That Oowikapun was unhappy, strangely so, was evident to all in the
Indian village. New thoughts deeply affecting him had in some way or
other entered into his mind, and he could not but show that they were
producing a great change in him.
The simple, quiet, monotonous life of the young Indian hunter was
curiously broken in upon, and he could never be the same again. There
had come a decided awakening; the circle of his vision had suddenly
enlarged, and he had become aware of the fact that he was something more
than he imagined. While, in his simple faith, he had paddled along the
beautiful rivers, or wandered through the wild forests of his country,
catching the fish or hunting the game, where at times he had heard the
thunder's crash and seen the majestic tree riven by the lightning's
power, and perhaps in these seasons of nature's wild commotion had "seen
God in cloud and heard him in the wind," yet until very lately he had
never heard of anything which had caused him to imagine that he was in
any way allied to that Great Spirit, or was in any way responsible to
him.
What was the cause of this mental disquietude, of these long hours of
absorbing thought?
To answer these inquiries we must go back a little, and accompany him on
a hunting trip which he made in the forest months ago.
Hearing from some other hunters of a place where grey wolves were
numerous, and being ambitious to kill some of these fierce brutes, that
he might adorn his wigwam with their warm skins, he took his traps and
camping outfit and set out for that region of country, although it was
more than two hundred miles away. Here he found tracks in abundance,
and so before he made his little hunting lodge in the midst of a spruce
grove, he set his traps for the fierce wolves in a spot which seemed to
be a rallying place of theirs. As they are very suspicious and clever,
he carefully placed two traps close together and sprinkled them over
with snow, leaving visible only the dead rabbits which served as bait.
Then scattering more snow over his own tracks as he moved away, in order
to leave as little evidence of his having been there as possible, he
returned to his little tentlike lodge and prepared and ate his supper,
smoked his pipe, and then wrapping himself up in his blanket was soon
fast asleep. Very early next morning he was up and off to visit his
traps. His axe was slipped in his belt, and his gun, well loaded, was
carried ready for use if necessary. When he had got within a few
hundred yards of the place where he had set his heavy traps, he heard
the rattling of the chains which were attached to them, each fastened to
a heavy log. This sound, while it made his heart jump, was very
welcome, for it meant that he had been successful. When he drew near
the spot where he had set the traps, he found that a fierce old wolf, in
trying to get the rabbit from one of them without springing it, had got
caught in the other, and although both of his hind legs were held by the
sharp teeth of the trap, he had managed to drag it and the heavy log
fastened to it to quite a distance.
When Oowikapun drew near, the wolf made the most desperate efforts to
escape; but the strong trap held him securely, and the heavy log on the
chain made it impossible for him to get far away.
Oowikapun could easily have shot him, but ammunition was dear and the
bullet hole in the skin would be a blemish, and the sound of the gun
might scare away the game that might be near; so he resolved to kill the
wolf with the back of his axe. Better would it have been for him if he
had shot him at once. So putting down his gun he took his axe out of
his belt and cautiously approached the treacherous brute. The sight of
the man so near seemed to fill him with fury, and, unable to escape, he
made the most desperate efforts to reach him. His appearance, was
demoniacal, and his howls and snarls would have terrified almost anybody
else than an experienced, cool-headed hunter.
Oowikapun, seeing what an ugly customer he had to deal with, very
cautiously kept just beyond the limits of the fearful plunges which the
chain would allow the wolf to make, and keenly watched for an
opportunity to strike him on the head. So wary and quick was the wolf
that some blows received only maddened without disabling him.
Oowikapun at length, becoming annoyed that he should have any difficulty
in killing an entrapped wolf, resolved to end the conflict at once with
a decisive blow; and so with upraised axe he placed himself as near as
he thought safe, and waited for the infuriated brute to spring at him.
But so much force did the entrapped brute put into that spring that it
carried the log attached to the chain along with him, and his sharp,
glittering fang-like teeth snapped together within a few inches of
Oowikapun's throat, and such was the force of the concussion that he was
hurled backward, and ere he could assume the aggressive, the sharp teeth
of the wolf had seized his left arm, which he threw up for defence, and
seemed to cut down to the very bone, causing intense pain. But
Oowikapun was a brave man and cool-headed, so a few blows from the keen
edge of the axe in his right hand finished his foe, whose only weapons
were his sharp teeth, and he was soon lying dead in the snow; but his
beautiful skin was about worthless as a robe on account of the many
gashes it had received, much to the annoyance of Oowikapun, who had not
dreamed of having so severe a battle.
