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The Great Lone Land by W. F. Butler

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I spent the evening of Christmas Day in the house of the missionary. Two
of his daughters sang very sweetly to the music of a small melodian. Both
song and strain were sad--sadder, perhaps, than the words or music could
make them; for the recollection of the two absent ones, whose
newly-made graves, covered with their first snow, lay close outside,
mingled with the hymn and deepened the melancholy of the music.

On the day after Christmas Day I left Victoria, with three trains of
dogs, bound for Fort Pitt. This time the drivers were all English
half-breeds, and that tongue was chiefly used to accelerate the dogs. The
temperature had risen considerably, and the snow was soft and clammy,
making the "hauling" heavy upon the dogs. For my own use I had a very
excellent train, but the other two were of the useless class.` As
before, the beatings were incessant, and I witnessed the first example
of a very common occurrence in dog-driving--I beheld the operation known
as "sending a dog to Rome." This consists simply of striking him over the
head with a large stick until he falls perfectly senseless to the
ground; after a little he revives, and, with memory of the awful blows
that took his consciousness away full upon him, he pulls franticly at his
load. Oftentimes a dog is "sent to Rome" because he will not allow the
driver to arrange some hitch in the harness; then, while he is
insensible, the necessary alteration is carried out, and when the dog
recovers he receives a terrible lash of the whip to set him going again.
The half-breeds are a race easily offended, prone to sulk if reproved;
but at the risk of causing delay and inconvenience I had to interfere'
with a peremptory order that "sending to Rome" should be at once
discontinued in my trains. The wretched "Whisky," after his voyage to the
Eternal City, appeared quite overcome with what he had there seen, and
continued to stagger along the trail, making feeble efforts to keep
straight. This tendency to wobble caused the half-breeds to indulge in
funny remarks, one of them calling the track a "drunken trail."
Eventually, "Whisky" was abandoned to his fate. I had never been a
believer in the pluck and courage of the men who are the descendants of
mixed European and Indian parents. Admirable as guides, unequalled as
voyageurs, trappers, and hunters, they nevertheless are wanting in those
qualities which give courage or true manhood. "Tell me your friends and I
will tell you what you are ": is a sound proverb, and in no sense more
true than when the bounds of man's friendships are stretched Wide.
enough to admit those dumb companions, the horse and the dog. I never
knew a man yet, or for that matter a woman, worth much who did not like
dogs and horses, and I would always feel inclined to suspect a man who
was shunned by a dog. The cruelty so systematically practised upon dogs
by their half-breed drivers is utterly unwarrantable. In winter the poor
brutes become more than ever the benefactors of man, uniting in
themselves all the services of horse and dog--by day they work, by night
they watch, and the man must be a very cur in nature who would inflict,
at such a time, needless cruelty upon the animal that renders him so much
assistance. On this day, the 29th December, we made a night march in the
hope of reaching Fort Pitt. For four hours we walked on through the dark
until the trail led us suddenly into the midst of an immense band of
animals, which commenced to dash around us in a high state of alarm. At
first we fancied in the indistinct moonlight that they were buffalo, but
another instant sufficed to prove them horses. We had, in fact, struck
into the middle of the Fort Pitt band of horses, numbering some ninety or
a hundred head. We were, however, still a long way from the fort, and as
the trail was utterly lost in the confused medley of tracks all round us,
we were compelled to halt for the night near midnight. In a small clump
of willows we made a hasty camp and lay down to sleep. Daylight next
morning showed that conspicuous landmark called the Frenchman's Knoll
rising north-east; and lying in the snow close beside us was poor
"Whisky." He had followed on during the night from the place where he had
been abandoned on the previous day, and had come up again with his
persecutors while they lay asleep; for, after all, there was one fate
worse than being "sent to Rome," and that was being left to starve. After
a few hours run we reached Fort Pitt, having travelled about 150 miles
in three days and a half.

