Winter――Wolves――A night’s trapping――A retreat――In the teeth of the
north wind――The carcajou――A miss and a hit――News of Indians――Danger
ahead――A friendly storm――The hut again.
The next morning, plain and thicket, hill and lake, lay wrapt in a
white mantle. The storm had sunk to calm, the snow had ceased, but
winter was on all the land, no more to leave it until the winds and
showers of spring should come from the south to chase him back into
his northern home. It was piercingly cold when we issued from the tent
to begin the day’s work. The cold was different from anything I had
yet experienced. The slightest touch of metal sufficed instantly to
freeze the fingers. A gun-barrel, the buckle of a girth, the iron of a
bit, struck so deadly cold upon the hands, that I found it was only by
running to the embers of the fire, and holding my fingers for a moment
in the blaze that I could restore them to working power.
Red Cloud and the Assineboine appeared, however, to take slight notice
of this great cold. The work was done as usual, quickly and neatly;
packs and saddles were arranged, the two spare horses were got ready to
bring back the buffalo killed on the previous evening, and in a very
short time our little party trooped out from the sheltering thicket
into the great prairie.
All was now a dazzling sheet of most intense white. The clouds had
cleared away, and the sun shone out, making the vast surface glisten
as though millions of diamonds had been scattered over it. The snow
was not yet deep upon the prairie; the wind of the preceding night had
driven it into the hollows, or flattened it down amid the grass, so
that the horses were able to make their way along.
About two hours’ ride brought us in sight of the dead buffalo. It was
visible a long way off, showing very dark upon the white surface of the
plain. The scene around it was a curious one. Fully a score of wolves
were circling and dodging around the carcase, some looking anxiously at
the longed-for meat, others sitting farther away, as though they had
determined to await the discoveries of their more venturesome comrades
ere they would approach the dead animal.
Red Cloud looked at them for some time.
“There are a good many warm skins,” he said, “in that lot, and they
are easily carried compared with the skin of those buffalo cows we
shot yesterday. If we had a few of those wolf robes, we could make our
winter beds warm enough in the hut at the Forks.”
He thought a moment, and then continued,――
“There are so many wolves here that it would be worth while to camp
near this to-night and trap some of them. We will take two loads of
meat back to the camp at the lake, then return here, bringing with us
the tent, and wood sufficient for the night. We will fetch hither all
the traps we have with us, and then see if we cannot catch some of
these white and grey wolves.”
We had now reached the buffalo, and the work of skinning and cutting up
went on apace. Soon light loads for the horses were ready, and I and
the scout set out for the lake, leaving the Sioux to keep watch over
the carcase.
When we had departed, the Sioux set to work to outwit the cunning
wolves, who still lurked around, hiding behind the hillock, and
looking every now and again over the sky-line of a hill to watch their
much-coveted food.
Noticing that a small ravine ran curving through the prairie within
easy rifle-shot of the dead buffalo, he followed our tracks for some
distance, until reaching a depression in the ground, he turned aside
into it; then bending down so as to be completely hidden from the
wolves, he gained the ravine at a considerable distance from where the
buffalo lay. Following the many windings of this _coulee_, he reached
at last the neighbourhood of the animal. He did not need to look up
above the ledge of the ravine, because ere he set out upon his stalk he
had marked a tuft of tall dry grass which grew at the curve which was
nearest the buffalo, and now keeping the bottom of the ravine, he saw
this tuft appear in view as he rounded a bend in the hollow. Looking
cautiously up from the base of the dry tuft, he saw, about a hundred
yards distant, several wolves busily engaged at tearing at the hide
and legs yet remaining of the buffalo. Singling out the largest wolf,
he took a quick but steady aim, and as the report rang out, he saw the
wolf spring into the air and fall dead beside the buffalo carcase.
A second shot, fired as the other wolves galloped rapidly away, was
not so successful. The bullet cut the snow beneath their feet, and in
another few seconds they were out of range.
When we again appeared upon the scene, bringing the tent and traps, we
found a magnificent wolf’s skin added to our stock of winter goods.
