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THE year 1865 had barely
started on its way when there came a courier from Maskepetoon to father,
requesting him if possible to come out and go with Maskepetoon to the
Blackfoot camp. The old chief desired to ratify the peace treaty, and to
lengthen its days as much as possible. Father at once sent him word to make
ready, and that he would be out in a few days. He decided to take Peter and
me with him. Mother and the rest of our women folk were naturally very
anxious about this trip into the camp of the dreaded enemy, but this did not
prevent their helping to make us ready for the journey, and soon we were
off, father in his cariole, with Maple and her pups hitched to it, Peter and
I with our dog sleds carrying the provisions and camp equipment.
Starting early, travelling
fast, and keeping at it late, we reached Maskepetoon's camp the second
evening, and father and Peter worked late that night teaching and preaching.
Next morning we were away with the chief and some forty of his warriors and
head men. The weather was very cold, and the buffalo were now travelling
north in large numbers, making their way into the Beaver Hills, and on to
the Saskatchewan. It looked now as if we would not have to haul our meat
from as long distances as last winter.
Father was the only one in
the party with a cáriole, and this he shared ever and anon with Maskepetoon.
The rest of us were on foot, and as the snow was deep, except where the
buffalo had trampled it down, our progress was slow. Other Indians, from
camps situated at different points along the eastern and southern fringe of
the Beaver Hills, joined us. Among these was a Blackfoot who was taking back
a Cree wife. I took occasion to say to her, "Are you not afraid this peace
may not last very long?" She merely laughed at my suggestion; but later on
came to pass that this same woman fell a victim to the Blackfoot she had
taken as her husband. It is related of them that a few months after this, he
and some others were gambling on a bill while the camp was moving past, and
as this Cree woman came opposite the gamblers, her husband said to his
companions, "See how I can shoot," and aiming at the woman, shot her dead in
her tracks. An unfeeling laugh from the crowd followed the shocking tragedy.
As we journeyed the hunters
of the party provided meat. The "cattle upon a thousand hills" were our
storehouse, the hunters were our commissariat, and with sublime confidence
in these we travelled on. The third day from Maskepetoon's lodges, we camped
within a few miles of the Blackfeet, and early next morning our scouts were
every little while bringing us news of the numbers and situation of the
camp.
Hardy fellows those scouts
were. We were moving at a brisk, quiet walk, but they must run on for miles,
and then double on their tracks back to us. While away they must be
invisible; they must see all that is to be seen, but remain unseen
themselves. To do this they must take the contour of the country, note the
condition of the sun and wind, be on the lookout for buffalo, coyotes,
wolves, dogs, and ravens, crows, and other fowl. They must keep a constant
lookout for contra scouting, and for this the nose and ear and eye and mind
must be always alert. I say, to do this well, as many of these fellows can,
requires the quickening of every sense. Then while doing all this, at times
to make ten miles an hour on foot also requires a depth of lung and strength
of limb and purpose of will which heredity and constant practice alone can
give.
Our scouts that morning were
like telegraph bulletins. We knew how the camp was arranged, and changed our
course to suit this arrangement. We were told of the windings of the coulee,
or valley, down which the Blackfeet lodges were standing. We were told of
hunting parties that had gone out that morning; of the bands of horses, and
how closely these were guarded; of the long strings of women and ponies, and
dogs and travois, which were coming and going in various directions, packing
wood to camp; all of which was literally true, for our scouts had been there
and seen it all.
When close we stopped behind
a bluff, while our men put on their visiting paint and dress material, and
in a few minutes, with the small circular mirrors and ochre bags, our
company was transfigured in appearance and colors. Bright colors in garments
and on face made a wonderful change, and to my eye this was exceedingly
fitting. The scene was in accord with itself; it was natural.
How often are we amused and
then disgusted by merely made up scenes. Someone who has been just long
enough in a new country to be made a victim of all the designing wags in it—
who has just learned enough about Indians to, make himself ridiculous every
time he opens his mouth on the subject—will don the buckskins of a pioneer,
or the costume of the aboriginal Indian, and pose for one or the other; but
the whole thing is forced and unreal. Here we have the genuine article, and
each factor in the picture is complete and natural and true: the sweep of
the valley of the Battle River which slopes from our feet; the ranges of
forest-dotted hills, climbing one above the other, from the river's brink
even to the limit of our vision; the intersecting fields of snow-clad
prairie, reflecting each in its turn the brilliant sunlight; the buffalo
that here and there seem like ink dots on the vast ground of dazzling white
that stretches far and wide; and the great solitude of primeval nature that
broods over all. Then the curling heavenward of the smoke of our temporary
fire, the athletic and well-proportioned physique of the men, their costumes
and paint—I say all this was to my mind and eye, as I stood there and
watched and waited that winter's day, as something just as it should be,
belonging to the place and time.
