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LONDON : CllAKLES U. KELLY, l>, Castle Street, Citv Koad, E.O., AND eC, I'ATEllXOSTKIt ItONV, K.C. P5 MTl 3 rriiitcd by lituell, Watson, & Mwy, JaI., Loiuion jiihI Aylesbnvy, CONTENTS. (.'IIAPTKR I. Chapter TI. . Chapter III. I^HATTER IV. Chapter V. Chapter VJ. Chapter VI r. Chapter VI TI. CHAP'I'KR IX. (IHAPTEH X. . Chapter XI. Chapter X(I. Chapter XIII. Chapter XIV. Chapter XV. Chapter XVI. Chapter XVII. I'Aiii: 7 SI 107 iif) 1 2;} (;lossahv ok names. VMlIOrs DIALKCTS. India.n. Oo-wik-a-pun Astuiiuistao . Mc-yno-tc-sik Sa-giis-tr-o . .Mi'-yoo-acliinm-win Koo-.saf-ii-liim Kis-ta-yim-(i(»-win Moo-k 00-111 is V\iV,V. T!.ANSLATION. Ouc irlni is h>n;/i/i// ^'or light. Our who dirt lis in the sti fish inc. Hriijht I'l/rs. Siitn-ifif'. (Jood nnrs, 77/ r conjiirr:'. The man 0/ piidi'. The old siff/r. LIST OV IIJJJSTI^ATIONS. "IN M.\.ii;sTic ( IK( i.i;s ir si.owi.v as(i:ni)i:i> to its i:vmi: '• iiir: \v(ti.i- HAD si: /.i:i) mis i.kii ahm" '• tKlWIKAITS sI'ltANI, liAt K Tu TIIK NIOAHKST Tl!l:i:' .... 'iiN ms .lont.XF.Y Til HIS KAH-AWAY N< Hflll KUN HOMi;" '• Tiir. ]>i;i:itsKiN' kxoh ny his i.oDnr. was I'Airii ai.i.v iti t ndiski.kssi.v iti.i.i " ' IIAVK I MIT SI.KN rilA'l lii: A 'iTl IT !. H1'.A( IM.l.T HF.K< HtK ? ' " '•HI-; HKirsr.H iiik I'i;(ii'it;ui:ii mi'ai. anu i:vi;n riir i.iciiir.i' i'Iim:" . ''•iiii;y iiM.Y r.ArcHi-.ii at my gi jisikins '" "it cKi'siir.i) iMiwN THi: i.iiti.k wkav'm imh a hoi'i:i,i:ss whkck " . " I.K.IT HIM 1(1 STUVli(;I.I-: ami I'IM.I,," KTt '•hi: srnnK.Ni.Y aitackku thi: camii:" " I'm: HKAST )!Aisi:ii his iiF.Aii," i:tc. '• HK ASKKll Hi:il I'd MAItHY IIIM" "IHI; YiHNn NiKN AMI MAIHKSS UK I'HI: \ II, LACK TAI.KIIH,"' i;i( . . "'my saik^t i'i.an was id iii:T ii' isro a tuki:'" .... " * in; SKNT TIIK Hn.T.Ki TiiKiircH iwd (i|- tiii:m"' .... "Till" iir.n I'Fl.l.nW W.'iS (HdSS AMI siki.y" '•wiiii.i; si ri'i;i! is iikikin); ihi; 1)(I(;s aim; ■■i;ii" ..... ouli kill sonio of (liosr ticrco l)rntos, tluit lir nii^'hl atlorn liis wigwam with tin ir warm skins, lie took his (raps and raiiipiiig onttit and s«'t out for that rr^doii of coiiiilrv. It was iiiorr than two Imndrcd iriilos awav. He soon found tracks in ahnndaiici'. and cip h(> made his littlr liMntini; lodm> in thr midst of a spi'uco irrove, he sot his trans d' for tho licrco wolvtvs in a spot which sccnnMl to hr their rallyin^T place. As tliey rti'o very .suspicions and tdever, he carefully placed two trai)s cl()s«' toj^ether and sprinkled them over with sikiw, having' visihle oidy the dca«l rabbits wliich served jis bait, 'riien scatteiin«; nioi-e snow over his own tracks as ho moved away, in oiady for use if necessary. When he had gotten within II few hundred yards of the place where ho had set his heavy traps, he 1h ard the rattling of the chains which were attached to tht ni. This sound, while it made his heart jump, was very welcome, for it meant that he had been successful. When he drew near the traps he found that a fierce old wolf, in trying to get the rabbit from one of them without s[)ringing it, had been caught in the other, and although both of his hind legs were hold by the sharp teeth of the trap, he had managed to drag it smd the heavy log fastened to it (juite a distance. When Oowikajnm drew near the wolf made the most desperate efforts to escape ; l)ut the strong trap held him s( curely, and the heavy log on the chain njade 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. Then the s(mnd of the gun might scare away the game that might l)o near, so he resolved to kill the wolf with the l»ack of his axe. Bettei" would it have been for him if he had shot him at ice. So puttinff down his ijun, he took his axe out of his belt on Pi and cautiously approached the treacherous brute. The sight TUE WOI.F /ff'xr. 11 • if tln' njMU so iHvii' s<«oiMO(l 1(» fill liiiii willi lirvy, juhI. miiiliN' In «'S(M|u\ lio in.idr I lit- most (It'sjM'j'iitc ctVoi'ts to I'cacli liini. II IS ;i ji|K'iiriiii('(' u;is ( Irmoiii.KMl, iiiid iii> howls iiiiii siiiiils uoiiiti !ijiv«' l('i'i'iti«M| iiny one t'xccpt .111 ONpcricnct'd, cool-liciHlcil liimici'. Oowiktipiin, st'oiii^ what iiii n;jly (Mislomor hr li.nl fo dfal willi, vrry cautiously ko|it just bryoud the liinils of (Iw tVartuI ])luu m 's Nv liicli tin' oliain would allow (lie wolt" (o make, itnd keenly watclu'il toi- an ojijxnt iiuity (o strike Idui 011 the head. So wary and (piick \\as tjie wolf that .some Mows i'ecri\t'd only nioi'i> maddened without disahlin^' him. Oowikapun at lon^^th hecomin^' annoyi d that he shouhl have any dillieulty in killin<; an entrapped wolf, resolved to end the conflict at once with a derisive blow. So. with upiaiscd ax«' he placed liims«'lf as near as ho thou,«,dit safe, and waited for the infjiriated hruto to sprinj^ at liim. Hut so much force did the enti'apped animal put into that spring that it cariiod the lo;.j attached to the chain alon^ with him. His shaip, ^dittiM'in^', fanfj-like teeth sna})pe(l together within a few inches of ()owika))un's throat ; antl such was th<^ force of the collision that the Indian was luirled backwards, and ore he could assume the aggressive, the sharp teeth of the wolf had S(M/ed his left arm, wliich he threw up for defence. They seenied to cut down to the verv bone, causinff intent' pni 'P a brave and cool-headed