Furnishing--Cheadle’s Visit to Carlton--Treemiss there--His
Musical Evening with Atahk-akoohp--A very Cold Bath--State
Visit of the Assiniboines--Their Message to Her Majesty--How
they found out we had Rum--Fort Milton Completed--The Crees
of the Woods--Contrast to the Crees of the Plains--Indian
Children--Absence of Deformity--A “Moss-bag”--Kekekooarsis
and his Domestic Troubles--The Winter begins in Earnest--
Wariness of all Animals--Poisoning Wolves--Caution of the
Foxes--La Ronde and Cheadle start for the Plains--Little
Misquapamayoo--Milton’s Charwoman--On the Prairies--Stalking
Buffalo--Belated--A Treacherous Blanket--A Cold Night Watch--
More Hunting--Cheadle’s Wits go Wool-gathering--La Ronde’s
Indignation--Lost all Night--Out in the Cold again--Our Camp
Pillaged--Turn Homewards--Rough and Ready Travelling--Arrive
at Fort Milton--Feasting.
Our house now required flooring and furnishing, and it was decided that
Milton and La Ronde should undertake this, while Cheadle, with Bruneau,
made a journey to Carlton, to obtain a stock of pemmican, before the
snow rendered the road impassable for carts. Accordingly, on the 29th
the horses were sought, Bucephalus captured and harnessed, and the
party set out. A bitter north wind blew strongly, and at night the
snow began to fall fast. They travelled with great speed, reaching the
banks of the Saskatchewan by dusk on the following day. At the crossing
they found a lodge erected, and two carts laden with provisions, which
they judged to belong to Treemiss, who had probably come over on a
similar errand. After firing several shots in vain, they turned into
the lodge and made free with the provisions, their own stock being
exhausted. On the following morning, after much shouting, and burning
a great deal of powder, a party appeared on the opposite bank, and
proceeded to bring over the barge. This was a work of much difficulty,
as the river was already half frozen over, a passage being still open
in the middle, down which great masses of ice crashed and grated
along. As the barge approached, a loud whoop announced the presence of
Treemiss, who was hardly recognisable dressed in long capote and cap,
with band and lappets of fur, after the half-breed fashion. The barge
brought carts across going to Fort Pitt, and whilst it was unloading,
Treemiss related his adventures since we parted from him. He had
nearly finished his house, which, like ours, consisted of only one
room, but in a far higher style of architecture, being loftier, and
having a high-pitched roof. He too had met with great annoyance from
the possession of a little rum, and Atahk-akoohp and his friends had
let him have no peace until they had obtained the whole of it. Their
drunken orgies lasted through the night, and a dirty Indian crept in
to share Treemiss’s bed. He was forthwith turned out by the indignant
owner, but quickly returned, and after several repetitions of the same
performance, Treemiss took him by the shoulders and put him out of
doors. Atahk-akoohp at length alone remained, sitting over the fire,
singing the Indian song. Treemiss now flattered himself that at last he
should be left to sleep in peace. Atahk-akoohp, however, discovering
that all his audience had departed, with the exception of Treemiss, who
appeared to be sound asleep, proceeded to arouse the latter by digging
him in the ribs, repeating the operation through the night, as often as
his victim showed any want of attention to his tuneful efforts.
In landing on the ice on the south side, two unfortunate fellows broke
through, and plunged overhead in the water. They were soon rescued,
but their clothes instantly froze as stiff as boards, and they had a
most ludicrous appearance as they walked shivering and covered with
ice, swinging their legs stiffly as if partially paralysed, the rigid
case in which they were enclosed preventing flexure of the knee joints.
A party had come into the Fort from Red River, but had brought no
letters for any of our party. We had as yet received none since leaving
England. Some old newspapers furnished a little intelligence of the
outer world, containing, amongst other things, the news of the massacre
of the whites in Minnesota by the Sioux--the first knowledge we had of
the horrors we had somewhat narrowly escaped.
A short time before Cheadle’s visit, Mr. Lillie had been surprised by
a band of 300 Assiniboines, arrayed in gayest dress and full paint,
who marched up to the Fort in solemn procession. After the calumet had
been duly passed round, and proper presents made, the chief arose,
and, in a complimentary speech, expressed the delight with which they
had received the news that the Company had come to a better mind, and
again provided the much-loved fire-water for their Indian friends.
