Medicine hunting—indolence of an Indian hunter, and consequent
suffering of his family—relief from humane traders—a hunter
amputates his own arm—moose chase—hospitality of Sah-muk, and
residence at Rainy Lake—carcase of a buffalo cow watched by
a bull—severe suffering from cold—my lodge, and most of my
property, destroyed by fire.
With the deep snow and thick ice, came poverty and hunger. We were no
longer able to take beaver in traps, or by the ordinary methods, or
kill moose, though there were some in the country. It was not until
our sufferings from hunger began to be extreme, that the old woman had
recourse to the expedient of spending a night in prayer and singing. In
the morning she said to her son and Waw-be-be-nais-sa, “Go and hunt, for
the Great Spirit has given me some meat.” But Wa-me-gon-a-biew objected,
as he said the weather was too cold and calm, and no moose could be
approached so near as to shoot him. “I can make a wind,” answered
Net-no-kwa, “and though it is now still and cold, the warm wind shall
come before night. Go, my sons, you cannot fail to kill something, for
in my dream I saw Wa-me-gon-a-biew coming into the lodge with a beaver
and a large load of meat on his back.” At length they started, having
suspended at their heads and on their shot pouches the little sacks of
medicine which the old woman had provided for them with the assurance
that, having them, they could not possibly fail of success. They had not
been a long time absent, when the wind rose from the south, and soon blew
high, the weather, at the same time, becoming warmer. At night, they
returned, loaded with the flesh of a fat moose, and Wa-me-gon-a-biew
with a beaver on his back, as the old woman had seen him in her dream.
As the moose was very large and fat, we moved our lodge to it, and made
preparations for drying the meat. This supply of our wants was, however,
only temporary, though we found a few beaver, and succeeded in killing
some. After about ten days we were again in want of food. As I was one
day hunting for beavers at some distance from our lodge, I found the
tracks of four moose. I broke off the top of a bush, on which they had
been browsing, and carried it home. On entering the lodge, I threw it
down before Waw-be-be-nais-sa, who was lying by the fire, in his usual
indolent manner, saying, “Look at this, good hunter, and go and kill
us some moose.” He took up the branch, and looking at it a moment, he
said, “How many are there?” I answered, “four.” He replied, “I must kill
them.” Early in the morning he started on my road, and killed three of
the moose. He was a good hunter when he could rouse himself to exertion;
but most of the time he was so lazy that he chose to starve rather than
go far to find game, or to run after it when it was found. We had now a
short season of plenty, but soon became hungry again. It often happened,
that for two or three days we had nothing to eat; then a rabbit or two,
or a bird, would afford us a prospect of protracting the suffering of
hunger for a few days longer. We said much to Waw-be-be-nais-sa to try
to rouse him to greater exertion, as we knew he could kill game where
any thing was to be found; but he commonly replied that he was too poor
and sick. Wa-me-gon-a-biew and myself, thinking that something might be
found in more distant excursions than we had been used to make, started
very early one morning, and travelled hard all day; and when it was near
night we killed a young beaver, and Wa-me-gon-a-biew said to me, “My
brother, you must now make a camp, and cook a little of the beaver, while
I go farther on and try to kill something.” I did so, and about sunset
he returned, bringing plenty of meat, having killed two caribou. Next
day we started very early to drag the two caribous through all the long
distance between us and our camp. I could not reach home with my load,
but Wa-me-gon-a-biew having arrived, sent out the young woman to help me,
so that I arrived before midnight. We now saw it would not be safe for us
to remain longer by ourselves, and this small supply enabling us to move,
we determined to go in quest of some people. The nearest trading-house
was that at Clear Water Lake, distant about four or five days’ journey.
We left our lodge, and taking only our blankets, a kettle or two,
and such articles as were necessary for our journey, started for the
trading-house. The country we had to pass was full of lakes and islands,
swamps and marshes; but they were all frozen, so that we endeavoured to
take a direct route.
