Our New Acquaintances--Taking it Quietly--Mahaygun Fraternises
with Keenamontiayoo--The Carouse--Importunities for Rum--
The Hunter asks for more--A Tiresome Evening--Keenamontiayoo
Renounces us--His Night Adventure--Misquapamayoo’s Devotion--
The Hunter returns Penitent--The Plains again--The Wolverine
on our Track--The Last Band of Buffalo--Gaytchi Mohkamarn,
“The Big Knife”--The Cache Intact--Starving Indians--Story of
Keenamontiayoo--Indian Gambling--The Hideous Philosopher--Dog
Driving--Shushu’s Wonderful Sagacity--A Long March--Return
to La Belle Prairie--Household Cares--Our Untidy Dwelling--
Our Spring Cleaning--The Great Plum Pudding--Unprofitable
Visitors--Rover’s Accomplishments Astonish the Indians--Famine
Everywhere.
When we reached the hut, we found “The Wolf” and his wife already
established there. The latter was a pleasant, clean-looking woman,
and she set to work diligently to wash and mend our clothes, while
we lords of the creation, including her husband, looked on, smoking
and discussing the news brought from the Fort, speculating on the
cause of our not receiving letters, and fixing our plans for the
future. The luxury of a day’s complete idleness after severe exertion
is immense, and we now fully appreciated it. In the course of two
days, Keenamontiayoo and Misquapamayoo made their appearance with a
sleigh-load of moose meat, which we found very delicious, especially
after being so long restricted to pemmican, and having no flour, and,
greatest hardship of all, a very small allowance of tea.
The Hunter and “The Wolf” recognised each other as old friends who had
not met for many years, and they immediately fraternised tremendously.
The former at once put in a claim for half a pint of rum which Cheadle
had promised him as a reward if he made the rapid journey when carrying
back the provisions for Milton at the time of emergency. This was duly
allowed, and the two friends proceeded to make very merry indeed,
breaking forth into singing; and every now and then coming round to
shake hands with us, and proclaim what first-rate “Okey Mows” we were.
Keenamontiayoo shared his liquor fairly with his comrade, and when this
was finished, Mahaygun got up and made a speech to us, setting forth,
in the most flattering terms, the great obligations under which he felt
towards us for the hospitable manner in which we had treated him, and
stating that he really felt ashamed to ask any further favour. Still,
on the other hand, here was his dear friend Keenamontiayoo--his bosom
friend and sworn comrade--whom he had not met for so many years.
He had with great generosity treated him to rum, and how could the
kindness be properly acknowledged? There was but one way--by treating
him to rum in return, and to do that he must beg some from us. He felt
sure we should excuse him, and comply with his request, seeing there
was no other solution to the difficulty in which he felt himself to be
placed.
Feeling much pleased with the man for his wonderful honesty in not
touching our provisions when he visited our hut during our absence,
we consented to present him with the same quantity we had given to
the Hunter, extracting a solemn promise from both that they would not
ask us for more. And now the revelry waxed furious. They sang and
talked, shook hands all round, and lauded us to the skies. And, when
the pot was drained, they importuned us for more. We reminded them
of the solemn promise they had given to rest content with what they
had already received, and “The Wolf” acknowledged the justice of our
remonstrances. Keenamontiayoo, however, was by this time beyond the
reach of argument or reason. He did not seem to understand, indeed,
that he had made any such engagement, and, tin cup in hand, went from
one to the other, marking with his finger on the mug the quantity with
which he would be content. We firmly refused to give a drop, and as he
found we were obstinate, and perceived his chance of succeeding become
less and less, his finger descended until at last he vowed that he
would be satisfied with the veriest film of liquor which would cover
the bottom of the cup. Hours passed by, and he still importuned us
unwearyingly, and we as steadily denied him. Cheadle at last rather
warmly upbraided him with his want of rectitude, when in a moment
he drew his knife from his belt, and seizing Cheadle by the collar,
pressed the point of the knife against his breast, exclaiming, “Ah! if
I were an Indian of the Plains now, I should stab you to the heart
if you dared to say no.” “Yes,” said Cheadle, quietly, and without
moving, “that’s just the point of it; you are _not_ a Plains Indian,
and therefore won’t do anything of the kind. The Indians of the Woods
know better.” This touched the right string, and he removed his hands
immediately, saying, however, that he was so much disappointed with us,
of whom he had previously formed so high an opinion, and so disgusted
with our meanness, that he would have no more to do with us, and
should return home forthwith. And accordingly, in spite of the urgent
entreaties of Misquapamayoo, he staggered out of the hut, and commenced
harnessing the dogs to the sleigh.