Mr. Lillie assured them they were mistaken, but without obtaining
belief, and they proceeded straightway to make a strict search. Every
corner of the building was visited and turned out, and they even went
down into the ice-cellar, where the meat is kept. Failing to discover
anything, they expressed great regret that the good news was not true,
and requested Mr. Lillie to forward a strong remonstrance from them to
Her Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria, for prohibiting that which her Red
Children loved so well, intimating that they themselves were the best
judges of what was good for them.
The origin of their visit (the first they had made for ten years)
was as follows:--Whilst our party were at the Fort on the previous
occasion, a small quantity of rum had been spilled upon the floor of
the store, in drawing some from the cask. Two Assiniboines came in to
trade, and smelt the delicious odour their noses had not experienced
for many a year. Without giving the smallest sign that they perceived
anything unusual, or making any inquiry, they hastened back to the
tribe with all speed, and communicated the joyful tidings. Instantly
the camp was all excitement, and preparations made for the state visit
to the Fort which has been related. But they arrived too late. A few
days before, we had carried the treasure far beyond their reach.
After one day’s rest, Cheadle and Bruneau set out on their return. The
Saskatchewan was already frozen over above and below the Fort, but an
open passage still existed at the usual crossing-place, and the barge
was the means of conveyance from one ice-bank to the other.
The cart was loaded on the ice, and before it reached the shore, broke
through and upset, immersing Bucephalus in the water. Fortunately it
was not very deep, and after some delay he was lugged out. In a few
minutes he appeared in a new character, white as if made of frosted
silver, and bristling like a hedgehog with the long icicles which
formed on his shaggy coat as the water dripped off. It took a long time
to unload the cart, haul it out, carry the things to the bank, and
re-load; and the horse, ice-clothed and shivering in the bitter north
wind, was a most pitiable object. However, a brisk march of ten miles
set him all right again, and the party arrived at Fort Milton, as La
Ronde had named our hut, without further adventure, early on the third
day.
During their absence Milton and La Ronde had not been idle. A couple
of bunks had been put up, which, furnished with dry grass and buffalo
robe, were to us most luxurious sleeping-places. The door and parchment
windows were completed, and two rough tables, one for the kitchen
department, and another for the dining end of our small, one-roomed hut.
On the 7th of November La Ronde started across the lake, on which the
ice was already four or five inches thick, to explore the forest on the
northern side, and discover the most promising ground for trapping.
During his absence we were engaged in putting up shelves, making
candlesticks and chairs, &c., and arranging our goods and chattels in
their places; whilst Bruneau erected a platform outside, raised on high
posts, on which to store our meat secure from wolves and dogs.
Our Indian friends paid us visits occasionally, but were exceedingly
well-behaved, and we felt quite at ease, having safely cached the
spirit cask some distance from the hut, and it was now completely
hidden by the accumulating snow.
The Wood Crees are of different habits and disposition to their
relatives, the Crees of the Plains--a race of solitary trappers and
hunters on foot, contrasted with a race of gregarious horsemen. They
are very peaceable, and pride themselves upon an honesty unknown
amongst their lawless brethren of the prairies. During the six months
we spent amongst the Crees of the Woods, we had not occasion to
complain of a single theft. Three months of this time we lived amongst
them entirely alone, and, although they often importuned us to give
them different things to which they took a fancy, they never offered to
dispute our right of ownership.
They are most expert trappers and hunters of moose, and occasionally
seek buffalo when they enter the skirts of the woods in severe winters.
They are far better clothed and equipped than the Plains Indians, being
able to obtain what they may require at the trading posts in exchange
for furs. But they often suffer severely from starvation, as moose are
now becoming scarce; while the Plains Crees, following the buffalo,
seldom lack food, although they possess little marketable property
wherewith to buy clothes and luxuries at the Forts. These Indians, as
indeed all others we met with, managed their families admirably. An
Indian child is seldom heard to cry, and matrimonial squabbles seem
unknown. Our friend Keenamontiayoo was a most affectionate husband
and father, and his wife and children obeyed him at a word, evidently
looking up to him as a superior being, to be loved with respect.
