ALEXANDER HENRY
I
The fur trade, which occupied many worthy men during the eighteenth and
first half of the nineteenth century, forms a romantic and interesting
part of the early history of our country.
The traders, usually of English and American parentage, associated
themselves with the French voyageurs, or _coureurs des bois_, whom
Masson describes as “those heroes of the prairie and forest, regular
mixtures of good and evil, extravagant by nature, at the same time
grave and gay, cruel and compassionate; as credulous as superstitious,
and always irreligious.” Traders and voyageurs alike suffered every
privation, the cold of winter, the heat of summer, and finally, by
incredible persistence, beat out the path of discovery during all
seasons, until it became a well-worn trail; all to penetrate the great
unknown, which might contain everything that the trader desired. The
man who lived in those times and under those conditions was brave and
enduring without trying to be; he was alert and quick to act, and
unwearying in overcoming obstacles. Viewing him from the present day,
we might call him cruel and without feeling; but in those times men
were taught not to show their feelings. Their lives were given in great
part to surmounting enormous difficulties of travel in unknown regions,
and to establishing trade relations with unknown tribes of Indians,
who often times were not disposed to be friendly. The fur trader was
in constant danger, not only from hostile Indians, but often from
starvation.
Alexander Henry was one of these fur traders. He came upon the scene
just at the close of the French régime. At twenty-one he had joined
Amherst’s army, not as a soldier, but in “a premature attempt to share
in the fur trade of Canada, directly on the conquest of the country.”
Wolfe’s victory at Quebec in the previous year had aroused the English
traders to the opportunity presented of taking over the fur trade which
the French had opened up, and Amherst’s large army was watched with
great interest as it swept away the last remnant of French control.
Henry was well fitted for the life that he intended to pursue, for he
seems to have had knowledge of the trading posts of Albany and New York.
On the 3d day of August, 1761, Henry despatched his canoes from
Montreal to Lachine on an expedition to the regions west of the
Great Lakes. Little did he realize then that he should be gone from
civilization for sixteen years; that he should suffer and want but
survive; should see new and strange peoples, discover rivers and lakes,
build forts, to be used by others who were to follow him, trade with
the natives, and finally return to hear of the capture of Quebec by the
Americans, and then go to France to tell of his adventures.
The route of the expedition was the usual one. Almost immediately
after leaving Lachine they came to the broad stretch of Lake Saint
Louis. At St. Anne’s the men used to go to confession, as the voyageurs
were almost all Catholics, and at the same time offered up their
vows; “for the saint from which this parish derives its name, and to
whom its church is dedicated, is the patroness of the Canadians in
all their travels by water.” “There is still a further custom to be
observed on arriving at Saint-Anne’s,” Henry relates, “which is that of
distributing eight gallons of rum to each canoe for consumption during
the voyage; nor is it less according to custom to drink the whole of
this liquor upon the spot. The saint, therefore, and the priest were
no sooner dismissed than a scene of intoxication began in which my men
surpassed, if possible, the drunken Indian in singing, fighting, and
the display of savage gesture and conceit.”
Continuing up the river, and carrying over many portages, they at last
reached the Ottawa, and soon ascended the Mattawa. Hitherto the French
were the only white men that had been known in this region. Their
relations with the Indians were friendly, and the Indians were well
aware of the enmity existing between the French and the English. In
the Lac des Chats Henry met several canoes of Indians returning from
their winter hunt. They recognized him as an Englishman, and cautioned
him, declaring that the upper Indians would kill him when they saw him,
and said that the Englishmen were crazy to go so far after beaver. The
expedition came at last to Lake Huron, which “lay stretched across
our horizon like an ocean.” It was, perhaps, the largest water Henry
had yet seen, and the prospect was alarming, but the canoes rode with
the ease of a sea-bird, and his fears subsided. Coming to the island
called La Cloche, because “there is here a rock standing on a plain,
which, being struck, rings like a bell,” he found Indians, with whom
he traded, and to whom he gave some rum, and who, recognizing him as
an Englishman, told his men that the Indians at Michilimackinac would
certainly kill him. On the advice of his friend Campion, Henry changed
his garb, assuming the dress usually worn by the Canadians, and,
smearing his face with dirt and grease, believed himself thoroughly
disguised.