Early one morning on this journey, Waw-be-be-nais-sa, roused perhaps by
excessive hunger, or by the exercise he was compelled to take to keep
along with us, began to sing and pray for something to eat. At length he
said, “to-day we shall see some caribou.” The old woman, whose temper
was somewhat sharpened by our long continued privations, and who did
not consider Waw-be-be-nais-sa a very enterprising hunter, said, “And
if you should see caribou you will not be able to kill them. Some men
would not have said, ‘we shall see game to-day,’ but ‘we shall eat it.’”
After this conversation, we had gone but a little distance when we saw
six caribous, coming directly towards us. We concealed ourselves in the
bushes, on the point of a little island, and they came within shot.
Wa-me-gon-a-biew flashed his piece, when he intended to fire, and the
herd turned at the sound of the lock, to run off. Waw-be-be-nais-sa fired
as they ran, and broke the shoulder of one of them; but though they
pursued all day, they returned to camp at night without any meat. Our
prospect was now so discouraging that we concluded to lighten ourselves
by leaving some baggage, in order to make the greater expedition. We also
killed our last dog, who was getting too weak to keep up with us; but
the flesh of this animal, for some reason, the old woman would not eat.
After several days we were bewildered, not knowing what route to pursue
and too weak to travel. In this emergency, the old woman, who, in the
last extremity, seemed always more capable of making great exertions than
any of us, fixed our camp as usual, brought us a large pile of wood to
keep a fire in her absence, then tying her blanket about her, took her
tomahawk, and went off, as we very well knew, to seek for some method by
which to relieve us from our present distress. She came to us again on
the following day, and resorting to her often-tried expedient to rouse
us to great exertion, she said, “My children, I slept last night in a
distant and solitary place, after having continued long in prayer. Then I
dreamed, and I saw the road in which I had come, and the end of it where
I had stopped at night, and at no great distance from this I saw the
beginning of another road, that led directly to the trader’s house. In
my dream I saw white men; let us, therefore, lose no time, for the Great
Spirit is now willing to lead us to a good fire.” Being somewhat animated
by the confidence and hope the old woman was in this way able to inspire,
we departed immediately; but having at length come to the end of her
path, and passed a considerable distance beyond it without discovering
any traces of other human beings, we began to be incredulous, some
reproaching and some ridiculing the old woman; but afterwards, to our
great joy, we found a recent hunting path, which we knew must lead to the
trader’s house; then redoubling our efforts, we arrived on the next night
but one, after that in which the old woman had slept by herself. Here we
found the same trader from whom we had a credit of one hundred and twenty
beaver skins at Rainy Lake, and as he was willing to send out and bring
the packs, we paid him his credit and had twenty beaver skins left. With
these I bought four traps, for which I paid five skins each. They also
gave the old woman three small kegs of rum. After remaining a few days,
we started to return in the direction we came from. For some distance
we followed the large hunting path of the people belonging to the
trading-house. When we reached the point where we must leave this road,
the old woman gave the three little kegs of rum to Waw-be-be-nais-sa,
and told him to follow on the hunter’s path until he should find them;
then sell the rum for meat, and come back to us. One of the little kegs
he immediately opened, and drank about half of it before he went to
sleep. Next morning, however, he was sober, and started to go as the old
woman had directed, being in the first place informed where to find us
again. Wa-me-gon-a-biew accompanied him. After they had started, I went
on with the women to Skut-tah-waw-wo-ne-gun, (the dry carrying place,)
where we had appointed to wait for him. We had been here one day when
Wa-me-gon-a-biew arrived with a load of meat; but Waw-be-be-nais-sa did
not come, though his little children had that day been compelled to eat
their moccasins. We fed the woman and her children, and then sent her to
join her husband. The hunters with whom Waw-be-be-nais-sa had remained,
sent us an invitation by Wa-me-gon-a-biew to come and live with them,
but it was necessary, in the first place, to go and get our lodge, and
the property we had left there. As we were on our return we were stopped
at the dry carrying place with extreme hunger. Having subsisted for
some time almost entirely on the inner bark of trees, and particularly
of a climbing vine found there, our strength was much reduced.
