PART I

Produced by Al Haines (This file was produced from images

obtained from The Internet Archive)

PATHFINDERS OF

THE GREAT PLAINS

A Chronicle of La Verendrye and his Sons

BY

LAWRENCE J. BURPEE

TORONTO

GLASGOW, BROOK & COMPANY

1914

Copyright in all Countries subscribing to

the Berne Convention

{ix}

CONTENTS

Page

I. EARLY SERVICE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

II. FIRST ATTEMPT AT EXPLORATION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20

III. ACROSS THE PLAINS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44

IV. THE MANDAN INDIANS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55

V. THE DISCOVERY OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS . . . . . . . . . . 72

VI. LA VERENDRYES' LATTER DAYS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113

INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115

ILLUSTRATIONS

LA VERENDRYE EXPLORATIONS, 1731-43 . . . . . . . . . _Facing page_ 1

Map by Bartholomew.

AN INDIAN ENCAMPMENT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . " " 48

Painting by Paul Kane.

AN ASSINIBOINE INDIAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . " " 52

From a pastel by Edmund Morris.

MANDAN GIRLS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . " " 68

From Pritchard's 'Natural History of Man.'

TABLET DEPOSITED BY LA VERENDRYE, 1743 . . . . . . . " " 90

From photographs lent by Charles N. Bell,

F.R.G.S., President of the Manitoba

Historical and Scientific Society.

THE MARQUIS DE LA GALISSONIERE . . . . . . . . . . . " " 96

From an engraving in the Chateau de Ramezay.

[Illustration: La Verendrye Explorations, 1731-43]

{1}

CHAPTER I

EARLY SERVICE

Canada has had many brave sons, but none braver than Pierre Gaultier de

La Verendrye, who gave all that he had, including his life, for the

glory and welfare of his country. La Verendrye was born in the quaint

little town of Three Rivers, on the St Lawrence, on November 17, 1685.

His father was governor of the district of which Three Rivers was the

capital; his mother was a daughter of Pierre Boucher, a former governor

of the same district. In those days, when Canada was still a French

colony, both Three Rivers and Montreal had their own governors, while

the whole colony was under the authority of the governor-general, who

lived at Quebec.

At that time Three Rivers was a more important place than it is to-day.

Next to Quebec and Montreal, it was the largest town in Canada. If we

could see it as it was in the days of La Verendrye, we should find it

very {2} different from the towns we know. It was surrounded by a

strong wall and protected with cannon. The town had always a garrison

of regular soldiers, and this garrison was supported in times of

necessity by every man and boy in Three Rivers. Those who lived in the

neighbourhood were also liable to be called upon for the service of

defence. In those days, when the dreaded Iroquois might at any moment

swoop down upon the little settlement, every man kept his gun within

reach, and every man knew how to use it. When the alarm was given,

men, women, and children swarmed into Three Rivers, and the town became

a secure fortress; for the Indians, ready enough to ambush small

parties of white men in the forest or in the fields, rarely dared to

attack walled towns.

In this little walled town Pierre Gaultier de La Verendrye was born,

and spent his boyhood. He was one of ten children, so that he must

have had no lack of companions. We have no exact description of the

home of the governor of Three Rivers, but it was probably much like

that of other seigneurs or landed gentry of New France--a low,

rambling, stone building, with walls solid enough to resist a siege,

perhaps a wing or two, many {3} gables, and a lofty roof. It would be

flanked, too, with many outhouses. It must not be supposed, however,

that the governor of Three Rivers and his family lived in luxury.

People then were obliged to live more simply than they live to-day.

The governor had a salary of 1200 francs a year, or about 240 dollars

of the money of the present day. At that time, it is true, food and

clothing were cheaper than they are now, so that this sum would buy a

great deal more than it would at the present time; and the governor had

other slight resources, for he was able to add to his official income

the profits of a small farm and of a trading post on the St Maurice

river. Still, it was a small income on which to support a family of

ten lusty children, and at the same time keep up the dignity of the

position as governor of an important town. Pierre, therefore, like

most of the other boys of New France, had to shift for himself at an

age when the boys of to-day are still at school.

In those days there was practically only one career for a gentleman's

son--that of a soldier. Accordingly we find Pierre entering the army

as a cadet at the age of twelve. Nothing is known of his military

service up to the year 1704. In that year, however, he took part in

{4} an expedition against Deerfield, on the north-western frontier of

the colony of Massachusetts. The expedition was commanded by a

well-known guerilla leader, Hertel de Rouville, and consisted of about

fifty Canadians and two hundred Abnakis and Caughnawagas. These

adventurers and redskins were accustomed to all kinds of hardship. In

the depth of winter they set out from Montreal to make a journey of

nearly three hundred miles. They travelled on snow-shoes through the

forest, carrying supplies and provisions on their backs. At the end of

a long day's tramp, some comparatively sheltered spot would be found

for the camp; the snow would be cleared away with their snowshoes, and

a big camp-fire built in the midst of the clearing. Round this the

weary men, white and red, would gather to eat their simple meal and

smoke a pipe; then each man would wrap himself in his cloak or blanket

and fall asleep, with his feet towards the fire. From time to time

some one, warned by the increasing cold, would spring up to throw on

the fire another log or two. With the first appearance of dawn, the

party would be once more astir; a hasty breakfast would be swallowed,

and they would be off again on their long tramp to the south.

{5}

So day after day they journeyed until at last, just when they had come

to the very end of their provisions, they arrived within sight of the

doomed little English frontier village of Deerfield. In the dead of

the night Rouville called a halt in a pine forest two miles from the

village, and made preparations to surprise the inhabitants. The people

of Deerfield were wholly unconscious of the danger from the approach of

the French raiders. Although the place had a rude garrison this force

was ineffective, since it had little or no discipline. On this

particular night even the sentries seem to have found their patrol duty

within the palisades of the village so uncomfortable, in the bitter

night air, that they had betaken themselves to bed.

Parkman has described the next step:

Rouville and his men, savage with hunger, lay shivering under the pines

till about two hours before dawn; then, leaving their packs and their

snow-shoes behind, they moved cautiously towards their prey. There was

a crust on the snow strong enough to bear their weight, though not to

prevent a rustling noise, as it crunched under the weight of so many

men. It is said that from time to time Rouville commanded a halt, in

order {6} that the sentinels, if such there were, might mistake the

distant sound for rising and falling gusts of wind. In any case, no

alarm was given till they had mounted the palisade and dropped silently

into the unconscious village. Then with one accord they screeched the

war-whoop, and assailed the doors of the houses with axes and hatchets.

The surprised villagers, awakened out of their sleep to find a howling

force of French and Indians in their midst, hastily barricaded their

doors, and fought desperately with any weapons they could snatch up.

In some cases the defenders succeeded in keeping the enemy at bay; but

others were not so successful. The French and the Indians, hacked

openings in the doors and the windows of some of the houses, and

through these shot down the inmates. Finally, when day broke, the

French had gained possession of most of the village. Then they

collected their prisoners and drove them out to their camp in the

forest. A few burned houses, a score or so of dead bodies, not only of

men but of helpless women and children, and a crowd of shivering

prisoners, some of whom were butchered by the way, were the evidences

of this inglorious victory.

{7}

From the plunder of the houses the victors obtained some provisions

which helped to feed their party on the long homeward journey. Before

noon of the following day they had started northward again, driving

their captives before them through the deep snow. The mid-winter tramp

through the wilderness proved extremely trying to both the French and

their prisoners, but particularly to the prisoners, among whom were

many women and children. Many of them were unaccustomed to snowshoes.

Yet now they had to make long forced marches in this way over the deep

snow. Food, too, was scarce. Some of the prisoners died of

starvation; others of exhaustion. Finally the remnant reached the

French settlements on the St Lawrence, where they were kindly treated

by the inhabitants. Some were afterwards exchanged for French captives

in New England, but many never again saw their former homes.

The year after his return from the expedition to Deerfield, Pierre de

La Verendrye took part in another raid against the English settlements.

On this occasion, however, the attack was not upon a New England

village, but against the town of St John's, in Newfoundland. The

expedition was commanded {8} by an officer named Subercase, who

afterwards became governor of Acadia. St John's was defended by two

forts, with small English garrisons. The French, who had about four

hundred and fifty soldiers, found themselves unable to capture the

forts. They therefore abandoned the attack on St John's and returned

to the French settlement of Placentia, burning, as they went, a number

of English fishing villages along the shore.

This kind of warfare could not bring much honour to a young soldier,

and it was probably joyful news to Pierre to learn that he had been

appointed an ensign in the Bretagne regiment of the Grenadiers serving

in Flanders. He sailed from Canada in 1706, and for three years fought

with his regiment in what was known as the War of the Spanish

Succession, in which the English armies were commanded by the famous

Duke of Marlborough. Finally, at the terrible battle of Malplaquet, in

which thousands of both English and French were killed, Pierre so

distinguished himself that he won the rank of lieutenant. He received

no less than nine wounds, and was left for dead upon the field.

Fortunately he managed to escape, to render to his country in the years

to come much greater service.

{9}

Finding that there was little hope of further promotion in the French

army, since he had no influence in high quarters, Pierre returned to

Canada. After several years' service in the colonial forces, he

abandoned the army, and engaged in the fur trade. As a boy at Three

Rivers, he had enjoyed many chances of meeting the fur-traders who came

down to the little town on the St Lawrence with their packs of valuable

peltry, and had shown an especial and fascinated interest in their

stories of the boundless country that lay north and west of the string

of settlements on the St Lawrence. This country was so vast in extent

that even the most remote tribes yet visited by the white traders could

state nothing definite as to its outer boundaries, though, in answer to

the eager questions of the white men, they invented many untrue tales

about it.

The fur-traders themselves were divided into two classes. The more

staid and respectable class built trading forts in the interior on the

borders of territories occupied by the Indians. Here they kept a

supply of the things required by the natives: guns, powder and balls,

tobacco, blankets, bright-coloured cotton, axes and small tools, flints

and steels, vermilion for war-paint, and beads of every colour and {10}

description. The Indians brought their furs into the forts and

bartered them for the goods that they needed. Sometimes, with no sense

of real values, they traded beaver skins and other pelts of high worth

for a piece of gaudy cotton, a little vermilion, or a handful of beads.

The white men, of course, brought things which rapidly became

indispensable to the Indians, whose native bows and arrows and hatchets

of stone seemed almost useless compared with the muskets and the steel

axes brought from Europe. To acquire these things became vital to the

Indians, and the traders who now supplied them acquired each year

thousands of beautiful furs. These were tied up securely into packs

and carried in canoes down to Montreal or Three Rivers, where they were

bought by the great merchants and sent by ship to France. The furs

that had been bought from the Indian for a mere trifle fetched hundreds

of francs when they finally reached Paris.

The second class of traders, known as coureurs de bois, or

wood-runners, were very different from the first. Speaking generally,

they were young men, sometimes of good family, who found life in the

older towns and settlements prosaic and uninteresting, and when {11}

they went to the interior did not care to be tied down to the humdrum

existence of the trading forts. Instead of requiring the Indians to

bring their furs down to some fort, these enterprising rovers of the

forest went into the Indian country. Sometimes they took light trading

goods with them to barter with the redskins for furs, but oftener they

themselves hunted and trapped the beaver, the otter, and the fox. The

coureurs de bois were generally men of reckless courage, ready to face

danger and hardship. From long living among the savages they

themselves became in time half savage. Some of them took Indian wives

and were adopted into the tribes.

When one of these wood-runners had obtained a quantity of furs, he made

them up into packs, loaded them carefully in his canoe, and set out for

the distant settlements, Montreal, Three Rivers, or Quebec. He knew

the wild northern streams as well as any Indian; he could run his canoe

safely down a rapid where an inch one way or the other would dash it

against the rocks; and he could paddle all day with only an occasional

stop for a meal or a smoke. When he came to an impassable rapid or

waterfall, he beached his canoe and carried everything--canoe, packs,

gun, and {12} provisions--overland to the navigable water ahead. At

night he pulled his canoe ashore, built a campfire, and cooked over the

flames a partridge, a wild duck, or a venison steak. If he had not

been fortunate enough to meet with such game, he made a simple meal of

pemmican--dried venison mixed with fat--a supply of which he always

carried in a bag in case of need. Then he smoked his pipe, rolled

himself in his blanket, placed his gun within reach, and slept soundly

until the sun awakened him on the following morning. When he reached

the far-off towns on the St Lawrence, he traded part of his furs for

any goods which he needed, and was only too likely to get rid of the

rest in dissipation. As soon as his money was spent, he would turn his

back on civilization and live once more the wild life of the Indian

country.

From such men as these, who were constantly to be seen in the little

town of Three Rivers, Pierre de La Verendrye heard many stories of the

wonderful country that lay far towards the setting sun. They told him

of mighty rivers and great lakes. Some of these they had seen; others

they had heard of from the Indians. Always the young man heard rumours

of a great _Mer de l'Ouest_, or Western {13} Sea, which French

explorers had been seeking ardently ever since the days of Jacques

Cartier and Samuel Champlain. In the earlier days, when the French

first came to Canada, this Western Sea was supposed to be somewhere

above Montreal. Probably the Indians who first spoke of it to Jacques

Cartier meant nothing more than Lake Ontario. Then, in the days of

Champlain, the sea was sought farther westward. Champlain heard

rumours of a great water beyond the Ottawa river. He paddled up the

Ottawa, reached Lake Nipissing, and, descending what is now known as

French River, found the immense body of water of which the Indians had

told him. He had discovered Lake Huron, but this, again, was not the

Western Sea. Other explorers, following in his footsteps, discovered

Lake Michigan and Lake Superior; but still neither of these was the

Western Sea. So, in La Verendrye's day, men were dreaming of a Western

Sea somewhere beyond Lake Superior. How far was it westward of Lake

Superior? Who could tell? The Indians were always ready with a

plausible tale, and many believed that the Western Sea would still be

found at no great distance beyond the uppermost of the Great Lakes.