It was by this time about midnight, the snow was falling heavily, and
the cold intensely bitter. Although the Hunter’s speech was tolerably
articulate, he walked with difficulty, and it was only by the reluctant
assistance of his son that he was able to get the sleigh ready. He
then sullenly took his departure, accompanied by Misquapamayoo, who
was in the greatest distress at his father’s misbehaviour. Their road
lay across an arm of the lake, and ere long Keenamontiayoo, overcome
by the liquor he had drunk, and benumbed by the intense cold, became
incapable of walking, and crawled along on hands and knees. Before
the lake was crossed he completely collapsed, lay down in the snow,
and fell heavily asleep. Misquapamayoo, in utter terror and dismay,
yet with unfailing readiness of resource, roused him violently, and
half dragged, half led him into a clump of trees at the side of the
lake. Here he immediately relapsed into a deep sleep, whilst his son
quickly collected wood and made a fire. Then, wrapping his father in
the blankets carried on the sleigh, he laid him alongside the fire, and
with affectionate care sat out the wearisome hours of night, sedulously
feeding the kindly flame, and though shivering and half frozen himself,
disdaining to deprive his helpless parent of a blanket. Dutifully the
boy watched whilst his father slept hour after hour, until the sun was
high in the heavens, when the man at last awoke, sober and unharmed,
and the homeward journey was renewed.
After the departure of the Hunter and his boy, we quietly retired to
rest without further disturbance. In the morning we dispatched “The
Wolf” to White Fish Lake, with a message for the erring Keenamontiayoo,
urging him to return to his duty. The day passed without either of
them making their appearance, and at night we held council together
as to what course we should pursue if we were left entirely to our
own resources. The man had carried back with him all the meat he had
brought for us, and our stock of pemmican was getting low. On the
following morning, however, we were much relieved by the arrival of the
delinquent Hunter, accompanied by his son and “The Wolf,” and bringing
a sleigh load of moose meat as before. It appeared that the two had not
reached home until long after “The Wolfs” arrival at the hut the day
before--until dark indeed--and were too exhausted to return at once.
Keenamontiayoo was exceedingly penitent, shook hands with us fervently,
exclaiming that he had been “namooya quiusk, namooya quiusk” (not
straight, not straight); _i.e._, had not acted rightly, but assured
us that it was the only time he had ever done so in all his life, and
he would never do the like again. We readily made peace, and all was
serene once more.
It was now the beginning of February, and we might look for the return
of La Ronde and Bruneau in the course of another month. Our scanty
stock of provisions, however, necessitated another excursion to the
plains in search of buffalo, and we accordingly arranged to set out in
a day’s time to fetch the meat we had been obliged to leave behind in
cache. Cheadle positively refused to agree to Milton’s again facing the
exposure and hardship which had so severely affected him before, and
he was reluctantly persuaded to remain at home, or rather take up his
quarters for the time with our Indian neighbours.
On the 10th of February Cheadle started with the Indian and his boy,
taking with them two dog-sleighs. The old path had drifted up, and
was undistinguishable in the open, so that the road again required to
be trodden out with snow-shoes; and the snow was now so deep--nearly
three feet--that it was necessary for both men to walk in advance,
before the track was beaten firm enough to bear the weight of the dogs.
In spite of this heavy work, the party travelled so industriously,
that on the morning of the fourth day they reached the old camp
by the lake, where we had spent such an anxious time waiting for
Keenamontiayoo.