Fort Pitt was destitute of fresh dogs or drivers, and consequently a
delay of some days became necessary before my onward journey could be
resumed. In the absence of dogs and drivers Fort Pitt, however, offered
small-pox to its visitors. A case had broken out a few days previous to
my arrival impossible to trace in any way, but probably the result of
some infection conveyed into the fort during the terrible visitation of
the autumn. I have already spoken of the power which the Indian possesses
of continuing the ordinary avocations of his life in the presence of
disease. This power he also possesses under that most terrible
affliction-the loss of sight. Blindness is by no means an uncommon
occurrence among the tribes of the Saskatchewan. The blinding glare of
the snow-covered plains, the sand in summer, and, above all, the dense
smoke of the tents, where the fire of wood, lighted in the centre, fills
the whole lodge with a smoke which is peculiarly trying to the sight-all
these causes render ophthalmic affections among the Indians a common
misfortune. Here is the story of a blind Cree who arrived at Fort Pitt
one day weak with starvation: From a distant camp he had started five
days before, in company with his wife. They had some skins to trade, so
they loaded their dog and set out on the march--the woman led the way,
the blind man followed next, and the dog brought up the rear. Soon they
approached a plain upon which buffalo were feeding. The dog, seeing the
buffalo, left the trail, and, carrying the furs with him, gave chase.
Away out of sight he went, until there was nothing for it but to set out
in pursuit of him. Telling her husband to wait in this spot until she
returned, the woman now started after the dog. Time passed,--it was
growing late, and the wind swept coldly over the snow. The blind man began
to grow uneasy; "She has lost her way," he said to himself; "I will go
on, and we may meet." He walked on--he called aloud, but there was no
answer; go back he could not; he knew by the coldness of the air that
night had fallen on the plain, but day and night were alike to him. He
was alone--he was lost. Suddenly he felt against his feet the rustle of
long sedgy grass--he stooped down and found that he had reached the
margin of a frozen lake. He was tired, and it was time to rest; so with
his knife he cut a quantity of long dry grass, and, making a bed for
himself on the margin of the lake, lay down and slept. Let us go back to
the woman. The dog had led her a long chase, and it was very late when
she got back to the spot where she had left her husband-he was gone, but
his tracks in the snow were visible, and she hurried after him. Suddenly
the wind arose, the light powdery snow began to drift in clouds over the
surface of the plain, the track was speedily obliterated and night was
coming on. Still she followed the general direction of the footprints,
and at last came to the border of the same lake by which her husband was
lying asleep, but it was at some distance from the spot. She too was
tired, and, making a fire in a thicket, she lay down to sleep. About the
middle of the night the man awoke and set out again on his solitary way.
It snowed all night: the morning came, the day passed, the night closed
again--again the morning dawned, and still he wandered on. For three days
he travelled thus over an immense plain, without food, and having only
the snow wherewith to quench his thirst. On the third day he walked into
a thicket; he felt around, and found that the timber was dry; with his
axe he cut down some wood, then struck a light and made a fire. When the
fire was alight he laid his gun down beside it, and went to gather more
wood; but fate was heavy against him, he was unable to find the fire
which he had lighted, and by which he had left his gun. He made another
fire, and again the same result. A third time he set to work; and now, to
make certain of his getting back, again, he tied a line to a tree close
beside his fire, and then set on to gather wood. Again the fates smote
him-his line broke, and he had to grope his way in weary search. But
chance, tired of ill-treating him so long, now stood his friend--he found
the first fire, and with it his gun and blanket. Again he travelled on,
but now his strength began to fail, and for the first time his heart sank
within him--blind, starving, and utterly lost, there seemed no hope on
earth for him. "Then," he said, "I thought of the Great Spirit of whom
the white men speak, and I called aloud to him, 'O Great Spirit! have
pity on me, and show me the path! and as I said it I heard close by the
calling of a crow, and I knew that the road was not far off. I followed
the call; soon I felt the crusted snow of a path under my feet, and the
next day reached the fort." He had been five days without food.