man, and a few Idows fi'om the keen (•dgo of the axe in liis right hand soon finisluMl a foe whose only weapons wen^ his sliarp teeth. lie was Sijon lying dead in the ^ss as a rob( snow; but his beautiful skin was almost worthh on account of the many gashes it had receiv«d, much to the annoyance of Oowikapun, who had not dreamed of having a w vtth^ so severe. The traps were soon reset, and Oowikapun, with the hea\N olf on his back, sot out for his camj). As lie han, who ea.sily read (Mit what liad been written. That hirch bark could talk, as he expressed it, was a mystery indeed. When the time came for Oowika^ain to return to his lionif Memotas wi nt with him (pnte a distance, lb' had heconie very nnich interested in him. lieing a lia[)py, convei-ted Christian iiimself, he was anxious that this man, who had comi' to him anti been benefited phy>ically, should hear about his souls need and the (beat Physician who could henl all his diseases. Lovin''U and faithfully he talked to him and urged him to acce})t of this great salvation. Then he asked him to kneel down with him, and there, out alone with him anddol, Memotas prayed earnestly that this dark panar brothel" might yet come into the light of the gospel. Then he kissed him, and they parted, nf.t to nu el again for years. Iia[)py would it have been for Oowikapun if ho had respondi d to Memotas' intreaties, and even tried to heconu' a t'hristian. But the heart is hard and blind( d as well as deceitful, and the • levil is cunning. So long, sad years pasted by ere Oowikapun. after trying, as we shall see. other ways to lind peace and sou| comtoit, humbled himself at the cross, and found peace in holievhig on thf; Lord Jesus Christ. Oowikapun returned to his little luilge, rekindle d the fire, and tried to ent«'r upon his hunting' life where he had loft ofV when wounded by the wolf, lie stretchi d the furs already secured, then, early next morning, visited his traps, and spent the rest of the day hunting for deer. His success was not \ery great. The fact is, what he had heard and witnessed during the days of his sojourn in the wigwam of Memotas had given him so much food for thouirbt that he was not concontratinix his mind 2-1 ()(n\ /hA/'f X. oil Wis work in u inniiiiri" (hut woulil l»riiig tlu" j^rcatrst siiccoHri, He woiiM soinctiiiH's p«t into ii reverie so absoi'liin^' that he would stop in tlic trnil and strive to think over and over a«j;nin wh.Mt he liad Iward ahout tlie j^ood IJook and its teiiehin^ifs. Verv suddenly <>n«' day he was roused eul of one of these reveries. He liiid «;on(' out to visit some tiMps which he had sot in a place where he had noticed the ti'aeks of wild-cats. While ;^oing alon;L,' through a ilense foi'est, witli his «,niii strapped on his hack, he got so lost in thought that his natur.illy shrewd instincts i»s a hunter, shari)encd hy practice, seemed to have desi rted him, and he nearly stumbled over a huge old she-l»ear anti a coujtie of cubs. \N'ith a gi'owl of lage at In ing thus distui'brd, the lierci' brute rushed at him, (juickly broke up his reverie, and brought iiim hack to a senses of piesent danger. To unstrap his gun in time for its succes.sful use was impossible; but the ever-ready shai'p. [Htinted knife was availal)le. Accustometl to such ])attles, althougii never taken before so unexpectedly, Oowikapun sprang back to the nearest tree, which, foitunately for him, was near at hand. With a large tree at his back, and a good knife in his hand, an ( xperienced hulian has the advantage on his side, and can generally kill his savage antagonist without receiving a wound. But, if attacked l)y a black bear in the open i)lain, armed with only a knife, the huntt r rarely kills Ins enemy without receiving a fearful hug or some dangerous wounds. One of tlie lirst bits of advice which an ex[)erienccd Indian hunter gives to a young hunter who got s out anxious to kill a bear, or who may possibly, while hunting for some other game, be attacked by one, is to get his back up against a tree so large that if the bear is not killed by the bullet of his gun, he may be in th{^ best po8sil)Ie posititm to tight him with liis knife. It is no clnld's play. A wounded, maddened l»ear is a fierce foe. The black bear's method of attacking his Jiuman antagonist is (juite different from that of tlie griz/ly bear of the Rocky Mountain region. The grizzly strikes out with its dreadful claws with such force that he can tear a man to [)ieces, and is able to crusli down a liorse under his powerful blows. But the black liear tries to get the hunter in his Jong, strong, a.rm-like fore legs and then rfe I CLOSK i,H' ART Kits Wfllf A /th'AIt. » SlU'COHri, tIlUt lut 1. Vt'iv • rcvcrirs. I ii pliice l>iick, lu' cts Jis n. Iiiiii, niul ' t)t' cubs, c' hrutt' is (juitc ountain ith such di down tries to nd then erusli him to d«'ath. 