On the present occasion also, as it happened, all were frost-bitten in
the face, though not very extensively, and again were reduced to one
day’s provisions. At every part of the road where the old track was
visible, there were the footmarks of the wolverine following it towards
the plains. They trembled for the cache, and as they found, day after
day, the wolverine had still followed the track, the Hunter, pointing
to the footprints, would exclaim, “Kekwaharkess maryartis! namatagun
weeash” (That cursed wolverine again! we shall not find a bit of meat).
They quite expected, therefore, to have a hard time of it, for there
was but a poor prospect of finding many buffalo, and the only chance
would be to make a run for the Fort, which they might reach in three
days. However, as the Hunter entered the little wood by the lake, his
eyes were rejoiced by the sight of the track of a buffalo. The animal
had been going at speed, probably pursued by some hunter, and had
passed the day before. The party immediately halted by Keenamontiayoo’s
order, whilst he went forward to reconnoitre the open prairie. He soon
came back with the good news that there were five bulls feeding close
by.
As they were in an open place, difficult of approach, and it was so
very important to kill one, it was decided that the Hunter should go
after them alone, whilst Cheadle and Misquapamayoo lay concealed in
the wood. They crawled to the edge of the cover, and watched anxiously
the movements of the Hunter and the buffalo. The latter continued to
graze undisturbed, and presently a puff of smoke, and the crack of the
Indian’s gun, announced the death of one, for but four went away.
As these galloped off, the spectators were astonished to see another
puff of smoke, and hear the sound of a shot, evidently fired by some
one lying in wait as they passed, and presently a figure appeared in
full pursuit. Cheadle and the boy now came out of their hiding-place,
and drove the sleighs to another copse near to the carcass, where a
camp was quickly made.
By dark the meat was all secured, and shortly after our party was
increased by the arrival of a very wild-looking Indian clad in skins,
and wearing an enormous pair of snow-shoes. He proved to be a Sauteur,
by name Gaytchi Mohkamarn, or “The Big Knife,” and informed us that
he likewise had only reached the plains that day from the Montagne du
Bois, and was stalking up to the five buffalo, the only ones to be
seen, when, before he could get within shot, he observed Keenamontiayoo
creeping close to them. He had wounded two as they passed him, but
darkness came on before he could come up with them, and he returned.
He had tasted no food for two days, and had left his squaw and
children a few miles off in a similar condition. He feasted largely on
our fresh meat, and took his ease, without attempting to carry anything
back to his suffering family. He stated that he had left the people at
the Montagne du Bois in distress for want of food. Atahk-akoohp had
gone out to the plains for meat a month before, and had not since been
heard of. He told us that Treemiss had also suffered considerably,
and could obtain no provisions at the Fort, where he had now gone in
person; and he gave but small hope of finding more buffalo, for reports
from all quarters announced their disappearance.
Next morning Gaytchi Mohkamarn went in pursuit of the wounded bulls;
Keenamontiayoo to look at our old cache, and search for more game;
whilst the other two remained in camp, preparing meat and cutting wood.
At night the Hunter returned, reporting that, to his surprise, he had
found the cache intact, the wolverine having followed the track within
half a mile of the place, and then turned back, afraid to venture into
the open country; for these animals never stray any great distance
away from cover. The wolves had attacked our storehouse with vigour,
but although they had gnawed the logs almost through in many places,
had not been able to effect an entrance. Later on, Gaytchi Mohkamarn
appeared, carrying a tongue and covered with blood. He had killed
all the four buffalo, and did not believe there was another within a
hundred miles! Cheadle, with commendable prudence, immediately bought
two animals, for which he paid a few pounds of ammunition and some
tobacco.
On the morrow Gaytchi Mohkamarn concluded it was time to look after his
wife, who had now starved for nearly four days, and after breakfast
went off with some meat for her; the rest spent the day in cutting
up the animals bought the day before. Next morning Gaytchi Mohkamarn
turned up again, with wife and dog-sleigh, with effects, moving to camp
by the animals he had killed, and reported that a good many Indians
would shortly arrive on their way to join him. All were in a starving
condition, not having tasted food for several days, and their prospects
for the remainder of the winter were very unpromising, for no buffalo
could be found. It seemed that our party, by the greatest good luck in
the world, struck exactly the place where the only buffalo left in the
district were at the time.