Passing the mouth of the river Missisaki, he found the Indians
inhabiting the north side of Lake Superior cultivating corn in small
quantities.
As he went on, the lake before him to the westward seemed to become
less and less broad, and at last he could see the high back of the
island of Michilimackinac, commonly interpreted to mean the great
turtle. He found here a large village of Chippewas, and leaving as soon
as possible, pushed on about two leagues farther to the fort, where
there was a stockade of thirty houses and a church.
For years now Fort Michilimackinac had been a scene of great
activity. Established by Father Marquette, and kept up by succeeding
missionaries, the first men to brave the unknown terrors of the
interior, it was from here in 1731 that the brave and adventurous
Verendryes set out on their long journey to the Forks of the
Saskatchewan, and to the Missouri River.
This was the half-way house for all the westward pushing and eastward
coming traders, and a meeting place for all the tribes living on the
Great Lakes. Here were fur traders, trappers, voyageurs, and Indians,
hurrying to and fro, dressed in motley and picturesque attire. Some
were bringing in furs from long and perilous journeys from the west,
while others were on the eve of departure westward, and others still
were leaving for Montreal. The scene must have been gay and active
almost beyond our powers to imagine. Henry was in the midst of all this
when the word came to him that a band of Chippewas wished to speak with
him; and, however unwillingly, he was obliged to meet them, sixty in
number, headed by Minavavana, their chief. “They walked in single file,
each with a tomahawk in one hand and scalping-knife in the other. Their
bodies were naked from the waist upward, except in a few examples,
where blankets were thrown loosely over the shoulders.” Their faces
were painted with charcoal, their bodies with white clay, and feathers
were tied in the heads of some, and thrust through the noses of others.
Before the opening of the council, the chief held a conference with
Campion, asking how long it was since Henry had left Montreal, and
observing that the English must be brave men and not afraid of death,
since they thus ventured to come fearlessly among their enemies. After
the pipe had been smoked, while Henry “inwardly endured the tortures of
suspense,” the chief addressed him, saying:
“Englishman, our father, the King of France, employed our young men
to make war upon your nation. In this warfare many of them have been
killed; and it is our custom to retaliate, until such time as the
spirits of the slain are satisfied. But the spirits of the slain are
to be satisfied in either of two ways: the first is by the spilling of
the blood of the nation by which they fell; the other, by _covering
the bodies of the dead_, and thus allaying the resentment of their
relations. This is done by making presents.
“Englishman, your King has never sent us any presents, nor entered
into any treaty with us, wherefore he and we are still at war; and,
until he does these things, we must consider that we have no other
father nor friend among the white men than the King of France; but,
for you, we have taken into consideration that you have ventured your
life among us, in the expectation that we should not molest you. You
do not come armed, with an intention to make war; you come in peace,
to trade with us, and supply us with necessaries, of which we are in
much want. We shall regard you, therefore, as a brother, and you may
sleep tranquilly, without fear of the Chippewas. As a token of our
friendship, we present you with this pipe to smoke.”
In reply, Henry told them that their late father, the King of France,
had surrendered Canada to the King of England, whom they should now
regard as their father, and that he, Henry, had come to furnish them
with what they needed. Things were thus very satisfactory, and when the
Chippewas went away they were given a small quantity of rum.
Henry was now busily at work assorting his goods, preparatory to
starting on his expedition, when two hundred Ottawas entered the fort
and demanded speech with him. They insisted that he should give credit
to every one of their young men to the amount of fifty beaver skins,
but as this demand would have stripped him of all his merchandise, he
refused to comply with the request. What the Ottawas might have done
is uncertain. They did nothing, because that very day word was brought
that a detachment of English soldiers, sent to garrison the fort, was
distant only five miles, and would be there the next day. At daybreak
the Ottawas were seen preparing to depart, and by sunrise not one of
them was left in the fort.