'I'lu» hug of a hoar, as w)me limit* rs know to theii' cost, is a warm eudnace. Som«'. who. hy tin* <|uick, skilful use of tlioir knives, or hy the prompt arri\al of a rescue party, lia\e hecn rescued from the almost deadly luig. have told mo how their ribs have been bi'oken ami their breast i)onts almost ci'usheil in by tlie teirible hug. I know of stivera! who have bciui in sucIj eontlicts, and altliough tlu\v managed to e.scape dtatli ijy driving tia'ir knives into some vital .spot, yet they liad sulVeretJ so much from broken ribs anF. II ST IT 10 IS l)Ai\'CK. \\\ 11 trees, igs can 1 lals are 'i dies of on the 1 I make -^' y would , es it is ■' ave not V le cache ended. •am ping e tame, n home. days to ; of his )f three )le, and 3r him, Tlie offering loiir, so having ikapun rise he levious ■]e and istioned to the They e until with a •unded, imself, ess his enemies, instead of trying to ])()is()n or shoot them — that is tlu- white mail's religion, is it, which ^lemotas has iieceptod .' Well, let him keep it. Ft is not what w<' want. As our fathers lived and died, so will we. And don't he a fool, Oowikapun. Vou will he wanting one of onr daiightei's one of tluse days to he your wife ; then, if you treat lier like Memotas treats his, she will ])(' coming l)ack and telling our women all about it, : d there will he a. ])retty fuss. Oh no, this will never do. You have had bad medicine throwu into your eyes and you do not see straight." Thus they answered him, and day after day bantered him. The poor fellow was anxious to follow the entreaties of Memotas, hut as yet unconscious of tlie divine power which he might have had if he had only asked for it, and so, lack'- the strength to resist these temptations of his heathen friends, es[)e(iMlly when he heard from the lying conjurers that even the hiack-eyed maidens were talking about his strange unwillingness to join in tlie religious ceremonies, he yielded and sjnang into the circle. Madly and recklessly lie danced to the monotonous drummings of the old conjurei's and medicine men, who had been fearful that they Avere al)out to lose th(>ir grip upon him. A wild frenzy seemed to have entered into him, and he danced on and on until even his hardened, stalwart frame could stand it no longer. Suddenly he fell upon the ground in a state of unconsciousness, and had to be carried to a little wigwam, where on a bed of spruce branches he was left to recover consciousness when he might. Such occurrences among the Indians in their wild state, when celebi-ating some of their i-eligious ceremonies, such as this devil worshij) or their sun oi- ghost dances, were not at all uncommon. Wrought up to a state of freii/y, some of these devotees ceased not their wild dancings day or night. Tl.ey danced sometimes for three days continuously. Then, utterly exhausted, they fell into a deathly swoon, which often continued for many hours. In this sad plight was poor Oowikapun. For hours he remained like a corpse. He was in a state of absolute unconsciousness, and without an apparent movement of ^. N »2 oowihApr.y. r> ' oitluT muscle or limb. Aftrr a time tho mind 1)0<(au to act. and strange, distorted dreams and visions Hittcd through his disordei-cd hrain. At lirsl all was coid'usion and discord. Then there came to him something more like a vision than a dream, and so vividly was it impressed upon him that it was nevei' forgotten. Here it is as told years after: ()()wika[)nn (hvamed that he was one of a large company of his people who were on a long joui'ney which all had to take. It led them over higli mountains and trackless plains, along swift rivers, and across stormy lakes, through great forests where fierce wild heasts were ever ready to spring upon them, and where quaking bogs were in tiie way to swallow up these who were for a moment off their guard. The company was constantly diminishing as they journeyed on, for the dangers w^ere so many th.at death in V. "-^us forms was constantly cutting them off. The survivors, fall ot sadness and hurried on hy some irresistible impulse, could not sto}) long in the way. All they could do was to give those who had fallen a hasty burial, and then join in the onward march. Darker aiul darker became the sky, and worse and worse seemed the way. Still on and on they were impelled. They had to cross the wide, stormy lakes, and in every one of them some of the party were lost. In every rough portage some fell fainting by the way, and sank down to rise no more. The crouching panther and thi' fierce wolves in the dense forest were ever on the alert, and many a man and woman, and even some of the little children, fell victims to these savage beasts. A feeling of sadness and despair seemed to take possession of all. Vainly they called upon the conjurers and nir-dicine men to get help from their Manetos to make the way easier, and to find some information for them why they were tiavelling on this trail, and the place to which it led. Very unsatisfactory were the answers which they received. They had no information to give abo\it the trail. But they reported that they had heard from their forefathers that there was a place called the " happy hunting grounds '"' beyond the high mountains. But the way was long and dark, and they had no guide to lead them in the gloom, and none to tell them how they could find the passes 1 THt: WONDEliFUL DREAM. :?:? net. ;in vividly B(l tliat vo on a or liiuli (1 across 1 i)BastK iiig bogs moment linishing [it deatli irvivors, se, could Lve those onward )rse and mpelled. one of ge some The est were some of feeling Vainly jet help d some is trail, ere the to give •d from ' ijiippy le way in the [)asses in the mountains. W'liile thus almost broken-hearted in the way, the thought came to Oowikapun, in his dream or vision, that surely