During the day family after family came in--a spectral cavalcade: the
men, gaunt and wan, marching before skeleton dogs, almost literally
skin and bone, with hide drawn tightly and unpadded over “crate and
basket, ribs and spine;” dragging painfully along sleighs as attenuated
and empty of provisions as themselves. The women and children brought
up the rear, who, to the credit of the men, be it recorded, were in far
better case, indeed tolerably plump, and contrasting strangely with
the fleshless forms of the other sex. Although the Indian squaws and
children are kept in subjection, and the work falls principally upon
them, it is erroneous to suppose that they are ill-treated, or that the
women labour harder or endure greater hardships than the men.
The Indian is constantly engaged in hunting, to supply his family
with food; and when that is scarce, he will set out without any
provision himself, and often travel from morning to night for days
before he finds the game he seeks; then, loaded with meat, he toils
home again, and whilst the plenty lasts, considers himself entitled to
complete rest after his exertions. This self-denial of the men, and
their wonderful endurance of hunger, was illustrated by the case of
our Hunter, Keenamontiayoo, who, several years ago, narrowly escaped
death by starvation. That winter buffalo did not come up to the woods,
and moose and fish were very scarce. After killing his horses one
after another when driven to the last extremity, the family found
themselves at last without resource. The Hunter, leaving with his
wife and Misquapamayoo a scanty remnant of dried horse-flesh, hunted
for two days without success, and at last, faint and still fasting,
with difficulty dragged himself home. All now made up their minds to
die, for the Hunter became unable to move, and his wife and boy too
helpless to procure food. After being eight days longer without tasting
food, and exposed to the fierce cold of winter, they were fortunately
discovered by some of the Company’s voyageurs, and the man tied on
a sleigh and carried to Carlton. The woman and boy had not starved
completely quite so long, nor gone through so much fatigue. They were
not, therefore, in quite such a desperate case, and were left behind
with a supply of food, and in two or three days they were strong
enough to travel on foot to the Fort. Keenamontiayoo, however, was
with difficulty brought round. He refused both food and drink, having
lost the desire for it, and his weakened stomach rejected all but the
most simple nourishment in minute quantity. His hair fell off, and for
weeks he lay helpless. He eventually recovered, owing to the careful
attention of Mr. Pruden, who was in charge of Carlton at the time, and
who endeared himself to all the Indians by his kindness and humanity.
As this miserable company came, they were invited to sit down by the
fire. Their cheerfulness belied their looks, and they smoked and
chatted gaily, without appearing to covet the meat which lay around, or
making any request for food at once. No time was lost in cooking some
meat, and offering a good meal to all, which they ate with quietness
and dignity; too well-bred to show any signs of greediness, although
they proved equal to the consumption of any quantity that was put
before them.
The Hunter was in his glory talking to his guests, most of them old
acquaintances, and after giving them food he induced three young
fellows, the dandies of the company, highly painted, gay with scarlet
leggings and sash, embroidered pouch-straps, and other Indian finery,
to commence gambling with him. This is conducted in very simple
fashion. Everything that each player intends to stake is collected.
The relative values are agreed on, and compared and divided into so
many stakes. An Indian will often risk knife, gun, ammunition, and
indeed everything he possesses, except the clothes he stands in. The
lookers on assist at the performance by beating frying-pans and tin
kettles, and singing the eternal “He he, hi hi, hay hay,” the ordinary
Indian song.
The players squatted opposite each other, with legs crossed, and
capote or blanket spread over their knees. The game consisted in one
of the players hiding in his hands two small articles, as a ramrod
screw, or brass hair-wire, whilst the others endeavoured to guess
what was contained in either hand. The holder did his best to deceive
the others, by continually keeping his hands in motion, now under the
blanket on his lap, now behind his back, or clasped together. Between
each change the hands were held out for the choice of his opponent, who
watched eagerly, in great excitement, and generally took a long time to
make his guess.
All this time the drumming and singing never ceased, and in time with
it the players swayed their bodies, and moved up and down in their
seats. As each gained or lost, the result was notched on a stick, each
notch representing a stake.