No man can starve better than the Indian--no man can feast better either.
For long days and nights, he will go without sustenance of any kind; but
see him when the buffalo are near, when the cows are fat; see him then if
you want to know what quantity of food it is possible for a man to
consume at a sitting. Here is one bill of fare:--Seven men in thirteen
days consumed two buffalo bulls, seven cabri, 40 lbs. of pemmican, and a
great many ducks and geese, and on the last day there was nothing to eat.
I am perfectly aware that this enormous quantity could not have
weighed less than 1600 lbs. at the very lowest estimate, which would
give a daily ration to each man of 18 lbs.; but, incredible as this may
appear, it is by no means impossible. During the entire time I remained
at Fort Pitt the daily ration issued to each man was 10 lbs. of beef.
Beef is so much richer and coarser food than buffalo meat, that 10 lbs.
of the former would be equivalent-to 15lbs. or 16 lbs. of the latter, and
yet every scrap of that 10 lbs. was eaten by the man who received it. The
women got 5 lbs., and the children, no matter how small, 3 lbs. each.
Fancy a child in arms getting 3 lbs. of beef for its daily sustenance!
The old Orkney men of the Hudson Bay Company servants must have seen in
such a ration the realization of the poet's lines, "O Caledonia, stern
and wild! Meet nurse for a poetic child," etc. All these people at Fort
Pitt were idle, and therefore were not capable of eating as much as if
they had been on the plains. The wild hills that surround Fort Pitt are
frequently the scenes of Indian ambush and attack, and on more than one
occasion the fort itself has been captured by the Blackfeet. The region
in which Fort Pitt stands is a favourite camping-ground of the Crees,
and the Blackfeet cannot be persuaded that the people of the fort are not
the active friends and allies of their enemies in fact, Fort Pitt and
Carlton are looked upon by them as places belonging to another company
altogether from the one which rules at the Mountain House and at
Edmonton. "If it was the same company," they-say, "how could they give
our enemies, the Crees, guns and powder; for do they not give us guns
and powder too?" This mode of argument, which refuses to recognize that
species of neutrality so dear to the English heart, is eminently
calculated to lay Fort Pitt open to Blackfeet raid. It is only a few
years since the place was plundered by a large band, but the general
forbearance displayed by the Indians on that occasion is nevertheless
remarkable. Here is the story:

One morning the people in the fort beheld a small party of Blackfeet on a
high hill at the opposite side of the Saskatchewan. The usual flag
carried by the chief was waved to denote a wish to trade, and accordingly
the officer in charge pushed off in his boat to meet and hold converse
with the party. When he reached the other side he found the chief and a
few men drawn up to receive him.

"Are there Crees around the fort?" asked the chief.

"No," replied the trader; "there are none with us."

"You speak with a forked tongue," answered the Blackfoot--dividing his
fingers as he spoke to indicate that the-other was speaking falsely.

Just at that moment something caught the traders eye in the bushes along
the river bank; he looked again and saw, close alongside, the willows
swarming with naked Blackfeet. He made one spring back into his boat, and
called to his men to shove off; but it was too late. In an instant two
hundred braves rose out of the grass and willows and rushed into the
water; they caught the boat and brought her back to the shore; then,
filling her as full as she would hold with men, they pushed off for the
other side. To put as good a face upon matters as possible, the trader
commenced a trade, and at first the batch that had crossed, about forty
in number, kept quiet enough, but some-of their number took the boat back
again to the south shore and brought over the entire band; then the wild
work commenced, bolts and bars were broken open, the trading-shop was
quickly cleared out, and in the highest spirits, laughing loudly at the
glorious fun they were having, the braves commenced to enter the houses,
ripping up the feather beds to look for guns and tearing down calico
curtains for finery. The men of the fort were nearly all away in the
plains, and the women and children were in a high state of alarm.
Sometimes the Indians would point their guns at the women, then drag them
off the beds on which they were sitting and rip open bedding and
mattress, looking for concealed weapons; but no further violence was
attempted, and the whole thing was accompanied by such peals of laughter
that it was evident the braves had not enjoyed such a "high old time" for
a very long period. At last the chief, thinking, perhaps, that things had
gone quite far enough, called out, in a loud voice, "Crees! Crees!" and,
dashing out of the fort, was quickly followed by the whole band.