there must lu' a better trail than t'lis rough one, wherein so many of the people were perishing. \\'ith tiiis thought in his niind he resolved, if possil)le, to bnnik away from tlie company and try to find a safer path. If he failed in his ellbrts and perished mist3rably in his search, what did it matter { 'L'iu^y were dying olf very rapidly where they were, and things could not be worse. Then, if he succeeded in finding a better road where the skies were bright, where storms came not, where [)ortages wen^ short and easily passed, and the breezes on the lakes only vvaftt d them on their way, — if he could find a trail where no savages l)L'asts lurked, and could talk with some one who had been over the way, or could tell him that it ended well, — if he could oidy succeed in getting his people in this better path, huw iTJoiced he and they would be. Then it setmed in his dream that he made the effort to break away. But he tohl no one of what was in his htart, or of his resolves, for he was afraid of being ridiculed by his comrades if he shouhl try and then fail in his efforts. He found it very Lard at lirst to get out from the old trail, but he persevered and succeeded. He found the way become smoother, and in some way whicli he could not undtrstand hdp was being given him several times just when he needed it. C'luering words and sweet songs at times fell upon his ears, and made him forget that he was alone and footsore in this trying work. Once, when his way le I him over a great lake, and he was out upon it alone in a little boat, in which it seemed impossible for him to reach the fartlier shore, and he was about giving up in despair, there came a strong, firm hanr (l«'iiMi. Ami in^' his knoos, and his h(>ad ))owed npon his h roast. 'I'hc, Fcnv sounds which l)roke tho stillness of those hours or interrupted tho sighin;.; of tho winds were not pleasant. A groat owl, ensconced in a troo not far away, maintained for a long tinio its monotonous " hoot-a-hoot a-hoo," while away in tho distant forest gloom, rising at times shrill and distinct above tho litful wind, ho heard tho wail of the catamount, or panther, tho saddest and most moiu'iiful sound that ever broke the silence of forest gloom. It is a sound so like tlu^ wail of a child in mortal agony thai, heard close at hand, it has Ciiiised tho face of many a brave wife of the backwoods settler to blanch witli terror and to cry out with fear, its despairing wail seemed to poor Oowikapun as the echo of the fec^ling of his saddened lioart. I)ut the longest night has an end, and to the patient watchers day dawn comes again. So it was in this case. As tlie tirst rays of light l)ogan to ent(U' in through the cracks and crevices of the wigwam, Oowikapun rojoj.'ed greatly, and then foil into a heavy sleep. When ho awoke tho camp fire was burning brightly on tho giound before him, a warm blanket was over his shoulders, and food, warm ani'. The tiling was (lono so spccMllly JiTul a hiind nn«l a shM|Ktly nriii, on which was u iM'jiulit'nlly wion;;ht lu-acch't of Intliiin Iwatl-work, draw close n^'ain thr cm'tjiin-liko door. Jt would have Ikjcu considered a «(reat luoach of decoiiun if he had manifested any curiosity or had arisen to see who tlio poison was to whom he was indel)ted for this kiuihiess. Ho cuii)in«( all curiosity lu^ linislu'd iiis bn akfast and put on ins a[)parel. Stran^'e to say, ho st^emed anxious to he as pn sentahle as possible. Then j(oin<^ out he was soon ^'reottd by his friends, who all be«;an ur^Lring him to accept of their hos[>italitios an so much kindness. But the difficulty was how to begin. His natural Indian training told him it would be a bi-each ol" decorum to speak to her, but so great was his anxiety to find the solution of what even was a mystery to the villagers themselves, that he felt he 45 *> i > Ni m h I 46 OOWIKAPUN. \ 1 must not let the opportunity p.'is.s by. Man's bluntnoss is his own poor su})stitute for woman's superior tact, and so, as slie was sil)out to pass, lie said, '' Have I not seen that ])eautiful bracelet ])ef()re l " lie tried to speak kindl}^, but he was excited and t't^arful that she would be ^one. So liis voice soiuuled harsh and stern, and it startled her. Her face flushed a little, but she (piickly re^^ained her composure, and then quietly said, — " It was made years ago ; so you may have seen it before." " Was it not on the arm of the friend who made the fire and prepai-ed the food and brought the clothing for the poor, foolish stranger 1 " ho answered. She raised her piercing black eyes to his, and, as though she would look intr. his soul, she said, without hesitancy, — " Yes, it was ; and Oowikapun was indeed foolish, if not worse." Startled and confounded at this reply, given in such decided tones, Oowikapun, in spite of all his efforts to appear nnmoved, felt abashed before her, and his v ' s fell under her searching gaze. Recovering himself as well as he could, he said, *' Will the fair maiden please tell me what she means ? " " Yes," she answered : " what she means is that she is very much surprised that a man who for days has been a guest in the wigwam of Memotas and Meyoo-achimoowin, and who has heard their songs and pi'ayers to the Good Spirit, should again be found in the circle of the devil dance." " How do you know 1 was with Memotas? " he replied. " From your own lips," she answej^ed. " I was with the maidens, with only a deerskin partition dividing us from the place where you told the men of your battle with the wolf, and of Memotas' words about the book of heaven and the Good Spirit to you. And yet," she added, and there was a tinge of sorrow in her voice, '' after having heard that you went to the old, bad way again." Stung by her words, so full of reproof, he retorted with some bitterness, " And you and the othei' maidens goaded me on to the dance." itl THE BEAVTlh'UL ^TXGER. 