Among the things which struck us when we became more extensively
acquainted with the Indians, was the absence of deformity and baldness,
or grey hair, amongst them. The former may no doubt be accounted for by
the influence of “natural selection,” and perhaps the careful setting
of the infants’ limbs in the “moss-bag,” or Indian cradle. This is a
board with two side flaps of cloth, which lace together up the centre.
The child is laid on its back on the board, packed with soft moss, and
laced firmly down, with its arms to its side, and only its head at
liberty. The cradle is slung on the back of the mother when travelling,
or reared against a tree when resting in camp, the child being only
occasionally released from its bondage for a few moments. The little
prisoners are remarkably good; no squalling disturbs an Indian camp,
and strict obedience is obtained without recourse to corporeal
punishment.
On one occasion Kekekooarsis arrived in a state of great excitement
from domestic troubles. He had sold one of his daughters in marriage--
after the Indian fashion--for a horse, but his ungrateful son-in-law,
after carrying off his bride, returned in the night and stole back the
horse given in payment. Kekekooarsis, indignant at such behaviour,
retaliated by secretly fetching his daughter home, and was now in
considerable fear of the disappointed bridegroom, whom he anticipated
might do him bodily injury, and begged us to give him shelter for the
night, lest he should be waylaid on his return home in the dark. This
we of course granted, but his apprehensions appeared to have been
groundless, for the husband bore his loss with perfect indifference,
and made no attempt to regain his wife.
On the 9th La Ronde returned, having found but little sign of game
until a day’s journey distant, when marten tracks became tolerably
plentiful, and he had set a few traps. On the following day the frost
set in with great severity, and six inches of snow had fallen during
the night. The men now set to work to construct a couple of horse
sleighs, in readiness for a journey to the plains in search of fresh
meat. Whilst they were thus engaged, we employed ourselves in supplying
the larder, with Rover’s assistance, and rarely failed to bring in a
supply of prairie grouse, wood partridges, and rabbits. The latter were
very wary, and we saw so few that, until the snow fell, we had no idea
that they were numerous. When the snow became deep, it was furrowed by
their paths in all directions, and we caught them by placing snares
across these runs.
With the exception of wolves and buffalo, wild animals of any kind are
rarely seen in the Hudson’s Bay territories, unless they are carefully
tracked up. They are so constantly hunted by the Indians, and whenever
they encounter man are so invariably pursued, that they are ever on
their guard, and escape unseen on the slightest alarm. It is only when
the snow betrays their numerous footprints, that a novice can bring
himself to believe there really is any four-footed game in the country.
The tracks of wolves and foxes were numerous on the lake, and the
former regularly announced daybreak and sunset by a chorus of howls.
Being somewhat afraid that our horses might be attacked by them, we set
baits, poisoned with strychnine, at different points round the lake.
The animals are so wary and suspicious, that they will not touch a bait
lying exposed, or one which has been recently visited. It is necessary,
therefore, to cover the enticing morsel carefully with snow, smoothing
the surface evenly over it, and not approaching the place afterwards,
unless a distant view shows that it has been dug out by a too hungry
victim. The foxes especially are exceedingly cautious, frequently
visiting the place for days and even weeks, marching round, but not
daring to enter in and partake. For a long time we had no success; many
of the baits were taken, and we tracked the animals for long distances,
but the poison appeared to have had no effect. At last we were rewarded
by finding an immense white wolf, the unusual size of whose footprints
had rendered him a particular object of pursuit. He had a most
magnificent skin, which was carefully preserved, and his carcass used
as a means of destruction for his brethren. In a week all the large
wolves were destroyed, and our horses considered safe for the winter.