Pitching the leather lodge in the shelter of the ravine, all was made
comfortable against the night. The spare horses had been left at the
old camping-place, and only those ridden by the hunters had been
brought to this exposed place.
Just before nightfall the Sioux set his traps in a circle round the
spot where the buffalo lay. I watched with interest the precautions by
which he hoped to baffle the cunning of the wolves. To the chain of
each trap a heavy stick was attached. This weight would prevent the
wolf dragging the trap any considerable distance; but both the trap and
the stick had to be concealed in the snow, and care taken to prevent
the fine powdery snow drifting in underneath the plate, so as to allow
the pressure of an animal’s foot to spring the trap.
The circle of traps was soon complete, and just at dusk we were all
ensconced within our lodge, busily preparing the evening meal.
“About an hour after dark the wolves will grow bold,” said the Sioux.
“They are circling round now, but they are too cautious to go near just
at first. We will go round the traps when supper is done, and again
before we turn in for the night.”
When supper was finished, we crept out of the lodge and went to visit
the traps. The night was intensely cold; the stars were shining with
wonderful brilliancy over the vast white prairie. The first trap we
approached held nothing,――and so on until we reached the fourth. Here
we saw a dark object struggling hard in the snow. As we drew nearer to
it I was able to distinguish an animal closely resembling a huge grey
dog. The Sioux had brought with him a stout pole four feet in length.
Coming close to the wolf he struck him a violent blow with this pole,
killing him instantly. Then he re-set the trap, and dragging the dead
wolf along, we proceeded to finish our round. All the other traps were
empty. But two hours later, when another visit was made, a coyote and
a kit fox were found, so that the stock of winter skins began to
increase rapidly.
Another wolf was captured during the night; but when morning came we
found that he had succeeded in dragging the trap, and the stick to
which it was attached, a long way over the prairie. It was the trap
which had been set by me.
“Curious,” said I. “The wolf caught last night was just able to move
the trap, and now this one carries trap and stick far over the prairie.
He must be a stronger wolf than the first one.”
“No,” replied the Sioux. “But do you see the track that the stick has
made in the snow? Does it not run straight, end on, after the wolf?”
I noticed that it did so.
“Well,” said Red Cloud, “that is because you did not select the exact
centre of the stick in which to place the chain. The consequence
is that one end of the stick is heavier than the other. This heavy
end trails after the chain, so that the wolf has less difficulty in
dragging it along. It glides over the snow easily, whereas when both
ends of the stick are evenly balanced, it lies across the animal’s line
of flight. That is the reason why this wolf has got away so far. But we
will reach him yet.”
Following rapidly along, we overtook the trapped animal in the bottom
of a _coulee_, in the soft snow of which he could not make much way. He
was quickly despatched, and dragged back to the tent, his skin to be
added to those already taken.
The weather was now so intensely cold that Red Cloud began to fear the
horses would be unable to drag the load of meat back to the Forks.
There was meat fully sufficient to load the three sleds we had brought
to their utmost capacity. Fortunately the spare horses had had an easy
time of it up to the present. They were still in fair condition; but
the riding horses already showed signs of feeling the terrible severity
of these exposed treeless plains, and to delay the return to the Forks
longer than was absolutely necessary, would only be to imperil the
lives of the most valuable animals possessed by us.
Accordingly the lodge was struck, and the retreat to the hut at the
Forks began.
During four days our line of sleds and men toiled slowly over the
treeless waste, dark specs upon a waste of white. The north wind blew
with merciless rigour. Sometimes the air was still, and the sun shone;
but at other times terrible storms swept the wild landscape, whirling
powdery snow over hills and ravines. With downbent heads men and horses
plodded on; at night the lodge was pitched in some _coulee_ for better
shelter, and in the early morning so black and cold and desolate looked
all visible nature, that I used to long to be again in the tent. Still
I struggled hard to keep a bold front before my Indian comrades; they
did not complain, why should I? One good thing was, we had plenty of
buffalo meat, and we could be fairly warm at night by lying close
together in the “lodge.”
At last, on the fifth day, the wood at Les Trois Arbres was reached,
and piling on the firewood, that night the tent was made warm and
comfortable.