47 With fljtsliing eyes she drew herself up proudly, und said, "Never ! 1 would have died first. It was a lie of the conjurers if tliey said anytliing of the kind." A feeling of admiration, followed by one of almost envy, cause over him as lie listened to the decided words uttered with such spirit, and he heartily wished some of it had been his when temj)ted to join in the dance of sin. With the consciousness of weakness, and with his proud spirit quelled, he said : '' Why are you of this mind ? How is it that yoi know so much about the white man's way? Did I not see you iw the wigwam of Kistay- imoowin, the chief whose l)rother is the great medicine man of the tribe? How is it that you, the chief's daughtei and (he conjurer's niece, should have such different thoughts abotit tliese things ? " Her answer, which was a little bit of her family history, was as follows : — " While I am the niece of Koosapatum, the conjurer and medicine man, whom I hate, I am not the daughter, but the niece, of Kistayimoowin, the chief. My father was another brother of theirs. He was a great hunter, and, years ago, when I was a little child, he left the home of his tribe, and, taking my mother and me, he went far away to Lake Athabasca, where he was told there was abundance of game and fish. In a great storm they were both drowned. I was left a poor orphan, about six years of age, among the pagan Indians, who cared but little for me. They said they had enough to do in looking after their own children, so I often was half -starved. Fortunately for me the great missionary, with his wonderful canoe of tin, which the people called the ' Island of Light,' came along that way on one of his gj'eat journeys. He had those skilful canoe-men, Henry Budd and Hasselton. While stopping among the people and teaching them the true way, the missionary heard of me and of the danger I was in of perishing, and so they took me in the canoe and cairied me all the way to Norway House. It was long ago, but well do I remember how they cariied me across the rough portages when I got tired out, and gave me to eat the best pieces of ducks .and geese oi' other game which they shot ' I '%^ In I I i \i 48 OOnJKAPUX. for food. At night they gntliercd old liay from th(^ lieavors' iiieadows, or cut down a young balsam tree, and with its hrjinches made me m little bed for the night. When we reached Norway House Mission I. was adoptei^ into the family of the missionary. They and Miss Adams, the teacher, were very kind to me. I joined the Indian children in the school, and went regularly to the little church. I well remember Memotas and Big Tom, and Mustagon arid Papanekis, and many others. I learned some of the hymns, and can distinctly remem])er seeing the missionary and Mr. Steiidieur printing the hymns in the characters on the bark and paper. It was the happiest year of my life. Oh that I had been wise, and tried to gather up and iix in my memory all that was said to me of the Great Spirit and His Son Jesus, and about the good way ! But I was a happy, thoughtless little girl, and moie fond of play with the httle Indian girls and the fun-loving, ha|)py boys than of listening to the teaclier and learning my lessons. " A year after my Uncle Kistayimoowin came down to the fort with his furs and took me away home with him, and here, so far away, I have lived ever since. In his way he is not unkind to me, but my Uncle Koosapatum hates me because I know these things ; and, as all are in dread of his poisons, even Kistayimoowin does not wish me to speak about what I heard that year, or sing what I remember, except when I am far out in the forest. Because I do not want to have my uncle, the chief, poisoned I keep quiet sometimes, but most of the women have heard all I know, and they are longing to hear more. So our hearts got full of hoping when, as we waited on the chief wdth his dinner a few days ago, and we heard him talking with t^ome others who were eating with him, that you had come and had been cured of your wounds by a Christian Indian by the name of Memotas, and were going to give a talk about what had happened to you and you had heard. When I heard him mention the name of Memotas, I thought I would have dropped the birch roggin of roasted bear's paws which I was holding at the time ; for I could still remember that good man so well. Gladly I gathered some of the women together behind the we by TTKU ROM Ayrrr insTonr. 