Check all the Clans that have DNA Projects. If your Clan is not in the list there's a way for it to be listed.
Glenora Single Malt Whisky

Electric Scotland's Classified Directory An amazing collection of unique holiday cottages, castles and apartments, all over Scotland in truly amazing locations.
Scottish Review

Click here to get a Printer Friendly Page

Pathfinding on Plain and Prairie
Chapter XII
Visit to Whitefish Lake—A devoted Indian missionary— Mark and I go out after buffalo—Mark proves himself a brilliant hunter—Our camp visited by wolves —Muddy Bull's generosity—We reach home with full loads of meat.


THE first or breaking-in trip for both men and dogs in the winter of 1865-66 was a three-hundred-mile run, and we lost no time between camps and posts. Although we had the roads to break, still the snow was not deep. Upon our return I took my wife over to Whitefish Lake to visit her parents and people, and we spent Sunday in Mr. Steinhauer's parish, where I learned more of the Cree language and acquired a clearer insight into the religious experience and life and language of these western people. As I have said before I will say here again, Mr. Steinhauer was an ideal missionary. He gave himself with entire devotion to his work. His best was always to the front, and God blessed his efforts. The cycles of eternity will reveal the good this faithful servant accomplished. It was always an inspiration to spend a few days on his mission.

Hurrying back to Victoria, we made a dash out to see where the camps were south and east of us, and finding some of these after a two days' run, we held a series of meetings with them, and shared in their shortage of provisions, for we found that the buffalo had gone far out and there had been considerable hardship in consequence. Moreover Blackfeet and southern Indians had made several successful raids, in which quite a number of horses had been stolen. There had been some reciprocity indulged in, too, by the wood and plain Crees, and these marauding parties had effectually driven the buffalo farther out. "But," said the old men, "cold weather is near, and the men will stay at home, and the buffalo will come into this north country"; a prophecy that we heartily hoped would prove true. We visited several camps and were cordially welcomed, our message being eagerly listened to. Many in these lodges heard for the first time the story of redemption.

It was on this trip that Mark and I, desiring to see for ourselves where the buffalo were, and if possible secure loads of meat to take home, started out bright and early one morning, and following a hunting trail, travelled fast plain- ward for the whole day. ,Just as night was setting in we met a small hunting party, and camping with them shared their hospitality, which, as their hunt had been a poor one, was very meagre fare indeed. But even poor meat is better than none, and as these Indians told us of buffalo which they had not disturbed because they were discouraged with poor guns and bad shooting, we went to sleep that night fully determined to have a trial of our luck on the morrow. Accordingly with the first peep of day we were off, and, continuing southward, about ten o'clock came to the edge of a large plain, away out in the centre of which we could see quite a herd of buffalo. Going to the last point of timber, we tied our (logs in the centre of a large bluff and started out on the plain. The buffalo were about five miles distant, but as we had to keep under cover behind hills and along valleys and small gullies —sometimes having to crawl at full length for a considerable distance, where it was impossible to go otherwise without being seen by the advance scouts of the wary herd—it was late in the afternoon when we came within four hundred yards of the nearest buffalo. Here Mark after carefully scanning the lay of the land said to me, "You had better stay here, and I will try and approach alone. You can watch the movement of the herd and follow up after I have shot" So I shoved up a small hummock of snow before me and quietly watched a fine sample of scouting. Centuries of heredity and years of practice were now in full play before my eager eyes. I was almost ravenous. Some poor meat eaten before daylight was all I had had to appease my hunger that day, and miles of travel in the sharp keen frosty air to where we left our dogs, and since then hours of running and walking and crawling to this point, had contributed to give me a tolerably keen appetite.

We wanted meat for urgent present need, and we wanted loads of it to take home, and now the whole matter looked exceedingly doubtful. Yonder were the lines of great bulls, some of them standing and others lying down, some feeding and others quietly chewing their cuds, but all on the alert. Beyond these huge sentinels and surrounded by them were the cows, the meat of which was the object of our quest.

Mark had but a smooth-bore single-barrelled flint-lock. No long distance shooting for him. He must get close. lie must pass through the line of bulls. Could he do it? That was the question on my mind as I moved from side to side on my frozen snowy couch. With his white blanket belted around him, and the upper half covering his head and shoulders, Mark was steadily making towards the herd. Fortunately the day was calm, so that the danger of giving scent was small. For interminable periods, as it seemed to me, I lost sight of my companion, and then in a totally unexpected quarter he would reappear, but always nearer to our game. Now he was among the bulls, and I almost held my breath as I saw him push himself past a great big fellow where a blow from horn or hoof might be instant death to the brave hunter. But with consummate skill he made his way past the bull and was right in amongst the great black fellows and quite lost to sight.