But now the last feather is
tied on, the last touch of vermilion is in its place, and we move on for
another hour's quick tramp. A hushed excitement is apparent. This whole
thing is yet a very uncertain quantity. Will success or disaster be the
result? The most thoughtless in our party is somewhat checked by the anxiety
of the moment.
In a few minutes the last
scout will be in.
"Here he is!" We are about to
come in sight and be within a few hundred yards of the camp. Maskepetoon and
father step to the front side by side, as the chief would have it. Next come
the standard bearers, and the Union Jack and the Hudson's Bay Company's flag
are unfurled to the breeze; then the head men and chief warriors; then the
young men and scouts. Peter and I bring up the rear with our dog-trains,
which we have difficulty in keeping in their place—old Draffan has been
ahead so often, he cannot understand his having to stay behind now.
The horse guards and wood
carriers, and the children at play, were in full view of our advancing
column, and at first there was a rushing of stock homewards, and a
scrambling for the road by those engaged in hauling wood, while the children
screamed and fled over the hill into the deep narrow valley in which the
lodges were situated. An inexperienced person would never have thought that
hundreds of tents, filled with warriors and women and children, were only a
short distance from us; but presently up out of the valley came a swarm of
men and boys, all armed and anxious. Then when the older ones recognized
Maskepetoon, they began to shout "Mon-e-guh-ba-now!" and came to meet us
gladly. As they came they fired their guns into the air, and our men did
likewise, and sang as they marched, and in a few minutes we were on the brow
of the hill and the Blackfoot camp lay at our feet.
Maskepetoon and father, with
Peter and myself, were taken to the head chief's tent, and hospitably
entertained in the style and manner peculiar to this people. Buffalo meat
and dried berries constituted the food. The former was served either fresh
or dry, or as pounded meat and grease, or as pemmican. The latter were
either boiled or eaten dry. The vessels the food was served in were wooden,
and the ladles it was dipped with were made of horn. Neither of these, so
far as I could see, were ever washed. The cooks would cut up the meat for
the guests as is done for small children among the white people. While in
the Blackfoot camp we had no use for a knife, though we would have
infinitely preferred to cut and carve our own food. Father would quietly
say, "Look the other way, John," and I would as quietly think, "If he can
stand it, how much more can I."
Three Bulls, the chief in
whose tent we were, was a tall, dignified old man. His war and hunting days
were over, but there was a prestige in his manner and presence which spoke
of a history for this man, and it was this no doubt which kept him in the
commanding position he occupied. He had three wives living with him in his
tent. These might be described as old, older, oldest. There were two
handsome young men, his sons, evidently the children of different mothers.
Both father and mothers were very proud of these superb specimens of
physical manhood. The work of the camp was done by the chief's
daughters-in-law and granddaughters, who came and went without noise or fuss
in the discharge of their duties, while the trio of wives sat and sewed
moccasins or played the role of hostesses.
These were thoroughly buffalo
Indians. Without buffalo they would be helpless, and yet the whole nation
did not own one. To look at them, and to hear them, one would feel as if
they were the most independent of all men; yet the fact was they were the
most dependent among men. Moccasins, mittens, leggings, shirts and robes—
all buffalo. With the sinews of the buffalo they stitched and sewed these.
Their lariats, bridle lines, stirrup-straps, girths and saddles were
manufactured out of buffalo hide. Their women made scrapers out of the
leg-bone for fleshing hides. The men fashioned knife-handles out of the
bones, and the children made toboggans of the same. The horns served for
spoons and powder flasks. In short, they lived and had their physical being
in the buffalo. The Blackfoot word for buffalo in the mass is enewh.
This same word in Cree means man. The Blackfoot word for buffalo bull is
stomach, which in English means quite another thing. For the Blackfoot man
the buffalo supplied the sole habiliment and the sole nutriment.