40 pai'tition to listen and learn more of the p)ofl wnv, if wo could, from yon. " We (li'iuik in every word yon said, and when they mookiMl we were very angry at them, hut we dare not say a word for fear of a fearful heating. While you stood firm and refusi'd to join in that wicked dance, we rejoiced. Wii(>n you yielded, our hearts hecame sad, and we silently got away. I went out into the woods and wept. When 1 returned, the women had shut themselves up in their tents, and the men were all olf to tlie hig dance-house. I found yoiu" clothes and tii-e-bag just where you had thrown them oil', in danger of being dragged away or toi'n to pieces by the foolish young dogs. So, unseen by anybody, I gathered them up and put them away. " During the days and nights you danced I was angry and miserable, and at times coidd not keep from weeping that a man who had known Memotas, and for days had been with him, and had heard so much about the good way, should then go back to the old, dark way which gives no comfort to any one. When you fell senseless in the circle, I watched where they carried you. I visited the tent in the night, and I heard your sad moans, and I knew you were unhappy. At daybreak, as you had fallen into a deep sleep, I built the tire and prepared the food and carried you your clothing ; and if it had not been for the breeze through the door when I last opened it you would never have known anything about me." Her story very much interested Oovvikapun. As he listened to her talking, as he had nevei- heard an Indian woman speak before, he saw the benefit which had come as tlie result of a yeai' spent among Christians, even if it were only a year in childhood. When she finished, he said : '' I am glad I. have met you and heard your story." " Why should you be glad 1 " she replied. " i am sure you must have been oifended that a woman should havb dared to speak so plainly to you." " I deserve all you have said, and more too," he added, after a pause. " In which trail are you in the future going to walk? " she asked. 4 I i .Ml illi no OOWTKAPirX. M This sti'iii^'ht, soiircliin^ (jiiostion brouglit vividly It^fore his vision tlu^ (h'oam Jiiul tlic two ways wiiicli thcro ho saw, and lie fph tliat a crisis in his life liad come ; .ind ho said, at'tor a JKIUSO, — " I shoidd like to walk in tlio way marked out hy iiio hook of hoavon." "And so would 1," she repliod, with intonso oarnostnoss. *' Jiut it seems hard to do so, placed as I am. You think mo hravo here thus to reprove you, hut I am a coward in the village. I have called it love for my uncle's life that has kept me hack from defying the conjui'ors and telling I'veryhody 1 want to. But it is cowardice, and I am ashjimed of myself. And then I know so little. Oh that we had a missionary among us, with the hook of heaven, as they have at Norway House and elsewhere, that we might learn more about the way, and be bravo and courageous all the time ! " This despairing cry is the voice of millions dissatisfied with the devil dances and worship of idols. The call is for those who can toll them where soid-comfort can be found, and a sweet assurance brought into their hearts that they are in the right way. Hardly knowing what answer to make, but now interested in tlie woman as never in one before, he asked, — " What name does your uncle call you ? " Wishing to find out her name, he put it in this way, as it is considered the height of rudeness to ask a person his name. When several persons are together, and the name of one is desired Dy one of the company, the plan is always to ask some third party for the desired information. " Astumastao," she replied. And then, feeling with her keen, womanly instincts that the time had come when the long inter- view should end, she quickly threw her game, which had been dropped on the ground, over her shoulder again, and, gliding by him, soon disappeared in the forest trail. Oo > I CHAPTP]1I VI. Oowikapnn still on tlu; trail. — Troubled witli many conflictinfj: thoufflils. — ■ Disfijusled with pa riri:. I I CllAFrKU VI. rriO Uovvikii|»uii tliis iiitcM'viow wjis of to ho thus talked to hy a woman ; yet his conscienco told him that she was ri^dit, and ho deserved tlu! reproofs she had ^dven ; and so, with somethin,i( more to think about, he resumed his onward jouniey, and when he stopped that niglit and made his little camp he svas many miles nearer his home. As he sat there by hi,-, cheery fire, while all around him stretched the great wild forest, he tri( d to think over some of i-he new and strange adventures through which he had [)ass( <\ With startling vividness they came before him ; and above all the brave words of the maiden, Astumastao, seemed to ring in his ears. Then the consciousness that he who had been trying to make himself and others beliew that he was so brave was really so cowardly took hold of hiiu, and so depressed him that he coidd only sit with bowed head and burdened heart, and say within himself that he was very weak and foolish, and all seemed very dark. The stars shone out in that brilliant northern skv, and the aurora danced and blazed and scintillated : meteors flashed across the heavens with wondrous brightness, but Oowikapun saw them not. The problem of life here and hereafter had come to him as 53 II, -\ ! if H 4 54 OOWIKAl'UN. never Itet'oie. Jle liud t'ouitd out tbut lie Jiad m soul, ami that thei'B was a God to fear and love, vvlio cared for men and women ; and that there was reward for right doing and ])unishmen.t for sin. So with the little light he had, he pondered and thought ; and the mov^, he did the worse he got, for he had not yet found the w ay of simple faith and