{14}

La Verendrye was a young man of ambition and imagination. The spirit

of adventure called him to a great exploit in discovery, as it had

called earlier explorers French in blood--Jacques Cartier and Champlain

and Radisson, Nicolet and Etienne Brule, Marquette and La Salle. They

one and all had sought diligently for the Western Sea; they had made

many notable discoveries, but in this one thing they all had failed.

La Verendrye determined to strive even more earnestly than any of his

great predecessors to discover a way to the Western Sea, not so much

for his own advantage as for the honour and glory of his native

country. This great idea had been taking form in his mind from the

days of his early boyhood, when, seated before the great log fire in

his father's home in Three Rivers, he had first listened to the

stirring tales of the woodrunners.

Years went by, however, before he could attempt to put his plans into

execution. Soon after his return from the French wars, he married the

daughter of a gentleman of New France named Dandonneau and made his

home on the island of Dupas in the St Lawrence, near Three Rivers.

Here four sons were born to him, all of whom were {15} later to

accompany their father on his western explorations. His principal

occupation at this time was to look after the trading-post of La

Gabelle on the St Maurice river, not far from the point where it

discharges its waters into the St Lawrence.

La Verendrye's experience and capacity as a fur-trader, gained at this

post of La Gabelle, led the governor of the colony to offer him, in the

year 1726, the command of an important trading fort on Lake Nipigon,

north of Lake Superior. With his great project of western exploration

always in mind, he eagerly accepted the offer. For three or four years

he remained in command of the Nipigon post, faithfully discharging his

duties as a fur-trader, but with his mind always alert for any

information that might help him later to discover a way to the Western

Sea.

One day there came to him from the Kaministikwia river--on which the

city of Fort William now stands--an Indian named Ochagach. According

to his own story, Ochagach had travelled far towards the setting sun,

until he came to a great lake, out of which a river flowed westward.

He said that he had paddled down this river until he reached a point

where the water ebbed and flowed. {16} Through fear of the savage

tribes that inhabited the shores of the river, he had not gone to its

mouth, but he had been told that the river emptied into a great salt

lake or sea, upon the coasts of which dwelt men of terrifying mien, who

lived in fortified towns; he had been told that these men wore armour

and rode on horseback, and that great ships visited the towns which

they had built on the coasts.

Ochagach's story made a deep impression on La Verendrye. Not that he

accepted the whole account as true. He knew too well the wild

imagination of the Indian, and his delight in telling marvellous tales

to the white men. But the river that flowed westward and fell into a

great sea answered so closely to his own dream, and seemed on the whole

so probable, that he was persuaded of the truth of the story. He

determined, therefore, to surrender his command of the Nipigon post and

to equip an expedition for the discovery of the Western Sea, which now

seemed to be within comparatively easy reach. To do this, he must

obtain the permission and support of the governor-general of Canada,

the Marquis de Beauharnois. He therefore set out for Quebec, taking

with him a rough map which Ochagach had drawn for him. This map {17}

professed to make clear the position of the countries which Ochagach

declared that he had visited.

The governor at Quebec was keenly interested in these plans for western

discovery, and wrote immediately to the French king, urging that La

Verendrye should be provided with one hundred men and the necessary

supplies and equipment. But King Louis at this time was deeply engaged

in European wars and intrigues and could not spare any money for the

work of exploration. All that he would grant was a monopoly of the

western fur trade. That is to say, La Verendrye was to be allowed to

build trading forts in the country which he was about to explore, and,

out of the profits of his traffic with the Indians, he might pay the

cost of his expedition to the Western Sea. No other French traders

would be permitted to trade in this part of the country.

This was sorry encouragement to a man whose only desire was to bring

glory and honour to his native country; but it was all that could be

hoped for from the government or the king. La Verendrye was too true a

leader to abandon plans merely because the road was not made easy for

him. As the king would not pay the cost of his expedition, he {18}

made up his mind to find help from some other source. He must have

men; he must have canoes, provisions, and goods to trade with the

natives. All this demanded a great deal of money. He devoted at once

to the cause his own little fortune, but this was far from sufficient.

Off he went to Montreal, to plead with its merchants to help him. The

merchants, however, were not much interested in his plans for western

discovery. They were business men without patriotism; they looked for

something that would bring profit, not for what might advance the

interests of their country.

It thus happened that if La Verendrye had had nothing to offer them but

the opportunity of sharing in the distinction of his great discovery,

they would have turned deaf ears to his appeal, no matter how eloquent

he might have been. But he was too shrewd a man to urge plans to which

he knew the merchants would not listen. He could turn the king's

monopoly to good account. 'Give me money to pay my men,' he said, 'and

goods to trade with the western tribes, and I will bring you rich

returns in beaver skins. No other traders are permitted to go into the

country west of Lake Superior. I will build trading forts {19} there.

From these as a base I will continue my search for the Western Sea.

All the profits of the enterprise, the rich furs that are brought into

my posts, shall be yours.' Here was something that the self-seeking

merchants could understand. They saw in the fur-trading monopoly a

chance of a golden harvest, a return of hundreds for every franc that

they advanced towards the expenses of the undertaking. With cheerful

haste, therefore, they agreed to pay the cost of the expedition. La

Verendrye was delighted and lost no time in employing such persons as

he needed--soldiers, canoe-men, and hunters. Birch-bark canoes were

procured and laden with provisions, equipment, and packages of goods to

trade with the Indians; and in the early summer of 1731 all was ready

for the great western journey. With La Verendrye were to go three of

his sons, Jean-Baptiste, Pierre, and Francois, and his nephew La

Jemeraye. A Jesuit missionary, Father Messager, would join the party

at Fort Michilimackinac, and the Indian Ochagach was to act as guide.

{20}

CHAPTER II

FIRST ATTEMPT AT EXPLORATION

As La Verendrye led his men from the gates of Montreal to the river

where waited his little fleet of birch-bark canoes, his departure was

watched with varied and conflicting emotions. In the crowd that

surrounded him were friends and enemies; some who openly applauded his

design, others who less openly scoffed at it; priests exhorting him to

devote all his energies to furthering the missionary aims of their

Church among the wild tribes of the West; jealous traders commenting

among themselves upon the injustice involved in granting a monopoly of

the western fur trade to this scheming adventurer; partners in the

enterprise anxiously watching the loading of the precious merchandise

they had advanced to him, and wondering whether their cast of the dice

would bring fortune or failure; busybodies bombarding him with advice;

and a crowd of idle onlookers, divided in their minds {21} as to

whether La Verendrye would return triumphantly from the Western Sea

laden with the spoils of Cathay and Cipango, or would fall a victim to

the half-human monsters that were reputed to inhabit the wilderness of

the West.

But now everything was ready. La Verendrye gave the word of command,

and the canoes leaped forward on their long voyage. A new search for

the Western Sea had begun. No man knew how it would end. The perils

and hardships encountered by the discoverers of America in crossing the

Atlantic were much less terrible than those with which La Verendrye and

his men must battle in exploring the boundless plains of the unknown

West. The voyage across the sea would occupy but a few weeks; this

journey by inland waterways and across the illimitable spaces of the

western prairies would take many months and even years. There was a

daily menace from savage foes lurking on the path of the adventurers.

Hardy and dauntless must they be who should return safely from such a

quest. Little those knew who stood enviously watching the departure of

the expedition what bitter tribute its leader must pay to the

relentless gods of the Great Plains for his hardihood in invading their

savage domain.

{22}

The way lay up the broad and picturesque Ottawa, rich even then with

the romantic history of a century of heroic exploits. This was the

great highway between the St Lawrence and the Upper Lakes for

explorers, missionaries, war parties, and traders. Up this stream, one

hundred and eighteen years before, Champlain had pushed his way,

persuaded by the ingenious impostor Nicolas Vignau that here was the

direct road to Cathay. At St Anne's the expedition made a brief halt

to ask a blessing on the enterprise. Here the men, according to

custom, each received a dram of liquor. When they had again taken

their places, paddles dipped at the word of command, and, like a covey

of birds, the canoes skimmed over the dark waters of the Ottawa,

springing under the sinewy strokes of a double row of paddlers against

the swift current of the river. Following the shore closely, they made

rapid progress up-stream. At noon they landed on a convenient island,

where they quickly kindled a fire. A pot of tea was swung above it

from a tripod. With jest and story the meal went on, and as soon as it

was finished they were again afloat, paddling vigorously and making

quick time. Sunset approached--the brief but indescribably beautiful

sunset {23} of a Canadian summer. The sun sank behind the maples and

cedars, and a riot of colour flooded the western horizon. Rainbow hues

swept up half-way to the zenith, waving, mingling, changing from tint

to tint, as through the clouds flamed up the last brightness of the

sinking sun. A rollicking chorus sank away on the still air, and the

men gazed for a moment upon a scene which, however familiar, could

never lose its charm. The song of the birds was hushed. All nature

seemed to pause. Then as the outermost rim of the sun dropped from

sight, and the brilliant colouring of a moment ago toned to rose and

saffron, pink and mauve, the world moved on again, but with a seemingly

subdued motion. The voyageurs resumed their song, but the gay chorus

that had wakened echoes from the overhanging cliffs,

En roulant ma boule,

Rouli, roulant, ma boule roulant,

En roulant ma boule roulant,

En roulant ma boule,

was changed to the pathetic refrain of a song then as now dear to the

heart of French Canadians--_A la claire fontaine_.

In the cool twilight the men paddled on, placing mile after mile

between them and {24} Montreal. Presently the river widened into a

lakelike expanse. The moon rose and shot its soft gleam across the

water. No ripple stirred the smooth surface, save where the paddles

dipped and the prow of each canoe cut like a knife through the stream.

Belated birds flew overhead, making for home. A stag broke through the

bushes on the farther shore, caught sight of the canoes, gazed at them

for a moment, and then disappeared. It was growing late when La

Verendrye, from the foremost canoe, gave the word to camp. The canoes

turned shoreward, lightly touching the shelving bank, and the men

sprang nimbly to the land. Fires were lighted, the tents were pitched,

and everything was made snug for the night. The hunters had not been

idle during the day, and a dozen brace of birds were soon twirling

merrily on the spit, while venison steaks added appetizing odours.

Their hunger satisfied, the men lounged about on the grass, smoking and

listening to the yarns of some famous story-teller. He would tell

them, perhaps, the pathetic story of Cadieux, who, on this very stream,

had held the dreaded Iroquois at bay while his comrades escaped.

Cadieux himself escaped the Iroquois, only to fall a victim to the

_folie des bois_, or {25} madness of the woods, wandering aimlessly in

circles, until, famished and exhausted, he lay down to die. When his

comrades returned in search of him, they found beside him a birch bark

on which he had written his death chant:

Thou little rock of the high hill, attend!

Hither I come this last campaign to end!

Ye echoes soft, give ear unto my sigh;

In languishing I speedily shall die.

Dear little birds, your dulcet harmony

What time you sing makes this life dear to me.

Ah! had I wings that I might fly like you;

Ere two days sped I should be happy too.

Then, as the camp-fires sank into heaps of glowing embers, each man

would wrap his blanket about him and with kind mother earth for his

pillow and only the dome of heaven above him, would sleep as only those

may whose resting-place is in the free air of the wilderness.

At sunrise they were once more away, on a long day's paddle up-stream.

They passed the Long Sault, where long before the heroic Dollard and

his little band of Frenchmen held at bay a large war party of

Iroquois--sacrificing their lives to save the little struggling colony

at Montreal. Again, their way lay beneath those towering cliffs

overlooking the Ottawa, on which now stand the Canadian Houses of {26}

Parliament. They had just passed the curtain-like falls of the Rideau

on one side, and the mouth of the turbulent Gatineau on the other, and

before them lay the majestic Chaudiere. Here they disembarked. The

voyageurs, following the Indian example, threw a votive offering of

tobacco into the boiling cauldron, for the benefit of the dreaded

Windigo. Then, shouldering canoes and cargo, they made their way along

the portage to the upper stream, and, launching and reloading the

canoes, proceeded on their journey. So the days passed, each one

carrying them farther from the settlements and on, ever on, towards the

unknown West, and perhaps to the Western Sea.

From the upper waters of the Ottawa they carried their canoes over into

a series of small lakes and creeks that led to Lake Nipissing, and

thence they ran down the French river to Lake Huron. Launching out

fearlessly on this great lake, they paddled swiftly along the north

shore to Fort Michilimackinac, where they rested for a day or two.

Fort Michilimackinac was on the south side of the strait which connects

Lake Huron and Lake Michigan, and lay so near the water that the waves

frequently broke against the stockade. Passing through the gates,

above which floated {27} the fleurs-de-lis of France, they found

themselves in an enclosure, some two acres in extent, containing thirty

houses and a small church. On the bastions stood in a conspicuous

position two small brass cannon, captured from the English at Fort

Albany on Hudson Bay, in 1686, by De Troyes and Iberville.[1]

It was now the end of July, and La Verendrye had still a long way to

go. After a brief rest, he gathered his party together, embarked once

more, and steered his way on that great inland sea, Lake Superior. All

that had gone before was child's play to what must now be encountered.

In contrast to the blue and placid waters of Lake Huron, the explorers

now found themselves in the midst of a dark and sombre sea, whose

waves, seldom if ever still, could on occasion rival the Atlantic in

their fierce tumult. Even in this hottest month of the year the water

was icy cold, and the keen wind that blew across the lake forced those

who were not paddling to put on extra clothing. They must needs be

hardy and experienced voyageurs who could safely navigate these mad

waters in frail bark canoes. Slowly they made their way along the

north shore, buffeted by storms and in constant peril of their lives,

until at last, on {28} August 26, they reached the Grand Portage, near

the mouth of the Pigeon river, or about fifteen leagues south-west of

Fort Kaministikwia, where the city of Fort William now stands.

La Verendrye would have pushed on at once for Lac la Pluie, or Rainy

Lake, where he purposed to build the first of his western posts, but

when he ordered his men to make the portage there was first deep

muttering, and then open mutiny. Two or three of the boatmen, bribed

by La Verendrye's enemies at Montreal, had drawn such terrible pictures

of the horrors before them, and had so played upon the fears of their

superstitious comrades, that these now refused flatly to follow their

leader into the unhallowed and fiend-infested regions which lay beyond.