Although it was now the middle of September, the traders sent off
their canoes on the different trading expeditions. These canoes were
victualled largely with Indian corn at the neighboring village of
L’Arbre Croche, occupied by the Ottawas. This corn was prepared for use
by boiling it in a strong lye which removed the husk, after which it
was pounded and dried, making a meal. “The allowance for each man on
the voyage is a quart a day, and a bushel, with two pounds of prepared
fat, is reckoned to be a month’s subsistence. No other allowance is
made of any kind, not even of salt, and bread is never thought of. The
men, nevertheless, are healthy, and capable of performing their heavy
labor. This mode of victualling is essential to the trade, which, being
pursued at great distances, and in vessels so small as canoes, will
not admit of the use of other food. If the men were to be supplied
with bread and pork, the canoes could not carry a sufficiency for
six months; and the ordinary duration of the voyage is not less than
fourteen.”
The food of the garrison consisted largely of small game, partridges
and hares, and of fish, especially trout, whitefish, and sturgeon.
Trout were caught with set lines and bait, and whitefish with nets
under the ice. Should this fishery fail, it was necessary to purchase
grain, which, however, was very expensive, costing forty livres, or
forty shillings, Canadian currency; though there was no money in
Michilimackinac, and the circulating medium consisted solely of furs.
A pound of beaver was worth about sixty cents, an otter skin six
shillings Canadian, and marten skins about thirty cents each.
Having wintered at Michilimackinac, Henry set out in May for the Sault
de Sainte-Marie. Here there was a stockaded fort, with four houses,
one of which was occupied by Monsieur Cadotte, the interpreter, and
his Chippewa wife. The Indians had an important whitefish fishery
at the rapids, taking the fish in dip nets. In the autumn Henry and
the other whites did much fishing; and in the winter they hunted,
and took large trout with the spear through the ice in this way: “In
order to spear trout under the ice, holes being first cut of two yards
in circumference, cabins of about two feet in height are built over
them of small branches of trees; and these are further covered with
skins so as to wholly exclude the light. The design and result of this
contrivance is to render it practicable to discern objects in the water
at a very considerable depth; for the reflection of light from the
water gives that element an opaque appearance, and hides all objects
from the eye at a small distance beneath its surface. A spear head of
iron is fastened on a pole of about ten feet in length. This instrument
is lowered into the water, and the fisherman, lying upon his belly,
with his head under the cabin or cover, and therefore over the hole,
lets down the figure of a fish in wood and filled with lead. Round the
middle of the fish is tied a small pack thread, and, when at the depth
of ten fathoms, where it is intended to be employed, it is made, by
drawing the string and by the simultaneous pressure of the water, to
move forward, after the manner of a real fish. Trout and other large
fish, deceived by its resemblance, spring toward it to seize it, but,
by a dexterous jerk of the string, it is instantly taken out of their
reach. The decoy is now drawn nearer to the surface, and the fish takes
some time to renew the attack, during which the spear is raised and
held conveniently for striking. On the return of the fish, the spear is
plunged into its back, and, the spear being barbed, it is easily drawn
out of the water. So completely do the rays of the light pervade the
element that in three-fathom water I have often seen the shadows of the
fish on the bottom, following them as they moved; and this when the ice
itself was two feet in thickness.”
The burning of the post at the Sault forced all hands to return next
winter to Michilimackinac, where the early spring was devoted to
the manufacture of maple sugar, an important article of diet in the
northern country.
That spring Indians gathered about the fort in such large numbers as
to make Henry fearful that something unusual lay behind the concourse.
He spoke about it to the commanding officer, who laughed at him for
his timidity. The Indians seemed to be passing to and fro in the most
friendly manner, selling their fur and attending to their business
altogether in a natural way.