When the sleighs were completed, La Ronde paid a rapid visit to his
traps, returning in two days with a fisher and a few martens, and
the following day he set out with Cheadle for the plains, taking two
horses and sleighs to bring back the produce of their hunt. They were
accompanied by an Indian boy--the son of the hunter, Keenamontiayoo--
who brought a very diminutive horse, a two-year-old colt, the size of
a Shetland pony, to carry his share of the spoils. Misquapamayoo, or
“The thing one catches a glimpse of,” was an exceedingly active, clever
youth of fourteen, with very large black eyes, and an open, merry
face, very willing and obliging, and performing all his duties with
the dignity and importance of a man. He became afterwards a devoted
follower of ours, and did good service on many occasions, often amusing
us by his insatiable curiosity and intense enjoyment of anything which
seemed to him strange or ridiculous, falling into fits of laughter on
the slightest provocation. During the absence of this party, Milton
remained at home with Bruneau, to attend to the traps and take care
of house and property. Being somewhat dissatisfied with Bruneau’s
performance of his duties as housemaid and laundress, Milton took
the opportunity afforded by the visit of an Indian and his squaw, to
engage the latter for a general washing and house-cleaning. Although
it was night when they arrived, the woman set to work immediately,
diligently melting snow at a roaring fire for hours, and when about
midnight she had obtained a sufficient supply of water, proceeded to
scrub blankets and clothes. Milton expostulated, and suggested she
should retire to rest, but in vain. The splashing and scrubbing went on
without cessation, and sleep was impossible. At length Milton, driven
to desperation, jumped out of bed, threw away all the water, and put
out the fire. The squaw thereupon retired to rest in much astonishment,
and for a time all was still. Presently, however, when she imagined
Milton had fallen asleep, she quietly got up, and re-commenced her
labours. The unhappy retainer of her services was fairly beaten, and
compelled to resign himself to his fate, venting many maledictions on
the untimely industry of his servant.
The hunting party meanwhile pursued their way to the plains, following
an old Indian track to the south-west for about eighty miles. Passing
through a hilly country, well wooded and watered, on the morning of
the fourth day they reached the brow of a hill, whence they saw the
prairie stretching away before them. La Ronde quickly detected five
buffalo, grazing about a mile distant, and a camp was immediately made.
After a hasty meal of dry pemmican--a fire being dispensed with for
fear of frightening the game--they prepared for the hunt. The day was
unusually warm, and in a weak moment La Ronde and Cheadle both divested
themselves of leather shirt and capote before starting. After a great
deal of dodging and crawling on hands and knees through the snow,
they gained a point where, peering through a little patch of scrub,
they saw the five bulls within twenty yards of them. La Ronde, in his
excitement, hurriedly whispered instructions to Cheadle in a most
unintelligible jargon of mingled French, English, and Cree. The latter,
equally excited, and bewildered by directions he could not understand,
hesitated to fire. La Ronde, in despair, stealthily raised his gun,
when Cheadle, unwilling to be forestalled, raised his also, and in so
doing incautiously protruded his head out of cover.
In an instant the whole band started off full speed, saluted, as they
went, by an ineffectual volley at their sterns. Many were the mutual
recriminations, and fiercely did La Ronde “sacré.” The buffalo were
gone, no more to be seen, and small was the pemmican remaining in the
camp. Far away in the distance the frightened bulls began to slacken
their pace, and at last commenced slowly walking and feeding along. The
only chance remaining was to try and come up with them again, and the
disappointed hunters set off in pursuit at a run, carefully screening
themselves from observation. After about two hours’ hard work, they
succeeded in getting before them, and lying concealed in their path,
killed two as they passed slowly by.
It was now nearly dark, and the party were three or four miles from
camp. It was impossible to fetch the horses and sleighs, and carry the
meat back that night, and if the carcasses were left, the wolves would
pick the bones clean by morning. There was, therefore, no choice but to
camp on the spot for the night. But little shelter could be found, and
the only wood was a few dry poplar saplings.
The two dead buffalo lay some 200 yards apart, and placing a gun and
powder-horn against one to scare away the wolves, they lighted a small
fire near the other, and proceeded to take off his hide, and cook
steaks for supper. By this time night had quite closed in, and a strong
north wind blew icily cold, piercing the single flannel shirts of the
unfortunate hunters like gauze. Bitterly did they now repent having
left shirts and capotes behind; for the prospect of spending the long
winter night with the thermometer below zero, and without shelter or
proper fire, was unpleasant enough.
All the wood that could be found--a very scanty supply--was collected
to replenish the tiny fire, the snow scraped away, and willows cut
and strewn for a couch. The raw buffalo hide was divided into two,
and Cheadle made himself very small to creep under one half, while La
Ronde and Misquapamayoo huddled together under the other. The reeking
hide was delightfully warm, and the weary travellers were soon sound
asleep. But their comfort was, alas! of short duration. Before long,
the sleepers awoke half frozen and benumbed in every limb. The scanty
coverlet, so soft and warm at first, had quickly frozen hard as stone,
and formed an arch over the recumbent bodies, through which the keen
winter wind rushed like the draught under the arch of a bridge.