The hardships they had already endured, and the further hardships of

the long and difficult series of portages which lay between them and

Rainy Lake, also served to dishearten the men. Some of them, however,

had been with La Jemeraye at Lake Pepin, on the Mississippi, and were

not to be dismayed. These La Verendrye persuaded to continue the

exploration. The others gradually weakened in their opposition, and at

last it was agreed that La Jemeraye, with half the men, should go on to

Rainy Lake and build a {29} fort there, while La Verendrye, with the

other half, should spend the winter at Kaministikwia, and keep the

expedition supplied with provisions.

In this way the winter passed. The leader was, we may be sure,

restless at the delay and impatient to advance farther. The spring

brought good news. Late in May La Jemeraye returned from Rainy Lake,

bringing canoes laden with valuable furs, the result of the winter's

traffic. These were immediately sent on to Michilimackinac, for

shipment to the partners at Montreal. La Jemeraye reported that he had

built a fort at the foot of a series of rapids, where Rainy Lake

discharges into the river of the same name. He had built the fort in a

meadow, among groves of oak. The lake teemed with fish, and the woods

which lined its shores were alive with game, large and small. The

picture was one to make La Verendrye even more eager to advance. On

June 8 he set out with his entire party for Fort St Pierre, as the new

establishment had been named, to commemorate his own name of Pierre.

It took a month to traverse the intricate chain of small lakes and

streams, with their many portages, connecting Lake Superior and Rainy

Lake.

{30}

After a short rest at Fort St Pierre, La Verendrye pushed on rapidly,

escorted in state by fifty canoes of Indians, to the Lake of the Woods.

Here he built a second post, Fort St Charles, on a peninsula running

out far into the lake on the south-west side--an admirable situation,

both for trading purposes and for defence. This fort he describes as

consisting of 'an enclosure made with four rows of posts, from twelve

to fifteen feet in height, in the form of an oblong square, within

which are a few rough cabins constructed of logs and clay, and covered

with bark.'

In the spring of 1735 Father Messager returned to Montreal, and with

him went La Jemeraye, to report the progress already made. He

described to the governor the difficulties they had encountered, and

urged that the king should be persuaded to assume the expense of

further exploration towards the Western Sea. The governor could,

however, do nothing.

Meanwhile Jean, La Verendrye's eldest son, had advanced still farther

and had made his way to Lake Winnipeg. He took with him a handful of

toughened veterans, and tramped on snow-shoes through the frozen

forest--four hundred and fifty miles in the stern midwinter {31} of a

region bitterly cold. Near the mouth of the Winnipeg river, where it

empties into Lake Winnipeg, they found an ideal site for the fort which

they intended to build. Immediately they set to work, felled trees,

drove stout stakes into the frozen ground for a stockade, put up a

rough shelter inside, and had everything ready for La Verendrye's

arrival in the spring. They named the post Fort Maurepas, in honour of

a prominent minister of the king in France at the time.

La Verendrye had now carried out, and more than carried out, the

agreement made with the governor Beauharnois. He had established a

chain of posts--strung like beads on a string--from Lake Superior to

Lake Winnipeg, from the river Kaministikwia to the open prairie. But

the distance he had traversed, the difficulties he had encountered,

and, above all, the expense incurred, had been far in excess of

anything he had anticipated. These were discouraging experiences. He

seemed at last to have reached the limit of his resources and

endurance. To advance farther with the slender means now at his

command seemed almost impossible. Should he turn back? His men were

more than willing. Every step eastward would bring them nearer their

{32} homes, their families, and the pleasures and dissipations of the

Canadian towns on the far-off St Lawrence. To turn back was the

easiest thing for them. But it was not easy for a man like La

Verendrye. To return meant failure; and for him there was no such

thing as failure while health and strength endured. At whatever cost,

he must push on towards the Western Sea.

The situation was nevertheless most critical. His own means had long

since been exhausted. True, he possessed a monopoly of the fur trade,

but what did it profit him? He had not touched, and never would be

able to touch, a franc of the proceeds: the shrewd merchants of

Montreal had made sure of this. To La Verendrye the monopoly was

simply a millstone added to the burdens he was already forced to bear.

It did not increase his resources; it delayed his great enterprise; and

it put an effective weapon in the hands of his enemies. Little cause

had he to be grateful for the royal monopoly. He would have infinitely

preferred the direct grant of even a score of capable, well-equipped

men. These, maintained at the king's expense, he might lead by the

quickest route to the Western Sea.

As it was, the merchants in Montreal refused {33} to send up further

supplies; his men remained unpaid; he even lacked a sufficient supply

of food. There was nothing for it but to turn back, make the long

journey to Montreal and Quebec, and there do his utmost to arrange

matters. He had already sunk from 40,000 to 50,000 livres in the

enterprise. In all justice, the king should assume the expense of

further explorations in quest of the Great Sea. The governor, the

Marquis de Beauharnois, shared this view, and had already pressed the

court to grant La Verendrye the assistance he so urgently needed. 'The

outlay,' he wrote to the king's minister, Maurepas, 'will not be great;

the cost of the _engages_ [hired men] for three years, taking into

account what can be furnished from the king's stores, would not exceed

30,000 livres at most.' The king, however, refused to undertake the

expense of the expedition. Those who had assumed the task should, he

thought, be in a position to continue it by means of the profits

derived from their monopoly of the fur trade. The facts did not

justify the royal view of the matter. La Verendrye had enjoyed the

monopoly for two or three years--with the result that he was now very

heavily, indeed alarmingly, in debt.

{34}

His was not a nature, however, to be crushed by either indifference or

opposition. He had reached the parting of the ways. Nothing was to be

hoped for from the court. He must either abandon his enterprise or

continue it at his own risk and expense. He went to Montreal and saw

his partners. With infinite patience he suffered their unjust

reproaches. He was neglecting their interests, they grumbled. The

profits were not what they had a right to expect. He thought too much

of the Western Sea and not enough of the beavers. He was a dreamer,

and they were practical men of business.

What could La Verendrye say that would have weight with men of this

stamp? Should he tell them of the glory that would accrue to his and

their country by the discovery of the Western Sea? At this they would

only shrug their shoulders. Should he tell them of the unseen forces

that drew him to that wonderful land of the West--where the crisp clear

air held an intoxicating quality unknown in the East; where the eye

foamed on and on over limitless expanses of waving green, till the mind

was staggered at the vastness of the prospect; where the very largeness

of nature seemed to enter into a man and to {35} crush out things petty

and selfish? In doing this he would be beating the air. They were

incapable of understanding him. They would deem him mad.

Crushing down, therefore, both his enthusiasm for the western land and

his anger at their dulness, he met the merchants of Montreal on their

own commercial level. He told them that the posts he had established

were in the very heart of the fur country; that the Assiniboines and

Crees had engaged to bring large quantities of beaver skins to the

forts; that the northern tribes were already turning from the English

posts of the Hudson's Bay Company in the Far North to the more

accessible posts of the French; that the richly watered and wooded

country between Kaministikwia and Lake Winnipeg abounded in every

description of fur-bearing animal; that over the western prairies

roamed the buffalo in vast herds which seemed to blacken the green

earth as far as eye could reach. His eloquence over the outlook for

trade proved convincing. As he painted the riches of the West in terms

that appealed with peculiar force to these traders in furs, their

hostility melted away. The prospect of profit at the rate of a hundred

per cent once more filled {36} them with enthusiasm. They agreed to

equip the expedition anew. It thus happened that when the intrepid

explorer again turned his face towards the West, fortune seemed to

smile once more. His canoes were loaded with a second equipment for

the posts of the Western Sea. Perhaps at that moment it seemed to him

hardly to matter that he was in debt deeper than ever.

While in the East completing these arrangements, La Verendrye took

steps to ensure that his youngest son, Louis, now eighteen years of

age, should join the other members of the family engaged in the work.

The boy was to be taught how to prepare maps and plans, so that, when

he came west in the following year, he might be of material assistance

to the expedition. The explorer would then have his four sons and his

nephew in the enterprise.

The hopeful outlook did not long endure. It was soon clear that La

Verendrye had again to meet trials which should try his mettle still

more severely. Shortly after his return to Fort St Charles on the Lake

of the Woods, his son Jean arrived from Fort Maurepas, with evil news

indeed. La Jemeraye, his nephew and chief lieutenant, whose knowledge

of the western tribes was invaluable, whose {37} enthusiasm for the

great project was only second to his own, whose patience and

resourcefulness had helped the expedition out of many a tight

corner--La Jemeraye was dead. He had remained in harness to the last,

and had laboured day and night, in season and out of season, pushing

explorations in every direction, meeting and conciliating the Indian

tribes, building up the fur trade at the western posts. Though sorely

needing rest, he had toiled on uncomplainingly, with no thought that he

was showing heroism, till at last his overtaxed body collapsed and he

died almost on his feet--the first victim of the search for the Western

Sea.

Meanwhile the little garrison at Fort St Charles was almost at the

point of starvation. La Verendrye had travelled ahead at such rapid

speed that his supplies were still a long way in the rear when he

reached the fort. In face of the pressing need, it was decided to send

a party down to meet the boats at Kaministikwia and to fetch back at

once the supplies which were most urgently required. Jean, now

twenty-three years of age, was placed in charge of the expedition, and

with him went the Jesuit missionary, Father Aulneau, on his way down to

Fort Michilimackinac. The day for departure was named, {38} and

everything was made ready the night before so that there might be no

delay in starting early in the morning. The sun had hardly risen above

the horizon and was yet filtering through the dense foliage of pine and

cedar, when Jean de La Verendrye and his men embarked and pushed off

from the shore. The paddles dipped almost noiselessly, and the three

light canoes skimmed lightly over the surface of the Lake of the Woods,

followed by shouts of farewell from the fort.

For a time the party skirted the shore. Then they struck out boldly

across the lake. The melodies of the forest followed them for a time,

and then died away in the distance. Nothing was now to be heard but

the dip of paddles and the soft swirl of eddies flying backward from

either side of the canoes. The morning sun swept across the lake; a

faint breeze stirred a ripple on the surface of the water. From far

away came faintly the laugh of a solitary loon. The men paddled

strenuously, with minds intent upon nothing more serious than the halt

for breakfast. The priest was lost in meditation. Jean de La

Verendrye sat in the foremost canoe, with eyes alert, scanning the

horizon as the little flotilla drew rapidly across the lake.

{39}

At the same time, approaching from the opposite direction, was a fleet

of canoes manned by a hundred savages, the fierce and implacable Sioux

of the prairie. They had reached the Lake of the Woods by way of a

stream that bore the significant name _The Road of War_. This was the

war-path of the Sioux from their own country, south of what is now the

province of Manitoba, to the country of the Chippewas and the Crees

farther east. Whenever the Sioux followed this route, they were upon

no peaceful errand. As the Sioux entered the lake, a mist was rising

slowly from the water; but before it completely hid their canoes a

keen-sighted savage saw the three canoes of the French, who were about

to land on the far side of an island out in the lake. Cautiously the

Sioux felt their way across to the near side of the island, and landed

unperceived. They glided noiselessly through the thick underbrush,

and, as they approached the other shore, crept from tree to tree,

finally wriggling snake-wise to the very edge of the thicket. Beneath

them lay a narrow beach, on which some of the voyageurs had built a

fire to prepare the morning meal. Others lay about, smoking and

chatting idly. Jean de La Verendrye sat a little apart, perhaps {40}

recording the scanty particulars of the journey. The Jesuit priest

walked up and down, deep in his breviary.

The circumstances could hardly have been more favourable for the sudden

attack which the savages were eager to make. The French had laid aside

their weapons, or had left them behind in the canoes. They had no

reason to expect an attack. They were at peace with the western

tribes--even with those Ishmaelites of the prairie, the Sioux.

Presently a twig snapped under the foot of a savage. Young La

Verendrye turned quickly, caught sight of a waving plume, and shouted

to his men. Immediately from a hundred fierce throats the war-whoop

rang out. The Sioux leaped to their feet. Arrows showered down upon

the French. Jean, Father Aulneau, and a dozen voyageurs fell. The

rest snatched up their guns and fired. Several of the Sioux, who had

incautiously left cover, fell. The odds were, however, overwhelmingly

against the French. They must fight in the open, while the Indians

remained comparatively secure among the trees. The French made an

attempt to reach the canoes, but had to abandon it, for the Sioux now

completely commanded the approach and no man could reach the water

alive.

{41}

The surviving French, now reduced to half a dozen, retreated down the

shore. With yells of triumph the Sioux followed, keeping within

shelter of the trees. In desperation the voyageurs dropped their guns

and took to the water, hoping to be able to swim to a neighbouring

island. This was a counsel of despair, for wounded and exhausted as

they were, the feat was impossible. When the Sioux rushed down to the

shore, they realized the plight of the French, and did not even waste

an arrow on them. One by one the swimmers sank beneath the waves.

After watching their tragic fate, the savages returned to scalp those

who had fallen at the camp. With characteristic ferocity they hacked

and mutilated the bodies. Then, gathering up their own dead, they

hastily retreated by the way they had come.

For some time it was not known why the Sioux had made an attack,

seemingly unprovoked, upon the French. Gradually, however, it leaked

out that earlier in the year a party of Sioux on their way to Fort St

Charles on a friendly visit had been fired upon by a party of

Chippewas. The Sioux had shouted indignantly, 'Who fire on us?' and

the Chippewas, in ambush, had yelled back with grim humour, 'The

French.' The Sioux {42} retreated, vowing a terrible vengeance against

the treacherous white men. Their opportunity came even sooner than

they had expected. A trader named Bourassa, who had left Fort St

Charles for Michilimackinac shortly before the setting out of Jean de

La Verendrye and his party, had camped for the night on the banks of

the Rainy river. The following morning, as he was about to push off

from the shore, he was surrounded by thirty canoes manned by a hundred

Sioux. They bound him hand and foot, tied him to a stake, and were

about to burn him alive when a squaw who was with him sprang forward to

defend him. Fortunately for him his companion had been a Sioux maiden;

she had been captured by a war party of Monsones some years before and

rescued from them by Bourassa. She knew of the projected journey of

Jean de La Verendrye. 'My kinsmen,' she now cried, 'what are you about

to do? I owe my life to this Frenchman. He has done nothing but good

to me. Why should you destroy him? If you wish to be revenged for the

attack made upon you, go forward and you will meet twenty-four

Frenchman, with whom is the son of the chief who killed your people.'