trust. And so he became so saddened and terrified that there was but little sleep that night for him, and as there he sat, longing for help, he remembered the words of Astumastao : *' Oh that we had a missionary among ns, with the book of heaven, that we might learn more of the way, and be brave and courageous all the time." Ho in til 1.3 frame of mind he wf.tched and waited until the first blush of morn ; then after a hasty meal, prepared on his camp- fire, Lt) started off, and in due time reached his home in the distant village in the wilderness ; and in the depressed mood in which we here first met him, he lived for many a day. The change in him was noticed by all, and many conjectured as to the cause. But Oowikapnn unburdened not his heart, for he knew taere were none among his people who could understand ; and with latter n: jmories of the cowardice at the village of his relatives, he thought m his blindness that the better way to escape ridicule, aT>d even persecution, would be to keep all he had learned about the (lOod Spirit and the book of heaven locked up in his heart. Oowikapnn was one of the best hunters in his village, and as his father was dead and he the oldest son (now about twenty-live years of age) he was looked up to as the head of the wigwam. In his Indian way he was neither unkind to his mother nor to the younger members of the family. To' his little brothers he ga\'e the two young bears, and they soon taught them a number of tricks. They (piickly learned the use of their forelegs, and it was very anuising to see them wrestling with and throwing the young Indian dogs, with whom tliey soon l)ecame great friends. Oowikapnn, to divert attention from himself, and to keep from being (juestioned about the change in his conduct which was so evident to all, devoted himself with unflagging energy to the chase. Spring having now opened, the wild gee^e came in great fl f( i r THE GOOSE HUNT. oo flocks from their southern liomes to those northern lunds, looking for the rich feeding grounds and safe places where they could hatch out their young. These times when the geese are flying over are as a general thing very profitable to the hunters. I have known an old Indian with only two old fiint-lock guns in one day kill seventy-five large grey geese. That was, howevei-, an exceptional case. The hunters considered themselves fortunate if each night they returned with from seven to twelve of these birds. Oowikapun having selected a spot at the edge of a great marsh from which the snow had melted, and where the goose grass was abundant, and where the flocks were flying over in great numbers, hastily prepared what the hunters call their nest. This is made out of marsh hay and branches of trees, and is really what its name implies — a nest so large that at least a couple of men can hide themselves in it. When ready to begin goose-hunting they put on a white coat and a cap of similar colour, for these ob- servant Indians have learned that if they are dressed in white they can call the geese njuch nearer to them than if their garments are of any other hue. Another requisite for a success- ful hunt is to have a number of decoy geese carved out of wood and placed in the grass near the nest, as though busily engagtd in eating. Oowikapun's first day at the hunt was fortunately a very good one. The sun was shining brightly, and, aided by a southern breeze, many flocks of geese came in sight in tlieir usual way of flying, either in straight lines or in triangles. Oowika[)un was gifted in the ability to imitate their call, and so he succeeded in bringing so many of th3iu in range of his gun that ere the day ended he had bagged almost a score. In after years when I visited that land it used to interest me very much, and added a pleasurable excitement to my trip, to don a white garment over my winter clothing, for the weather was still cold, and join one of these clever hunters in his little nest and take my chance at a shot at \ 1 cse noble birds. I felt quite proud of my powers when I brouj>lit down my flrst grey goose, even if I did only break a wing with my ball. \\\ 1m *!i ill' .!■ r,() OOWIKAPUN. f I Quickly unloosing Cuffy, one of my favourito Newfoundland dogs, I sent her after the bird, which had lit down on a great ice field about five hundred yards away. But although disabled, the bird could still light, and so when my spirited dog tried to close in upon her and seize lier by the neck, the brave goose gave her such a l)low over the head with the uninjured wing that it turned her completely over, and made her howl with pain and vexation. Thus witnessing the discomfiture of my dog, I could easily understand what I had been frequently told by the Indians of foxes having been killed by the old genie when trying to ca})ture young goslings from the flocks. In these annual goose-hunts all the Indians who can handle a gun take part. The news of the arrival of the first goose fills a whole village witii excitement, and nothing can keep the people from rushing off to the different points, which they each claim year after year, where they hastily build their nests and set their decoys. I well remember how quickly I was deserted by a whole company of Saulteaux Indians, one spring, on their hearing the long-expected call of a solitary goose that came flying along