HANDLING AMERICAN INDIANS
Nothing in the history of Western Canada was more charged with dynamitic
possibilities of serious trouble than the unexpected influx into our
country of thousands of battle-scarred Indians from the other side of
the boundary line. The whole period for five years, from 1876 onward,
bristled with difficulties. These Indians themselves had to be more or
less provided for while upon our soil--they had to be controlled
according to British law, they had to be kept from interfering with the
loyalty as well as the rights and reserves of our own Indians, and they
had to be restrained from making this country the base of any operations
against our friendly neighbour country south of the line. The whole
situation was filled with dramatic incidents and dangerous possibilities
of international complications. The honour of handling it with masterly,
firm and yet conciliatory methods must be given not to Ottawa, which was
too far away and which often misunderstood, but to the officers and men
of the Mounted Police whose consummate skill, courage and initiative are
the leading features of that serious period. And the amazing thing about
it all is that in the midst of seething thousands of American and
Canadian Indians on the wide and lonely frontier, we had a mere handful
of these gallant red-coated guardians of the peace.
The influx of American Indians began in December, 1876, when some 3,000
Indians, with large droves of horses and mules, crossed over and camped
at Wood Mountain. They told the officers of the Mounted Police who
visited them at once that "they had been driven out by the American and
had come to look for peace; that they had been told by their
grandfathers that they would find peace in the land of the British; that
their brothers, the Santees, had found it years ago and they had now
followed them; that they had not slept sound for years and were anxious
to find a place where they could lie down and feel safe." It was not the
British way to turn a deaf ear to that pathetic appeal, and so Inspector
Walsh, then in charge at Fort Walsh, took charge of the situation, began
at once to regulate the possession of arms and ammunition to what was
necessary for hunting for subsistence and generally to keep in close
touch with the Indian encampments.
In the following May the famous and redoubtable Sitting Bull with quite
a large force came over and joined the American Indian colony. They also
were interviewed at once by the Mounted Police and promised to observe
the laws of the Great Mother. In the following months bands of Nez
Perces and others arrived in flight from the American soldiers. And so
the situation became more involved. Efforts were made to persuade these
Indians to return to their own country, but they declined to do so and
of course no one would compel them. The Indians said they had been
robbed and cheated by agents, and so they had lost faith in the American
Government, for they assumed that the Government knew or ought to know
of these things. It was matter of common knowledge throughout the
Western country that some agents who were receiving a salary of $1500.00
a year retired with fortunes after a few years in office, and even the
most unsuspecting and docile Indian would baulk at that after a while.
Colonel McLeod, a very cautious man, in a report to the Hon. David Mills
at Ottawa, said, "I think the principal cause of the difficulties which
are continually embroiling the American Government in trouble with the
Indians, is the manner in which these Indians are treated by the swarms
of adventurers who have scattered themselves all over the Indian country
in search of minerals before any treaty is made giving up the title.
These men always look upon the Indians as their natural enemies, and it
is their rule to shoot at them if they approach after being warned off.
I was actually asked the other day by an American who has settled here,
if we had the same law here as on the other side, and if he was
justified in shooting any Indian who approached his camp after being
warned not to advance. I am satisfied that such a rule is not necessary
in dealing with the worst of Indians, and that any necessity there might
be for its adoption arose from the illegal intrusion and wrongdoings of
the Whites." Happy country was ours to have a MacLeod on the spot
through these troublous years!