This went on for half the day, with unceasing energy and unfailing
interest to the players and spectators, except Cheadle, who was weary
of the din and monotony of the amusement. At last the Hunter cleaned
out all the rest of everything but guns and knives, and the visitors
departed, not in the least depressed by their bad fortune.
One Indian and his squaw still remained. He was a gigantic fellow, of
more than six feet high, and the bones of his huge frame stood out
conspicuous at the joints and angles, and the muscles showed distinct
in his gaunt meagreness. His aspect was positively hideous. His large
nose had been driven perfectly flat upon his face, over one eyeless
orbit was a black greasy patch, while in his gums two long canine teeth
alone remained. He had suffered this in a fight with a grisly bear,
a stroke of whose paw had torn out one eye, smashed in his nose, and
knocked out his teeth. The man was in what seemed a hopeless state
of destitution. He had gambled away literally every single thing he
possessed, with the exception of his wife, child, and a miserable dog.
A few ragged pieces of blanket were all the protection they had from
the cold, when the thermometer stood at 25° below Zero, and the north
wind blew fiercely. They possessed not a mouthful of food, nor had the
man any gun, ammunition, knife, snow-shoes, or other appliance required
by a hunter.
For two days this fellow remained in Cheadle’s camp, eating from
morning till night. His toothless gums were never at rest. He consumed
not only all they gave him, but quietly “annexed” all the offal which
was thawing at the fire for the dogs.
When the party started homewards two days afterwards, they left him
seated by the fire with his squaw, perfectly contented, engaged in
cooking the buffalo’s head, his only provision. There seemed every
probability that he would be starved to death, either by cold or
hunger; but, to our surprise, he made his appearance at our hut at the
end of the winter, hideous and gaunt as ever, but apparently in his
usual health and spirits.
There was now more meat than we required at present, and the cache was
therefore left undisturbed, some given in charge of Gaytchi Mohkamarn,
and a small sleigh and two dogs hired in addition to the two brought
to carry the rest. These were loaded with all they could carry, and
the homeward journey commenced. The track was tolerably good, but the
travelling very tedious, on account of the heavy loads. One of the
dogs in the borrowed sleigh was the skeleton belonging to the hideous
Indian; but it soon appeared he was too weak to carry even himself with
ease, and was therefore dismissed by the Hunter, and a puppy harnessed
in his place, who pulled well, but ceased not to howl until released
from his bonds at the end of the day. The work was hard for all, each
having a sleigh to look after, and the upsets being more frequent than
ever. The firm path formed by the beating down of the snow was now
a considerable height above the ground, like a rail the width of a
sleigh, running along in the soft, floury powder at the sides. At the
turns, or on hill-sides, the sleighs were apt to slip off and upset,
and required great strength and greater patience to replace them on the
“line.”
In going down hills it was necessary for the driver to lie face
downwards on the sleigh, with legs projecting behind, and act as a
drag by digging his toes into the snow as hard as he could, thus
also guiding it in the descent. At one very steep place, a descent
of several hundred yards into a lake below, Cheadle’s train got
over the brow before he could get up to act as drag. Away went the
sleigh, overriding the dogs, the whole rolling over and over in a long
succession of somersaults, until they reached the bottom, where the
dogs lay helpless, entangled in the harness and held down by the heavy
sleigh, which seemed as if it must have broken every bone in their
bodies, as it thumped upon them in their headlong fall. They were none
the worse, however, although it took a very long time to disentangle
them, and put them all right on the track again. The day’s journey was
attended by a constant succession of difficulties and disasters; the
snow was deep, the loads heavy, the dogs weak and obstinate, cunningly
taking advantage of every opportunity to shirk, refusing to pull when
it was most required, and showing wonderful speed and alacrity, rushing
off with the heavy sleigh when the distracted driver came near to
punish. Of all things in the world calculated to ruffle the most even
temper, driving a worthless train of Indian dogs stands unequalled.