Wa-me-gon-a-biew could not walk at all, and every one of the family had
failed more than the old woman. She would fast five or six days, and seem
to be little affected by it. It was only because she feared the other
members of the family would perish in her absence that she now consented
to let me go and try to get some assistance from the trading-house, which
we believed to be nearer than the camp of the hunters. The former we
knew was about two ordinary days’ journey; but, in my weak condition it
was doubtful when I could reach it. I started very early in the morning.
The weather was cold, and the wind high. I had a large lake to cross,
and here, as the wind blew more violently, I suffered most. I gained
the other side of it a little before sunset, and sat down to rest. As
soon as I began to feel a little cold, I tried to get up, but found it
so difficult that I judged it would not be prudent for me to rest again
before I should reach the trading-house. The night was not dark, and as
there was less wind than in the day time, I found the travelling more
pleasant. I continued on all night, and arrived early next morning at the
trader’s house. As soon as I opened the door they knew by my face that I
was starving, and immediately inquired after my people. As soon as I had
given the necessary information, they despatched a swift Frenchman with
a load of provisions to the family. I had been in the trader’s house
but a few hours, when I heard the voice of Net-no-kwa outside, asking,
“is my son here?” And when I opened the door she expressed the utmost
satisfaction at sight of me. She had not met the Frenchman, who had gone
by a different route. The wind had become violent soon after I left our
camp, and the old woman, thinking I could not cross the lake, started
after me, and the drifting snow having obscured my track, she could not
follow it, and came quite to the trading-house with the apprehension that
I had perished by the way. After a day or two, Wa-me-gon-a-biew and the
remainder of the family came in, having been relieved by the Frenchman.
It appeared, also, that the Indians had sent Waw-be-be-nais-sa with a
load of meat to look for us at the dry carrying place, as they knew we
could not reach their encampment without a supply, which it was not
probable we could procure. He had been very near the camp of our family
after I left, but either through wilfulness, or from stupidity, failed to
find them. He had camped almost within call of them, and eaten a hearty
meal as they discovered by the traces he left. After remaining a few days
at the trading house, we all went together to join the Indians. This
party consisted of three lodges, the principal man being Wah-ge-kaut,
(crooked legs.) Three of the best hunters were Ka-kaik, (the small hawk,)
Meh-ke-nauk, (the turtle,) and Pa-ke-kun-ne-gah-bo, (he that stands in
the smoke.) This last was, at the time I speak of, a very distinguished
hunter. Some time afterwards he was accidentally wounded, receiving a
whole charge of shot in his elbow, by which the joint and the bones of
his arm were much shattered. As the wound did not show any tendency to
heal, but, on the contrary, became worse and worse, he applied to many
Indians, and to all white men he saw, to cut it off for him. As all
refused to do so, or to assist him in amputating it himself, he chose
a time when he happened to be left alone in his lodge, and taking two
knives, the edge of one of which he had hacked into a sort of saw, he
with his right hand and arm cut off his left, and threw it from him as
far as he could. Soon after, as he related the story himself, he fell
sleep, in which situation he was found by his friends, having lost a
very great quantity of blood; but he soon afterwards recovered, and
notwithstanding the loss of one arm, he became again a great hunter.
After this accident, he was commonly called Kosh-kin-ne-kait, (the cut
off arm.) With this band we lived some time, having always plenty to eat,
though Waw-be-be-nais-sa killed nothing.