During our stay in the camp
the women and children were frequently sent out of the chief's tent, and
then the lodge would be packed with minor chiefs and headmen and warriors,
who would listen to Maskepetoon and father. Lively discussions there took
place on the benefits of peace among men. Father's descriptions of eastern
civilization and Christianity were as strange revelations to these men. They
listened, and wondered if these things could be true, so different were
their experiences of white men from what father had to tell them of the
conduct of our Government and of Christian men to the Indians in general. He
told them of the many villages and tribes of Indians who were living in
harmony and peace right in the midst of the white people, in the country he
came from. One could see that most of these men were glad of the present
respite, and yet there were some who chafed under the necessity of even a
short intermission from their business of horse-stealing and scalp-taking.
There was one young war chief
in camp who kept aloof from us, and as he had considerable influence and a
large following, some anxiety was felt, both by our party and by the
Blackfeet friendly to us. However, during the second evening of our stay, he
came to the chief's tent, and it was announced that he was waiting outside.
Our host gathered his robe around him and went out, and presently the proud
young chieftain stepped in and took a seat beside us. Later on the old chief
returned, and I enquired of Maskepetoon, "Why this unusual ceremony?" He
told me that this young warrior chief was the son-in-law of the old man, and
it was a rule of etiquette that the son-in-law should not come into a tent
while his father-in-law was in it. So the old man had gone out until his
son-in- law came in. Even here, as elsewhere, high-toned society must
conform to rule.
This war chief said that he
was not very anxious for peace, that war to him was like eating good
fruit—he loved it; but as the others were favorable, he would join them for
a while. Then turning to father, he said, "You must, if you are in earnest,
let your son come to my tent and live with me while in our camp." Father
asked me if I was willing, and I said, "Yes." So it was arranged that I
should go; and presently the young chief signed to me to follow him, and we
started for his tent.
It was dark as we wended our
way in and out among the lodges in the windings of the valley, and it seemed
to me that the dogs were without number; but a quiet, sharp word from my
leader made them shrink away from us, and on we went for quite a distance.
Presently we came to a large lodge, and entering this I found we were at
home. The chief motioned me to a reclining couch of buffalo skins, and then
began to speak to his wives and to a number of young men who seemed to be
his dependents, and who were very obedient to his word. In the matter of
wives he was four ahead of his father-in-law, having seven to own him lord,
the last and youngest being the old chief's daughter.
Mine host—for I would rather
consider him as such than my captor—was a tall, athletic fellow, about
thirty-five years of age. He had a wild, wicked look about him, was quick
and nervous in movement, and was, from appearance at any rate, a man not to
be trifled with. His wives' ages, I should judge, ranged all the way from
eighteen to thirty years, and there were several children. The lodge was the
largest I had ever been in, necessitating at times the making of two
distinct fires in it to keep us warm; for all this time the cold was severe,
and our northern January weather was in full sway over this land. Some of
the women untied a bundle of newly dressed robes, and made up for me a couch
next to the chief's. They handed me some dried meat and berries, and eating
a late supper, I turned in for the night. The isolation from the rest of our
party was complete, and I could not repress a feeling of loneliness; but as
father had arranged the affair of my being thus alone in this man's camp, I
felt it was all right, and went to sleep.
Before daylight the camp was
astir, and huge fires were burning in the centre of the lodge, but the keen
cold was very apparent a few feet from these. As soon as I sat up in my
couch one of the women brought me water in a wooden bowl for my morning
ablutions, and I had my pocket-handkerchief to serve as a towel. Then they
gave me for my breakfast boiled meat cut into small pieces. I longed for
salt, but there was none.
All day strangers kept coming
and going in our tent. It seemed to me I was on exhibition. Once during the
day my host signed to me to follow him, and we went out to the summit of a
hill, where his band of horses were driven up by some young men who had them
in charge, and I admired the number and quality of his stock. There must
have been a hundred or more in the bunch, most of them, no doubt, the result
of his stealings. Then we went back to the tent, and the day passed quietly
away. In the evening a crowd of men occupied the space in our lodge, and
much smoking and speech-making went on; but as I could catch a word only
here and there, I did not understand what they said. As they talked and
smoked I studied their faces and costumes, many of which were peculiar,
inspiring me alternately with the feeling of dread and of curiosity.
Everyone carried his weapons —bow and arrows, flint-lock gun, or war-club.
I could readily see that the
idea of placing confidence in anyone had not as yet entered the minds of
these men. Sometimes they became greatly excited, and as they frequently
nodded or pointed to me, I could not but imagine all manner of trouble.