The traps were soon reset and Oowikapun, with the heavy wolf on his
back, set out for his camp. As he had set some smaller traps for minks
and martens in a different direction, he turned aside to visit them.
This would cause him to return to his camp by another trail. While
moving along under his heavy load he was surprised to come across the
snowshoe tracks of another hunter. He examined them carefully, and
decided that they were made by some person who must have passed along
there that very morning, early as it was.
As the trail of this stranger, whoever it could be, was in the direction
of the traps which Oowikapun wished to visit, he followed them up. When
he reached his traps he found that a mink had been caught in one of
them, but the stranger had taken it out and hung it up in plain sight
above the trap on the branch of a tree. Then the stranger, putting on
fresh bait, had reset the trap. Of course Oowikapun was pleased with
this, and delighted that the stranger, whoever he was, had acted so
honestly and kindly toward him.
Fastening the mink in his belt he hurried on to his camp as fast as he
could under his heavy load, for his wounded arm had begun to swell and
was causing him intense pain. His stoical Indian nature would have
caused him to withstand the pain with indifference, but when he
remembered how the wolf, maddened by his capture, had wrought himself up
into such a frenzy that his mouth was all foaming with madness when he
made that last desperate spring and succeeded in fastening his fangs in
his arm, he feared that perhaps some of the froth might have got into
his arm, and unless some remedies were quickly obtained, madness might
come to him, to be followed by a most dreadful death.
But what could he do? He was several days' journey from his own
village, and many miles from any hunter of his acquaintance. He had, in
his vanity, come alone on this hunting expedition, and now alone in the
woods, far away from his friends, here he is in his little hunting
lodge, a dangerously wounded man.
Fortunately he had taken the precaution of sucking as many of the wounds
as he could reach with his mouth, and then had bound a deerskin thong on
his arm above the wound as tightly as he could draw it.
Very few, comparatively, were the diseases among the aboriginal tribes
of America before the advent of the white man. Their vocation as
hunters, however, rendered them liable to many accidents.
Possessing no firearms, and thus necessarily obliged to come in close
contact with the savage beasts in their conflict with them, they were
often severely wounded.
Fortunate was it for the injured one if he had companions near when the
bone was fractured or the flesh torn. If, when accidents occur, the
injuries are not considered very desperate, a little camp is improvised
and with a day or two of rest, with some simple remedies from nature's
great storehouse--the forest--a cure is quickly effected. If a leg or
arm is broken, a stretcher of young saplings is skillfully prepared,
interwoven with broad bands of soft bark, and on this elastic, easy
couch the wounded man is rapidly carried to his distant wigwam by his
companions.
When there are but two persons, and an accident happens to one of them,
two young trees that are tough and elastic are used. Then tops of small
branches are allowed to remain, and very much diminish the jolting
caused by the inequalities of the ground. No carriage spring ever more
successfully accomplished its purpose. A couple of cross bars preserve
the saplings in position, and the bark of some varieties of shrubs or
trees cut into bands and joined to either side forms a comfortable
couch. In this way an injured man has often been dragged many miles by
his companion, and in some instances it has been found on his arrival at
his forest home that the fractured bones were uniting, and soon the limb
was whole again.
With these healthy, simple children of the forest wounds heal with great
rapidity and fractured bones soon unite. This reparative power of the
Indians when injured is only paralleled by the wonderful stoicism with
which they bear injuries, and at times inflict upon themselves the
severest torture. With flints as substitutes for lances, they will cut
open the largest abscesses to the very bone. They will amputate limbs
with their hunting knives, checking the haemorrhage with red-hot stones
as was done long years ago by the surgeons of Europe.
With marvellous nerve many a wounded hunter or warrior has been known to
amputate his own limb, or sew up with sinew the gaping wounds received
in conflict with the hostile foe or savage beast. They were cognisant
of the value, and extensively used warm fomentations. If rheumatism or
other kindred diseases assailed them, the Turkish bath in a very simple
form was often used. Sometimes a close tent of deerskins served the
purpose. The patient was put in a little tent where, in a hollow under
him, heated stones were placed, over which water was thrown until the
confined air was heated to the required temperature and saturated with
the steam.
Oowikapun had fortunately broken no bones in his battle with the savage
wolf, but he knew that his wounds were dangerous. Some of them were so
situated in his arm that he could not reach them with his mouth in order
that he might suck out the poisonous saliva of the wolf that he feared
might be in them, and it now being in the depth of winter, he could not
obtain the medicinal herbs which the Indians use as poultices for
dangerous wounds of this description.