About a year before an Indian named Wawatam had come into Henry’s
house, expressed a strong liking for him, and, having explained that
years before, after a fast, he had dreamed of adopting an Englishman
as his son, brother, and friend, told Henry that in him he recognized
the person whom the Great Spirit had pointed out to him for a brother,
and that he hoped Henry would become one of his family, and at the
same time he made him a large present. Henry accepted these friendly
overtures, and made a handsome present in return, and the two parted
for the time.
Henry had almost forgotten his brother, when, on the second day of
June, twelve months later, Wawatam again came to his house and
expressed great regret that Henry had returned from the Sault. Wawatam
stated that he intended to go there at once, and begged Henry to
accompany him. He asked, also, whether the commandant had heard bad
news, saying that during the winter he himself had been much disturbed
by the noises of evil birds, and that there were many Indians around
the fort who had never shown themselves within it. Both the chief and
his wife strove earnestly to persuade Henry to accompany them at once,
but he paid little attention to their requests, and they finally took
their departure, very much depressed--in fact, even weeping. The next
day Henry received from a Chippewa an invitation to come out and see
the great game of baggatiway, or lacrosse, which his people were going
to play that day with the Sacs. But as a canoe was about to start
for Montreal, Henry was busy writing letters, and although urged by
a friend to go out and meet another canoe just arrived from Detroit,
he nevertheless remained in his room, writing. Suddenly he heard the
Indian war-cry, and, looking out of the window, saw a crowd of Indians
within the fort furiously cutting down and scalping every Englishman
they found. He noticed, too, many of the Canadian inhabitants of
the fort quietly looking on, neither trying to stop the Indians nor
suffering injury from them; and from the fact that these people were
not being attacked, he conceived the hope of finding security in one of
their houses. This is as he tells it:
“Between the yard-door of my own house and that of M. Langlade, my
next neighbor, there was only a low fence, over which I easily climbed.
At my entrance I found the whole family at the windows, gazing at
the scene of blood before them. I addressed myself immediately to M.
Langlade, begging that he would put me into some place of safety until
the heat of the affair should be over, an act of charity by which he
might perhaps preserve me from the general massacre; but, while I
uttered my petition, M. Langlade, who had looked for a moment at me,
turned again to the window, shrugging his shoulders and intimating that
he could do nothing for me--‘_Que voudriez-vous que j’en ferais?_’
“This was a moment for despair; but the next a Pani woman, a slave of
M. Langlade’s, beckoned to me to follow her. She brought me to a door,
which she opened, desiring me to enter, and telling me that it led to
the garret, where I must go and conceal myself. I joyfully obeyed her
directions and she, having followed me up to the garret door, locked it
after me, and with great presence of mind took away the key.
“This shelter obtained, if shelter I could hope to find it, I was
naturally anxious to know what might still be passing without. Through
an aperture which afforded me a view of the area of the fort, I beheld,
in shapes the foulest and most terrible, the ferocious triumphs of
barbarian conquerors. The dead were scalped and mangled; the dying
were writhing and shrieking under the unsatiated knife and tomahawk,
and, from the bodies of some ripped open, their butchers were drinking
the blood, scooped up in the hollow of joined hands and quaffed amid
shouts of rage and victory. I was shaken, not only with horror, but
with fear. The sufferings which I witnessed, I seemed on the point of
experiencing. No long time elapsed before every one being destroyed who
could be found, there was a general cry of ‘All is finished!’ At the
same instant I heard some of the Indians enter the house in which I was.
“The garret was separated from the room below only by a layer of single
boards, at once the flooring of the one and the ceiling of the other.
I could therefore hear everything that passed; and, the Indians no
sooner in than they inquired whether or not any Englishmen were in the
house? M. Langlade replied that ‘He could not say--he did not know of
any’--answers in which he did not exceed the truth, for the Pani woman
had not only hidden me by stealth, but had kept my secret and her own;
M. Langlade was therefore, as I presume, as far from a wish to destroy
me as he was careless about saving me, when he added to these answers
that ‘They might examine for themselves, and would soon be satisfied as
to the object of their question.’ Saying this, he brought them to the
garret door.