The poor horses were now very weak. On the treeless plains the grass
had been short and covered in many places with snow; but in the
thickets wild vetch and pea grew, twining, through the brushwood, and
these succulent grasses, sweetened by the frost, were eagerly sought
for by the hungry steeds. It was decided to give a day’s rest here, for
the worst portion of the journey was now over. Accordingly the lodge
was pitched in a sheltered spot amid thickets, and the horses turned
adrift in what at this season of the year was good pasturage.
The next day we spent in a long hunt on foot amid the thickets and open
prairies. The “poire” tree grew in many places amid the aspen groves,
and the Indians declared that where the poire flourished there the bear
was to be found――so our hunt this day was to the sleeping-place of the
bear. When the last berry has disappeared, and the first snow has come,
Bruin begins to bethink himself of seeking a place wherein he can sleep
away the long winter months.
Beneath the trunk of a fallen tree, under a rock, oftentimes on the
level ground of aspen or poplar thicket, he digs his hole. When it is
deep enough to hold his fat body he backs into it, and placing his
nose between his fore paws goes fast asleep. Sometimes the sleep is for
four or five months duration; but at other times, when the sun comes
out warm and bright in mid-winter, he will crawl forth from his burrow,
roam a little way around, and then retire again into his den. It is no
easy matter to find his nest. Like all wild things he selects his place
of rest with an eye to security; but hide it as he may, the Indian’s
sharp eye pierces through all disguises, and in the time before the
snow has fallen deep enough to cover tree stumps and hollow in one
undistinguishably level of white, the couch which Bruin has made with
so much care for his winter’s sleep becomes his death-bed ere his first
doze has well begun.
Red Cloud and I took one direction, the scout set off in another. The
day was calm and fine; scarcely a breath of wind stirred over the
prairie, and the rays of the sun fell brightly upon the snowy surface,
through which the yellow grass still showed in many places. Dressed in
a light leather shirt, and Indian leggings and moccasins to match, I
stepped briskly along, following in the footsteps of the Sioux. In and
out of aspen thickets, over open patches of prairie land, along the
tops of small ridges quite bare of snow, the Indian held his way with
rapid stride. At length we emerged upon the edge of a deep _coulee_.
In the bottom of this ravine a few pools of frozen water were visible.
The sides of the ravine were steep, but in the bottom the ground was
level; some stunted bushes grew at intervals along it. As we stood on
the sharp edge of the prairie looking down this depression, the eye
of the Indian suddenly caught sight of a moving object some distance
away to his right. It was an animal that had plunged over the edge and
quickly disappeared in the valley. Before many seconds had elapsed a
second object crossed over the ridge and dived into the _coulee_. The
Indian exclaimed, “Lie down, it is a carcajou; he is hunting a deer.
The deer will follow the _coulee_, and will pass right beneath where
we stand; we should get them both.” We lay flat upon the prairie edge
with rifles ready. Presently along the bottom of the gorge appeared a
large jumping moose. He was evidently sorely pressed by his pursuer,
who, only about fifty yards behind, came along at that slouching gallop
peculiar to his species. Red Cloud whispered to me, “Fire as the deer
passes. Aim in front, and low, for it is down hill. I’ll take the
carcajou.” My heart beat fast; the distance was under seventy yards,
but the pace was good. A shot rang out. “Missed,” cried the Sioux as
the deer went bounding by. Quick as thought I pulled again, this time
aiming well in front and very low. The deer staggered――fell――rose again
to his feet, and then plunged over upon his side, dead. Meantime the
wolverine was coming along at a tremendous pace. All at once a shot
rang out in front; then another. His pace was too rapid to be checked
in an instant; but the reports from the ridge to his left caused him
to swerve from the bottom of the _coulee_, and to ascend the bank
nearly opposite the spot where we lay. As he went up the steep bank he
presented a beautiful mark to the Indian’s rifle. For an instant the
weapon followed the upward course of the animal, then it poured forth
its unerring fire. The carcajou staggered in his gallop, and slipped
back a short way down the steep hill side; then he recovered himself,
and began again to ascend. But now a second report rang out, and, shot
quite dead, the beast rolled down the shingly side, and lay still,
within a few yards of the deer he had followed to the death.
