It was long ago, upon the rolling prairie south of the Devil’s Lake,
that a motley body of hunters gathered near a mighty herd of the bison,
in the Moon of Falling Leaves. These were the first generation of the
Canadian mixed-bloods, who sprang up in such numbers as to form almost
a new people. These semi-wild Americans soon became a necessity to the
Hudson Bay Company, as they were the greatest hunters of the bison,
and made more use of this wonderful animal than even their aboriginal
ancestors.
A curious race of people this, in their make-up and their customs! Their
shaggy black hair was allowed to grow long, reaching to their broad
shoulders, then cut off abruptly, making their heads look like a
thatched house. Their dark faces were in most cases well covered with
hair, their teeth large and white, and their eyes usually liquid black,
although occasionally one had a tiger-brown or cold-gray eye. Their
costume was a buckskin shirt with abundance of fringes, buckskin
pantaloons with short leggins, a gay sash, and a cap of fox-fur. Their
arms consisted of flint-lock guns, hatchets, and butcher-knives. Their
ponies were small, but as hardy as themselves.
As these men gathered in the neighborhood of an immense herd of
buffaloes, they busied themselves in adjusting the girths of their
beautifully beaded pillow-like saddles. Among them there were
exceptional riders and hunters. It was said that few could equal Antoine
Michaud in feats of riding into and through the herd. There he stood,
all alone, the observed of many others. It was his habit to give several
Indian yells when the onset began, so as to insure a successful hunt.
In this instance, Antoine gave his usual whoops, and when they had
almost reached the herd, he lifted his flint-lock over his head and
plunged into the black moving mass. With a sound like the distant
rumbling of thunder, those tens of thousands of buffalo hoofs were
pounding the earth in retreat. Thus Antoine disappeared!
His wild steed dashed into the midst of the vast herd. Fortunately for
him, the animals kept clear of him; but alas! the gap through which he
had entered instantly closed again.
He yelled frantically to secure an outlet, but without effect. He had
tied a red bandanna around his head to keep the hair off his face,
and he now took this off and swung it crazily about him to scatter the
buffalo, but it availed him nothing.
With such a mighty herd in flight, the speed could not be great;
therefore the “Bois Brule” settled himself to the situation, allowing
his pony to canter along slowly to save his strength. It required much
tact and presence of mind to keep an open space, for the few paces of
obstruction behind had gradually grown into a mile.
The mighty host moved continually southward, walking and running
alternately. As the sun neared the western horizon, it fired the sky
above them, and all the distant hills and prairies were in the glow of
it, but immediately about them was a thick cloud of dust, and the ground
appeared like a fire-swept plain.
Suddenly Antoine was aware of a tremendous push from behind. The animals
smelled the cool water of a spring which formed a large bog in the midst
of the plain. This solitary pond or marsh was a watering-place for the
wild animals. All pushed and edged toward it; it was impossible for any
one to withstand the combined strength of so many.
Antoine and his steed were in imminent danger of being pushed into
the mire and trampled upon, but a mere chance brought them upon solid
ground. As they were crowded across the marsh, his pony drank heartily,
and he, for the first time, let go his bridle, put his two palms
together for a dipper, and drank greedily of the bitter water. He had
not eaten since early morning, so he now pulled up some bulrushes and
ate of the tender bulbs, while the pony grazed as best he could on the
tops of the tall grass.
It was now dark. The night was wellnigh intolerable for Antoine. The
buffalo were about him in countless numbers, regarding him with vicious
glances. It was only by reason of the natural offensiveness of man that
they gave him any space. The bellowing of the bulls became general, and
there was a marked uneasiness on the part of the herd. This was a
sign of approaching storm, therefore the unfortunate hunter had this
additional cause for anxiety. Upon the western horizon were seen some
flashes of lightning.
The cloud which had been a mere speck upon the horizon had now increased
to large proportions. Suddenly the wind came, and lightning flashes
became more frequent, showing the ungainly forms of the animals like
strange monsters in the white light. The colossal herd was again in
violent motion. It was a blind rush for shelter, and no heed was paid
to buffalo wallows or even deep gulches. All was in the deepest of
darkness. There seemed to be groaning in heaven and earth--millions of
hoofs and throats roaring in unison!
As a shipwrecked man clings to a mere fragment of wood, so Antoine,
although almost exhausted with fatigue, still stuck to the back of his
equally plucky pony. Death was imminent for them both. As the mad rush
continued, every flash displayed heaps of bison in death struggle under
the hoofs of their companions.
From time to time Antoine crossed himself and whispered a prayer to the
Virgin; and again he spoke to his horse after the fashion of an Indian:
“Be brave, be strong, my horse! If we survive this trial, you shall have
great honor!”
The stampede continued until they reached the bottom lands, and, like
a rushing stream, their course was turned aside by the steep bank of
a creek or small river. Then they moved more slowly in wide sweeps or
circles, until the storm ceased, and the exhausted hunter, still in his
saddle, took some snatches of sleep.
When he awoke and looked about him again it was morning. The herd had
entered the strip of timber which lay on both sides of the river, and
it was here that Antoine conceived his first distinct hope of saving
himself.