Still in high good humour, the braves recrossed the river, and, turning
round on the farther shore, fired a volley to Wards the fort; but as the
distance was at least 500 yards, this parting salute was simply as a
bravado. This band was evidently bent on mischief. As they retreated
south to their own country they met the carts belonging to the fort on
their way from the plains; the men in charge ran off with the fleetest
horses, but the carts were all captured and ransacked, and an old
Scotchman, a servant of the Company, who stood his ground, was reduced to
a state bordering upon nudity by the frequent demands of his captors.

The Blackfeet chiefs exercise great authority over their braves; some of
them are men of considerable natural abilities, and all-must be brave and
celebrated in battle. To disobey the mandate of a chief is at times to
court instant death at his hands. At the present time the two most
formidable chiefs of the Blackfeet nations are Sapoo-max-sikes, or "The
Great Crow's Claw;" and Oma-ka-pee-mulkee-yeu, or "The Great Swan."
These men are widely different in their characters; the Crow's Claw being
a man whose word once given can be relied on to the death, but the
other is represented as a man of colossal size and savage disposition,
crafty and treacherous.

During the year just past death had struck heavily among the Blackfeet
chiefs. The death of one of their greatest men, Pe-na-koam, or "The
Far-off Dawn," was worthy of a great brave. When he felt that his last
night had come, he ordered his best horse to be brought to the door of
the tent, and mounting him he rode slowly around the camp; at each
corner he halted and called out, in a loud voice to his people, "The last
hour of Pe-na-koam has come; but to his people he says, Be brave;
separate into small parties, so that this disease will have less power
to kill you; be strong to fight our enemies the Crees, and be able to
destroy them. It is no matter now that this disease has come upon us, for
our enemies have got it too, and they will also die of it. Pe-na-koam
tells his people before he dies to live so that they may fight their
enemies, and be strong." It is said that, having spoken thus, he died
quietly. Upon the top of a lonely hill they laid the body of their chief
beneath a tent hung round with scarlet cloth; beside him they put six
revolvers and two American repeating rifles, an at the door of his tent
twelve horses were slain, so that their spirits would carry him in the
green prairies of the happy hunting-grounds; four hundred blankets were
piled around as offerings to his memory, and then the tribe moved away
from the spot, leaving the tomb of their dead king to the winds and to
the wolves.





CHAPTER TWENTY.

The Buffalo--His Limits and favourite Grounds--Modes of Hunting--A Fight
--His inevitable End--I become a Medicine-man--Great Cold-Carlton--Family
Responsibilities.