When the weather began to be a little warm, we left the Indians and
went to hunt beaver near the trading house. Having lately suffered
so much from hunger, we were afraid to go any distant place, relying
on large game for support. Here we found early one morning, a moose
track, not far from the trading house. There was now living with us, a
man called Pa-bah-mew-in, (he that carries about,) who, together with
Wa-me-gon-a-biew, started in pursuit. The dogs followed for an hour
or two, and then returned; at this Pa-bah-mew-in was discouraged, and
turned back; but Wa-me-gon-a-biew still kept on. This young man could
run very swift, and for a long time he passed all the dogs, one or two
of which continued on the track. It was after noon when he arrived at a
lake which the moose had attempted to cross; but as in some parts the ice
was quite smooth, which prevented him from running so fast as on land,
Wa-me-gon-a-biew overtook him. When he came very near, the foremost dog,
who had kept at no great distance from Wa-me-gon-a-biew, passed him,
and got before the moose, which was now easily killed. We remained all
this spring about one day from the trading house, taking considerable
game. I killed by myself twenty otters, besides a good many beavers and
other animals. As I was one day going to look at my traps, I found some
ducks in a pond, and taking the ball out of my gun, I put in some shot,
and began to creep up to them. As I was crawling cautiously through the
bushes, a bear started up near me, and ran into a white pine tree almost
over my head. I hastily threw a ball into my gun and fired; but the
gun burst about midway of the barrel, and all the upper half of it was
carried away. The bear was apparently untouched, but he ran up higher
into the tree. I loaded what was left of my gun, and taking aim the
second time, brought him to the ground.
While we lived here we made a number of packs and as it was inconvenient
to keep these in our small lodge, we left them, from time to time, with
the traders, for safe keeping. When the time came for them to come down
to the Grand Portage, they took our packs without our consent, but the
old woman followed after them to Rainy Lake, and retook every thing that
belonged to us. But she was prevailed to sell them. From Rainy Lake we
went to the Lake of the Woods, where Pa-bah-mew-in left us. Here, also,
Waw-be-be-nais-sa rejoined us, wishing to return with us to Rainy Lake;
but Net-no-kwa had heard of a murder committed there by some of his
relations that would have been revenged on him, for which reason she
would not suffer him to return there. At the invitation of a man called
Sah-muk, an Ottawwaw chief, and a relative of Net-no-kwa, we returned
to Rainy Lake to live with him. Wa-me-gon-a-biew, with the two women,
and the children, went on to Red River. Sah-muk treated us with much
kindness. He built and gave us a large bark canoe, intended for the
use of the fur traders, and which we sold to them for the value of one
hundred dollars, which was at that time the common price of such canoes
in that part of the country. He also built us a small canoe for our own
use.
The river which falls into Rainy Lake, is called Kocheche-se-bee, (Source
River,) and in it is a considerable fall, not far distant from the lake.
Here I used to take, with a hook and line, great numbers of the fish
called by the French, dory. One day, as I was fishing here, a very large
sturgeon come down the fall, and happening to get into shallow water, was
unable to make his escape. I killed him with a stone, and as it was the
first that had been killed here, Sah-muk made a feast on the occasion.
After some time we started from this place with a considerable band of
Ojibbeways, to cross Rainy Lake. At the point where we were to separate
from them, and they were to disperse in various directions, all stopped
to drink. In the course of this drunken frolic, they stole from us all
our corn and grease, leaving us quite destitute of provisions. This was
the first instance in which I had ever joined the Indians in drinking,
and when I recovered from it, the old woman reproved me very sharply and
sensibly, though she herself had drank much more than I had.
As soon as I recovered my wits, and perceived into what a condition
we had brought ourselves, I put the old woman in the canoe and went
immediately to a place where I knew there was good fishing. The
Ojibbeways had not left us a mouthful of food, but I soon caught three
dories so that we did not suffer from hunger. Next morning I stopped
for breakfast at a carrying place where these fish were very abundant,
and while the old woman was making a fire and cooking one that I had
just caught, I took nearly a hundred. Before we were ready to re-embark,
some trader’s canoes came along, and the old woman, not having entirely
recovered from her drunken frolic, sold my fish for rum. The traders
continued to pass during the day, but I hid away from the old woman so
many fish as enabled me to purchase a large sack of corn and grease.