“Waw, waw, waw!” was the hoarse cry that came to his ears, apparently
from a human being in distress. Antoine strained his eyes and craned his
neck to see who it could be. Through an opening in the branches ahead he
perceived a large grizzly bear, lying along an inclined limb and hugging
it desperately to maintain his position. The herd had now thoroughly
pervaded the timber, and the bear was likewise hemmed in. He had taken
to his unaccustomed refuge after making a brave stand against several
bulls, one of which lay dead near by, while he himself was bleeding from
many wounds.
Antoine had been assiduously looking for a friendly tree, by means of
which he hoped to effect his escape from captivity by the army of bison.
His horse, by chance, made his way directly under the very box-elder
that was sustaining the bear and there was a convenient branch just
within his reach. The Bois Brule was not then in an aggressive mood,
and he saw at a glance that the occupant of the tree would not interfere
with him. They were, in fact, companions in distress. Antoine tried
to give a war-whoop as he sprang desperately from the pony’s back and
seized the cross limb with both his hands.
The hunter dangled in the air for a minute that to him seemed a year.
Then he gathered up all the strength that was in him, and with one grand
effort he pulled himself up on the limb.
If he had failed in this, he would have fallen to the ground under the
hoofs of the buffaloes, and at their mercy.
After he had adjusted his seat as comfortably as he could, Antoine
surveyed the situation. He had at least escaped from sudden and certain
death. It grieved him that he had been forced to abandon his horse, and
he had no idea how far he had come nor any means of returning to his
friends, who had, no doubt, given him up for lost. His immediate needs
were rest and food.
Accordingly he selected a fat cow and emptied into her sides one barrel
of his gun, which had been slung across his chest. He went on shooting
until he had killed many fat cows, greatly to the discomfiture of his
neighbor, the bear, while the bison vainly struggled among themselves to
keep the fatal spot clear.
By the middle of the afternoon the main body of the herd had passed, and
Antoine was sure that his captivity had at last come to an end. Then
he swung himself from his limb to the ground, and walked stiffly to
the carcass of the nearest cow, which he dressed and prepared himself a
meal. But first he took a piece of liver on a long pole to the bear!
Antoine finally decided to settle in the recesses of the heavy timber
for the winter, as he was on foot and alone, and not able to travel any
great distance. He jerked the meat of all the animals he had killed, and
prepared their skins for bedding and clothing. The Bois Brule and Ami,
as he called the bear, soon became necessary to one another. The former
considered the bear very good company, and the latter had learned that
man’s business, after all, is not to kill every animal he meets. He had
been fed and kindly treated, when helpless from his wounds, and this he
could not forget.
Antoine was soon busy erecting a small log hut, while the other partner
kept a sharp lookout, and, after his hurts were healed, often brought in
some small game. The two had a perfect understanding without many words;
at least, the speech was all upon one side! In his leisure moments
Antoine had occupied himself with whittling out a rude fiddle of
cedar-wood, strung with the guts of a wild cat that he had killed. Every
evening that winter he would sit down after supper and play all the old
familiar pieces, varied with improvisations of his own. At first, the
music and the incessant pounding time with his foot annoyed the bear. At
times, too, the Canadian would call out the figures for the dance. All
this Ami became accustomed to in time, and even showed no small interest
in the buzzing of the little cedar box. Not infrequently, he was out
in the evening, and the human partner was left alone. It chanced, quite
fortunately, that the bear was absent on the night that the red folk
rudely invaded the lonely hut.
The calmness of the strange being had stayed their hands. They had never
before seen a man of other race than their own!
“Is this Chanotedah? Is he man, or beast?” the warriors asked one
another.
“Ho, wake up, koda!” exclaimed Anookasan. “Maybe he is of the porcupine
tribe, ashamed to look at us!”
At this moment they spied the haunch of venison which swung from a
cross-stick over a fine bed of coals, in front of the rude mud chimney.
“Ho, koda has something to eat! Sit down, sit down!” they shouted to one
another.
Now Antoine opened his eyes for the first time upon his unlooked-for
guests. They were a haggard and hungry-looking set. Anookasan extended
his hand, and Antoine gave it a hearty shake. He set his fiddle against
the wall and began to cut up the smoking venison into generous pieces
and place it before them. All ate like famished men, while the firelight
intensified the red paint upon their wild and warlike faces.
When he had satisfied his first hunger, Anookasan spoke in signs.
“Friend, we have never before heard a song like that of your little
cedar box! We had supposed it to be a spirit, or some harmful thing,
hence our attack upon it. We never saw any people of your sort. What is
your tribe?”
Antoine explained his plight in the same manner, and the two soon came
to an understanding. The Canadian told the starving hunters of a buffalo
herd a little way to the north, and one of their number was dispatched
homeward with the news. In two days the entire band reached Antoine’s
place. The Bois Brule was treated with kindness and honor, and the tribe
gave him a wife. Suffice it to say that Antoine lived and died among the
Yanktons at a good old age; but Ami could not brook the invasion upon
their hermit life. He was never seen after that first evening.