Sleep was out of the question, and kicking aside their deceitful
protection, the shivering trio stamped restlessly to and fro,
cherishing with sparing hand the miserable fire, or cooking strips of
meat to while away the dreary hours, watching anxiously the voyageur’s
clock, “Great Orion,” which “sloped,” as it seemed, very, very “slowly
to the west.” He did get through his journey at last, however; and when
the wolves proclaimed the dawn with the usual chorus of howls, La Ronde
and the boy started back to fetch the sleighs, whilst Cheadle went in
pursuit of a buffalo which had been severely wounded the night before.
After hunting several days with tolerable success, the sleighs were
loaded with meat, and the party turned their faces homewards. But their
adventures were not yet over. Several bands of buffalo were descried
close at hand, and it was resolved to have one more day’s hunting
before returning to La Belle Prairie. The character of the country,
which was undulating, with scattered patches of small timber, was very
favourable for stalking, and a small band was successfully approached
within some forty yards. They were lying asleep in a little hollow, and
Cheadle agreed to wait ensconced behind a hillock, whilst the other two
crept round to approach them on the opposite side.
Long he waited, peering over the brow of the hill through the long
grass, and anxiously watching in vain for some sign that the others had
reached their post. Presently one of the bulls got up and stretched
himself, but did not appear disturbed. Cheadle, unwilling to spoil the
chance of the others, still forbore to shoot, and as he lay and waited,
began to dream; thoughts of home, and old familiar scenes and faces
took possession of his brain;
“Old wishes, ghosts of broken plans,
And phantom hopes assemble;”
and La Ronde, buffalo and all, were completely forgotten. Suddenly he
was aroused from his reverie by a great shouting of “Tir donc! tir,
Docteur! tir-r, sacré! tonnerre! tir-r-r!” and there were the buffalo
rushing by as hard as they could tear, with La Ronde and Misquapamayoo
running after them, blazing away as rapidly as they could load. They
fired at random and without effect, but Cheadle, more deliberate,
wounded one badly in the body, which pulled up for a moment, and then
followed behind the rest.
La Ronde, utterly disgusted, refused to follow them, and vowed that
never again would he lead the absent-minded Cheadle up to buffalo. He
declared that he had waited a full half hour, expecting him to shoot,
and then being impatient, he whistled softly; one of the bulls arose,
presenting his broadside, and he thought that surely that fine chance
would be taken. Again he waited a long time, and then waved his cap as
a signal to fire, but in vain. At last, in a fit of despair and rage,
he jumped up and shouted as before related.
After a short rest, and having somewhat recovered their equanimity,
they again set out, and soon observed a herd of twelve feeding, still
undisturbed. As they had already nearly enough meat, it was agreed to
give the boy a chance, and he accordingly crept up to them alone,
whilst the rest lay in wait for a chance as they passed. But the young
one missed his mark, and the herd went off in the wrong direction, out
of reach of the two in ambush.
Ill luck ruled the day, but La Ronde said, “Try it again;” and as the
last herd had not fairly seen their enemies, they pulled up about a
mile distant, and began to feed slowly along. After alternately racing
at full speed, when out of view, and crawling stealthily over exposed
places for miles, continually finding the animals had moved off by
the time the place where they were last seen was reached, the hunters
succeeded in ensconcing themselves behind a hillock on the other side
of which the buffalo were feeding, and moving on round the base towards
them.
It was now La Ronde’s turn to have the first shot, and as soon as the
fore-quarters of the leader of the band moved slowly into view, some
twenty yards off, he fired. As the animal did not drop instantly,
Cheadle, who was determined not to return empty-handed after all, and
had covered him carefully, dropped him with a second shot behind the
shoulder. La Ronde was highly indignant at his conduct, and declared it
was unsportsmanlike, but was much chagrined to find, on cutting up the
animal, that his own shot had merely passed through the shoulder-blade
without breaking it, and the animal would doubtless have escaped but
for the second bullet, which passed through the heart. This beast
proved a splendid young bull, of three years old, with a magnificent
skin, and a mane with hair half a yard in length. Before the animal
was cut up, and the meat packed on the horses, which they had this time
brought with them, night had already come on.