Bourassa was too much frightened to oppose {43} the statement. In his

own account of what happened he is, indeed, careful to omit any mention

of this particular incident. The Sioux released Bourassa, after taking

possession of his arms and supplies. Then they paddled down to the

lake, where they were only too successful in finding the French and in

making them the victims of the cruel joke of the Chippewas.

This murder of his son was the most bitter blow that had yet fallen

upon La Verendrye. But he betrayed no sign of weakness. Not even the

loss of his son was sufficient to turn him back from his search for the

Western Sea. 'I have lost,' he writes simply to Maurepas, 'my son, the

reverend Father, and my Frenchmen, misfortunes which I shall lament all

my life.' Some comfort remained. The great explorer still had three

sons, ready and willing like himself to sacrifice their lives for the

glory of New France.

[1] See _The 'Adventurers of England' on Hudson Bay_, pages 73-88.

{44}

CHAPTER III

ACROSS THE PLAINS

For several years La Verendrye had been hearing wonderful accounts of a

tribe of Indians in the West who were known as the Mandans. Wherever

he went, among the Chippewas, the Crees, or the Assiniboines, some one

was sure to speak of the Mandans, and the stories grew more and more

marvellous. La Verendrye knew that Indians were very much inclined to

exaggerate. They would never spoil a good story by limiting it to what

they knew to be true. They liked a joke as well as other people; and,

when they found that the white men who visited them were eager to know

all about the country and the tribes of the far interior, they invented

all sorts of impossible stories, in which truth and fiction were so

mingled that at length the explorers did not know what to believe.

Much that was told him by the Indians concerning the Mandans La

Verendrye knew {45} could not possibly be true; he thought that some of

their stories were probably correct. The Indians said that the Mandans

were white like himself, that they dressed like Europeans, wore armour,

had horses and cattle, cultivated the ground, and lived in fortified

towns. Their home was described as being far towards the setting sun,

on a great river that flowed into the ocean. La Verendrye knew that

the Spaniards had made settlements on the western coast of America, and

he thought that the mysterious strangers might perhaps be Spaniards.

At any rate, they seemed to be white men, and, if the Indian stories

were even partially true, they would be able to show him that way to

the great water which it was the ambition of his life to find. His

resolve, therefore, was inevitable. He would visit these white

strangers, whoever they might be; and he had great hopes that they

would be able to guide him to the object of his quest.

For some time, however, he was not able to carry out this intended

visit to the Mandans. The death of his nephew La Jemeraye, followed

soon after by the murder of his son Jean, upset all his plans for a

time. Further, he had great difficulty in keeping peace among the

Indian {46} tribes. The Chippewas and the Crees, who had always been

friendly to the French, were indignant at the treacherous massacre of

the white men by the Sioux, and urged La Verendrye to lead a war party

against this enemy. La Verendrye not only refused to do this himself,

but he told them that they must on no account go to war with the Sioux.

He warned them that their Great Father, the king of France, would be

very angry with them if they disobeyed his commands. Had they not

known him so well, the Indians would have despised La Verendrye as a

coward for refusing to revenge himself upon the Sioux for the death of

his son; but they knew that, whatever his reason might be, it was not

due to any fear of the Sioux. As time went on, they thought that he

would perhaps change his mind, and again and again they came to him

begging for leave to take the war-path. 'The blood of your son,' they

said, 'cries for revenge. We have not ceased to weep for him and for

the other Frenchmen who were slain. Give us permission and we will

avenge their death upon the Sioux.'

La Verendrye, however, disregarding his personal feelings, knew that it

would be fatal to all his plans to let the friendly Indians have {47}

their way. An attack on the Sioux would be the signal for a general

war among all the neighbouring tribes. In that case his forts would be

destroyed and the fur trade would be broken up. In the end, he and his

men would probably be driven out of the western country, and all his

schemes for the discovery of the Western Sea would come to nothing. It

was therefore of the utmost importance that he should remain where he

was, in the country about the Lake of the Woods, until the excitement

among the Indians had quieted down and there was no longer any

immediate danger of war.

At length, in the summer of 1738, La Verendrye felt that he could carry

out his plan of visiting the Mandans. He left one of his sons, Pierre,

in charge of Fort St Charles, and with the other two, Francois and

Louis, set forth on his journey to the West. Travelling down the

Winnipeg river in canoes, they stopped for a few hours at Fort

Maurepas, then crossed Lake Winnipeg and paddled up the muddy waters of

Red River to the mouth of the Assiniboine, the site of the present city

of Winnipeg, then seen by white men for the first time. La Verendrye

found it occupied by a band of Crees under two war chiefs. He landed,

{48} pitched his tent on the banks of the Assiniboine, and sent for the

two chiefs and reproached them with what he had heard--that they had

abandoned the French posts and had taken their furs to the English on

Hudson Bay. They replied that the accusation was false; that they had

gone to the English during only one season, the season in which the

French had abandoned Fort Maurepas after the death of La Jemeraye, and

had thus left the Crees with no other means of getting the goods they

required. 'As long as the French remain on our lands,' they said, 'we

promise you not to go elsewhere with our furs.' One of the chiefs then

asked him where he was now going. La Verendrye replied that it was his

purpose to ascend the Assiniboine river in order to see the country.

'You will find yourself among the Assiniboines,' said the chief; 'and

they are a useless people, without intelligence, who do not hunt the

beaver, and clothe themselves only in the skins of buffalo. They are a

good-for-nothing lot of rascals and might do you harm.' But La

Verendrye had heard such tales before and was not to be frightened from

his purpose. He took leave of the Crees, turned his canoes up the

shallow waters of the Assiniboine river, and ascended {49} it to where

now stands the city of Portage la Prairie. Here he built a fort, which

he named Fort La Reine, in honour of the queen of France.

[Illustration: An Indian encampment. From a painting by Paul Kane.]

While this was being done, a party of Assiniboines arrived. La

Verendrye soon found, as he had expected, that the Crees through

jealousy had given the Assiniboines a character which they did not

deserve. With all friendliness they welcomed the strangers and were

overjoyed at the presents which the French gave them. The most valued

presents consisted of knives, chisels, awls, and other small tools. Up

to this time these people had been dependent upon implements made of

stone and of bone roughly fashioned to serve their purposes, and these

implements were very crude and inferior compared with the sharp steel

tools of the white men.

While La Verendrye had been occupied in building Fort La Reine, one of

his men, Louviere, had been sent to the mouth of the Assiniboine to put

up a small post for the Crees. He found a suitable place on the south

bank of the Assiniboine, near the point where it enters the Red, and

here he built his trading post and named it Fort Rouge. This fort was

abandoned in a year or two, as it was {50} soon found more convenient

to trade with the Indians either at Fort Maurepas near the mouth of the

Winnipeg, or at Fort La Reine on the Assiniboine. The memory of the

fort is, however, preserved to this day. The quarter of Winnipeg in

the vicinity of the old fort is still known as Fort Rouge. The memory

of La Verendrye is also preserved, for a large school built near the

site of the old fort bears the name of the great explorer.

The completion of Fort La Reine freed La Verendrye to make preparations

for his journey to the Mandans. He left some of his men at the fort

and selected twenty to accompany him on his expedition. To each of

these followers he gave a supply of powder and bullets, an ax, a

kettle, and other things needful by the way. In later years horses

were abundant on the western prairie, but at that time neither the

French nor the Indians had horses, and everything needed for the

journey was carried on men's backs.

Three days after leaving Fort La Reine, La Verendrye met a party of

Assiniboines travelling over the prairie. He gave them some small

presents, and told them that he had built in their country a fort where

they could get all kinds of useful articles in {51} exchange for their

furs and provisions. They seemed delighted at having white men so

near, and promised to keep the fort supplied with everything that the

traders required.

A day or two afterwards several other Indians appeared, from an

Assiniboine village. They bore hospitable messages from the chiefs,

who begged the white travellers to come to visit them. This it was

difficult to do. The village was some miles distant from the road on

which they were travelling and already they had lost much time because

their guide was either too lazy or too stupid to take them by the most

direct way to the Mandan villages on the banks of the Missouri. Still,

La Verendrye did not think it wise to disappoint the Assiniboines, or

to offend them, since he might have to depend upon their support in

making his plans for further discoveries. Accordingly, although it was

now nearly the middle of November, the very best time of the year for

travelling across the plains, he made up his mind to go to the

Assiniboine village.

As the party drew near the village, a number of young warriors came to

meet them, and to tell them that the Assiniboines were greatly pleased

to have them as guests. It is {52} possible that the Assiniboines had

heard of the presents which the French had given to some of their

countrymen, and that they too hoped to receive knives, powder and

bullets, things which they prized very highly. At any rate, the

explorer and his men received vociferous welcome when they entered the

village. 'Our arrival,' says La Verendrye, 'was hailed with great joy,

and we were taken into the dwelling of a young chief, where everything

had been made ready for our reception. They gave us and all our men

very good cheer, and none of us lacked appetite.'

[Illustration: An Assiniboine Indian. From a pastel by Edmund Morris.]

The following day La Verendrye sent for the principal chiefs of the

tribe, and gave to each of them a present of powder and ball, or knives

and tobacco. He told them that if the Assiniboines would hunt beaver

diligently and would bring the skins to Fort La Reine, they should

receive in return everything that they needed. One of the chiefs made

a speech in reply. 'We thank you,' he said, 'for the trouble you have

taken to come to visit us. We are going to accompany you to the

Mandans, and then to see you safely back to your fort. We have already

sent word to the Mandans that you are on your way to visit them, and

the Mandans are delighted. We shall travel {53} by easy marches, so

that we may hunt by the way and have plenty of provisions.' The

explorer was not wholly pleased to find that the entire village was to

accompany him, for this involved still further delays on the journey.

It was necessary, however, to give no cause of offence; so he thanked

them for their good-will, and merely urged that they should be ready to

leave as soon as possible and travel with all speed by the shortest

road, as the season was growing late.

On the next morning they all set out together, a motley company, the

French with their Indian guides and hunters accompanied by the entire

village of Assiniboines. La Verendrye was astonished at the orderly

way in which these savages, about six hundred in number, travelled

across the prairies. Everything was done in perfect order, as if they

were a regiment of trained soldiers. The warriors divided themselves

into parties; they sent out scouts in advance to both the right and the

left, in order to keep watch for enemies and also to look out for

buffalo and other game; the old men marched in the centre with the

women and the children; and in the rear was a strong guard of warriors.

If the scouts saw buffalo ahead, they signalled to the rear-guard, {54}

who crept round the herd on both sides until it was surrounded. They

killed as many buffaloes as were needed to provision the camp, and this

completed the men's part of the work. It was the women who cut up the

meat and carried it to the place where the company encamped for the

night. The women, indeed, were the burden-bearers and had to carry

most of the baggage. There were, of course, dogs in great numbers on

such excursions, and these bore a part of the load. The men burdened

themselves with nothing but their arms.

{55}

CHAPTER IV

THE MANDAN INDIANS

It was towards the end of November when La Verendrye and his party

reached the point where the Mandans had promised to meet them. When he

arrived no one was on the spot; but presently, after he had encamped, a

Mandan chief appeared with thirty followers. This chief advanced to La

Verendrye and presented him with Indian corn in the ear and with a roll

of Indian tobacco. These were tokens of friendship. He told La

Verendrye how glad he and his countrymen were to welcome him to their

villages, and begged him to consider the Mandans as his children.

La Verendrye was surprised to find the appearance of the Mandans very

much like that of the other tribes he had met. Stories told by the

Crees and the Assiniboines had prepared him to find them of a different

type, a type like that of the white men. In reality they looked like

the Assiniboines and dressed {56} in the same fashion. Their clothing

was scanty enough, for it consisted of only a buffalo robe worn from

the shoulders. It was clear now that the Indians had been telling him

not what was true but what they thought he would like to hear. 'I knew

then,' he says shrewdly, 'that a heavy discount must be taken off

everything that an Indian tells you.'

The Mandan chief invited La Verendrye to be his guest in the nearest

village, and the whole party made ready to continue their journey to

that point. Then the chief made a speech to the Assiniboines, very

friendly in tone, but artfully intended to make them uneasy and send

them back home. He was really anxious to have the white men as his

guests, but he was not at all anxious to have as guests and to be

obliged to feed an entire village of Assiniboines; and so, thinking to

get rid of them, he played on their well-known fear of the fiery Sioux.

'We thank you,' he said to them, 'for having brought the French to see

us. They could not have arrived at a better time. The Sioux are on

the war-path, and may be here at any moment. We know the valour and

courage of the French, and also of the Assiniboines, and we hope that

you will both help us to defend ourselves from the Sioux.'

{57}

La Verendrye was at first as much imposed upon by this story as were

the Assiniboines, but with a very different effect. They were

dismayed, while he rejoiced at the opportunity of having at last a fair

chance to avenge the cruel death of his son. After the speech, the

Mandan chief took him aside, and explained that the alarm was merely a

trick to get rid of the Assiniboines. They had not food enough at the

village, he said, to satisfy such a hungry horde. But, to the surprise

and disgust of the chief, the Assiniboines swallowed their fears and

decided to go forward. At first, in their terror, the majority of the

tribe had thought it better to turn back; but one of their old chiefs

shamed them into a different course. 'Do not think,' he said, in

scornful accents, 'that our Father [La Verendrye] is a coward,' and he

looked about him at the young Assiniboine warriors until each felt that

he himself was branded as a coward. 'I know him,' he continued,

'better than you do, and I tell you that the Sioux cannot frighten him

or any of his men. What will he think of us? At our request, he went

out of his way to visit our village. We promised to conduct him to the

Mandans, and to bring him safely back to his fort. And now you talk of

{58} abandoning him, because you fear the Sioux. This must never be.