“The state of my mind will be imagined. Arrived at the door, some delay
was occasioned by the absence of the key, and a few moments were thus
allowed me in which to look around for a hiding place. In one corner
of the garret was a heap of vessels of birch-bark, used in maple-sugar
making.
“The door was unlocked, and opening, and the Indians ascending the
stairs, before I had completely crept into a small opening which
presented itself at one end of the heap. An instant after four Indians
entered the room, all armed with tomahawks, and all besmeared with
blood upon every part of their bodies.
“The die appeared to be cast. I could scarcely breathe: but I thought
that the throbbing of my heart occasioned a noise loud enough to
betray me. The Indians walked in every direction about the garret,
and one of them approached me so closely that at a particular moment,
had he put forth his hand, he must have touched me. Still, I remained
undiscovered, a circumstance to which the dark color of my clothes and
the want of light, in a room which had no window, and in the corner in
which I was, must have contributed. In a word, after taking several
turns in the room, during which they told M. Langlade how many they had
killed and how many scalps they had taken, they returned down-stairs,
and I with sensations not to be expressed heard the door, which was the
barrier between me and fate, locked for the second time.
“There was a feather bed on the floor, and on this, exhausted as I was
by the agitation of my mind, I threw myself down and fell asleep. In
this state I remained till the dusk of the evening, when I was awakened
by a second opening of the door. The person that now entered was M.
Langlade’s wife, who was much surprised at finding me, but advised me
not to be uneasy, observing that the Indians had killed most of the
English, but that she hoped I might myself escape. A shower of rain
having begun to fall, she had come to stop a hole in the roof. On her
going away, I begged her to send me a little water to drink, which she
did.
“As night was now advancing, I continued to lie on the bed, ruminating
on my condition but unable to discover a resource from which I could
hope for life. A flight to Detroit had no probable chance of success.
The distance from Michilimackinac was four hundred miles; I was without
provisions, and the whole length of the road lay through Indian
countries, countries of an enemy in arms, where the first man whom I
should meet would kill me. To stay where I was threatened nearly the
same issue. As before, fatigue of mind and not tranquillity, suspended
my cares and procured me further sleep....
“The respite which sleep afforded me during the night was put an end
to by the return of morning. I was again on the rack of apprehension.
At sunrise I heard the family stirring, and, presently after, Indian
voices, informing M. Langlade that they had not found my hapless
self among the dead, and that they supposed me to be somewhere
concealed. M. Langlade appeared, from what followed, to be by this
time acquainted with the place of my retreat, of which, no doubt, he
had been informed by his wife. The poor woman, as soon as the Indians
mentioned me, declared to her husband, in the French tongue, that
he should no longer keep me in his house, but deliver me up to my
pursuers; giving as a reason for this measure that should the Indians
discover his instrumentality in my concealment they might revenge it
on her children, and that it was better that I should die than they.
M. Langlade resisted at first this sentence of his wife’s; but soon
suffered her to prevail, informing the Indians that he had been told I
was in his house; that I had come there without his knowledge, and that
he would put me into their hands. This was no sooner expressed than he
began to ascend the stairs, the Indians following upon his heels.
“I now resigned myself to the fate with which I was menaced; and
regarding every attempt at concealment as vain, I arose from the bed
and presented myself full in view to the Indians who were entering the
room. They were all in a state of intoxication, and entirely naked,
except about the middle. One of them, named Wenniway, whom I had
previously known and who was upward of six feet in height, had his
entire face and body covered with charcoal and grease, only that a
white spot of two inches in diameter encircled either eye. This man,
walking up to me, seized me with one hand by the collar of the coat,
while in the other he held a large carving knife, as if to plunge it
into my breast; his eyes, meanwhile, were fixed steadfastly on mine.
At length, after some seconds of the most anxious suspense he dropped
his arm, saying, ‘I won’t kill you!’ To this he added that he had been
frequently engaged in wars against the English, and had brought away
many scalps; that, on a certain occasion, he had lost a brother, whose
name was Musingon, and that I should be called after him.”
[Illustration: “I NOW RESIGNED MYSELF TO THE FATE WITH WHICH I WAS
MENACED.”]