It may be doubted whether the most rigidly pious evangelical would be
able to preserve his equanimity, or keep his lips free from language
unbecoming his profession, under circumstances trying almost beyond
human endurance; and indeed it is said that one of the missionaries
on the Saskatchewan, a most worthy and pious man, when travelling
with some of his flock in the winter, astonished and horrified his
companions by suddenly giving vent, in his distraction, to most
dreadful anathemas against his dogs. They were lying coolly down in
the most aggravating manner, with their heads turned round narrowly
watching him, but without making the smallest effort to help themselves
and him out of the difficulty into which they had fallen.
After three days of this more than usually harassing work, the party
found themselves at dusk about fifteen miles from La Belle Prairie.
Finding no suitable camping ground at the moment, they went forward
until night had quite closed in. A young moon, already nearly down,
lighted the travellers for a time. Cheadle’s sleigh led the way, and
he continued on until the moon disappeared and it became very dark.
Yet still Shushu, the leading dog, showed no hesitation, and kept
the track unerringly, although it was drifted up level and almost
imperceptible to the eye, even in broad daylight. The only means of
judging the line of the path was by the feel of the firm footing
beneath the snow-shoes, contrasted with the light, powdery mass on
either side. Cheadle perceiving the sagacity of the dog was equal
to the occasion, determined to reach the hut that night, and hour
after hour kept steadily on, followed by the two Indians with their
trains, wondering why the “Okey Mow” would not camp. It became at
last so dark that the drivers could not see the dogs before them, but
merely followed glimpses of the retreating sleighs. Shushu, however,
went faster and faster as he neared home, and made but one mistake,
overturning the sleigh in a deep snow drift on the banks of the river
Crochet, within half a mile of the hut. But this delayed them some
time, for they had to sound the snow with poles for the lost line of
road, which was so deeply overlaid with drift snow that it was little
disgrace to Shushu to lose it there. At last the sleighs were put on
the “line of rail” again, and in a few minutes a light streaming from
the little parchment window of Fort Milton greeted the eyes of the
jaded voyageurs. They were received by Milton with vast delight, for
he had spent the last few days there alone, waiting anxiously for the
return of the expedition, which had been absent twelve days. Being now
tolerably supplied with meat, we both remained at home, hoping daily
for the return of our men from Red River. Two months had elapsed since
their departure, the time they had estimated would be required for the
journey; but we of course anticipated that they would somewhat exceed
this.
We employed ourselves in shooting and trapping in the immediate
neighbourhood, and were occasionally visited by the Hunter and
Misquapamayoo, who failed not to bring us a good supply of moose-meat
whenever they were fortunate enough to kill one. This was a most
delightful relief to our staple of tough buffalo bull, and the only
food we possessed, except some of Chollet’s desiccated vegetables,
brought out only on the great feast days. Household cares occupied much
of our time. Milton presided over the culinary department, in which he
displayed great skill and ingenuity, severely taxed to make a variety
of dishes out of such limited resources, while Cheadle was hewer of
wood and drawer of water, or rather melter of snow and ice.
We got on tolerably well for a length of time; but at last our small
dwelling became so choked up by the accumulation of chips, wood, and
débris of various kinds, and so disorderly by reason of our untidy
habit of leaving every article where last used, instead of restoring it
to its proper place, that our domestic duties were seriously impeded.
We resolved to institute a new order of things, commencing by a regular
“spring cleaning” and tidying. The sweeping out involved a difficulty,
since we had no brush, and the level of the floor was some two feet
lower than the ground outside. However, we improvised besoms of pine
boughs, and for dust-pans used the tin dinner plates. Our labours were
frequently interrupted by fits of laughter at the ludicrous appearance
we presented, down on our hands and knees, grubbing up the waste and
dust with our primitive contrivances. The result was most satisfactory,
and we viewed with the greatest complacency the improved condition of
our establishment, which now presented a most comfortable and orderly
appearance.
Our triumphs were not confined, however, to the housemaid’s
department. Some months before, Treemiss had kindly presented us with
a few currants and raisins wherewith to make a Christmas pudding. From
a modest distrust of his own skill, Milton had hitherto hesitated to
attempt so high a flight; but encouraged by a series of successes
in the savoury branch of the culinary art, and urged by the eager
solicitations of Cheadle, he at length consented to attempt a plum
pudding.
