon such
environment I am made a better and stronger man. Then why not all
men be thus helped and made better? All?--there it is, our faiths
are not alike. Even a wrong faith is mighty to the pulling down of
"strongholds," and man under such influences descends.
But even here there are exceptions, and environment has its way in a
measure. Amongst these men and women you will come across those who
are big and broad and grand and noble. Blessed be the Lord for this!
And one of these latter even now is calling to me and speaking in
broken English, "John Mak-e-doo-gal-un, come here now," with big
emphasis on the "now," and I readily recognize the voice and walk
over to the lodge of the old Chief Maskepetoon.
"So you have come, John? I asked your father to let you come with my
camp for a few weeks. There is plenty for you to do, my boy. But I
called you just now, as my tent is empty, to tell you that I am sorry
and ashamed that my son was with those young rascals who tried to
steal horses from the Stonies at Pigeon Lake.
"I told him that under the circumstances I could not have done
anything if he and his party had been killed: that he must remember
that all men were now my friends, and especially all missionaries,
and if I ever fought again it would be on the side of the missionary.
That he should have gone from your lodge to steal the horses of your
people made me much ashamed and sorry in my heart. I told your
father about it, and he said the young men were foolish to act in
that way towards you--that you were the Indians' friend; and I
believe that, and I want you to work hard, and will pray the Great
Spirit to help you to gain a power over young men."
I thanked the old Chief for his confidence, and told him I should
always expect his advice and help in my work. Then I gave him my
news, and he told me what the camp's movements were to be, and that
there was to be an immense gathering of several camps for the holding
of the annual festival and "Thirst Dance" of the pagan Indians. He
also told me that the buffalo were coming northward and westward, and
we should move slowly to give them a chance to come in; that the
plain Crees who were coming up country to join us were behind the
herd of buffalo; and further informed me that the peace was
effectually broken on both sides, and we might expect more or less
trouble all summer.
I sat and chatted with the Chief and had supper in his lodge, and
then arranged for an evening service in the open camp. These
services elicited much interest. Paul, who was a good singer and a
fine young fellow, would take his stand by my side. Then as we sang
the people gathered, and our service would begin. I would take
advantage of our surroundings or the occurrences of the day in the
selection of my subject, and then call upon our old Chief or some one
of our native Christians to lead in prayer.
In the meantime warriors and hunters on horseback and on foot and
curious women and children with "tattooed" and painted faces would
come around and watch and listen, but with native courtesy keep
silence and act orderly and seem interested.
Thus day after day we publicly proclaimed the Gospel and teaching of
the Master according to our ability, for I was but a child in these
things myself; and yet the Lord did not despise the day of small
beginnings, but blessed us and our work. While during the week
conjuring and gambling and heathenish riots went on in many portions
of the camp, such was the respect in which Maskepetoon was held by
all these people that they desisted from these things on the Sabbath.
They even gave up hunting on that day because he wished it. Not that
he thus commanded. Oh, no; he was too much of a real gentleman and
too wise in his ideas of chieftainship to do this.
Slowly we moved out on the plains. Every day brought fresh scenes,
and steadily I was becoming acquainted with these people.
Maskepetoon always invited me to their councils, and seated beside
him I listened to argument and oratory, and beheld genuine
gesticulation, natural and true. Sometimes the Chief would ask me to
tell about white men and how they conducted matters. I would respond
with a short address on government and municipal organization, or at
another time speak of civilization and some of its wonders, or give a
talk on education, and Maskepetoon would say, "Listen to John.
Although he is only a child in years he is a man in experience; he
has seen far and wide, he has gone to school, he has listened for
years to that wise man his father." Then at the closing up of these
council gatherings Maskepetoon would give judgment on what had been
said, either approving or condemning, and settle the matter in
discussion in his own way, when the Council would break up for the
time.
Day after day we moved slowly out on the plains, the prairie openings
growing larger. All this time strict guard was kept, and the camp
travelled, when the country would permit of it, in several parallel
lines of march. At night scouts were sent out in every direction,
and all of the horses either tethered or hobbled up close within the
circle of tents.
On every hand were scenes which acted as stimulators in the exercise
of care to most of the inhabitants of our moving village. Here had
been a fight. Yonder some one would point out where many had been
killed. "This is where the camp was when we brought in so many
scalps and horses;" and as I listened to these people I could in a
measure begin to realize how exceedingly romantic their lives had
been, and how constantly the excitement of tribal war had followed
them.
One evening we were startled by the wail of a mother. Her
eight-year-old son was missing. The camp was searched and the boy
not found. For two nights and a day we remained in the one place and
made diligent search; but as we were now in the fringings of the
large herds of buffalo, and the whole country was tracked up, it was
impossible to find any trace of the lad.
One old conjurer drummed all night, and said that the boy was killed,
locating the place of his death in a little valley near the line of
our march the day the boy was missed. He was so particular in his
description of the place and as to the manner in which the Blackfeet
had waylaid the boy, that many thought the old conjurer was telling
the truth, and quite a number went with the "Medicine Man" to the
spot he had so vividly described. But while they found the spot just
as he had indicated, there were no traces of the lost boy, nor yet
any signs of the enemy. Needless to say, the party came back very
much disgusted with their "false prophet."
Another "sight-seer" went into his mysterious lodge, and when he came
out he said the boy was alive, that he had passed to the east of our
course, and gone on until he was bewildered, and continuing his
wanderings he was found by Indians from another camp which was now
coming up country from the east to intercept us. This was more
comforting, but who could vouch for its truth! Nevertheless this did
prove true, for some three or four days later, after we had encamped
for the day, some strangers were seen approaching, and when they were
formally seated, and each had taken a few whiffs of the big pipe, one
of them deigned to open his lips and tell us that a strange boy had
been found and was now in their camp; that at first he was quite out
of his head, but after a day or two came to himself, and told them
where he came from, and the place to which our camp was heading, and
thus they had intercepted us. These couriers also told us of several
other camps which were coming up to join ours for the Thirst Dance
Festival. The poor mother was overjoyed to hear of her boy's safety,
and our whole camp rejoiced with her.