While brooding over his misfortune he suddenly remembered the snowshoe
tracks of the stranger, and at once resolved to try and find his lodge,
and secure help. To decide was to act. The few preparations necessary
were soon made, and taking the most direct route to the spot where he
had last seen the trail of the stranger he was soon in it. He was
uncertain at first whether to go backward or forward on it in order to
reach the wigwam, for he had not the remotest idea whether these tracks
led to it or from it. But his native shrewdness came into play to solve
the question. First he noticed from the way the shoes sunk in the snow
that the man was carrying a heavy load; next he observed that the tracks
were not like those of a hunter going out from his home, moving about
cautiously locking for game, but were rather those of a man well loaded
from a successful hunt, and pushing on straight for home with his
burden. Quickly had he read these things and arrived at his
conclusions; so he resolved to go on with the trail, and he was not
disappointed. He had travelled only a few miles, ere in a pleasant
grove of balsam trees, on the borders of a little ice-covered lake, he
discovered, by the ascending smoke from the top, the wigwam of his
unknown friend.
Without hesitancy he marched up to it, and lifting the large moose skin
which served as its only door, he stooped down and entered in. A
pleasant fire was burning on the ground in the centre, and partly
circled around it was the Indian family. As though Oowikapun had been
long looked for as an expected, honoured guest, he was cordially
welcomed in quiet Indian style and directed to a comfortable place in
the circle, the seat of the stranger. The pipe of peace was handed to
him, and but few words were spoken until he had finished it.
Indian eyes are sharp, even if at times words are few; and it was not
many minutes before the owner of the wigwam saw that something was
wrong, and so he drew from him the story of the killing of the wolf and
his fears that perhaps all the froth from his teeth had not been rubbed
off by the leather shirt and other covering through which they had
passed as they pierced into his arm.
If Oowikapun had travelled a thousand miles he could not have been more
fortunate than he was in the man to whom he had gone; for this man was
Memotas, the best Indian doctor in all that vast country, who, when his
hunting seasons were over, spent his time in studying the medicinal
qualities of the roots and herbs of the country which the Good Spirit
had created for some good purpose, and then in being a benediction and a
blessing to the afflicted ones by their use among them, with but very
little fee or reward, as a general thing, in return.
Quickly did Memotas apply his remedies, both external and internal, for
he knew the risks the man was running; and he gently insisted on his
remaining in his wigwam as his guest for several days until he was
recovered from his wounds. He would not even hear of his going to visit
his traps, for fear of his heating his blood by the vigorous exercise,
and thus aggravating the wounds. So Memotas himself looked after them,
and several times returned with rich spoils of fur-bearing animals,
which he gladly handed over to the grateful man.
These great kindnesses completely won the heart of Oowikapun, who
considered himself very fortunate in finding so kind a friend in his
hours of need. The kind-hearted wife of Memotas was also interested in
Oowikapun, and did all she could to add to his comfort and hasten his
recovery. The injured man had been surprised at the kindness and
respect which Memotas constantly manifested toward her, and was amazed
that he often asked her advice. He did not, as the married men with
whom Oowikapun was acquainted, treat her unkindly, nor even consider her
as much inferior to himself.
While Memotas's wife, whose Indian name was Meyooachimoowin, was very
industrious, and kept her wigwam and her children tidy and clean, yet
she was never considered as merely a drudge and a slave and left to do
all the heavy work. Strange to say, she was not allowed to cut the wood
in the forest and then drag it home. Neither did she carry the heavy
buckets of water up from the lake, as other Indian women were accustomed
to do. Nor did she go out into the woods, perhaps miles away, and carry
home on her back the deer which her husband had shot. Memotas never
would allow her to do anything of the kind. He did all this himself,
and seemed even anxious to save her from fatigue and toil. Then when
the meals were prepared she was not gruffly sent away to wait until the
men had eaten, but with them and the children she sat down on terms of
perfect equality.
Then, as regards the children, a boy and girl, whom they called
Meyookesik and Sagastao, he noticed that the girl was just as much loved
and petted as the boy, and even as kindly treated. This was a state of
affairs entirely unknown in the wigwams of the pagan Indians. There the
boys are petted and spoiled and early taught to be proud and haughty,
and to consider that all girls and women, even their own sisters and
mother, are much inferior to them, and only worthy of their kicks and
contempt. The boys get the best of everything and are allowed to eat
with the men first; while the poor women and girls have to wait until
they are finished, and then be content with what is left, often not
much; and even then they have to struggle with the dogs for the
fragments. The result is they are often half starved.