Meanwhile the Police had occasional problems with our own Indians, not
in relation to the Government, but in connection with ancient or modern
feuds or ordinary quarrels between tribes. The Police generally got
things early under control. Here is a case. On May 25, 1877, Little
Child, a Salteaux Treaty Chief, came to Fort Walsh and reported that his
people and a large number of Assiniboines under Chief Crow's Dance had
been camped together. The Salteaux desired to leave, and so notified
Crow's Dance. This individual for some reason refused permission to the
Salteaux to leave camp. But Little Child, feeling that he and his people
had a right to go where they pleased "so long as they kept the laws of
the White Mother," ordered his people to move. Whereupon Crow's Dance,
who had 250 warriors, set upon the Salteaux, killing not any of the
people, but shooting nineteen valuable sled-dogs, cutting lodges,
upsetting travois, knocking down men, and frightening the women and
children by firing off guns and giving war-whoops. When warned by Little
Child, who did not retaliate, that he would report the matter to the
Police, Crow's Dance struck him and said, "When the Police come we will
do the same." Crow's Dance, backed by several hundred warriors, talked
boastfully, knowing that there was only a handful of Police at Fort
Walsh.
But the Police came, all told fifteen constables and a guide, under
Inspector Walsh. They had also the surgeon, Dr. Kittson, along, because
it looked as if his services would be required badly. Walsh and his
handful of men struck that camp at three o'clock in the morning, after
getting the report. He halted his men and inspected their arms and had
all pistols ready. Then they rode swiftly into camp, and before anyone
knew how it happened, he had "Crow's Dance" and "Rolling Thunder" and
"Spider" and "The one who bends the wood" and the other leaders under
arrest and out of camp to a butte near by. There Walsh ordered his men
to breakfast, and sent word to the Assiniboine Chiefs still in camp that
he would talk to them after breakfast. And so he did, making it very
clear that no one had any right to interfere with others who desired to
leave camp peaceably, and that he intended to take "Crow's Dance" and
the others to Fort Walsh for trial. And they were taken accordingly.
Some were sentenced to short terms, others were allowed to go, as they
were not specially involved. In reporting this incident to Ottawa,
Assistant-Commissioner A. G. Irvine said: "In conclusion I cannot too
highly write of Inspector Walsh's prompt conduct in this matter, and it
must be a matter of congratulation to feel that fifteen of our men can
ride into an enormous camp of Indians and take out of it as prisoners
thirteen of their head men. The action of this detachment will have
great effect on all the Indians throughout the country." Right loyally
spoken, Major Irvine!
And Walsh in his report speaks of his men: "In conclusion I wish to say
a few words for the men of my detachment. Before entering the camp I
explained to them there were 200 warriors in the camp who had set the
Police at defiance; that I intended to arrest the leaders; to do so
perhaps would put them in a dangerous position, but that they would have
to pay strict attention to all orders given by me, no matter how severe
they might appear. From the replies and the way they acted during the
whole time, I am of opinion that every man of this detachment would have
boldly stood his ground if the Indians had made any resistance." A good
testimony this from a keen leader of gallant men. And because a note of
appreciation is always an encouragement, we quote the able Comptroller
Fred White, who wrote Major Irvine on behalf of the Secretary of State,
then the governmental head of the department: "The Secretary of State
desires that you will convey to Inspector Walsh his appreciation of the
courage and determination shown by him and the officers and men under
his command in carrying out their duty."
This incident occurred while the Sitting Bull invasion was still an
unsolved problem, and so we take it up again. Inspector Walsh, as
already recorded, met him on his arrival on Canadian soil, and Sitting
Bull promised to obey the Queen's laws and report to the Police anything
that happened. Not long afterwards three Americans, one a priest, the
second General Miles' head scout, and an interpreter, arrived in Sitting
Bull's camp to persuade him to go back south of the line. "The
black-robe" would have been safe, but the other two would have been shot
on sight but for Sitting Bull's promise to Walsh. The Chief sent word to
the Police that three Americans were in his camp, and Assistant
Commissioner Irvine, Inspector Walsh, Sub-Inspectors Clark and Allen
went out to hold inquiry regarding the situation. Including the
Yanktons, a branch of the Sioux, there were some 205 lodges. This was
Irvine's first meeting with the famous Sioux Chief, and he gives us this
pen picture: "I was particularly struck with Sitting Bull. He is a man
of somewhat short stature, but with a pleasant face, a mouth showing
great determination and a fine high forehead. When he smiled, which he
often did, his face brightened up wonderfully. I should say he is a man
of about forty-five years of age. The warriors who came with him were
all of immense height and very muscular. When talking at the conference
he spoke as a man who understands his subject well and who had
thoroughly weighed it before speaking. He believes no one from the other
side and said so. His speech showed him to be a man of wonderful
capability."