Several times within the next two or three days Henry had narrow
escapes from death at the hands of drunken Indians; but finally his
captors, having stripped him of all his clothing save an old shirt,
took him, with other prisoners, and set out for the Isles du Castor, in
Lake Michigan.
At the village of L’Arbre Croche, the Ottawas forcibly took away their
prisoners from the Chippewas, but the Chippewas made violent complaint,
while the Ottawas explained to the prisoners that they had taken
them from the Chippewas to save their lives, it being the practice
of the Chippewas to eat their enemies, in order to give them courage
in battle. A council was held between the Chippewas and Ottawas, the
result of which was that the prisoners were handed over to their
original captors. But before they had left this place, while Henry was
sitting in the lodge with his captor, his friend and brother, Wawatam,
suddenly entered. As he passed Henry he shook hands with him, but went
toward the great chief, by whom he sat down, and after smoking, rose
again and left the lodge, saying to Henry as he passed him, “Take
courage.”
A little later, Wawatam and his wife entered the lodge, bringing large
presents, which they threw down before the chiefs. Wawatam explained
that Henry was his brother, and therefore a relative to the whole
tribe, and asked that he be turned over to him, which was done.
Henry now went with Wawatam to his lodge, and thereafter lived with
him. The Indians were very much afraid that the English would send
to revenge the killing of their troops, and they shortly moved to
the Island of Michilimackinac. A little later a brigade of canoes,
containing goods and abundant liquor, was captured: and Wawatam,
fearing the results of the drink on the Indians, took Henry away and
concealed him in a cave, where he remained for two days.
The head chief of the village of Michilimackinac now recommended to
Wawatam and Henry that, on account of the frequent arrival of Indians
from Montreal, some of whom had lost relatives or friends in the war,
Henry should be dressed like an Indian, and the wisdom of this advice
was recognized. His hair was cut off, his head shaved, except for a
scalp-lock, his face painted, and Indian clothing given him. Wawatam
helped him to visit Michilimackinac, where Henry found one of his
clerks, but none of his property. Soon after this they moved away to
Wawatam’s wintering ground, which Henry was very willing to visit,
because in the main camp he was constantly subjected to insults from
the Indians who knew of his race.
Henry writes fully of the customs of the Indians, of the habits of many
of the animals which they pursued, and of the life he led. He says
that during this winter “Raccoon hunting was my more particular and
daily employ. I usually went out at the first dawn of day, and seldom
returned till sunset, or till I had laden myself with as many animals
as I could carry. By degrees I became familiarized with this kind of
life; and had it not been for the idea, of which I could not divest
my mind, that I was living among savages, and for the whispers of a
lingering hope that I should one day be released from it, or if I could
have forgotten that I had ever been otherwise than as I then was, I
could have enjoyed as much happiness in this as in any other situation.”
Among the interesting hunting occurrences narrated is one of the
killing of a bear, and of the ceremonies subsequent to this killing
performed by the Indians. He says:
“In the course of the month of January I happened to observe that the
trunk of a very large pine tree was much torn by the claws of a bear,
made both in going up and down. On further examination, I saw that
there was a large opening in the upper part, near which the smaller
branches were broken. From these marks, and from the additional
circumstance that there were no tracks in the snow, there was reason to
believe that a bear lay concealed in the tree.
“On returning to the lodge, I communicated my discovery, and it was
agreed that all the family should go together in the morning to assist
in cutting down the tree, the girth of which was not less than three
fathom. Accordingly, in the morning we surrounded the tree, both men
and women, as many at a time as could conveniently work at it, and here
we toiled like beaver till the sun went down. This day’s work carried
us about half way through the trunk; and the next morning we renewed
the attack, continuing it till about two o’clock in the afternoon, when
the tree fell to the ground. For a few minutes everything remained
quiet, and I feared that all our expectations were disappointed; but,
as I advanced to the opening, there came out, to the great satisfaction
of all our party, a bear of extraordinary size, which, before she had
proceeded many yards, I shot.