Let those of you who are faint-hearted remain here in camp with the

women; but let those who are without fear follow our father.' After

this scornful eloquence there was no further talk of turning back.

Early on the following morning the camp broke up, and the whole party,

French and Assiniboines and Mandans, marched across the plains towards

the Mandan village. One can imagine the striking picture made up by

the little party of white men in their picturesque costumes, surrounded

by hundreds of half-naked savages. Had the Indians cared to exercise

their power, they might have overwhelmed the French at any moment, but

apparently they had no thought of doing so. Indeed it is quite true

that the Indians of North America, when first they met white men,

treated them in nearly every case with the utmost friendship. Only

after the Indians had been deceived or betrayed by some rascals among

the white men did they learn to look upon them as enemies and become

cruel and treacherous in dealing with them.

When La Verendrye had travelled some distance from the camp, he found

that the bag {59} containing his papers and many other things that

would be required at the Mandan villages had been stolen by one of the

Assiniboines. The thief, he also learned, had made off with his spoil.

Instantly he sent two young warriors to secure him. The culprit was

overtaken on the following day and the bag was recovered. The

pursuers, however, instead of bringing it back to La Verendrye, carried

it on to their village to keep for him until his return. This singular

conduct was due to their fear of the Sioux. The white man's bag would

be safe at the Assiniboine village, but if they ventured to carry it

back to La Verendrye they were not so sure that either it or their own

scalps would be safe at the Mandan village, with the ferocious Sioux

hovering about. They did not know, of course, that the story of the

Sioux was nothing but a hoax.

When La Verendrye arrived within a few miles of the Mandan village, he

found awaiting him another party of Mandans under two of their chiefs.

They had lighted a camp-fire and had brought food for their guests.

The chiefs welcomed him, led him to the place of honour beside the

fire, and presented him with some of their native dishes--corn pounded

into a paste and baked in the coals and something {60} that looked like

a pumpkin pie without the pastry. The party smoked the pipe of peace

and carried on a rather clumsy conversation by means of an interpreter.

Then they resumed the journey and presently the Mandan village appeared

in sight. If the explorer had been disappointed in finding the Mandans

very similar in appearance to other western tribes, now at least he was

gratified to find their buildings more elaborate and interesting than

any he had before met with. The village was in fact a fort, apparently

strong enough to protect the inhabitants from anything less powerful

than artillery, of which of course they had no knowledge.

La Verendrye, knowing that the Indians were always impressed by an

imposing ceremony, now drew up his men in military order. He told his

son Francois to march in front, bearing the flag of France. The

Mandans, who looked upon the explorer as a great white chief, would not

permit him to walk, but carried him upon their shoulders to the gate of

the fort. Naturally he did not like this mode of travel, but he

submitted to it for fear of displeasing his hosts. As they drew near

the fort, he ordered his men to fire a volley as a salute to the

Mandans. The {61} principal chiefs and warriors flocked out to meet

him, and escorted him within their walls. When he marched in with his

force, he saw the ramparts crowded with men, women, and children, who

looked with astonishment upon the first white men they had ever seen.

The principal chief of the tribe led La Verendrye into his own lodge,

and told him to consider it his home so long as he cared to remain in

the village. When the two entered the lodge a crowd of Mandans

followed and the place became suffocating. La Verendrye told the crowd

that they should have many opportunities later to see him, and after

some difficulty he managed to have the place cleared.

This, however, was not effected before the unfortunate explorer had

suffered another loss. He found that, in the confusion, an

enterprising Indian had snatched the bag of presents from one of his

men, and had made off with it. This was serious. The bag contained

nearly all the gifts which he had brought for the chiefs of the

Mandans, and he feared that these chiefs might now look coldly upon a

white man who was unable to offer the customary presents. He explained

what had happened to the principal chief. The chief seemed very much

put out and told La Verendrye for his {62} consolation that there were

a good many rascals among the Mandans. Later, when the Assiniboines

told the chief that he was himself the thief, he made the weak retort

that one of his accusers might be the culprit. He promised to do his

best to recover the bag, but La Verendrye never saw it again.

In a day or two the Assiniboines took leave of La Verendrye, and, much

to the relief of the Mandans, prepared to return to their own village.

Before their departure, the chief of the Assiniboines made a speech to

the Mandans. 'We are leaving you our father,' he said. 'Take great

care of him, and of all the French. Learn to know them, for they are

wise; they know how to do everything. We love our father, and we also

fear him. Do as we do.' The Mandans promised to take every care of

the visitors. Everything the village contained, they said, was at

their service for the asking. They begged that the white chief would

count them among the members of his family. In compliance with their

wish, La Verendrye went through the usual ceremony of placing his hands

on the heads of each of the chiefs. By this ceremony they became his

'children.' The Assiniboines, though they had taken leave of La

Verendrye, {63} still delayed their departure. The Mandans, alarmed at

the quantities of provisions their unwelcome guests required, again

spread the report that the Sioux were approaching. Indeed, they said,

several Mandan hunters had caught sight of them. This time the ruse

succeeded. The Assiniboines, in a panic of alarm, marched off in great

haste, lest the Sioux should intercept them before they could reach

their own country.

Further troubles awaited La Verendrye. The day following the departure

of the Assiniboines he found that his Cree interpreter had gone off

with them, although he had promised faithfully to remain. Even with

this interpreter communications with the Mandans had been difficult.

Before La Verendrye's thoughts expressed in French could reach the

Mandans, they had to pass through the medium of three other languages.

One of La Verendrye's sons, who understood Cree, was able to translate

the explorer's questions into that language; then the Cree interpreter

put the questions into Assiniboine; and several of the Mandans were

sufficiently familiar with the language of the Assiniboines to complete

the chain and express the ideas in their own tongue. With the Cree

interpreter gone, the problem of {64} communication became much more

difficult. Indeed, the only method that remained of carrying on

conversation with the Mandans was by means of signs and gestures.

One of La, Verendrye's principal reasons for visiting the Mandans had

been to find out from them as much as possible of the country which lay

westward. He had hoped that they would be able to tell him something

definite about the Western Sea, something of the best way of reaching

it, and of the tribes he should meet on the way. He had had very

little time to put questions before his interpreter deserted, and now

he feared that he should have to turn back, because he had no means of

getting information from the Mandans. With a great deal of difficulty

he managed to learn that there were six Mandan villages or forts, some

on one side of the Missouri, some on the other, and that farther down

this river lived two other tribes, the Panana and the Pananis, who were

at war with the Mandans, although they had formerly been their fast

friends. The Mandans told him by signs that as one went down the

Missouri it became very wide, and that there a race dwelt who were

white like himself. These people, they said, rode on horseback both

when they hunted {65} and when they went to war; they wore armour and

fought with lances and sabres, which they handled with great skill.

Their forts and houses were of stone and they cultivated their fields.

A whole summer was necessary to reach their country from the Mandan

villages.

La Verendrye did not know how much of this to believe, and he was not

even sure that he correctly understood what the Mandans tried to convey

to him by signs. He was not at all certain that the quarter in which

these people, so different from the Mandans, were said to live was the

direction it was necessary to take in order to reach the Western Sea.

He did not know the truth, that the river by which he stood, the

Missouri, emptied into the Mississippi, and that the settlements spoken

of by the Mandans were probably the Spanish settlements on the lower

waters of the Mississippi. In order to extend his information, he used

every agency to learn as much as possible about the Mandans themselves.

He sent his son Francois to another village near by, to examine it and

to make further inquiries.

La Verendrye himself made close observations. He walked about the

village in which he was quartered, and examined the {66} fortifications

with a great deal of interest. There were about one hundred and thirty

cabins within the walls; the streets and squares were laid out

regularly and were kept remarkably neat and clean. The smooth, wide

ramparts were built of timber strengthened with cross-pieces. At each

corner was a bastion, and the fort was surrounded by a ditch fifteen

feet deep and from fifteen to eighteen feet wide. He was astonished to

find such elaborate fortifications among a savage tribe. Nowhere else

in the New World had he seen anything of the kind.

The dwellings of the Mandans were large and comfortable; they were

divided into several rooms and round the walls were beds in the form of

bunks. They had earthen vessels in which they cooked their food. The

women made very neat baskets of wicker-work. The most remarkable thing

about these people was their prudence for the future. They had

storerooms underground in which they stored the dressed skins which

they preserved to trade with neighbouring tribes for guns and

ammunition; they had products of Europe in use, though they had not yet

come into direct contact with Europeans. In these storerooms they

preserved also dried meat and grain for food in the winter. This

foresight {67} impressed La Verendrye. Most of the Indian tribes lived

only in the present; when they had food they feasted upon it from

morning to night, and when their provisions were gone they starved.

The Mandans, however, kept on hand an ample supply of food, both for

their own use and for that of strangers who might visit them. They

amused themselves with rude sports. Among these La Verendrye mentions

a game of ball, but he does not describe it. Probably it was the game

of lacrosse, which was played by many of the Indian tribes long before

white men came to copy it from them.

After an absence of a few days, Francois de La Verendrye returned from

the village which he had visited. He had been warmly welcomed. He

reported that the village was much larger than the one his father was

living in, and that it was fortified in the same way. He had tried to

question the Mandans of this village, but could make nothing out of

their answers. They were so impatient to speak that they would

constantly interrupt one another; when asked about one thing they would

answer about another, because they did not really understand the

question. The Mandans tried to make up in hospitality for {68} their

inability to answer the Frenchman's questions. 'As we found that it

was a waste of time to question them, we had to fall back on feasting

the whole time we were with them, and even then we could not attend

nearly all the feasts to which we were invited.'

[Illustration: Mandan girls. From Pritchard's 'Natural History of

Man.']

Early in December La Verendrye decided to leave the Mandans and to make

the long return journey to Fort La Reine. He now saw that, even if he

could gain useful information from the Mandans about the nearest way to

the Western Sea, it would be impossible to attempt the journey without

a supply of presents for the tribes he should meet. To get these

presents he must return to the fort, but he would leave two of his men

with the Mandans for the winter, in order to learn the language. Then,

when he returned, he would have interpreters upon whom he could rely.

When he told the Mandans by signs that he must leave them, they seemed

sorry to lose him, and loaded him with provisions for his journey.

They also promised to take care of his two men during his absence. He

distributed among them all the small articles which he had in his

stores, particularly the needles, which they highly prized. To the

principal chief he gave a flag, and a lead tablet {69} bearing an

inscription to the effect that he had taken possession of the Missouri

country in the name of the king of France. This inscription the chief

promised to preserve as his greatest treasure.

Misfortune, however, still dogged the path of La Verendrye. The day

before that on which he had arranged to leave for the north, he was

taken violently ill and for three days could not move from his bed. As

ill luck would have it, his stock of medicines was in the bag which the

Assiniboines had carried off to their village, so that he could do

nothing for himself until he reached that place. About the middle of

December he was a little better, and made up his mind to attempt the

journey. When he and his men set out on their long march across the

plains, it was bitterly cold. They had no means of making a fire, and

were compelled to sleep at night on the open prairie in a half-frozen

condition. We can imagine what La Verendrye must have suffered before

at last he reached the Assiniboine village, more dead than alive.

After a few days' rest, he managed to make his way slowly to Fort La

Reine. 'Never in my life,' he says, 'did I endure so much misery,

pain, and fatigue as on that journey.'

{70}

While at the Assiniboine village La Verendrye reproached the Indians

with having lied to him about the Mandans, so as to lead him to believe

that they were white men. They replied that he had misunderstood them;

that they had not referred to the Mandans, but to another nation who

lived farther down the river. One of the Assiniboines sprang up before

him and exclaimed: 'I am the man best able to talk to you about this

matter. Last summer I killed one of this nation of white men. He was

covered with iron armour. If I had not killed his horse first, I

should myself have been destroyed.' La Verendrye asked him what he had

brought back to prove his story. 'I had no chance to bring anything,'

he said. 'When I was about to cut off his head, I saw some men on

horseback, who were trying to prevent my retreat, and I had much

difficulty in making my escape. I had to throw away everything I had,

even to my blanket, and ran away naked.'

La Verendrye thought that this man was probably telling the truth.

What he said agreed fairly well with what he had himself heard from the

Mandans, and was applicable probably to the Spaniards. But he was

still as far away as ever from any direct information {71} about the

road he should follow to reach the Western Sea, and this was first and

always the thought that occupied his mind. He hoped that the men whom

he had left behind to winter with the Mandans would be able to obtain

from them the facts for which he was so anxiously waiting, and he

looked forward eagerly to the spring, when they were to return to Fort

La Reine with such news as they had been able to gather.

{72}

CHAPTER V

THE DISCOVERY OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS

La Verendrye had expected the return in the spring of 1739 of the two

men whom he had left in the Mandan villages, but it was well into the

autumn before they reached Fort La Reine. They brought good news,

however. During the winter they had lost no opportunity of picking up

Mandan words and phrases, until at last they were able to make

themselves fairly well understood in that tongue. In the early summer

a number of strange Indians had arrived from the West at the Mandan

villages. They were on horseback, and brought with them many

additional horses to carry their provisions and supplies. They came in

order to trade embroidered buffalo hides and other skins with the

Mandans for corn and beans, which they did not grow in their own

country.

The young Frenchmen learned from the Mandans that a band of these

Indians had their home in the extreme West, towards the {73} setting

sun. The Mandans also reported that in this country there were white

men, who lived in brick and stone houses. In order to make further

inquiries the two Frenchmen visited these Indians, and were fortunate

enough to find among them a chief who spoke the language of the

Mandans. He professed to speak also the language of the white men who

dwelt in the West, but when the French heard this language they could

make nothing of it. The chief declared that the strangers in his

country wore beards and that in many other respects they resembled the

white men. He declared that they prayed to the Master of Life in great

buildings, where the Indians had seen them holding in their hands what,

from their description, must have been books, the leaves like 'husks of

Indian corn.' Their houses were described as standing near the shores

of the great lake, whose waters rise and fall, and are unfit to drink.