WHEN the early Spanish adventurers penetrated from the sea-board of
America into the great central prairie region, they beheld for the first
time a strange animal whose countless numbers covered the face of the
country. When De Soto had been buried in the dark waters of the
Mississippi, the remnant of his band, pursuing their western way, entered
the "Country of the Wild Cows." When in the same year explorers pushed
their way northward from Mexico into the region of the Rio-del-Norte,
they looked over immense plains black with moving beasts. Nearly 100
years later settlers on the coasts of New England heard from
westward-hailing Indians of huge beasts on the shores of a great lake not
many days journey to the north-west. Naturalists in Europe, hearing of
the new animal, named it the bison; but the colonists united in calling
it the buffalo, and, as is usual in such cases, although science clearly
demonstrated that it was a bison, and was not a buffalo, scientific
knowledge had not a chance against practical ignorance, and "buffalo"
carried the day. The true home of this animal lay in the great prairie
region between the Rocky Mountains, the Mississippi, the Texan forest,
and the Saskatchewan River and although undoubted evidence exists to show
that at some period the buffalo reached in his vast migrations the shores
of the Pacific and the Atlantic; yet since the party of De Soto only
entered the Country of the Wild Cows after they had crossed the
Mississippi, it may fairly be inferred that the Ohio River and the lower
Mississippi formed the eastern boundaries to the wanderings of the herds
since the New World has been known to the white man. Still even within
this immense region, a region not less than 1,000,000 of square miles in
area, the havoc worked by the European has been terrible. Faster even
than the decay of the Indian has gone on the destruction-of the bison and
only a few years must elapse before this noble beast, hunted down in the
last recesses of his breeding-grounds, will have taken his place in the
long list of those extinct giants which once dwelt in our world. Many
favourite spots had this huge animal throughout the great domain over
which he roamed-many beautiful scenes where, along river meadows, the
grass in winter was still succulent and the wooded "bays" gave food and
shelter, but-no more favourite ground than this valley of the
Saskatchewan; thither he wended his way from the bleak plains of the
Missouri in herds that passed and passed for days and nights in seemingly
never-ending numbers. Along the countless creeks and rivers that add
their tribute to the great stream, along the banks of the Battle River
and the Vermilion River, along the many White Earth Rivers and Sturgeon
Creeks of the upper and middle Saskatchewan, down through the willow
copses and aspen thickets of the Touchwood Hills and the Assineboine, the
great beasts dwelt in all the happiness of calf-rearing and connubial
felicity. The Indians who then occupied these regions killed only what
was required for the supply of the camps-a mere speck in the dense herds
that roamed up to the very doors of the wigwams; but when the trader
pushed his adventurous way into the fur regions of the North, the herds
of the Saskatchewan plains began to experience a change in their
surroundings. The meat, pounded down` and mixed with fat into "pemmican,"
was found to supply a most excellent food for transport service, and
accordingly vast numbers of buffalo were destroyed to supply the demand
of the fur traders. In the border-land between the wooded country and the
plains, the Crees, not satisfied with the ordinary methods of destroying
the buffalo, devised a plan by which great multitudes could be easily
annihilated. This method of hunting, consists in the erection of strong
wooden enclosures called pounds, into which the buffalo are guided by the
supposed magic power of a medicine-man. Sometimes for two days the
medicine-man will live with the herd, which he half guides and half
drives into the enclosures; sometimes he is on the right, sometimes on
the left, and sometimes, again, in rear of the herd, but never to
windward of them. At last they approach the pound, which is usually
concealed in a thicket of wood. For many miles from the entrance to this
pound two gradually diverging lines of tree-stumps and heaps of snow lead
out into the plains. Within these lines the buffalo are led by the
medicine-man, and as the lines narrow towards the entrance, the herd,
finding itself hemmed in on both sides, becomes more and more alarmed,
until at length the great beasts plunge on into the pound itself, across
the mouth of which ropes are quickly thrown and barriers raised. Then
commences the slaughter. From the wooded fence around arrows and bullets
are poured into the dense plunging mass of buffalo careering wildly round
the ring. Always going in one direction, with the sun, the poor beasts
race on until not a living thing is left; then, when there is nothing
more to kill, the cutting-up commences, and pemmican-making goes on.