Having discovered, some time before, that the fruit was rapidly
diminishing in quantity in an inexplicable manner, Cheadle had taken
the precaution of securing it, together with a modicum of flour and
sugar, in his strong box. This likewise contained stores of powder,
shot, caps, tobacco, soap, and various etceteras. When the materials
for the pudding were sought, it was found that they had escaped from
the paper in which they had been enclosed, and were scattered about
at the bottom of the box, mixed with loose shot, caps, fragments of
tobacco, and other heterogeneous substances.
After eliminating all foreign bodies as carefully as possible, the
pudding was duly mixed, tied up in the cloth after the established
manner, and placed in the pot. Many a time was it taken out and its
state examined by point of fork before it was at last--after boiling
nearly all day--pronounced thoroughly cooked. We had a brace of
prairie chickens also, but all interest was centred in the pudding.
No one who has not been restricted entirely to one species of food
for a long time can form any idea of the greedy eyes with which we
viewed that plum pudding. It proved delicious beyond all anticipation,
in spite of certain drawbacks in the shape of caps, buck-shot, and
fragments of tobacco, which we discovered in it. We had fondly hoped
to finish it at a sitting, but it was a very Brobdingnagian pudding,
and we were reluctantly compelled to leave a portion unconsumed. We
passed the night somewhat restlessly, partly caused perhaps by the
indigestible character of our evening meal, but principally from
impatience for the morning to arrive, that we might repeat the delights
of the previous evening. When day began to break, each watched the
movements of the other with anxious distrust, and before it was fairly
light both jumped out of bed at the same moment, each fearful he
might lose his share of the delicious breakfast. Never did schoolboy
view with such sincere regret the disappearance of his last morsel of
cake, as we did when sighing over the last mouthful of that unequalled
pudding.
The time wore on monotonously. The beginning of March had arrived,
and still La Ronde and Bruneau had not returned. Our solitude was
occasionally enlivened by visits of Indians--invariably starving--
who seriously impoverished our scanty larder. Rover also assisted
us to while away some of the dreary long winter evenings, which we
partly devoted to teaching him various additional accomplishments.
His performances were an unfailing source of wonder and delight to
our Indian visitors, who never tired of watching him stand on his
head, walk about on his hind legs, or sit up in begging attitude. But
one of his feats elicited loud “wah! wahs!” and “aiwarkakens!” their
expressions of astonishment. This was watching a piece of meat placed
on the floor, or sitting with it balanced on his nose. They could
not understand how a dog could be taught to refrain from seizing it
at once, instead of waiting for the word of command. Their own dogs,
being never fed except when at work, are always so lean and ravenously
hungry, that they steal everything they can get at. When meat is being
cut up, the squaw keeps a huge stick ready to her hand, with which she
thwacks unmercifully the starving curs, which seize every opportunity
of abstracting a morsel unperceived.
During this period the only civilised person who visited us was
Mr. Tait, a half-breed in the Company’s service at Carlton, who
came over in a dog cariole, to collect furs from the Indians in our
neighbourhood. He brought us a few cakes and potatoes, luxuries we had
not tasted for many weeks. From him we learnt that almost everywhere
there had been great scarcity of food. At the Fort at Egg Lake the
people had been obliged to boil down buffalo hides for subsistence.
Two men, sent over to the nearest port, Touchwood Hills, for succour,
arrived almost dead with famine; but there they found the inmates at
the last extremity, and unable to afford them any assistance. At Fort
La Come the men had been half-starved for a long time; and even at
Carlton the hunters were sent out so scantily provided, that they were
driven to eating their dogs on the way. We considered ourselves very
fortunate in having escaped so well from the general dearth.
The buffalo have receded so far from the forts, and the quantity of
white fish from the lakes, one of the principal sources of supply, has
decreased so greatly, that now a winter rarely passes without serious
suffering from want of food. This deficiency has become so urgent,
that the Hudson’s Bay Company contemplate the immediate establishment
of extensive farms in the Saskatchewan district, which is so admirably
adapted for agricultural and grazing purposes.
The days when it was possible to live in plenty by the gun and net
alone, have already gone by on the North Saskatchewan.