This would mean tides and salt water. If this Indian story was true,

and there did not seem to be any reason for doubting it, La Verendrye

at last had something definite to guide him in his search for the

Western Sea. He had but to find his way to the homes of these

mysterious white strangers on its shores; and he hoped that the Indian

{74} band who had visited the Mandans, and from whom his men had

obtained these particulars, would be able and willing to provide him

with competent guides.

For some reason La Verendrye was unable himself to return to the

country of the Mandans or to go still farther west. But in the spring

of 1740 he sent his eldest son Pierre into that country in order to

make further inquiries, and to obtain guides if possible for the

projected journey to the Western Sea. Pierre spent the following

winter with the Mandans, but he could not find the men he needed as

guides, and so he returned to Fort La Reine in the summer of 1741.

In the spring of 1742, not discouraged by the failure of the previous

year, Pierre set out again for the Mandans, accompanied this time by

his brother Francois, who was known as the Chevalier, and by two men

from the fort. The journey was to prove momentous, but at first the

outlook was dark. When they arrived in the Mandan country they could

find no sign of the Horse Indians, as the mounted Indians from the West

were called. Pierre and his brother waited long at the Mandan village

with what patience they could summon. The month of May went by, then

June, then {75} most of July, with still no sign of the missing band.

Finally the brothers decided that, if they were to go farther west,

they could wait no longer, for the season was advancing and it would

soon be too late to do anything. At last they found among the Mandans

two young men who agreed to lead them to the country of the Horse

People. This would bring them to their hoped-for guides. Without a

moment's delay they set out towards the south-west in search of the

missing Indians.

They travelled for twenty days in a south-westerly direction, through

what were afterwards known as the Bad Lands of the Little Missouri, a

country unlike anything they had ever seen before. On every side they

could see mounds and pillars of brilliantly-coloured earth, blue and

crimson and green and yellow. So much were they struck with the

singular spectacle that they would have liked to carry some of the

coloured earth with them to show to their father on their return. But

a long journey lay before them. They had to carry everything they

needed on their backs, and it would have been folly to add to the load

something that was useless for their immediate needs, something that

they could neither eat nor wear.

{76}

About the beginning of August the party reached a mountain where the

Mandans expected to find the Horse Indians so eagerly sought. But the

Horse Indians had gone on a hunting expedition and had not yet

returned; so Pierre and his brother decided to wait for them. On the

summit of the mountain they made a signal fire, and every day one of

the explorers climbed up to the lookout to see if there were any signs

of the Indians. At the foot of the mountain they built a small house

in which they lived. Some of their time they spent in hunting to

provision the camp, while waiting as patiently as they could for the

Horse Indians to return from their hunting.

At last, on September 14, a smoke was seen rising in the south-western

sky. One of the men was sent to investigate, and he found not the

Horse Indians but a band known to the Mandans as the Good-looking

Indians. Difficulties multiplied. One of the Mandan guides had

already deserted them to go back to the Missouri, and the other now

told the brothers that he must leave them. He was prompted by fear.

The Good-looking Indians were not on friendly terms with the Mandans,

and, although they had not offered to do him any harm, he was afraid to

remain near these enemies.

{77}

After the Mandan had gone back, the brothers La Verendrye managed to

explain to the Good-looking Indians by signs that they were seeking the

Horse Indians and asked for guides to one of the camps of these

Indians. One of the Good-looking Indians said he knew the way, and

they set out under his guidance; but they became anxious on finding

that they were still travelling in the same direction as before, for

this did not seem to be a very direct road to the Western Sea. Still,

they had fixed their hopes on the Horse Indians as the people able to

lead them there, and the most urgent thing to do was to find some

members of that tribe, even though they had to go a long way out of

their course to do so.

On the second day after they left the camp of the Good-looking Indians,

they met a party of another tribe known as the Little Foxes, who were

very friendly. The explorers gave them some small presents, and made

them understand that they were seeking the Horse Indians, who had

promised to show them the way to the sea. 'We will take you to the

Horse Indians,' they said, and their whole party turned about and

joined the French. But these new guides also, to the disgust of

Francois La Verendrye, {78} still marched towards the south-west. 'I

felt sure,' he said, 'that in this direction we should never find the

Western Sea.' However, there was nothing to do but to go forward, and

to trust to better luck after they reached the Horse Indians.

After tramping on for many days they came at last to an encampment of

the Horse Indians. These people, just then, were in great trouble.

They had been attacked not long before by a war party of the Snake

Indians; many of their bravest warriors had been killed, and many of

their women had been carried into captivity. When asked the way to the

sea these Indians now declared that none of them had ever been there,

for the very good reason that the country of the fierce Snake Indians

must be crossed to reach it. They said that a neighbouring tribe, the

Bow Indians, might be able to give some information, as they either

themselves traded with the white men of the sea-coast, or were on

friendly terms with other tribes who had been down to the sea. These

Bow Indians, they added, were the only tribe who dared to fight against

the Snake Indians, for they were under the leadership of a wise and

skilful chief, who had more than once led his tribe to victory against

these dangerous enemies. A guide {79} was found to lead the explorers

to the Bow Indians, and they went off once more, still travelling

south-westerly, until at length, on November 21, they came in sight of

the camp of the Bows. It was a huge camp, much larger than any the

explorers had yet visited. Everywhere they could see numbers of

horses, asses, and mules--animals unknown among the northern tribes.

When they reached the camp the chief of the Bows met them and at once

took them to his own lodge. Nothing could be more friendly or polite

than his treatment of the white travellers. In fact, as Francois said,

he did not seem to have the manners of a savage. 'Up to that time we

had always been very well received in the villages we had visited, but

what we had before experienced in that way was nothing in comparison

with the gracious manners of the head chief of the Bows. He took as

much care of all our belongings as if they had been his own.' With him

Francois and his brother remained for some time; and, very soon,

through the kindness of the chief, they learnt enough of the language

to make themselves understood.

The explorers had many interesting talks with this friendly chief.

They asked him if he {80} knew anything about the white people who

lived on the sea-coast. 'We know them,' he replied, 'through what has

been told us by prisoners of the Snake tribe. We have never been to

the sea ourselves.' 'Do not be surprised,' he continued, 'to see so

many Indians camped round us. Word has been sent in all directions to

our people to join us here. In a few days we shall march against the

Snakes; and if you will come with us, we will take you to the high

mountains that are near the sea. From their summits you will be able

to look upon it.' The brothers La Verendrye were overjoyed to hear

such encouraging news, and agreed that one of them should accompany the

Bow Indians on their expedition against the Snakes. It seemed almost

too good to be true that they might be actually within reach of the

sea, the goal towards which they and their father had been struggling

for so many years. In fact, it proved too good to be true. Whether

they had misunderstood the chief, or whether he was merely speaking

from hearsay, certainly the view was far from correct that the

mountains which they were approaching lay near the sea. These

mountains, not far off, were the Rocky Mountains. Even if the

explorers should succeed in reaching and in crossing them at {81} this

point, there would still be hundreds of miles of mountain forest and

plain to traverse before their eyes could rest on the waters of the

Pacific ocean. Pierre and his brother never knew this, however, for

they were not destined to see the western side of the mountains.

The great war party of the Bows, consisting of more than two thousand

fighting men, with their families, started out towards the Snake

country in December, the comparatively mild December of the

south-western plains. The scene must have been singularly animated as

this horde of Indians, with their wives and children, their horses and

dogs, and the innumerable odds and ends that made up their camp

equipage, moved slowly across the plains. Francois was too full of his

own affairs to describe the odd appearance of this native army in the

journal which he wrote of the expedition, but fortunately the historian

Francis Parkman lived for some time among these tribes of the western

plains, and he has given us a good idea of what such an Indian army

must have looked like on the march. 'The spectacle,' he says, 'was

such as men still young have seen in these western lands, but which no

man will see again. The vast plain {82} swarmed with the moving

multitude. The tribes of the Missouri and the Yellowstone had by this

time abundance of horses, the best of which were used for war and

hunting, and the others as beasts of burden. These last were equipped

in a peculiar manner. Several of the long poles used to frame the

teepees, or lodges, were secured by one end to each side of a rude

saddle, while the other end trailed on the ground. Crossbars lashed to

the poles, just behind the horse, kept them three or four feet apart,

and formed a firm support, on which was laid, compactly folded, the

buffalo-skin covering of the lodge. On this, again, sat a mother with

her young family, sometimes stowed for safety in a large, open, willow

basket, with the occasional addition of some domestic pet--such as a

tame raven, a puppy, or even a small bear cub. Other horses were laden

in the same manner with wooden bowls, stone hammers, and other

utensils, along with stores of dried buffalo meat packed in cases of

raw hide whitened and painted. Many of the innumerable dogs--whose

manners and appearance strongly suggested their relatives the wolves,

to whom, however, they bore a mortal grudge--were equipped in a similar

way, with shorter poles and lighter loads. Bands of {83} naked boys,

noisy and restless, roamed the prairie, practising their bows and

arrows on any small animal they might find. Gay young squaws--adorned

on each cheek with a spot of ochre or red clay and arrayed in tunics of

fringed buckskin embroidered with porcupine quills--were mounted on

ponies, astride like men; while lean and tattered hags--the drudges of

the tribe, unkempt and hideous--scolded the lagging horses or screeched

at the disorderly dogs, with voices not unlike the yell of the great

horned owl. Most of the warriors were on horseback, armed with round

white shields of bull hide, feathered lances, war clubs, bows, and

quivers filled with stone-headed arrows; while a few of the elders,

wrapped in robes of buffalo hide, stalked along in groups with a

stately air, chatting, laughing, and exchanging unseemly jokes.'

On the first day of January 1743, the Indians, accompanied by the

brothers La Verendrye and their Frenchmen, came within sight of the

mountains. Rising mysteriously in the distance were those massive

crags, those silent, snow-capped peaks, upon which, as far as we know,

Europeans had never looked before. The party of Frenchmen and Indians

pressed {84} on, for eight days, towards the foot of the mountains.

Then, when they had come within a few days' journey of the place where

they expected to find the Snakes, they altered their mode of advance.

It was now decided to leave the women and children in camp under a

small guard, while the warriors pushed on in the hope of surprising the

Snakes in their winter camp near the mountains. Pierre remained in

camp to look after the baggage of the party, which the Indians would

probably pillage if left unguarded. Francois and his two Frenchmen

went forward with the war party, and four days later they arrived at

the foot of the mountains, the first Europeans who had ever put foot on

those majestic slopes. Francois gazed with the keenest interest at the

lofty summits, and longed to climb them to see what lay beyond.

Meanwhile he was obliged to share in a vivid human drama. The chief of

the Bows had sent scouts forward to search for the camp of the Snakes,

and these scouts now reappeared. They had found the camp, but the

enemy had fled; and had, indeed, gone off in such a hurry that they had

abandoned their lodges and most of their belongings. The effect

produced by this news was singular. Instead of {85} rejoicing because

the dreaded Snakes had fled before them, which was evidently the case,

the Bow warriors at once fell into a panic. The Snakes, they cried,

had discovered the approach of their enemies, and must have gone back

to attack the Bow camp and capture the women and children. The great

chief tried to reason with his warriors; he pointed out that the Snakes

could not know anything about the camp, that quite evidently they had

been afraid to meet the Bows and had fled before them. But it was all

to no purpose. The Bows would not listen to reason; they were sure

that the Snakes had played them a cunning trick and that they should

hasten back as speedily as possible to save their families. The result

was characteristic of savage warfare. The Indian army that had marched

a few days earlier in good order to attack the enemy now fled back

along the trail in a panic, each man for himself.

It was in these ignominious circumstances that Francois La Verendrye,

having reached the foot of the Rocky Mountains, was obliged to turn

back without going farther, leaving the mystery of the Great Sea still

unsolved. Francois rode by the side of the disgusted chief and the two

Frenchmen followed behind. Presently Francois noticed that his men had

{86} disappeared. He galloped back for some miles, and found them

resting their horses on the banks of a river. While he talked with

them, his quick eye detected the approach of a party of Snake Indians

from a neighbouring wood. They were covering themselves with their

shields, and were evidently bent on an attack. Francois and his men

loaded their guns and waited until the Indians were well within range.

Then they took aim and fired. The Snakes knew little or nothing about

firearms, and when one or two of their number fell before this volley,

they fled in disorder.

There was still danger of an attack by a larger band of the enemy, and

the Frenchmen remained on guard where they were until nightfall. Then,

under cover of darkness, they attempted to follow the trail of the

Bows. But the ground was so dry and hard at that season of the year

that they found it impossible to pick up the trail of their friends.

For two days they wandered about. Skill or good fortune, however,

aided them, and at last they arrived at the camp of the Bows, tired and

half starved. The chief had been anxious at the disappearance of his

white guests, and was overjoyed at their safe return. It is almost

needless to say that the panic-stricken warriors {87} had found their

camp just as they had left it; no one had heard or seen anything of the

Snakes; and the warriors were forced to submit to the jeers of the

squaws for their failure to come even within sight of the enemy.

Pierre, Francois, and their two men accompanied the Bows for some days

on their homeward journey. They found, however, that the Bows were

travelling away from the course which they wished to follow, and so

decided to leave them and to turn towards the Missouri river. The

chief of the Bows seemed to feel genuine regret at bidding farewell to

his French guests, and he made them promise to return and pay him

another visit in the following spring, after they had seen their father

at Fort La Reine. On the long journey to this point the three

Frenchmen now set out across the limitless frozen prairie.