My first shot had not allowed sufficiently for the depth of the
_coulee_; the bullet had just gone over the deer’s back, but the second
had passed clean through the animal’s ribs.
And now to carry the game home to camp. It was no easy matter; the
Sioux, however, proved himself, as usual, fully equal to the difficulty.
In a very short time he had skinned both the animals. The flesh of the
wolverine was useless, but the skin was a very fine one.
When the skin of the deer was removed, it was placed upon the snow,
with the side that had been next the body of the animal turned
downwards upon the ground. Then the venison was packed upon the hairy
side, and the ends of the skin wrapped over it to prevent the pieces
falling off; then to the two fore-legs of the skin the Sioux fastened
the string of leather called “shagganappi,” which he always carried
with him, and passing the band of the line round his shoulders, he
drew the load of meat easily over the snow. We followed the _coulee_
for some distance, until coming to a spot where the bank was less
abrupt, we were able to draw the load to the level of the prairie; then
trudging along over snow and grass, we arrived at the lodge ere yet the
winter’s sun had touched the horizon.
It was still later when the scout returned. He had much to say about
his day’s work. Soon after setting out in the morning he had struck
the trail of a moose, and had followed it for a long distance. The
moose had travelled far, and ere the day was half done the scout found
himself a long way from camp. Still he persisted in keeping the trail.
At last he beheld a sight that made him think of other things besides
his game. From a ridge over which the trail led, he espied some Indian
lodges pitched on the edge of the woods. The hunter instantly became
the brave; he approached the neighbourhood of the tents with the
utmost caution. He waited long enough until he discovered the tribe to
which the Indians belonged; then he returned with all speed to tell
his tidings to his comrades. The band, he said, belonged to the Cree
tribe; they were trapping and hunting in the vicinity of the elbow of
the South Saskatchewan, and had now been here for some days. This was
bad news for us. We had hoped that our winter hut at the Forks would
remain unknown to any Indians; and now this band of Crees were close
upon us. Unless a fall of snow would quickly come, our homeward trail
to the hut must be struck by some Cree brave in the next few days, and
once struck it was sure to be followed. The Crees were not hostile, but
that was a fact upon which we could not long count. Besides, the news
of the existence of a hut at that point would soon spread among the
tribe, and other Indians would hear of it before the winter was over.
Mischief might easily come from it. We must endeavour to hide our trail
by some stratagem.
For hours that evening the Sioux sat silently before the tent fire,
buried in deep thought. A snow-storm would have put an end to all his
difficulties; but the night looked fine and clear, the stars were
shining over the prairie, the yellow lustre of the sunset still hung in
the western sky.
It was possible to branch away at right angles from our present line,
and to continue that course until the weather changed, and then to
resume the old direction and make straight for the hut; but that
would entail much extra marching upon the horses already thin and
weak, and would probably lead to the loss of some of them. Under all
circumstances the best course to adopt seemed to be to remain camped in
the neighbourhood until a change of weather would obliterate the trail.
Accordingly next morning a move was made a few miles further away from
the Crees, and camp was again pitched in a spot not likely to catch
the eye of any roving Indian.
The next night brought a change in the weather; the wind began to rise,
clouds came drifting up from the north-east, and ere midnight came the
snow was falling over the plain. We were ready for it; the horses had
all been driven in at nightfall; the sleds got ready for the march.
By the light of the fire the tent was struck and packed, and long ere
morning began to break upon the driving scene of snow and storm our
little cavalcade was far away on its march to the hut. All day the
storm blew, the snow fell; and all day too, Red Cloud led the march
through blinding drift, and small chance was there of keenest eyes ever
finding our trail. The wind blew the surface of the snow before it,
quickly filling every cavity, and piling up the fine drift in dazzling
heaps. We carried on all day, and camp was only made long after
nightfall, when many a mile of snow-clad wilderness lay between us and
the Crees.
Another day’s march brought us within sight of the pine-bluff at the
Forks, and that night the tired horses were turned adrift in the
sheltered meadow by the river, and we lay down to rest in the hut at
the Pascopee.