HOW WE FOUND OUR CATTLE.
The old cow always wore the bell. Early in the spring, when there were no
flies or mosquitoes to drive them up the cattle sometimes wandered off.
At such times, when we went to our chopping or work, we watched them, to
see which way they went, and listened to the bell after they were out of
sight in order that we might know which way to go after them if they
didn't return. Sometimes the bell went out of hearing but I was careful
to remember which way I heard it last.
Before night I would start to look for them, going in the direction I
last heard them. I would go half a mile or so into the woods, then stop
and listen, to see if I could hear the faintest sound of the bell. If I
could not hear it I went farther in the same direction then stopped and
listened again. Then if I did not hear it I took another direction, went
a piece and stopped again, and if I heard the least sound of it I knew it
from all other bells because I had heard it so often before.
That bell is laid up with care. I am now over fifty years old, but if
the least tinkling of that bell should reach my ear I should know the
sound as well as I did when I was a boy listening for it in the woods
of Michigan.
When I found the cattle I would pick up a stick and throw it at them,
halloo very loudly and they would start straight for home. Sometimes, in
cloudy weather, I was lost and it looked to me as though they were going
the wrong way, but I followed them, through black-ash swales where the
water was knee-deep, sometimes nearly barefooted.
I always carried a gun, sometimes father's rifle. The deer didn't seem to
be afraid of the cattle; they would stand and look at them as they passed
not seeming to notice me. I would walk carefully, get behind a tree, and
take pains to get a fair shot at one. When I had killed it I bent bushes
and broke them partly off, every few rods, until I knew I could find the
place again, then father and I would go and get the deer.
Driving the cattle home in this way I traveled hundreds of miles. There
was some danger then, in going barefooted as there were some massassauga
all through the woods. As the country got cleared up they disappeared,
and as there are neither rocks, ledges nor logs, under which they can
hide, I have not seen one in many years.
One time the cattle strayed off and went so far I could not find them. I
looked for them until nearly dark but had to return without them. I told
father where I had been and that I could not hear the bell. The next
morning father and I started to see if we could find them. We looked two
or three days but could not find or hear anything of them. We began to
think they were lost in the wilderness. However, we concluded to look one
more day, so we started and went four or five miles southeast until we
struck the Reed creek. (Always known as the Reed creek by us for the
reason, a man by the name of Reed came with his family from the State of
New York, built him a log house and lived there one summer. His family
got sick, he became discouraged, and in the fall moved back to the State
of New York. The place where he lived, the one summer, was about two
miles south of our house and this creek is really the middle branch of
the Ecorse).
There was no settlement between us and the Detroit River, a distance of
six miles. We looked along the Reed creek to see if any cattle had
crossed it.
While we were looking there we heard the report of a rifle close by us
and hurried up. It was an Indian who had just shot a duck in the head.
When we came to him father told him it was a lucky shot, a good shot to
shoot it in the head. He said, "Me allers shoot head not hurt body." He
took us to his wigwam, which was close by, showed us another duck with
the neck nearly shot off. Whether he told the truth, or whether these two
were lucky shots, I cannot tell, but one thing I do know, in regard to
him, if he told us the truth he was an extraordinary man and marksman.
Around his wigwam hung from half a dozen to a dozen deer skins; they hung
on poles. His family seemed to consist of his squaw and a young squaw
almost grown up. Father told him we had lost our cattle, oxen and cow,
and asked him if he had seen them. We had hard work to make him
understand what we meant. Father said--cow--bell--strap round neck--he
tried to show him, shook his hand as if jingling a bell. Then father
said, oxen--spotted--white--black; he put his hand on his side and said:
black--cow--bell--noise, and then said, as nearly as we could understand,
"Me see them day before yesterday," and he pointed in the woods to tell
us which way. Father took a silver half-dollar out of his pocket, showed
it to the Indian, and told him he should have it if he would show us the
cattle. He wiped out his rifle, loaded it and said, "Me show." He took
his rifle and wiper and started with us; we went about half a mile and he
showed us where he had seen them. We looked and found large ox's tracks
and cow's tracks. I thought, from the size and shape of them, they were
our cattle's tracks. The Indian started upon the tracks, father followed
him, and I followed father. When we came to high ground, where I could
hardly see a track; the Indian had no trouble in following them, and he
went on a trot. I had hard work to keep up with him. I remember well how
he looked, with his bowing legs, it seemed as if he were on springs. He
moved like an antelope, with such ease and agility. He looked as if he
hardly touched the ground.
The cattle, in feeding round, crossed their own tracks sometimes. The
Indian always knew which were the last tracks. He followed all their
crooks, we followed him by sight, which gave us a little the advantage,
and helped us to keep in sight. He led us, crooking about in this way,
for nearly two hours, when we came in hearing of the bell. I never had a
harder time in the woods but once, and it was when I was older, stronger,
and better able to stand a chase, that time I was following four bears,
and an Indian tried to get them away. I was pleased when we got to the
cattle. Father paid the Indian the half-dollar he had earned so well, and
thanked him most heartily, whether he understood it or not. Father asked
the Indian the way home, he said, "My house, my wigwam, which way my
home?" The Indian pointed with his wiper, and showed us the way.
Father said afterward, it was strange that the Indian should know where
he lived, as he had never seen him before. I never saw that Indian
afterward.
The cattle were feeding on cow-slips and leeks, which grew in abundance,
also on little French bogs that had just started up. We hallooed at them
very sharply and they started homeward, we followed them, and that night
found our cattle home again. Mother and all the children were happy to
see them come, for they were our main dependence. They were called many
dear names and told not to go off so far any more.