About the middle of March they came upon a party of strange Indians

known as the People of the Little Cherry. They were returning from

their winter's hunting, and were then only two days' journey from their

village on the banks of the Missouri. Like all the other tribes, the

People of the Little Cherry received the Frenchmen with perfect

friendliness. The party lingered with these Indians in their {88}

village until the beginning of April, and Francois spent most of his

time learning their language. This he found quite easy, perhaps

because he had already picked up a fair knowledge of the language of

some of the neighbouring tribes, and it proved not unlike that of the

Little Cherry Indians. Francois found in the village an Indian who had

been brought up among the Spaniards of the Pacific Coast, and who still

spoke their language as readily as he spoke his mother tongue. He

questioned him eagerly about the distance to the Spanish settlements

and the difficulties of the way. The man replied that the journey was

long. It was also, he said, very dangerous, because it must be through

the country of the Snake Indians. This Indian assured Francois that

another Frenchman lived in the country where they were, in a village

distant about three days' journey. Naturally this surprised Francois

and his brother. They thought of going to visit him; but their horses

were badly in need of a rest after the long trip from the mountains,

and must be kept fresh for the journey to the Mandan villages. They

therefore sent instead a letter to the Frenchman, asking him to visit

them at the village of the Little Cherries, or, if that was not

possible, {89} at least to send them an answer. No answer came, and we

may well doubt whether such a Frenchman existed. Before leaving the

country, La Verendrye buried on the summit of a hill a tablet of lead,

with the arms and inscription of the French king. This was to take

possession of the country for France. He also built a pyramid of

stones in honour of the governor of Canada.[1]

About the beginning of April, when the horses were in good condition

and all preparations had been made for the journey, the explorers said

good-bye to the People of the Little Cherry and set out for the Mandan

villages. Like the Bow Indians, the Little Cherries seemed sorry to

lose them and begged them to come back. In return for the kindness and

hospitality he had received, La Verendrye distributed some presents and

promised to visit them again when he could.

On May 18 the travellers reached the {90} Mandan villages and were

welcomed as if they had returned from the dead. Their long absence had

led the Mandans to conclude that they had been killed by some

unfriendly Indians, or that some fatal accident had happened on the

way. They had intended to rest for some time at the Mandan villages,

but they found that a party of Assiniboines was going to Fort La Reine,

and they determined to travel with them. The Assiniboines had in fact

already left on their journey, but the Frenchmen overtook them at their

first camp.

[Illustration: Tablet deposited by La Verendrye, 1743. Obverse and

reverse sides. From photographs lent by Charles N. Bell, F.R.G.S.,

President of the Manitoba Historical and Scientific Society.]

This latter part of the journey had its own excitements and perils. On

the last day of May, as they were travelling over the prairie, they

discovered a party of Sioux waiting in ambush. The Sioux had expected

to meet a smaller party, and now decided not to fight. At the same

time, they were too proud to run away before the despised Assiniboines,

even though they numbered only thirty and the Assiniboines numbered

more than a hundred. They retreated with dignified slowness, facing

around on the Assiniboines from time to time, and driving them back

when they ventured too near. But when they recognized the Frenchmen,

mounted on horses and armed with their deadly muskets, their attitude

changed; they {91} forgot their dignity and made off as fast as they

could go. Even with heavy odds against them these virile savages

managed to wound several of the Assiniboines, while they lost only one

man, who mistook the enemy for his friends and was captured. Pierre

and Francois La Verendrye finally reached Fort La Reine on July 2, to

the great delight of their father, who had grown anxious on account of

their long absence. They had been away from the fort for one year and

eighty-four days.

[1] This tablet remained buried where it was deposited for 170 years.

In March 1913 it was found by a young girl on the west bank of the

Missouri river opposite the city of Pierre, N. Dakota, thus bearing

testimony to the trustworthiness of Francois La Verendrye's journal,

from which this chapter was written before the tablet was discovered.

Photographs of the tablet were made by W. O'Reilly of Pierre and

published in the _Manitoba Free Press_ and are reproduced in this book

by courtesy of Charles N. Bell, F.R.G.S., of Winnipeg.

{92}

CHAPTER VI

LA VERENDRYES' LATTER DAYS

During all this time the elder La Verendrye had been working at other

plans for discovery and for trade in the Far West. In the year 1739,

on his return from the first visit to the Mandans, he had sent his son

Francois to build a fort on the Lake of the Prairies, now known as Lake

Manitoba. When young La Verendrye had built this fort, he went farther

north to Cedar Lake, near the mouth of the Saskatchewan river, and

there built another fort. The purpose was to intercept the trade of

the Indians with the English on Hudson Bay. For over half a century

the Indians of this region had taken their furs down the rivers leading

from Lake Winnipeg to the trading-posts of the Hudson's Bay Company on

the shores of the Bay, but now the French intended to offer them a

market nearer home and divert to themselves this profitable trade. The

first of their new forts was named Fort Dauphin, and the one on Cedar

Lake was called Fort Bourbon.

{93}

Having built Fort Bourbon, Francois La Verendrye had ascended the

Saskatchewan river as far as the Forks, where the north and south

branches of that great river join. Here he met a number of Crees, whom

he questioned as to the source of the Saskatchewan. They told him that

it came from a great distance, rising among lofty mountains far to the

west, and that beyond those mountains they knew of a great lake, as

they called it, the water of which was not good to drink. The

mountains were of course the Rocky Mountains, and the waters of the

great lake which the Crees spoke of were the salt waters of the Pacific

ocean. Francois La Verendrye had continued his work of building forts.

Shortly after building Fort Bourbon, he built Fort Paskoyac, on the

Saskatchewan, at a place now known as the Pas, between Cedar Lake and

the Forks. It is interesting to know that a railway has just been

completed to this place, and that it is to be continued from there to

the shores of Hudson Bay. How this modern change would have startled

the old fur-traders! Even if they could have dreamed of anything so

wonderful as a railway, we can imagine their ridicule of the idea that

some day men should travel from the East to the far-off {94} shores of

the Saskatchewan in two or three days, a trip which cost them months of

wearisome paddling.

In carrying on his work in the West, La Verendrye had to face

difficulties even greater than those caused by the hard life in the

wilderness. His base of supplies was in danger. He had many enemies

in Canada, who took advantage of his absence in the West to prejudice

the governor against him. They even sent false reports to the king of

France, saying that he was spending his time, not in searching for a

way to the Western Sea, but in making money out of the fur trade. This

was not true. Not only was he making no money out of the fur trade,

but, as we have seen, he was heavily in debt because of the enormous

cost of carrying on his explorations. For a time, however, the truth

did not help him. The tales told by his enemies were believed, and he

was ordered to return to Montreal with his sons. He and they withdrew

from their work in the West, left behind their promising beginnings,

and returned to the East. Never again, as it happened, was the father

to resume his work. Another officer, M. de Noyelle, was sent to the

West to continue the work of exploration. Noyelle spent two years in

the West without {95} adding anything to the information La Verendrye

had gained. By that time a natural reaction had come in favour of La

Verendrye, and the acting governor of Canada, the Marquis de La

Galissoniere, decided to put the work of exploration again in charge of

La Verendrye and his sons. In recognition of his services he was given

the rank of captain and was decorated with the Cross of St Louis.

While these events were ripening, the years passed, and not until 1749

was La Verendrye restored to his leadership in the West. Though now

sixty-four years old, he was overjoyed at the prospect. Not only was

he permitted to continue his search for the Western Sea; the quality of

his work was recognized, for the governor and the king had at last

understood that, instead of seeking his own profit in his explorations,

as his enemies had said, he had the one object of adding to the honour

and glory of his country. He made preparations to start from Montreal

in the spring of 1750, and intended to push forward as rapidly as

possible to Fort Bourbon, or Fort Paskoyac, where he would spend the

winter. In the spring of the following year he would ascend the

Saskatchewan river and make his way over the mountains to the shores of

the Western {96} Sea, the Pacific ocean as we know it to-day. But the

greatest of all enemies now blocked his way. La Verendrye was taken

ill while making his preparations for the expedition, and before the

close of the year 1749 he had set out on the journey from which no man

returns.

[Illustration: The Marquis de la Galissoniere. From an engraving in

the Chateau de Ramezay.]

After the death of La Verendrye, his sons made preparations to carry

out his plan for reaching the Western Sea by way of the Saskatchewan

river. They had the same unselfish desire to bring honour to their

king and to add new territories to their native land. Moreover, this

project, which their father had had so much at heart, had become now

for them a sacred duty. To their dismay, however, they soon found that

the promise made to their father did not extend to themselves. Another

officer, Legardeur de Saint-Pierre, was appointed by the governor of

Canada to carry on the search for the Western Sea. They had spent

years of toil and discomfort in the wilderness and endured countless

hardships and dangers. They had carefully studied the languages,

manners, and customs of the Indian tribes, and they had found out by

hard experience what would be the best means of completing their

discovery. Yet now they were thrown aside in {97} favour of an officer

who had never been in the Far West and who knew nothing of the

conditions he would there be compelled to meet.

They could at least appeal for justice. In a last attempt to obtain

this for himself and his brothers, Francois de La Verendrye wrote this

letter to the king's minister:

The only resource left to me is to throw myself at the feet of your

Lordship and to trouble you with the story of my misfortunes. My name

is La Verendrye; my late father is known here [in Canada] and in France

by the exploration for the discovery of the Western Sea to which he

devoted the last fifteen years of his life. He travelled and made

myself and my brothers travel with such vigour that we should have

reached our goal, if he had had only a little more help, and if he had

not been so much thwarted, especially by envy. Envy is still here,

more than elsewhere, a prevailing passion against, which one has no

protection. While my father, my brothers, and myself were exhausting

ourselves with toil, and while we were incurring a crushing burden of

expense, his steps and ours were represented as directed only towards

[our own gain by] the finding of {98} beaver; the outlay he was forced

to incur was described as dissipation; and his narratives were spoken

of as a pack of lies. Envy as it exists in this country is no half

envy; its principle is to calumniate furiously in the hope that if even

half of what is said finds favour, it will be enough to injure. In

point of fact, my father, thus opposed, had to his sorrow been obliged

more than once to return and to make us return because of the lack of

help and protection. He has even been reproached by the court [for not

giving adequate reports upon his work]; he was, indeed, more intent on

making progress than on telling what he was doing until he could give

definite statements. He was running into debt, he failed to receive

promotions. Yet his zeal for his project never slackened, persuaded as

he was that sooner or later his labours would be crowned with success

and recompense.

At the time when he was most eager in the good work, envy won the day,

and he saw the posts he had established and his own work pass into

other hands. While he was thus checked in his operations, the reward

of a plentiful harvest of beaver skins [which he had made possible]

went {99} to another rather than himself. Yet [in spite of this

profitable trade the good work slackened]; the posts, instead of

multiplying, fell into decay, and no progress was made in exploration;

it was this, indeed, which grieved him the most.

Meanwhile the Marquis de la Galissoniere arrived in the country [to act

as governor]. In the hubbub of contradictory opinions that prevailed,

he came to the conclusion that the man who had pursued such discoveries

at his own charge and expense, without any cost to the king, and who

had gone into debt to establish useful posts, merited better fortune.

Apart from advancing the project of discovery, practical services had

been rendered. There was [the marquis reported] a large increase of

beaver in the colony, and four or five posts had been well-established,

and defended by forts as good as could be made in countries so distant;

a multitude of savages had been turned into subjects of the king; some

of them, in a party which I commanded, showed an example to our own

domiciled savages by striking at the Anniers Indians, who are devoted

to England. Progress [the marquis concluded] could be hastened and

rendered {100} more efficacious only by allowing the work to remain in

the same hands.

Thus it was that the Marquis de la Galissoniere was good enough to

explain his position. No doubt he expressed himself to the court to a

similar effect, for in the following year, that is to say last year, my

father was honoured with the Cross of St Louis, and was invited to

continue with his sons the work which he had begun. He made

arrangements with great earnestness for starting on his expedition; he

spared nothing that might make for success; he had already bought and

prepared all the goods to be used in trade; he inspired me and my

brothers with his own ardour. Then in the month of December last death

carried him off.

Great as was my grief at the time, I could never have imagined or

foreseen all that I lost in losing him. When I succeeded to his

engagements and his responsibilities, I ventured to hope that I should

succeed to the same advantages. I had the honour to write on the

subject to the Marquis de la Jonquiere [then governor], informing him

that I had recovered from an indisposition from which I had been

suffering, and which might {101} serve as a pretext to some one seeking

to supplant me. His reply was that he had chosen Monsieur de

Saint-Pierre to go to the Western Sea.

I started at once for Quebec from Montreal, where I then was; I

represented the situation in which I was left by my father; I declared

that there was more than one post in the direction of the Western Sea

and that I and my brothers would be delighted to be under the orders of

Monsieur de Saint-Pierre, and that we could content ourselves, if

necessary, with a single post, and that the most distant one; I stated

that we even asked no more than leave to go on in advance [of the new

leader], so that while we were pushing the work of exploration, we

might be able to help ourselves by disposing of my father's latest

purchases and of what remained to us in the posts. We should in this

have the consolation of making our utmost efforts to meet the wishes of

the court.

The Marquis de la Jonquiere, though he felt the force of my

representations, and, as it seemed to me, was touched by them, told me

at last that Monsieur de Saint-Pierre did not wish for either me or my

brothers. I asked what would become of the debts we {102} had

incurred. Monsieur de Saint-Pierre, however, had spoken, and I could

not obtain anything. I returned to Montreal with this not too

consoling information. There I offered for sale a small piece of

property, all that I had inherited from my father. The proceeds of

this sale served to satisfy my most urgent creditors.

Meanwhile the season was advancing. There was now the question of my

going as usual to the rendezvous arranged with my hired men, so as to

save their lives [by bringing provisions], and to secure the stores

which, without this precaution, would probably be pillaged and

abandoned. In spite of Monsieur de Saint-Pierre, I obtained permission

to make this trip, and I was subject to conditions and restrictions

such as might be imposed on the commonest voyageur. Nevertheless,

scarcely had I left when Monsieur de Saint-Pierre complained of my

action and alleged that this start of mine before him injured him to

the amount of more than ten thousand francs. He also accused me,

without the slightest reserve, of having loaded my canoe beyond the

permission accorded me.

