William goes to the plains--I begin work at Victoria--Make
hay--Plough--Hunt--Storm.
Father had suggested two plans for immediate action: One was to send
William out to the plains to trade some provisions; the other was to
send me to the site of the new mission, and have me make some hay and
plough some land ready for next spring, and thus take up the ground.
Mr. Woolsey decided to act on both. The former was very necessary,
for we were living on duck, rabbits, etc., and the supply was
precarious.
William took an Indian as his companion, and I a white man, by the
name of Gladstone, as mine.
We travelled together as far as the river. This time we took a skiff
Mr. Woolsey had on Smoking Lake.
We took this as far as we could by water and then loaded it on to a
cart, and when we reached the river we took William's carts apart and
crossed them over, and he and his companion started out to look for
provisions, while Gladstone and myself to put up hay and plough land.
For the former we had two scythes, and for the latter a coulterless
plough; but we had a tremendously big yoke of oxen.
We pitched our lodge down on the bank of the river and went to work;
but as we had to hunt our food as well as work, we did not rush
things as I wanted to.
My companion had been a long time in the Hudson's Bay Company's
service, but was a boat-builder by trade, and knew little about
either haymaking or ploughing or hunting; but he was a first-rate
fellow, willing always to do his best. He told me that though he had
been in the country for a long time, he had seldom fired a gun and
had never set a net.
We had between us a single-barrelled shotgun, percussion-lock, and a
double-barrelled flint lock.
The first thing we did was to make some floats and put strings on
some stones, and I tied up a net we had and we crossed the river, and
set it in an eddy; then we fixed up our scythes and started in to cut
hay on the ground where we intended to plough.
We had several horses with us, and these and the oxen gave us a lot
of trouble. Many an hour we lost in hunting them, but we kept at it.
At first our food supply was good. I caught several fine trout in my
net, and shot some ducks and chickens. We succeeded in making two
good-sized stacks of hay.
Then we went to ploughing, but our oxen had never pulled together
before--good in the cart, but hard to manage in double harness. It
was not until the second day, after a great deal of hard work, that
we finally got them to pull together.
Then our plough, without a coulter, bothered us tremendously; but we
staked out a plot of ground, and were determined, if possible, to
tear it up.
Once our oxen got away, and we lost them for three days. "Glad," as
I called him, knew very little about tracking, and I very little at
that time, but the third day, late in the evening, I came across the
huge fellows, wallowing in pea-vine almost up to their backs, and
away they went, with their tails up, and I had to run my horse to
head them off for our tent.
One morning, very early, I was across looking at my net, and caught a
couple of fine large trout. Happening to look down the river, I saw
some men in single file coming along our side, keeping well under the
bank. My heart leaped into my mouth as I thought of a war-party; but
as I looked, presently the prow of a boat came swinging into view
around the point, and I knew these men I saw were tracking her up.
What a relief, and how thankful I was to think I might hear some news
of home and father and the outside world, for though it was now more
than four months since I left home, I had not heard a word. I
hurried up and fixed my net, and pulled across and told Glad the news
about the boat, and he was as excited as myself.
Isolation is all very fine, but most of us soon get very tired of it.
I for one never could comprehend the fellow who sighed, "Oh, for a
lodge in some vast wilderness!" Very soon the boat came to us, and
we found that it contained the chief factor, William Christie, Esq.,
and his family, and was on its way to Edmonton. Mr. Christie told me
about father passing Carlton in good time some weeks since, and
assured me that he would now be safe at home at Norway House. He
said that there was no late packet and he had no news from the east.
He went up and looked at our ploughing, and laughed at our lack of
coulter. "Just like Mr. Woolsey, to bring a plough without a
coulter," said he; but the same gentleman bought a lot of barley of
us some three years after this.
They had hams of buffalo meat hanging over the prow and stern of
their boat. I offered them my fish, hoping they would offer me some
buffalo meat. They took my fish gladly, but did not offer us any
meat. This was undoubtedly because they did not think of it, or they
would have done so, but both Glad and I confessed to each other
afterwards our sore disappointment.
However, we ploughed on.
One morning I had come ashore from the net with some fish in my boat,
and, going up to the tent, Glad went down to the river to clean them.
In a little while I looked over the bank, and, sitting within a few
feet of Glad (who was engaged with the fish, just at the edge of the
water), was a grey goose, looking earnestly at this object beside
him; but as Glad made no sudden movement, the goose seemed to wonder
whether this was alive or not. I slipped back for my gun and shot
the goose, and Glad who thought somebody was shooting at him, jumped
for his life, but I pointed to the dead goose and he was comforted.
Philanthropists make a great mistake when they begin to comfort
others through their heads. Let them begin at their stomachs, which
makes straighter and quicker work.
[Illustration: "GUN-SHOCK"--"GOOSE-COMFORT"]
We were still three or four days away from our self-set task, when,
as if by mutual agreement, the fish would not be caught, the ducks
and geese took flight south, and the chickens left our vicinity. To
use a western phrase, "The luck was agin' us." We had started with
two salt buffalo tongues as our outfit, when we left Mr. Woolsey. We
had still one of these left. We boiled it, and ate half the first
day of our hard luck. We worked harder and later at our ploughing
the second day. We finished the tongue and ploughed on. The third
day we finished our task about two o'clock, and then I took my gun
and hunted until dark, while Glad gathered and hobbled the horses
close to camp. Not a rabbit or duck or chicken did I see.
If I had been a pagan Indian, I would have said, "Mine enemy hath
done this. Somebody is working bad medicine about me." But I had
long before this found out that the larder of a hunter or fisherman
is apt to be empty at times.
Glad and I sat beside our camp-fire that night, and were solemn and
quiet. There was a something lacking in our surroundings, and we
felt it keenly. For a week we had been on very short "commons," and
since yesterday had not tasted any food, and worked hard. In the
meantime, there is no denying it, we were terribly hungry.
Early next morning we took down our tent and packed our stuff. We
had neither pack nor riding-saddles, as we had come this far with
William, and we had hoped that he would have returned before we were
through our work; but going on the plains was going into a large
country.
You might strike the camp soon, or you might be weeks looking for
them, and when you found the Indians, they might be in a worse
condition as to provisions than you were. This all depended on the
buffalo in their migrations--sometimes here, and again hundreds of
miles away. William may turn up any time, and it may be a month or
six weeks before we hear from him. As it is, Glad and I do the best
we can without saddles, and start for home.
Having the oxen, we went slow.
After travelling about ten miles, I saw someone coming towards us,
and presently made out that it was a white man, and I galloped on to
meet him, and found that it was Neils, the Norwegian, who was with
Mr. Woolsey. He was on foot, but I saw he had a small pack on his
back, and my first question was, "Have you anything to eat?" and he
said he had a few boiled tongues on his back. Then I told him that
Glad and I were very hungry, and would very soon lighten his pack.
He told me Mr. Woolsey had become anxious about us, and at last sent
him to see if we were still alive. When Glad came up, we soon showed
Neils that our appetites were fully alive, for we each took a whole
tongue and ate it; then we split another in two and devoured that.
And now, in company with Neils, we continued our journey, reaching
Mr. Woolsey's the same evening, but making great attempts to lower
the lakes and creeks by the way, for our thirst after the salt
tongues was intense.