When Net-no-kwa became sober, she was much pleased that I had taken this
course with her.
In the middle of the Lake of the Woods is a small, but high rocky island,
almost without any trees or bushes. This was now covered with young gulls
and cormorants, of which I killed great numbers, knocking them down with
a stick. We selected one hundred and twenty of the fattest, and dried
them in the smoke, packed them in sacks, and carried them along with us.
Thence we went by way of the Muskeeg carrying place to Red River. As we
were passing down this river, I shot a large bear on shore, near the
brink of the river. He screamed out in a very unusual manner, then ran
down into the water, and sank.
At this place, (since called Pembinah,) where the Nebininnah-ne-sebee
enters Red River, had formerly been a trading house. We found no people,
whites or Indians; and as we had not plenty of provisions, we went on all
night, hoping soon to meet with some people. After sunrise next morning,
we landed, and the old woman, while collecting wood to make a fire,
discovered some buffaloes in the woods. Giving me notice of this, I ran
up and killed a bull, but perceiving that he was very poor, I crept a
little farther and shot a large fat cow. She ran some distance, and fell
in an open prairie. A bull that followed her, no sooner saw me enter the
open prairie, at the distance of three or four hundred yards from her,
than he ran at me with so much fury that I thought it prudent to retire
into the woods. We remained all day at this place, and I made several
attempts to get at the cow, but she was so vigilantly watched by the same
bull that I was at last compelled to leave her. In the rutting season, it
is not unusual to see the bulls behave in this way.
Next day we met the traders coming up to Nebeninnah-ne-sebee,[17] and
gave them a part of the meat we had taken from the bull. Without any
other delay, we went on to the Prairie Portage of the Assinneboin River,
where we found Wa-me-gon-a-biew and Waw-be-be-nais-sa, with the other
members of our family from whom we had so long separated.
Waw-be-be-nais-sa, since they left us, had turned away his former wife,
and married the daughter of Net-no-kwa’s sister, who had been brought
up in our family, and whom the old woman had always treated as her own
child. Net-no-kwa no sooner understood what had taken place, than she
took up what few articles she could see in the lodge, belonging to
Waw-be-be-nais-sa, and throwing them out, said to him, “I have been
starved by you already, and I wish to have nothing more to do with you.
Go, and provide for your own wants; it is more than so miserable a hunter
as you are, is able to do, you shall not have my daughter.” So being
turned out, he went off by himself for a few days, but as Net-no-kwa soon
learned that his former wife was married to another man, and that he was
destitute, she admitted him again into the lodge. It was probably from
fear of the old woman that he now became a better hunter than he had been
before.
That winter I hunted for a trader, called by the Indians Aneeb, which
means an elm tree. As the winter advanced, and the weather became more
and more cold, I found it difficult to procure as much game as I had been
in the habit of supplying, and as was wanted by the trader. Early one
morning, about midwinter, I started an elk. I pursued until night, and
had almost overtaken him, but hope and strength failed me at the same
time. What clothing I had on me, notwithstanding the extreme coldness
of the weather, was drenched with sweat. It was not long after I turned
towards home that I felt it stiffening about me. My leggins were of
cloth, and were torn in pieces in running through the brush. I was
conscious I was somewhat frozen, before I arrived at the place where I
had left our lodge standing in the morning, and it was now midnight. I
knew it had been the old woman’s intention to move, and I knew where she
would go, but I had not been informed she would go on that day. As I
followed on their path, I soon ceased to suffer from cold, and felt that
sleepy sensation which I knew preceded the last stage of weakness in such
as die of cold. I redoubled my efforts, but with an entire consciousness
of the danger of my situation, it was with no small difficulty that I
could prevent myself from lying down. At length I lost all consciousness
for some time, how long I cannot tell, and awaking as from a dream, I
found I had been walking round and round in a small circle, not more
than twenty or twenty-five yards over. After the return of my senses, I
looked about to try to discover my path, as I had missed it, but while
I was looking, I discovered a light at a distance by which I directed
my course. Once more, before I reached the lodge, I lost my senses, but
I did not fall down. If I had, I should never have got up again, but I
ran around and round in a circle as before. When I at last came into the
lodge, I immediately fell down, but I did not lose myself as before. I
can remember seeing the thick and sparkling coat of frost on the inside
of the pukkwi lodge, and hearing my mother say that she had kept a large
fire in expectation of my arrival, and that she had not thought I should
have been so long gone in the morning, but that I should have known long
before night of her having moved. It was a month before I was able to go
out again, my face, hands, and legs, having been much frozen.