The conference referred to was between the police officers above
mentioned and Sitting Bull and other chiefs of the Sioux, Pretty Bear,
Bear's Cap, The Eagle Sitting Down, Spotted Eagle and others. Later on
the three Americans were present. But the Sioux flatly refused to return
to the South, Sitting Bull closing the conference with the words, "Once
I was rich, plenty of money, but the Americans stole it all in the Black
Hills. What should I return for? To have my horse and my arms taken
away? I have come to remain with the White Mother's children."
The next step taken by the American Government which seemed anxious to
have the Indians return South and settle down on certain conditions, was
to send special Commissioners in the persons of General Terry and
General O'Neill, replaced by Lawrence, to visit Canada, hold conference
with Sitting Bull and the other chiefs to that end. The Canadian
Government adhered to its position of being willing to protect the
Indians so long as they were on British soil. Hence no undue pressure to
leave would be brought on those who had sought asylum under the British
flag, but at the same time both the Ottawa authorities and the Police
would have been glad to see them go voluntarily. Those who had knowledge
of the situation and the outlook knew that Canada would not set aside
land as reserves for American Indians, and they knew also that with the
early disappearance of buffalo and other game in the presence of
advancing civilization, the burden of feeding and caring for these
aliens would be very heavy.
Word was wired from Ottawa to Colonel MacLeod to meet the American
Commissioners with an escort at the boundary and if possible to get the
Sioux leaders to come to Fort Walsh to meet them and thus save the
Commissioners the necessity for a long journey. Accordingly, MacLeod met
the Americans at the line and escorted them to Fort Walsh, to which
point Inspector Walsh brought Sitting Bull and the other chiefs in due
course. Walsh had great difficulty in getting the Indians to come, as
they said they did not trust the Americans and feared that the latter
might bring soldiers across to attack them. The fact that the day Walsh
was in the camp on his errand of persuasion a band of Nez Perces men,
women and children, wounded and bleeding, after a fight across the line,
had come there for refuge, did not make the Inspector's task any easier.
But because they had received the assurance of both MacLeod and Walsh
that no one could cross the line after them, the chiefs came--Sitting
Bull, Bear's Cap, Spotted Eagle, Flying Bird, Whirlwind Bear, Iron Dog,
The Crow, Bear that Scatters, Little Knife, Yellow Dog and some others
of less importance. The conference was held on October 17, 1877. It is
customary for all parties to shake hands before beginning these "talks,"
but on this occasion Sitting Bull, representing the Chiefs, entered and
shook hands warmly with Colonel MacLeod, but passed the American
Commissioners with the utmost disdain.
General Terry delivered the message from the President of the United
States. Terry was a distinguished soldier, hero of Fort Fisher in the
Civil War, a man of magnificent appearance, standing some 6 ft. 6 in.,
built in proportion, a very gentlemanly officer with a kindly face and
gracious manner. He made known the wishes of the President, told the
Sioux that they were the only hostile band remaining out, offered them
reserves and stock with farm implements and instructors, the only
condition being that they would settle down on their reserves and
surrender their arms and their horses. The General made appeal to them
that, because too much blood had already been spilled, they should all
henceforth live in peace, and the whole bearing and appearance of the
distinguished speaker indicated his personal genuineness.