Finally the crowd dispersed, and I was still alive and quite ready for the
second supper mine hostesses served me with. I found that I was by heredity
and practice a confirmed salt eater, and to be without it for a few meals
was a hardship. There had been no communication since last night with any of
our party. So far as I was concerned they might as well have been back at
the Cree camp or our mission. However, when all was quiet I settled down
into a sound sleep, undisturbed by even the dream of being scalped by dusky
Blackfoot braves.
Long before daylight the big
fires were blazing and crackling, faintly forcing back the fearful cold
which had taken possession of the thin- walled and unfloored lodge during
the few hours which the camp slept. I was up with the dawn trying to thaw
myself out, but did not fully succeed until I had breakfasted. Another long
day passed, much in the same way as the last, without any word from my
party.
In the evening a number of
Blood Indians arrived, and a dance was organized in our tent. This was my
first meeting with any of these people. So far as I could see, they were the
same as the Blackfeet, only of a more pronounced type—that is, the
difference between them and the northern Indians was more marked. Proud
arrogance and intense self-sufficiency seemed to speak out in their every
word and action. One would think they were the aristocracy of the plains.
The meeting was more than a
dance that night—it was an experience meeting; for each one recited his
deeds of daring, and acted in pantomime the approach, the ambush, the
charge, and the shooting, stabbing, scalping, and horse taking of his past.
With frantic energy these men
told of their various deeds of valor, and every now and then a comrade, a
living witness, would shout, "It is true! I was there!" At this the crowd
applauded, and the drums beat, while the next man sprang to his feet, and
leaped, danced, whooped and sang; then when the drums ceased, he too would
vaunt his feats of valor. All this was at first quite interesting to me, but
as the hours went by, and it grew past midnight, I lost my interest, and
wished the ball would break up. There seeming no immediate prospect of this,
I stepped out, and running the risk of dogs and men, wended my way up the
valley until I came to the old chief's tent, which I quietly entered, and
raking the coals together made up a fire, as the night was bitterly cold. I
saw that father and Peter were asleep, and Maskepetoon was stretched in his
blanket between father and the fire; so I got down in front of Maskepetoon,
and gradually crept under his blanket, until he gave it to me, after which
he got up, made on more fire, and sat and smoked for the rest of the night,
while I slept with a profound sense of rest and security beside my friends
once more. Many a time in after days Maskepetoon would joke me about taking
his blanket from him when in the Blackfoot camp.
From the time of our arrival
here I had taken particular notice to a fine, manly young Blackfoot, who
seemed to me to have an unusual interest in Maskepetoon. He would get as
near to him as he could, and occasionally lay his hand on the chief's arm or
shoulder, and name him "Mon-e-guh-ba-now," "the great chief," "the strong
man," "the brave man," and Maskepetoon would laughingly turn him aside with
a wave of his hand, but always in a kindly way. I wondered what could be the
bond between these two, and at last I asked Maskepetoon who that young man
was. "Why," said he, "he was the leader of the crowd that rushed at me and
my grandchild a few weeks since. He and I are great friends now." The old
man's brave act had won the enemy's heart.
The next day we started for
home. We might have peace for three months or less. This was the impression
on our minds. The people on both sides were too widely scattered and too
independent of each other, and the range of country too big, to hope for any
permanent peace under present conditions. In the meantime, even a short
respite was something to be grateful for. Our route. home was more direct,
and we travelled much faster than in coming. The buffalo had been moving
north, and in their progress trampled the snow for miles in many places,
which helped us on our way. About the middle of the first afternoon I
slipped on a lump of frozen snow and sprained my ankle, which made
travelling for the rest of the evening a very painful, matter, so that I was
glad when we camped in the lee of a bluff of timber for the night. We had
come a long distance, and it was pleasant to be in the open camp again.
After the work was done and
our dogs fed, I took off my moccasin and found my ankle blue and much
swollen. Through the long winter evening I sat there applying snow to the
inflamed parts. This took down the swelling and assuaged the pain
considerably; but I did not sleep much that night, and limped along with
difficulty the next day. In spite of this, however, we reached our camp
before night, and found that Muddy Bull had several animals staged ready for
us. So father piled the camp equipment and our provisions into his cariole,
while Peter and I took loads of meat, and with them reached the mission the
second evening from Maskepetoon's camp, finding all well, and everybody
wonderfully pleased to see us back. Peter resumed his work of lumber making,
and I that of bringing in provisions. |
