We return to Pigeon Lake--"Scarred Thigh" exchanged for
"Blackfoot"--Planting Gospel seed--We organize a buffalo hunt--A
moose chase--The buffalo as a "path-finder"--We encounter a hostile
camp--All night on guard--My friend Mark's daring exploit--Wood
Stonies visit the Mission--Gambling, polygamy and superstition among
the Indians.
Now that father was home again I and my party were at liberty to
start back to Pigeon Lake, which we did under instructions to remain
there until the Indians should start out for the winter, when we were
to return to Victoria. I was very sorry to part with Paul at this
time, he having decided to go to the plains with the colony of
half-breeds for the fall provision hunt. Also with him I separated
from "Scarred Thigh," my horse for the last three years.
My readers in "SADDLE, SLED AND SNOWSHOE" will remember that I
mentioned a horse called "Blackfoot," taken in battle, and the winner
of many a long race. This horse had come to Paul through his wife.
He had been stolen from him by those who thought that might was
right, but Paul, being a plucky fellow, had taken him back, and as he
had more or less trouble guarding the horse, I happened to suggest to
him one day that we might make an exchange. He gladly accepted my
offer, and now instead of "Scarred Thigh" I had the noted
"Blackfoot." Nevertheless I was sorry to see the little sorrel go.
Many a glorious gallop we had had together, and I had grown to love
the gentle fellow. But Paul was a natural gentleman, and he also
must be considered. In the meantime Muddy Bull had come in from the
plains with our oxen and carts, the latter loaded with fine dried
provisions. Quite a large camp also had come to the Mission, and
from these father traded more provisions. Thus we did not start
empty-handed on our return trip to the Western Mission at the lake.
Westward we rolled with our carts, every encampment our home for the
time. Reaching the spot where we were detained by storm and sickness
during the spring, we left the carts and packed on through the woods
to the lake, where very soon our people began to settle down around
us. Our gardens under the continued neglect now promised little
result for the earlier efforts; but the fish in the lakes were
exceedingly plentiful, and upon these we almost altogether subsisted.
Our dried provisions we were obliged to share with the wandering
people who came to us from the north and west, and who had not been
out on the plains as we had. We held meetings twice a day on
week-days, and, I might almost say, all day Sunday. What our
ministrations lacked in quality they fully made up in quantity. And
some of those simple services were blessed seasons where souls were
born into the kingdom of our Christ. The conjurer might sing and
drum as he would, and the intensely conservative pagan decry us as he
pleased, our work kept growing as the weeks passed in quick
succession, one camp going and another coming to take its place, and
we putting in our best efforts to sow the seeds of Christianity.
Presently some Mountain Stonies came to us, men whom I had never seen
before. Among them was Mark, of whom I will have more to say as my
narrative progresses. These brought word of buffalo near where the
village of Lacombe now is, on the line of the Calgary and Edmonton
Railway, and as my friend Jacob and his stalwart brothers and cousins
were with us at the time, we concluded to take a run out for meat.
Mrs. McDougall remained at the Mission with a few of the older
people, and the most of the rest started off early one day. With
these I sent my pack-horses and necessary outfit, and with Jacob,
Mark and others I followed in the afternoon. Our course was around
the north end of Pigeon Lake, then over the "divide" to Battle Lake,
and thence down the Battle River. My companions and I had not yet
reached the head of the lake, when we saw a big buck moose plunge
into the water across the bay and strike out straight for a point of
timber which was between us and the Mission. The huge animal was
making quick time, and his great antlers and long ears were high out
of the water as with strong strokes he cut through the lake.
The nature of the ground where we were was such that we could make
better time on foot than with horses. Accordingly we left our
mounts, and ran back a distance of about a mile to intercept the
moose. I was on the spot some time before the next best, and as the
big buck was coming straight for where I was in hiding, I fully
expected to have the first shot; but while he was still more than a
hundred yards away, and fairly rushing through the water by the force
of his swimming power, and even as I stood behind a tree admiring the
noble fellow, suddenly there came a shot from down the shore and the
moose fell over almost without a struggle, being fairly hit just
under the butt of his big antler. I jumped out on the beach, and
looking in the direction of the report saw my friend Jacob quietly
loading his old flint-lock, a significant smile overspreading his
face. I shouted to him, "If you did take my shot you made a very
good one;" to which he answered, "It was enough for you to have left
us in the race," and thus we were mutually appeased and complimented.
But meanwhile Mark had divested himself of his clothing and was
swimming out to the moose, which he soon towed into the shallow
water, where we all took hold and pulled the immense carcase up the
bank. While Jacob and Mark skinned and cut him up I went back for
our horses. Bringing them up, we packed most of the meat back to the
Mission, and late in the evening again started after our party of
hunters, whom we came up with away down Battle River. Holding an
open-air service and stationing our guards, we went to sleep, and
with the first dawn of day were astir again. Holding a short morning
service, we very soon were jogging down the winding saddle-path which
was but the adoption and endorsation by man of the buffalo-path of
the preceding ages.