But Sitting Bull and his friends would not be appeased. They were
embittered by a long course of harsh and unfair treatment by
unscrupulous agents and frontier exploiters. One after the other the
chiefs rose and declined the offer because, as they said, they had no
confidence that these fair promises would be carried out. Sitting Bull
said, "For sixty-four years you have treated my people bad. Over there
we could go nowhere, so we have taken refuge here. I shake hands with
these people (the Police), you can go back home, that part of the
country we came from belonged to us and you took it from us, now we live
here." Some of the other chiefs spoke even more bitterly and even a
squaw, though it was a most unusual thing for a woman to take part in a
conference, added her hot protest against accepting the proposals of the
Commissioners from the States. The burden of the Indian speeches was all
to the effect that they had been given no rest on the other side of the
line, but had been driven about from place to place.
So the United States officers returned to their own country, having
failed in their mission, to their own disappointment, and it may be
added to the disappointment of the Canadian authorities who would have
been glad to be relieved of the responsibility for the care of alien
Indians, but who would not attempt in any way to drive out any who had
sought refuge on our soil.
But as the time passed the position of the Sioux became more and more
difficult. They were kept under strict surveillance by the Police. On
account of their warlike disposition, and their association with the
massacres south of the line, their presence was prejudicial to
settlement by white people. Superintendent James Walker, who was in
charge at Battleford and who, having jurisdiction over a large area,
showed marked judgment as well as firmness in dealing with Indians, has
some very accurate forecasts in a report written at the end of 1879. He
suggests that Police be stationed at Duck Lake and Fort Pitt as well as
Prince Albert. Duck Lake was the home of Chief Beardy, with whom Walker
had already taken some firm measures and who joined with the Riel-Dumont
rebellion later. Fort Pitt was the home of Chief Big Bear, concerning
whom Walker writes in that report: "I look upon Big Bear as one of the
most troublesome Cree Indians we have in the territories." And this same
Big Bear also became a rebel in Riel's day and, after the Frog Lake
massacre, burned Fort Pitt as an extra in his exploits, as I witnessed
with my own eyes.
These items are quoted to show Walker's foresight as well as insight,
for these give special weight to another sentence in that report
concerning Indians of the Sitting Bull tribe. "The very name of Sioux,"
wrote Walker, "strikes terror into the hearts of many of the settlers."
On this account the wanderings of Sitting Bull from Fort Walsh to
Qu'Appelle and generally round about, was an unsettling influence. In a
year or two, however, with the buffalo growing fewer and no land reserve
in sight on the Canadian side, a good many of Sitting Bull's following
began to drop away from him and go back over the line. One day, with
about 1,200 or so of his people, he turned up at Fort Qu'Appelle and
applied to Superintendent Sam B. Steele, who had come to that point from
Fort Walsh, and asked that a reserve be given him and his band in
Canada. Steele told him there was no chance, but sent a wire to Indian
Commissioner (afterwards Governor) Dewdney that Sitting Bull was there.
Mr. Dewdney came to Qu'Appelle and told Sitting Bull that the Canadian
Government would not give him a reserve, as he had a reserve on the
other side of the line which the United States would give him to occupy
in peace if he would go there. Mr. Dewdney offered to ration Sitting
Bull and his band as far as Wood Mountain, and Steele sent an escort
with the Indians to ration them to that point. When they arrived there
Sitting Bull was in a rather vicious temper and went to Inspector A. R.
Macdonnell, the Mounted Police officer in charge there, with a few men.
Sitting Bull asked for food and was refused by Macdonnell, who was
widely known as a somewhat erratic but absolutely fearless and
fair-minded man. The Sioux Chief then said he would take food by force,
but he had mistaken his man. Macdonnell replied that he would ration the
band with bullets if they tried that game. Then said Sitting Bull, "I am
cast away." "No," said Macdonnell. "You are not cast away. I am speaking
for your own good and the good of your people and giving you good
advice. You have been promised pardon and food and land if you return to
your own reservation in the United States. I advise you to go and I will
help you and your people to travel if you accept the terms that have
been offered you." Sitting Bull knew that Macdonnell would keep his word
in either case, and so he concluded to take the Inspector's kindly meant
advice.