The weather was beginning to be a little warm, so that the snow sometimes
melted, when I began to hunt again. Going one day with Waw-be-be-nais-sa
a good distance up the Assinneboin, we found a large herd of probably 200
elk, in a little prairie which was almost surrounded by the river. In the
gorge, which was no more than two hundred yards across, Waw-be-be-nais-sa
and I stationed ourselves, and the frightened herd being unwilling to
venture on the smooth ice in the river, began to run round and round the
little prairie. It sometimes happened that one was pushed within the
reach of our shot and in this way we killed two. In our eagerness to get
nearer, we advanced so far towards the center of the prairie that the
herd was divided, a part being driven on the ice, and a part escaping to
the high grounds. Waw-be-be-nais-sa followed the latter, and I ran on to
the ice. The elks on the river, slipping on the smooth ice, and being
much frightened, crowded so close together that their great weight broke
the ice, and as they waded towards the opposite shore, and endeavoured
in a body to rise upon the ice, it continued to break before them. I ran
hastily and thoughtlessly along the brink of the open place, and as the
water was not so deep as to swim the elks, I thought I might get those I
killed, and therefore continued shooting them as fast as I could. When
my balls were all expended, I drew my knife and killed one or two with
it, but all I killed in the water were in a few minutes swept under the
ice, and I got not one of them. One only, which I struck after he rose
upon the ice on the shore, I saved. This, in addition to the others we
had killed on the shore made four, being all we were able to take out of
a gang of not less than two hundred. Waw-be-be-nais-sa went immediately,
under the pretence of notifying the traders, and sold the four elks as
his own, though he killed but two of them.
At this time, Wa-me-gon-a-biew was unable to hunt, having, in a drunken
frolic been so severely burned, that he was not able to stand. In a few
days, I went again with Waw-be-be-nais-sa to hunt elks. We discovered
some in the prairie, but crawling up behind a little inequality of
surface which enabled us to conceal ourselves, we came within a short
distance. There was a very large and fat buck which I wished to shoot,
but Waw-be-be-nais-sa said, “not so, my brother, lest you should fail to
kill him. As he is the best in the herd I will shoot him, and you may
try to kill one of the smaller ones.” So I told him that I would shoot
at one that was lying down. We fired both together, but he missed and I
killed. The herd then ran off, and I pursued without waiting to butcher,
or even to examine the one I had killed. I continued the chase all day,
and before night had killed two more, as the elks were so much fatigued
that I came up to them pretty easily. As it was now night, I made the
best of my way home, and when I arrived, found that Waw-be-be-nais-sa
had brought home meat, and had been amusing the family by describing the
manner in which he said he had killed the elk. I said to them, “I am
very glad he has killed an elk, for I have killed three, and to-morrow
we shall have plenty of meat.” But as I had some suspicion of him, I
took him outside, and asked him about the one he had killed, and easily
made him acknowledge, that it was no other than the one I had shot,
from which he brought in some of the meat. He was sent to the traders
to call men to bring in the meat, and again sold all three as his own,
when he had not helped to kill even one of them. The old woman, when
she became acquainted with this conduct, persecuted him so much that
he was induced to leave us. Wa-me-gon-a-biew, also, who had married an
Ojibbeway woman in the fall, now went to live with his father-in-law, and
there remained in our family only the old woman and myself, the Bowwetig
girl, Ke-zhik-o-weninne, the son of Taw-ga-we-ninne, now something of a