In the course of years I have travelled thousands of miles on
buffalo-paths, and often I have wondered at and admired the
instinctive knowledge of engineering skill manifested in the
selection of ground and route made by those wandering herds of wild
cattle. If one was in doubt as to a crossing let him follow the path
of a buffalo. Gladly have I often taken to these in the winter time,
when the snow was deep. Taking off my snow-shoes, I have run behind
my dog-train on the packed trail made by the sharp hoofs of the
migrating buffalo. But alas! as I write these paths are about all
that we have left to remind us that a short time since these vast
plains fairly trembled to the roar and tread of these wonderful herds
of nature's stock.
All day on the steady jog, our company of hardy men and women and
little children rode down the valley of the Battle River on to Mossy
Creek, thence on to Wolf Creek, and when in the evening we were
expecting to see some buffalo, instead of these we met the small
party Mark had come from, in hiding from a large camp of Blackfeet
and Sarcees which in the meantime had come upon the scene. Again,
alas for us, these enemies had driven the buffalo back, and, worse
than this, were here in our vicinity in such numbers as to make our
little party seem very small. As it was now evening we determined to
select as strong a place of defence as possible for the night's
bivouac. A brief search revealed a small thicket in a gently sloping
hollow, with prairie all around it, into which we put the women and
children, who, wearied with the hard day's travel, were soon sound
asleep.
The night was dark and long, for it was now the late autumn. Before
twilight came we saw the enemy and knew we were discovered; but
though they surrounded us for a good part of the night, they knew
that we were posted all around our camp, and did not venture to
attack, though we fully expected them to do so about day-break.
However, they concluded to draw off before that time. Providence and
our strong position, and, doubtless, the prestige of the Stony and
wood Indians, influenced them, for when day came our scouts brought
the welcome word of their departure. Their big camp was south-west
of us only some ten miles, and we set off rapidly eastward to
lengthen the distance between us, and also, if possible, secure
buffalo, so that we should not go home empty-handed.
It was during that long night that Mark, hearing me express my wish
for a drink, took a small kettle, and, making his way stealthily
through the lines of the enemy to a creek some distance beyond,
surprised me by bringing back the kettle full of water. I was truly
grateful for the refreshing draught, and could not but admire his
pluck and scouting ability. Thus was begun a friendship which has
continued through all these years. Full often in the bush and plain,
in raging current and dangerous ford, Mark has been by my side, loyal
and brave.
As we journeyed next day we saw the many trails made by the Blackfoot
and Sarcee camps, and from these could estimate their numbers, which
were sufficiently formidable to stimulate us to increase the
intervening distance. We camped that night across the narrows of
what was called "the lake which runs through the hills," a long
narrow body of fresh water, heavily timbered on every side. Here we
felt comparative security from the plain Indians, for these dread the
woods. The next day we moved on down and across Battle River, below
where now our Mission is situate, and were fortunate in killing
several bulls, with which we had to rest content and return
homewards. If the Blackfeet had not taken this circle into the
western timber country, which at this season was an unusual course
for them, we would have had great luck; but their large camp
effectually drove the game from us. However, we were thankful that
there had been no actual collision and no lives lost. As it was we
took home a little bull's meat instead of the loads of prime cow's
meat we had hoped to bring to reinforce the Mission larder.
Arriving at the lake we found all well, and noted that some more wood
Stonies had come in. These latter were inveterate gamblers, and
generally pretty wild fellows. Many of them were polygamists, and
our hands were full doing what we could to withstand heathenism and
ignorance. There was no rest day or night while these people were
beside us. I had often to act as judge and arbiter. Old quarrels,
domestic and tribal, were brought to me, and these I had to settle as
best I could. I also had to act as doctor and surgeon, which taxed
to the fullest limit my small store of knowledge and experience in
this line. But gamble and conjure and quarrel as they would,
nevertheless these people would come to our services and listen with
close attention. Slowly but surely the seed took root as the more
thoughtful began to consider the Gospel message. One idea we had
great trouble with was that they believed all sickness and death was
caused by hatred amongst themselves. Some one, they thought, was
working bad medicine or casting a blight or spell upon those who were
taken sick or in some way met with death. This would generate a
strong desire for revenge, and was a source of constant trouble to
the early missionary.
One day when I had a large crowd of these people before me I said to
them, "I have lived amongst different peoples, and in every case
these at times have sickened and died, and from all I can learn this
has been going on for thousands of years. These peoples expect this
to take place at some time in their experience. Everywhere I have
travelled I have seen graveyards, and plenty of evidence that all men
in the countries that I have been in are visited by death. But now I
have come among a people who, if they did not hate one another, and
work bad medicines and poison on one another, would live always--at
least, that is what you think and how you talk. You are different
from all other men. How is this? Has the Great Spirit treated you
with partiality? His word says, 'God is no respecter of persons.'
Are you not foolish to think and act as you do? Come, now, think
about this, and ask the Great Spirit to give you light." So at
service and in the lodge and around the camp-fire we kept at them;
but the implantings of centuries cannot be shaken off in one or two
generations.