Accordingly, the next day Macdonnell personally accompanied Sitting Bull
to Poplar River, where the Chief handed over his rifle to Major
Brotherton of the United States Army in token of submission. Macdonnell
then arranged that the Sitting Bull band should be supplied with
transportation and food by Mr. Louis Legarre, a trader, at the expense
of the American Government, and thus they all crossed over the line. A
few years later there was some row on Sitting Bull's reserve over there
in connection with arrests, and in the confusion the famous old chief
was shot, it is claimed by mistake and unnecessarily. Thus ended the
stormy career of a man who seems to have been honest according to his
light in fighting for the rights of his people as he understood them.
His methods in war were no doubt barbaric and cruel enough, but some
civilized nations cannot throw stones at pagans in that regard.
I have written Sitting Bull's story as far as it affected Canada in some
detail, because it was in reality a series of events full of dangerous
possibilities. Papers and persons in Eastern Canada were demanding that
regiments should be raised and sent out to the West to cope with the
situation that foreboded war with the Americans, who had thousands of
picked soldiers on the border to keep the Indians down. But to the utter
amazement of Eastern Canadians and to the more profound surprise of the
Americans our handful of Mounted Police, with masterly diplomacy,
endless patience and steady, cool courage were able to handle the whole
situation and solve it without the loss of a single life on either side.
There are few such chapters anywhere in the records of history.
It is in keeping with the general attitude of the Police towards the
Indians, whom they considered the wards of the nation which the men in
the scarlet tunic represented, that we find many fine incidents
scattered up and down throughout the years. At Qu'Appelle, about the
time above noted, an epidemic of smallpox threatened in the winter time,
when its deadly effects are most in evidence in the Indian camps. The
Police never proceeded on the wretched maxim of some that "the only good
Indian is a dead Indian," and so, when these children of the wild were
attacked by plague or pestilence or other destroyer, the Police fought
for the lives of the afflicted people with all the tenacity and the
courage of their corps. On the occasion mentioned in this paragraph
there was no doctor, but Acting Hospital Steward Holmes, who had studied
medicine, though he had no graduation standing, threw himself into the
struggle against this dread disease. He vaccinated the Indians on all
the reserves, many white people and all the half-breeds in the district.
This meant travelling incessantly in the dead of winter and sleeping
without tent in the snow-drifts with the thermometer down to 30 degrees
below zero and more. He was only drawing the usual constable pay of 75
cents a day, and Steele, who was in command, recommended him for a small
bonus allowance and a promotion. For it was not only vaccination and
treatment of smallpox that had engaged Holmes' efforts, but constant
attendance upon hundreds of Indians who had been so worn down that it
was only by his devoted efforts that they were pulled through that hard
winter. To Steele's amazement neither of his recommendations as to this
toiler for others was acted upon. But I do not suppose Holmes cared. He
had done his duty and was not working for reward. But the ways of men
who could pigeon-hole a recommendation like that are difficult to
understand.
A somewhat similar case was away in another direction, where one
Corporal D. B. Smith held the post all alone at the famous old Hudson's
Bay Fort at Norway House on Lake Winnipeg. Scarlet fever and diphtheria
in the most deadly form broke out amongst the Indians and half-breeds,
who were being mowed down like corn before the scythe. Corporal Smith,
though stationed there for ordinary duty, did not hesitate a moment in
facing the situation and going into a fight against these violent twin
epidemics. He looked after the sick with the tenderness of a nurse, he
comforted the dying, he buried the dead when even relatives shrank from
the duty, and by strong disinfectants he sought to clean the huts and
tents of the poisonous germs. There was no glamour of war to lure him
on, no crashing of music, no cheers of comrades, for he was alone. It
was just a grim, determined, silent fight, in which he knew he might
fall at any moment himself, and there was no one to tell of deeds that
were worthy of the Victoria Cross. But he fought the plagues to a
finish. And it is good to know that when the story of it all leaked out
and got to the ears of the authorities the Corporal got an additional
stripe in recognition of his valorous work.