boy, and the two small children. I was now, for the first time, left to
pass the winter by myself, with a family to provide for, and no one to
assist me. Waw-be-be-nais-sa encamped about one day from us. I had, in
the course of the fall, killed a good many beavers and other animals, and
we had for some time enough to supply all our wants. We had also plenty
of blankets and clothing. One very cold morning in the winter, as I
was going out to hunt, I stripped off all my silver ornaments and hung
them up in the lodge. The old woman asked me why I did so. I told her
that they were not comfortable in such extreme cold weather, moreover,
that in pursuing game I was liable to lose them. She remonstrated for
some time, but I persisted, and went to hunt without them. At the same
time I started to hunt, the old woman started for Waw-be-be-nais-sa’s
lodge, intending to be absent two days. The lodge was left in the care
of Skawah-shish, as the Bowwetig girl was called, and Ke-zhik-o-weninne.
When I returned late at night, after a long and unsuccessful hunt, I
found these two children standing, shivering and crying by the side of
the ashes of our lodge, which, owing to their carelessness, had been
burned down, and every thing we had consumed in it. My silver ornaments,
one of my guns, several blankets, and much clothing, were lost. We
had been rather wealthy among the Indians of that country; now we had
nothing left but a medicine bag and a keg of rum. When I saw the keg
of rum, I felt angry that only what was useless and hurtful to us was
left, while every thing valuable had been destroyed, and taking it up,
threw it to a distance. I then stripped the blanket from the Bowwetig
girl, and sent her away to stay by herself in the snow, telling her that
as her carelessness had stripped us of every thing, it was but right
she should feel the cold more than I did. I then took the little boy,
Ke-zhik-o-weninne, and we lay down together upon the warm ashes.
Very early the next morning I started out to hunt, and as I knew very
well how the old woman would behave when she came to a knowledge of
her misfortune. I did not wish to reach home until late at night. When
approaching the place where our lodge had been, I heard the old woman
scolding and beating the little girl. At length, when I went to the
fire, she asked me why I had not killed her when I first came home and
found the lodge burned down. “Since you did not,” said she, “I must now
kill her.” “Oh my mother do not kill me, and I will pay you for all you
have lost.” “What have you to give? how can you pay me?” said the old
woman. “I will give you the Manito,” said the little girl, “the great
Manito shall come down to reward you, if you do not kill me.” We were
now destitute of provisions, and almost naked, but we determined to
go to Aneeb’s trading-house, at Ke-new-kau-neshe way-boant, where we
obtained credit for the amount of one pack of beaver skins, and with
the blankets and cloth which we purchased in this way, we returned to
We-ma-gon-a-biew’s lodge, whence he and his wife accompanied us to our
own place.
We commenced to repair our loss by building a small grass lodge in
which to shelter ourselves while we should prepare the pukkwi for a new
wigwam.[18] The women were very industrious in making these, and none
more active than Skwah-shish, the Bowwetig girl. At night, also, when
it was too dark to hunt, Wa-me-gon-a-biew and myself assisted at this
labour. In a few days our lodge was completed, and Wa-me-gon-a-biew,
having killed three elks, left us for his own home.
After a little time, plenty and good humour were restored. One evening
the old woman called to her the little Bowwetig girl, and asked her if
she remembered what promise she had made to her when she was whipped for
burning the lodge. Skwah-shish could make no answer, but the old woman
took the opportunity to admonish her of the impropriety of using the name
of the Deity in a light and irreverent manner.