Darkness was coming on fast, and the suspense to me as I lay watching became almost unbearable. Cold, anxiety, hunger, each was doing its work on brain and heart and stomach. But presently I saw the whole herd start, and there came in sight a puff of smoke, followed by the report of Mark's first shot, and away I went after the flying buffalo. As I ran I heard another report, and then I came suddenly upon a (lead cow. Concluding that this was the result of Mark's first shot, and that in good time he would come back to this point, I set to work to skin the carcase, and was thus engaged when I heard Mark approaching. He was glad to see me, and I delighted at his return in safety. He had killed two cows. This one we were at was his first. Then as the buffalo bunched up and fled he had run to one side and, reloading, had continued running until the herd slowed up. He had then drawn in under cover and shot the second cow. admired his pluck and skill and speed, and told him so, but he only quietly replied, "These cows are fat, John, and we will have better meat to-night than we had last night."

We were now on the southerly edge of the plain, and about eight miles from where we left our dogs early in the day. After brief deliberation it was decided that Mark should remain to butcher the cows and look up the nearest camping place, while I should cross the plains and bring back our dogs.

Taking my direction, I availed myself of buffalo trails in the snow as much as possible, and when I left one to cross country to another, I marked the spot as strongly as I could upon my memory, and took my bearings of the place as well as I could in the winter's darkness which surrounded me.

In a very short time I was at the bluff and found the dogs. Unfastening them I brought my train, with old Draflkn still in the lead, and put them on my track, and then brought out Mark's train and shouted, "Morse, Draffan!" and away we went. Fortunately there was no wind, and though the night was dark Draffan's instinct and my memory as to where to cross from one buffalo path to another worked well. Once or twice I stopped the dogs and struck a match, and was delighted to find we were on a hard buffalo path. Thus we came at a good pace back to where the first cow was. But before we reached the spot Mark came looming up out of the darkness to meet us. The faithful fellow had been anxious; and now he thought it was his turn to tell me that I had done well in finding the dogs and returning them quick and straight.

We used the hide of the cow as a floor for our camp, and soon we had a cheerful fire and meat cooking and dogs fed; and though it was long past midnight before we finished our meal and were ready for bed, yet with light hearts we sang a hymn and knelt in prayer and thankfully rested.

We were now four days' journey from the Mission, but we had found the people and also the buffalo. We had loads of good cow meat to take home, where our supply was rapidly getting low, and as we turned under our blankets in that small bluff, with the canopy of the sky as our roof and the horizon as our walls, it might be cold, it certainly was isolated, and yet we were happy in the satisfaction of success. I, a Scotch-and-English-Canadian, and my Mountain Stony friend, I believe, did that early morning more than ever before appreciate the kingliness of God and the brotherhood of man.

When daylight came Mark went out to see how the meat of our second cow had fared, for prairie wolves and coyotes were in great numbers around us. Mark had built a great fire before he left, and I was lazily dozing beside it waiting for his return, when presently there was a great commotion amongst our dogs. Jumping up, I saw a monster wolf just across the fire. He was snapping and snarling at the dogs, who were barking at him with much vigor, but prudently not venturing to attack him. For this I was abundantly glad, as undoubtedly he had some distemper or he would not have thus come into our camp. I could have shot him, but I was afraid to do so lest in his death-struggles he might wound some of our dogs; so I went at him with firebrands, and after some effort was glad to see him continue his course through the bluff.

When Mark returned he reported that some of the meat had been taken by the wolves, but that these had come to the animal just a little before him, and had not had time to take much. We then hurriedly ate our breakfast and drove over to where the meat was, took this on, and started for home. Notwithstanding our loads we made good time, and reached the outer camp of Indians about 9 p.m. We found that Muddy Bull, who had been away on the chase while we passed, had returned and, as usual with him, had made a great hunt. He generously supplemented our loads with tongues and backfats and bosses, so that when we left his camp that night we were well provisioned. Continuing our journey we passed several small camps en route, and stopping about 2 am., slept for a few hours and were away again by daylight. Pushing on, we reached home the third day of the return journey, bringing word of Indians and buffalo, which missionaries and traders and settlers were all delighted to hear.


 


This comment system requires you to be logged in through either a Disqus account or an account you already have with Google, Twitter, Facebook or Yahoo. In the event you don't have an account with any of these companies then you can create an account with Disqus. All comments are moderated so they won't display until the moderator has approved your comment.

comments powered by Disqus

Quantcast