The accusation was considered and my canoe was pursued; had I been

overtaken {103} at once, Monsieur de Saint-Pierre would have been

promptly reassured. He overtook me at Michilimackinac, and if I can

believe what he said, he now saw that he had been in the wrong in

acting as he did, and was vexed with himself for not having taken me

and my brothers with him. He expressed much regret to me and paid me

many compliments. It may be that this is his usual mode of acting; but

it is difficult for me to recognize in it either good faith or humanity.

Monsieur de Saint-Pierre might have obtained all that he has obtained;

he might have made sure of his interests and have gained surprising

advantages; and have taken [as he desired] some relative with him while

not shutting us out entirely. Monsieur de Saint-Pierre is an officer

of merit, and I am only the more to be pitied to find him thus turned

against me. Yet in spite of the favourable impressions he has created

on different occasions, he will find it difficult to show that in this

matter he kept the main interest [that of discovery] in view, and that

he conformed to the intentions of the court and respected the kindly

disposition with which the Marquis de la Galissoniere honours us.

Before {104} such a wrong could be done to us, he must have injured us

seriously in the opinion of Monsieur de la Jonquiere, who himself is

always disposed to be kind.

None the less am I ruined. My returns for this year were only half

collected, and a thousand subsequent difficulties make the disaster

complete; with credit gone in relation both to my father and to myself,

I am in debt for over twenty thousand francs; I remain without funds

and without patrimony. Moreover, I am a simple ensign of the second

grade; my elder brother has only the same rank as myself, while my

younger brother is only a junior cadet.

Such is the net result of all that my father, my brothers, and I have

done. The one who was murdered some years ago was not the most

unfortunate of us. His blood does not count in our behalf. Unless

Monsieur de Saint-Pierre becomes imbued with better sentiments and

communicates them to the Marquis de la Jonquiere, all my father's toils

and ours fail to serve us, and we must abandon what has cost us so

much. We certainly should not have been and should not be useless to

Monsieur de Saint-Pierre. I explained to him fully how I believed I

could serve him; clever as he {105} may be, and inspired with the best

intentions, I venture to say that by keeping us away he is in danger of

making many mistakes and of getting often on the wrong track. It is

something gained to have gone astray, but to have found out your error;

we think that now we should be sure of the right road to reach the

goal, whatever it may be. It is our greatest cause of distress to find

ourselves thus snatched away from a sphere of action in which we were

proposing to use every effort to reach a definite result.

Deign therefore, Monseigneur, to judge the cause of three orphans. Our

misfortune is great, but is it without remedy? There are in the hands

of your Lordship resources of compensation and of consolation, and I

venture to hope for some benefit from them. To find ourselves thus

excluded from the West would be to find ourselves robbed in the most

cruel manner of our heritage. We should have had all that was bitter

and others all that was sweet.

This eloquent appeal of Francois fell upon unheeding ears; the

appointment of his rival was confirmed. The only grace he could obtain

was leave to take to the West a small portion of the supplies for which

he and his {106} brothers had already paid, and to return with the furs

his men had collected and brought down to Michilimackinac. Thus ended,

sadly enough, the devoted efforts of this remarkable family of

explorers to complete the long search for a route overland to the

Pacific ocean. The brothers La Verendrye, ruined in purse and denied

opportunity, fell into obscurity and were forgotten.

It remains only to tell briefly of the attempts of Saint-Pierre and his

men to carry out the same great project. In obedience to the

governor's instructions, Saint-Pierre left Montreal in the spring of

1750. He paddled up the Ottawa, and then through Lake Nipissing, and

down the French river to Georgian Bay. He crossed Lake Huron to

Michilimackinac, where he remained for a short time to give his men a

rest. Then he pushed on to Grand Portage, where he spent some time in

talking to the Indians. In spite of his ungenerous treatment of the

sons of La Verendrye, Saint-Pierre was a brave and capable soldier; but

he knew very little of the hardships of western exploration, or of the

patience needed in dealing with Indians. He grumbled bitterly about

the difficulties and hardships of the portages, which La Verendrye

{107} had taken as a matter of course; and, instead of treating the

Indians with patience and forbearance, he lost no opportunity to

harangue and scold them. We need not wonder, therefore, that the

natives, who had looked up to La Verendrye as a superior being, soon

learned to dislike the overbearing Saint-Pierre, and would do nothing

to help him in his attempts at exploration.

Saint-Pierre visited Fort St Charles; he spent the winter at Fort

Maurepas; in the spring of 1751 he went on to Fort La Reine. Meanwhile

he had sent Niverville, a young officer of his party, to the

Saskatchewan river, with instructions to push his discoveries westward

beyond the farthest point reached by La Verendrye. Winter had set in

before Niverville set out on his long journey, and he travelled over

the snow and ice with snowshoes, dragging his provisions on toboggans.

He knew nothing of the Indian method of harnessing dogs to their

toboggans, and he and his men dragged the toboggans themselves. He

travelled slowly across Lake Winnipeg, over rough ice and through deep

snowdrifts, with no protection from the bitter winds. So great were

the hardships that, in the end, he was compelled to abandon some of the

heavier {108} supplies and provisions. Before he and his men reached

Fort Paskoyac they were at the point of starvation. During the last

few days they had nothing to eat but a few small fish caught through

holes in the ice.

Niverville was taken seriously ill, and had to remain at Fort Paskoyac,

while some of his men in the spring of 1751 ascended the Saskatchewan

in canoes. These men, we are told, paddled up the river to the foot of

the Rocky Mountains, where they built a fort, named Fort La Jonquiere,

in honour of the governor. Later in the year Niverville followed his

men up the river. At Fort La Jonquiere he met a party of Western

Indians, who told him that in the course of a war expedition they had

encountered a number of Indians of a strange tribe carrying loads of

beaver skins. These strange Indians told the Frenchmen that they were

on their way over the Rocky Mountains to trade their furs with white

men on the sea-coast. For some reason, either through lack of supplies

or because he did not possess the courage and enthusiasm which had

carried the La Verendryes through so many difficulties, Niverville made

no effort to cross the mountains. This attempt to reach the Western

Sea ended, so far as French {109} explorers were concerned, at Fort La

Jonquiere. All the toils and hardships of the French explorers ended

in failure to achieve the great end at which they aimed. Members of

another race reaped the coveted reward. Many years later a

Scottish-Canadian explorer, Alexander Mackenzie, realized La

Verendrye's dream by successfully crossing the Rocky Mountains and

forcing his way through the difficult country that lay beyond, until at

last he stood upon the shores of the Pacific ocean.

Meanwhile Saint-Pierre had remained at Fort La Reine, leaving the work

of exploration to his young lieutenant, Niverville. One incident of

his life there remains to be described before we close this story of

the search for the Western Sea. It cannot be better told than in

Saint-Pierre's own narrative:

On February 22, 1752 [he says], about nine o'clock in the morning, I

was at this post with five Frenchmen. I had sent the rest of my

people, consisting of fourteen persons, to look for provisions, of

which I had been in need for several days. I was sitting quietly in my

room, when two hundred Assiniboines entered the fort, all of them

armed. These Indians scattered immediately all through the place;

several {110} of them even entered my room, but unarmed; others

remained in adjacent parts of the fort. My people came to warn me of

the behaviour of these Indians. I ran to them and told them sharply

that they were very impudent to come in a crowd to my house, and armed.

One of them answered in the Cree language that they came to smoke. I

told them that they were not behaving properly, and that they must

leave the fort at once. I believe that the firmness with which I spoke

somewhat frightened them, especially as I put four of the most resolute

out of the door, without their saying a word.

I went at once to my room. At that very moment, however, a soldier

came to tell me that the guard-house was full of Indians, who had taken

possession of the arms. I ran to the guard-house and demanded, through

a Cree interpreter, what they meant by such behaviour. During all this

time I was preparing to fight them with my weak force. My interpreter,

who proved a traitor, said that these Indians had no bad intentions.

Yet, a moment before, an Assiniboine orator, who had been constantly

making fine speeches to me, had told the interpreter that, in spite of

him, the Indians would kill and rob me.

{111}

When I had barely made out their intentions I failed to realize that I

ought to have taken their arms from them. [To frighten them] I seized

hold of a blazing brand, broke in the door of the powder magazine, and

knocked down a barrel of gunpowder. Over this I held the brand, and I

told the Indians in an assured tone [through the interpreter] that I

expected nothing at their hands, and that even if I was killed I should

have the glory of subjecting them to the same fate. No sooner had the

Indians seen the lighted brand, and the barrel of gunpowder with its

head staved in, and heard my interpreter, than they all fled out of the

gate of the fort. They damaged the gate considerably in their hurried

flight. I soon laid down my brand, and then I had nothing more

exciting to do than to close the gate of the fort.

Soon after this incident with the Assiniboines, Saint-Pierre gave up

his half-hearted attempt to find a route to the Western Sea, and

returned to Montreal. He had proved himself a brave man enough. He

did not, however, understand, and made no attempt to understand, the

character of the Indians, and, as an explorer, he was a complete

failure. In {112} a couple of years he managed to undo all the work

which La Verendrye had accomplished. After he abandoned the West, the

forts which had been built there with such difficulty and at such great

expense soon fell into decay. The only men who had the knowledge and

the enthusiasm to make real La Verendrye's dream of exploration, his

own sons, were denied the privilege of doing so; and no one else seemed

anxious even to attempt such a difficult task.

The period of French rule in Canada was now rapidly drawing to a close.

Instead of adding to the territories of France in North America, her

sons were preparing to make their last stand in defence of what they

already possessed. Half a dozen years later their dream of western

exploration, and of a great North American empire reaching from the

Atlantic to the Pacific, came to an end on the Plains of Abraham. It

was left for those of another race who came after them to turn the

dream of their rivals into tangible achievements. It must never be

forgotten, however, that, although Pierre de La Verendrye failed to

complete the great object of his ambition, we owe to him and his

gallant sons the discovery of a large part of what is to-day Western

Canada.

{113}

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

An English translation of _The Journals of La Verendrye_ edited by

Lawrence J. Burpee, with the French text, will be found among the

publications of the Champlain Society. The reader should consult also

Parkman, _A Half Century of Conflict_, chapter xvi.; Burpee, _The

Search for the Western Sea_; Shortt and Doughty (editors), _Canada and

Its Provinces_, vol. i., 'The Pathfinders of the Great West.'

{115}

INDEX

Abnakis, 4.

Assiniboines, 49, 50-63, 90, 109.

Aulneau, Father, 37-40.

Beauharnois, Marquis de, 16, 31, 33

Bow Indians, 78-87.

Caughnawagas, 4.

Chippewas, 39, 41, 43, 46.

Coureurs de bois, 10-12.

Cree Indians, 39, 46, 47, 49, 93.

Fort Bourbon, 92.

Fort Dauphin, 92.

Fort La Jonquiere, 108.

Fort La Reine, 49, 68, 91, 107.

Fort Maurepas, 31, 47, 107.

Fort Michilimackinac, 19, 29.

Fort Paskoyac, 93, 108.

Fort Rouge, 49.

Fort St Charles, 30, 37, 47, 107.

Fort St Pierre, 30.

Good-looking Indians, 76, 77.

Horse Indians, 78.

Kaministikwia river, 15, 31, 37.

La Galissoniere, Marquis de, 95, 96, 99, 100.

La Jemeraye, 19, 28, 29, 30; dies, 37.

La Jonquiere, Marquis de, 100, 101.

La Verendrye, Francois, 19, 65, 67, 74, 81; reaches Rocky Mountains,

84; 87, 92, 96, 97-106.

La Verendrye, Jean-Baptiste, 19, 30, 36, 37; is killed by the Sioux, 40.

La Verendrye, Louis, 36, 47.

La Verendrye, Pierre, son of the elder Pierre, 19, 47, 74, 87.

La Verendrye, Pierre Gaultier de, birth and childhood, 1-3; enters

army, 3; expedition against Deerfield, 4-7; raid on St John's, 7;

serves in War of Spanish Succession, and is made lieutenant, 8; returns

to Canada and enters fur trade, 9; determines to find the Western Sea,

14; marries Mlle Dandonneau, 14; commands trading-post on Fort Nipigon,

15; granted monopoly of Western fur trade as a means of financing his

Western expedition, 17-19; his first journey of exploration, 20-32;

returns to Montreal, 33-5; starts again for the West, 36; refuses to

revenge himself on the Sioux for the murder of his son, 46; with the

Assiniboines, 49-54; with the Mandans, 55-68; falls ill, 69; returns to

Assiniboines, 70; at Fort La Reine, 71, 72, 74, 92; returns to

Montreal, 94; given the rank of captain and decorated, 95; dies, 96;

112.

Louviere, builds Fort Rouge, 49.

Mackenzie, Alexander, 109.

Mandans, tribe of Indians, 44-67, 72, 73, 89.

Messager, Father, 19, 30.

Niverville, 107-8.

Noyelle, M. de, 94.

Ochagach, his story of the Western Sea, 15-16, 19.

Parkman, Francis, his description of Bow Indians, 81-3.

People of the Little Cherry, 87-89.

Rainy Lake, fort built at, 29.

Rocky Mountains, explorers reach, 85, 93, 108, 109.

Rouville, Hertel de, guerilla leader, 4.

Saint-Pierre, Legardeur de, 96, 102-3, 104, 106-7, 109-11.

Sioux Indians, 39-43, 46, 90, 91.

Snake Indians, 80, 86, 88.

Subercase, leader of raid on St John's, 8.

Three Rivers, 1-2.

Western Sea, 12-19, 21, 73, 93, 95, 109.

Winnipeg, Lake, fort built at, 30-1.

Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty

at the Edinburgh University Press

THE CHRONICLES OF CANADA

THIRTY-TWO VOLUMES ILLUSTRATED

Edited by GEORGE M. WRONG and H. H. LANGTON

THE CHRONICLES OF CANADA

PART I

THE FIRST EUROPEAN VISITORS

1. THE DAWN OF CANADIAN HISTORY

By Stephen Leacock.

2. THE MARINER OF ST MALO

By Stephen Leacock.