The chase had led them six or seven miles from camp, and the young moon
had nearly gone down. La Ronde, however, pressed confidently forward,
although it seemed impossible to find the way in the dark through a
country of such uniform character. After travelling several hours, he
stopped all at once, and began striking sparks with flint and steel, to
enable him to see the old track near the camp. It could not be found,
however, although La Ronde very positively asserted that it must be
close at hand, and the camp itself within a few hundred yards of the
place where they stood. La Ronde had steered his course entirely by the
stars, and judged by the direction, and time, and rate of travelling,
that they must be close to their destination. All were impressed with
the idea that the camp lay to the right, and a divergence was made for
a few hundred yards in that direction; but no landmarks could be made
out, and it was resolved to camp for the night in a copse of small
poplars. A pack of wolves kept up a continual howling, snapping, and
growling at a little distance to the left, and Cheadle was very anxious
to move there, thinking it probable that they were quarrelling over the
meat that had been left packed on the sledges in the camp. But La Ronde
dissuaded him, saying he was sure the camp lay to the right, and the
wolves would not dare to enter so soon a place strewed with blankets
and other property of men.
The night was bright and very cold, and the fire miserably small, the
only dry wood to be found being a few dead saplings of aspen, the size
of pea-rods. Blankets and buffalo robes had been left in the old camp,
and the hunters were little better off than they had been a few nights
before. The covering this time was a large waterproof sheet, which had
been brought to roll up meat in, and was, if possible, less efficient
than the raw hide had been. The moisture of the breath condensed and
froze in cakes inside the sheet, and all advantage from sleeping with
head under the covering was thus lost. As in the previous adventure,
sleep was not to be obtained, and the similar weary watch for daylight,
stamping about, mending the tiny fire, observing the progress of Orion,
and listening to the snapping and growling of the wolves, seemed
interminable.
Since, however, it was nearly midnight when the search for the camp was
given up, the season of misery lasted, in reality, little more than
half as long as before, although, for its duration, the hardship was
quite as severe.
At daybreak La Ronde reconnoitred, and discovered that the camp was
within 300 or 400 yards to the left; and, when approached, showed
ominous marks of disorder. The wolves had been dividing the spoils, as
Cheadle shrewdly suspected. The whole of Misquapamayoo’s little store,
consisting of choice morsels, which he had prepared and packed with
nicest care, was gone, and nearly the whole of our sleigh load beside.
The new supply, however, nearly made up for the loss; and the horses
were therefore at once harnessed to the sleighs, and all speed made for
Fort Milton once more.
The journey home was slow and tedious. Although there had been no
regular thaw, the warm sun had melted the snow on the hill sides and
southern slopes, and the labour of dragging the loaded sleighs over the
bare ground was so harassing to the horses, that but short stages could
be made, and those at a slow pace. At one point the way lay across a
large lake. The snow on this had almost entirely disappeared, and the
horses fell so continually over the bare ice, that the attempt to take
them across was obliged to be abandoned. Misquapamayoo’s Lilliputian
steed in particular, whose feet were small as those of a deer, was
utterly unable to stand on the slippery surface, and for a long time it
seemed as if the only chance of getting him off again would be to drag
him to _terra firma_ by the tail. The horses had now to be taken out of
the sleighs, which were drawn by hand across the lake, and a road cut
through the woods which skirted the banks, whereby the horses were led
round to the further side. This operation occupied a whole morning, and
it was not until the evening of the fifth day of travelling that the
party reached La Belle Prairie, after an absence of twelve days.
One little incident of the journey home serves to illustrate the
rough and ready manner of proceeding characteristic of the voyageurs.
One of the sleighs in passing along the side of a steep hill, upset,
overturning with it the horse, who lay helplessly on his back, with
his legs kicking in the air. Cheadle was proceeding to unharness him;
but La Ronde cried, “Ah! non, Monsieur, pas besoin;” and both lifting
together, they sent horse and sleigh rolling over and over down the
hill, until at last they came right side up, and the train proceeded.
Great was the delight of Milton and Bruneau at the happy return, and
Keenamontiayoo and some Indians who were at the house were not slow to
assist in the feast of fresh meat, which lasted far into the night, the
party from the plains enjoying, on their part, the luxury of bread.
Truly the pleasures of eating are utterly unknown in civilised life.