Strike south for buffalo and Indians--Strange mode of crossing "Big
River"--Old Besho and his eccentricities--Five men dine on two small
ducks.
Thursday evening found us striking southward, Mr. Woolsey and his
interpreter, William Monckman, making our party up to five. Peter
was guide and father's interpreter. Both positions he was well able
to fill.
Because of Mr. Woolsey's physical infirmity, we were obliged to
travel more slowly than we had thus far.
Our road ran along the east side of Smoking Lake, and down the creek
which runs from the lake to the Saskatchewan. We had left most of
the ox for the men at the Mission, and were to depend upon our guns
for food until we should reach the Indian camp on the plains. We
shot some ducks for supper and breakfast the first night out, and
reached the north bank of the river Friday afternoon. The appearance
of the country at this point and in its vicinity pleased father so
much that he suggested to Mr. Woolsey the desirability of moving to
this place and founding a mission and settlement right here on the
banks of the river, all of which Mr. Woolsey readily acquiesced in.
The two missionaries, moreover, decided that the name of the new
mission should be Victoria.
The next move was to cross this wide and swiftly flowing river. No
ferryman appeared to answer our hail. No raft or canoe or boat was
to be seen, no matter where you might look. Evidently something must
be improvised, and, as it turned out, Peter was equal to the occasion.
Father and Mr. Woolsey had gone to further explore the site of the
new mission, William was guarding the horses, and Peter was left with
myself to bridge the difficulty, which, to me, seemed a great one.
If we had even a small dug-out or log canoe, I would have been at
home. "But what is Peter going to do?" was the question I kept
asking myself. Presently I said, "How are we going to cross?"
"Never you mind," said he; "do as I tell you." "All right," said I;
and soon I received my instructions, which were to go and cut two
straight, long green willows about one and a half inches in diameter.
I did so, and Peter took these and with them made a hoop. While he
was making this he told me to bring the oilcloth we were carrying
with us and to spread it on the beach. Then he placed the hoop in
the centre of the oilcloth, and we folded it in on to the hoop from
every side. Then we carried our saddles, and blankets, and tent, and
kettle, and axe--in short, everything we had, and put them in this
hoop. Then William came and helped us carry this strange thing into
the water. When we lifted by the hoop or rim our stuff sagged down
in the centre, and when we placed the affair in the water, to my
great astonishment it floated nicely, and I was told to hold it in
the current; and Peter, calling to the missionaries, said, "Take off
your shoes, gentlemen, and wade out and step into the boat." I could
hardly credit this; but the gentlemen did as bidden, and very soon
were sitting in the hoop, and still, to my great wonder, it floated.
[Illustration: A NEW KIND OF BOAT]
Peter, in the meantime, took a "chawed line."
This is made of buffalo hide, and is literally what its name
signifies, having been made by cutting some green hide into a strand,
about an inch or more wide, and stretching this, and as it dried,
scraping the hair and flesh from it. When thoroughly dry the
manufacturer began at one end and chewed it through to the other end,
and then back again, and continued this until the line was soft and
pliable and thoroughly tanned for the purpose. Great care was taken
while chewing not to let the saliva touch the line. These lines were
in great demand for lassos, and packing horses, and lashing
dog-sleighs and as bridles.
Peter tied one end of this securely to the rim of the hoop, and then
brought a horse close and tied the other end of the line to the
horse's tail; then fastening a leather hobble to the under jaw of the
horse, he vaulted on to its back and rode out into the stream, saying
to me, "Let go, John, when the line comes tight;" and gently and
majestically, like a huge nest, with the two missionaries sitting as
eaglets in it, this strange craft floated restfully on the current.
For a moment I stood in amazement; then the fact that William and
myself were still on this side made me shout to Peter, "How are we to
cross?" By this time he was swimming beside his horse, and back over
the water came the one word, "Swim!" then later, "Drive in the horses
and take hold of the tail of one and he will bring you across." I
could swim, but when it came to stemming the current of the
Saskatchewan, that was another matter.
However, William and I did as our guide ordered, and soon we were
drying ourselves on the south bank, horses and men and kit safely
landed. The willow pole and our oilcloth had borne our missionaries
and guns and ammunition, and the whole of our travelling
paraphernalia, without wet or loss in any way.
As soon as the backs of our horses were dry, we saddled and packed,
and climbing the high bank of the river, proceeded on our journey.
Peter cautioned us by saying, "We must keep together as much as
possible; there must be no shooting or shouting towards evening; we
are now where we may strike a war party at any time."
All this made the whole situation very interesting to me. I had read
of these things; now I was among them.
We stopped early for supper, and then went on late, and camped
without fire, another precaution against being discovered by the
enemy.
Next morning we were away early, and were now reaching open country.
Farms and homesteads ready made were by the hundred on every hand of
us.
Our step was the "all-day jog-trot."
Presently father, looking around, missed Mr. Woolsey, and sent me
back to look for him and bring him up. I went on the jump, thankful
for the change, and finding Mr. Woolsey, I said, "What is the matter?
They are anxious about you at the front." He replied by saying, "My
horse is lazy." "Old Besho is terribly slow. Let me drive him for
you," said I; and suiting the action to the word, I rode alongside
and gave "Mr. Besho" a sharp cut with my "quirt." This Besho
resented by kicking with both legs. The first kick came close to my
leg, the second to my shoulder, the third to my head. This was a
revelation to me of high-kicking power. Thinks I, Besho would shine
on the stage; but in the meantime Mr. Woolsey was thrown forward, for
the higher Besho's hind-quarters came, the lower went his front, and
Mr. Woolsey was soon on his neck, and I saw I must change tactics.
So I rode to a clump of trees, and securing a long, dry poplar, I
came at Besho lance-like; but the cunning old fellow did not wait for
me, but set off at a gallop on the trail of our party. Ah! thought
I, we will soon come up, and I waved my poplar lance, and on we
speeded; but soon Mr. Woolsey lost his stirrups and well-nigh his
balance, and begged me to stop, and I saw the trouble was with my
friend rather than his steed.
However, we came up at last, and were careful after that to keep Mr.
Woolsey in the party.
This was Saturday, and we stopped for noon on the south side of
Vermilion Creek, our whole larder consisting of two small ducks.
These were soon cleaned and in the kettle and served, and five hearty
men sat around them, and father asked Mr. Woolsey what part of the
duck he should help him to. Mr. Woolsey answered, "Oh, give me a
leg, and a wing, and a piece of the breast," and I quietly suggested
to father to pass him a whole one.
As we picked the duck bones, and I drank the broth, for I never cared
for tea, we held a council, and finally, at father's suggestion, it
was decided that Peter and John (that is, myself) should ride on
ahead of the party and hunt, and if successful, we would stay over
Sunday in camp; if not, we would travel.