Or take a later case, where one Sergeant Field away in the bitter North
at Fort Chippewyan received word that an Indian had gone insane and
dangerous some 300 miles away at another post. Field had just returned
from a hard patrol and his dogs were fagged. Field was an experienced
man and knew the danger, as he was tired out himself. But he hired a
fresh team of dogs and started out. The Indian madman was hard to
handle, for he was violent and strong. Field had to tie him on the
sleigh, but of course had to release him at times for fear he would
freeze. On these occasions the lunatic would fight like a wolf and make
attempts to get away. It would have been easy to let him get away and be
lost in some night blizzard in the wilderness. But that was not the
Police way, and in due course the unfortunate creature was landed safely
at Fort Saskatchewan and given a chance to recover under new conditions.
When occasion required, the red-coated men could be firm enough, as all
law-breakers found to their sorrow, but there is something amazing in
the way in which these policemen risked and lost their lives at times in
making arrests rather than shoot the Indians they were sent to bring in.
In a most marked degree the police kept to the faith that they were come
to save human lives rather than destroy them. In this connection and
throwing in some incidents as above to illustrate our points, we think
of the case of Sergeant Wilde, of Pincher Creek, who trailed a murderous
Indian generally known as Charcoal into the foothills. When the murderer
was sighted, Wilde, whose horse was one of the best, spurred away ahead
of his men. Charcoal was riding deliberately along with a rifle slung
across in front of him in plain sight of Wilde, who, however, would not
fire upon him, but pressed on to make the arrest and leave the disposal
of him to the law of the land. When Wilde rode up to him, the Indian
wheeled in his saddle and shot him, following this up a few minutes
after by putting another bullet in the body of the policeman as he lay
on the ground. Wilde was one of the finest men who had ever worn the
uniform--one of the men who had built up the great tradition of the
Force. He was greatly beloved at Pincher Creek, where the citizens
erected a monument to his memory. A pathetic incident took place on the
day of his funeral, when a faithful and favourite hound that had always
kept guard over Wilde refused to allow the pallbearers to remove the
body and had to be shot before the funeral cortège could proceed. It was
a pity to have to do this drastic thing, but the loyal and devoted dog
would no doubt have died in any case of a broken heart.
And then there was the case of that other gallant young man, Sergeant
Colebrook, up in the Prince Albert district, who was killed while
proceeding to arrest a notorious Indian called Almighty Voice. Colebrook
knew the character of the Indian because he had arrested him once before
for cattle-stealing. This time Colebrook was trailing him for killing
cattle and for breaking jail, and in company with an interpreter guide
caught up to him on the open prairie. The Indian unslung his gun and
called to the guide to tell the policeman to halt or he would shoot. But
halting was not the Police way, and Colebrook, with the warrant to
arrest, not to kill, as he said to the guide, went steadily forward and
received a fatal bullet through the heart. It was the price he paid for
his devotion to orders, but it maintained the Police tradition. Almighty
Voice, of course, was not allowed to escape. He and two other Indians
took up a stand in a clump of bushes, where they fought like rats in a
hole against the Police and civilians, of whom they killed several
before the bush was shelled and the Indians found dead when Assistant
Commissioner McIllree with several men rushed the position from the open
plain.
It was the willingness of the Police, even at great risk to themselves,
to allow the alleged wrong-doer to get the benefit of a fair British
trial after his arrest, that gradually gave the Indians a new sense of
obligation to the men of the scarlet tunic. This splendid part of the
Police tradition won its way steadily till great war camps came to
realize that the Police stood for the square deal, and that if men the
Police wished to arrest were innocent, they would not be punished. And
with that lesson came also into the heart of the Indian the conviction
that if any of their number did wrong they should, as westerners used to
say, take their medicine and reap the due reward of their deeds. In
either case the Police approved themselves to the Indians as their
friends, not their enemies, and thus the famous corps became a very
great asset to Canada in the interests of law and order.