“The bear being dead, all my assistants approached, and all, but more
particularly my old mother (as I was wont to call her), took her head
in their hands, stroking and kissing it several times, begging a
thousand pardons for taking away her life; calling her their relation
and grandmother, and requesting her not to lay the fault upon them,
since it was truly an Englishman that had put her to death.
“This ceremony was not of long duration, and if it was I that killed
their grandmother, they were not themselves behindhand in what remained
to be performed. The skin being taken off, we found the fat in several
places six inches deep. This, being divided into two parts, loaded two
persons, and the flesh parts were as much as four persons could carry.
In all, the carcass must have exceeded five hundredweight.
“As soon as we reached the lodge, the bear’s head was adorned with all
the trinkets in the possession of the family, such as silver arm-bands
and wrist-bands, and belts of wampum, and then laid upon a scaffold set
up for its reception within the lodge. Near the nose was placed a large
quantity of tobacco.
“The next morning no sooner appeared than preparations were made for
a feast to the manes. The lodge was cleaned and swept, and the head
of the bear lifted up and a new stroud blanket, which had never been
used before, spread under it. The pipes were now lit, and Wawatam blew
tobacco smoke into the nostrils of the bear, telling me to do the
same, and thus appease the anger of the bear on account of my having
killed her. I endeavored to persuade my benefactor and friendly adviser
that she no longer had any life, and assured him that I was under no
apprehension from her displeasure; but the first proposition obtained
no credit, and the second gave but little satisfaction.
“At length, the feast being ready, Wawatam commenced a speech,
resembling, in many things, his address to the manes of his relations
and departed companions, but having this peculiarity, that he here
deplored the necessity under which men labored thus to destroy their
friends. He represented, however, that the misfortune was unavoidable,
since without doing so they could by no means subsist. The speech
ended, we all ate heartily of the bear’s flesh, and even the head
itself, after remaining three days on the scaffold, was put into the
kettle.
“It is only the female bear that makes her winter lodging in the upper
parts of trees, a practice by which her young are secured from the
attacks of wolves and other animals. She brings forth in the winter
season, and remains in her lodge till the cubs have gained some
strength.
“The male always lodges in the ground, under the roots of trees. He
takes to this habitation as soon as the snow falls, and remains there
till it has disappeared. The Indians remark that the bear comes out in
the spring with the same fat which he carried in in the autumn; but,
after exercise of only a few days, becomes lean. Excepting for a short
part of the season, the male lives constantly alone.
“The fat of our bear was melted down, and the oil filled six porcupine
skins. A part of the meat was cut into strips and fire-dried, after
which it was put into the vessels containing the oil, where it remained
in perfect preservation until the middle of summer.”
When spring came, and they returned to the more travelled routes and
met other Indians, it was seen that these people were all anxious lest
the English should this summer avenge the outbreak of the Indians of
the previous year. Henry was exceedingly anxious to escape from his
present life, and his brother was willing that he should go, but this
appeared difficult. At last, however, a Canadian canoe, carrying Madame
Cadotte, came along, and this good woman was willing to assist Henry so
far as she could. He and his brother parted rather sadly, and Henry,
now under the guise of a Canadian, took a paddle in Madame Cadotte’s
canoe. She took him safely to the Sault, where he was welcomed by
Monsieur Cadotte, whose great influence among the Indians was easily
sufficient to protect him. Soon after this there came an embassy
from Sir William Johnson, calling the Indians to come to Niagara and
make peace with the English; and after consulting the Great Turtle,
who was the guardian spirit of the Chippewas, a number of young men
volunteered to go to Niagara, and among them Henry.
After a long voyage they reached Niagara, where Henry was very kindly
received by Sir William Johnson and subsequently was appointed by
General Bradstreet, commander of an Indian battalion of ninety-six men,
among whom were many of the Indians who, not long before, had been
ready and eager to kill him. With this command he moved westward, and
after peace had been made with Pontiac at Detroit, with a detachment
of troops reached Michilimackinac, where he recovered a part of his
property.