Widely different from this indiscriminate slaughter is the fair hunt on
horseback in the great open plains. The approach, the cautious survey
over some hill-top, the wild charge on the herd, the headlong flight, the
turn to bay, the flight and fall--all this contains a large share of that
excitement which we call by the much abused term sport. It is possible,
however, that many of those who delight in killing placid pheasants and
stoical partridges might enjoy the huge battue of an Indian "pound" in
preference to the wild charge over the sky bound prairie, but, for my
part, not being of the privileged few who breed pheasants at the expense
of peasants (what a difference the "h" makes in Malthusian theories!), I
have been compelled to seek my sport in hot climates instead of in hot
corners, and in the sandy bluffs of Nebraska and the Missouri have drawn
many an hour of keen enjoyment from the long chase of the buffalo. One
evening, shortly before sunset, I was steering my way through the sandy
hills of the Platte Valley, in the State of Nebraska, slowly towards Fort
Kearney; both horse and rider were tired after a long day over sand-bluff
and meadow-land, for buffalo were plenty, and five tongues dangling to
the saddle told that horse, man, and rifle had not been idle. Crossing a
grassy ridge, I suddenly came in sight of three buffalo just emerging
from the broken bluff. Tired as was my horse, the sight of one of these
three animals urged me to one last chase. He was a very large bull,
whose black shaggy mane and dewlaps nearly brushed the short prairie grass
beneath him. I dismounted behind the hill, tightened the saddle-girths,
looked to rifle and cartridge touch, and then remounting rode slowly
over the intervening ridge. As I came in view of the three beasts
thus majestically stalking their way towards the Platte for the luxury of
an evening drink, the three shaggy heads were thrown up--one steady look
given, then round went the animals and away for the bluffs again. With a
whoop and a cheer I gave chase, and the mustang, answering gamely to my
call, launched himself well over the prairie. Singling out the large
bull, I urged the horse with spur and voice, then, rising in the stirrups
I took a snap-shot at my quarry. The bullet struck him in the flanks, and
quick as lightning he wheeled down upon me. It was now my turn to run. I
had urged the horse with voice and spur to close with the buffalo, but
still more vigorously did I endeavour, under the altered position of
affairs, to make him increase the distance lying between us. Down the
sandy incline thundered the huge beast, gaining on us at every stride.
Looking back over my shoulder, I saw him close to my horse's tail, with
head lowered and eyes flashing furiously-under their shaggy covering. The
horse was tired; the buffalo was fresh, and it seemed as though another
instant must bring pursuer and pursued into wild collision. Throwing back
my rifle over the crupper; I laid it at arm's length, with muzzle full
upon the buffalo's head. The shot struck the centre of his forehead, but
he only shook his head when he received it; still it seemed to check his
pace a little, and as we had now reached level ground the horse began to
gain something upon his pursuer. Quite as suddenly as he had charged the
bull now changed his tactics. Wheeling off he followed his companions,
who by this time had vanished into the bluffs. It never would have done
to lose him after such a fight, so Ii brought the mustang round again,
and gave chase. This time a shot fired low behind the shoulder brought my
fierce friend to bay. Proudly he turned upon me, but now his rage was
calm and stately, he pawed the ground, and blew with short angry snorts
the sand in clouds from the plain; moving thus slowly towards me, he
looked the incarnation of strength and angry pride. But his doom was
sealed. I remember so vividly all the wild surroundings of the scene--the
great silent waste, the two buffalo watching from a hill-top the fight of
their leader, the noble beast himself stricken but defiant, and beyond,
the thousand glories of the prairie sunset. It was only to last an
instant, for the giant bull, still with low-bent head and angry snorts,
advancing slowly towards his puny enemy, sank quietly to the plain and
stretched his limbs in death. Late that night I reached the American
fort with six tongues hanging to my saddle, but never since that hour,
though often but a two days ride from buffalo, have I sought to take the
life of one of these noble animals. Too soon will the last of them have
vanished from the great central prairie land; never again will those
countless herds roam from the Platte to the Missouri, from the Missouri
to the Saskatchewan; chased for his robe, for his beef, for sport, for
the very pastime of his death, he is rapidly vanishing from the land. Far
in the northern forests of the Athabasca a few buffaloes may for a time
bid defiance to man, but they, too, must disappear and nothing be left of
this giant beast save the bones that for many an age will whiten the
prairies over which the great herds roamed at will in times before the
white man came.

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