on the south wind. I had succeeded, after a good deal of persuasion, in getting them to work with me in cutting down trees and preparing the soil for seed-sowing, when in the midst of our toil, at about ten o'clock in the forenoon, the distant " Aunk ! aunk ! aunk ! " of an old grey goose was heard, the out-skirmisher of the oncoming crowds. Such was the effect of that sound upon my good hunters, but poor farmers, that the axes and hoes were hastily dropped, and, with a rush, they were all off' to their wigwams for their guns and ammunition, and I did not see them again for a month. Success in the goo^e-hunt seems to elate the Indian more than in .anything else. ■ Why, I could never find out. It may be because it is the first spring hunting after the long dreary winter, and there is the natural gladness that the pleasant spring time has come again. Whatever it may be, I noticed for years more noisy mirth and earnest congratulations on success in the goose hunt than in anything else. AT THE COUNCIL FlllES. 67 ,i \ Loiided down with his game, Oowikapun ivturned to his wigwam, and instead of cheerily responding to the congratulations of the inmates on account of his success, he threw himself down on his bed, silent and gloomy, and refused the proffered meal and even the lighted pipe which his mother brought him. Surprised were they all at his conduct, which was so contrary to his old ways. lie had never been known to act like this before — just the reverse. He had come to be considered the brightest young man in the village. lie had more than once been called the young hunter of the cheery voice and the laughing eyes. Then, in his serious hours, in times when the affairs of the tribe were being discussed, at the council fires, so good was his judgment, and wise and thoughtful, even beyond his years, were his words considered, that even the old men, who seldom did anything else but sneer at the words of the young men, gave respectful attention to what fell from the lips of Oowikapun. Well was it remembered how that only last year, at the great council fire of the whole tribe, when the runners brought the news of the aggressions of the whites on some of the southern tribes with whom they had been, in years past, in friendly alliance, and the old men spake with bitterness and talked of the old glories of t^^e red men ere the pale -face came with his fire-arms, and what was worse, with his fire-water, and hunted down and poisoned many of their forefathers, and drove back the rest of them toward the setting sun, or northward to the regions of the bitter cold and frost ; and how much better it would have been, they said, if their forefatli^ers had listened to the fiery eloquence and burning words of Tecumseh and his great brother, the prophet, and joined in a grtat Indian confederacy, when they were numerous and strong, to drive the white man back into the sea, — then it was, when eyt\s flashed, and the Indians were wild enough with excitement to cause great trouble, that II i: Oowikapun arose and spoke kindly words. They were also wise beyond his years. .i' 1 ■r i '■) ' i \\ I H CHAPTER VII. His words wore all for peace with t)ic pale-face. Now he is unhappy. - Many conjectures. -Afraid to pray, he seeks advice from the old man of the village.— His terrible story of the wicked white fur-traders, and their fire-water.~ How the old man was robbed, and his wife insulted. —Her flight through the forest, and return home.— Mookoomis tells the Indian tradition of the origin of the human race, and why all men are not of the same colour.---And why the white man has obtained the mastery. 1 i U' 'THKY t)XLY I.AUUUED AT MY yUIiSTlONrS.' ;^ \ CHAPTER VIT. t , IN his address he urged that tlie time for successful war was passed ; that Tcciimsoh himself fell hefore the power of the pale-face ; that his wampum and magic pipe had disappeared, and his tomahawk had heen buried in a peace ceremony between his survivors and the paleface ; and, bitter as might be some of the memories of the past, yet to all it must be clear that, as many of the w^hite men were really their friends, it was for their interest and happiness to act patiently and honourably toward them, and strive to live as the Great Spirit would have them — as loving l)rothers. Thus talked Oowika})un last year. Why is it, they said, that he, who gave such promise of being a great orator as well as a successful hunter, should act so strangely now? 8ome said he was losing his reason and becoming crazy. The young ft)lks said he was in love with some bright-eyed maiden, whom they knew not; but many of the dark-eyed maidens hoped she was the fortu- nate one. And so thev wondered why he did not let it be known. As he still delayed tiiey said it is because he has had so many to support that he is poor, and is fearful that what he has to offer in payment for his bride might not be considered sufficient, and he would be humiliated to be refused. Even some of the older women, not born in beauty's hand-basket, when they could 'get away from their exacting husbands, would pit down under the bank; where the canoes were drawn up, and (51 i: ; . i| • •■! I 02 OOWIKAPUX \k ; V% t \\\ ^Miivrly, ill imitation of tlie mon around their council iiros, would exclianj,'e opinions, anis liands wore son* witli loii;^' paddling his canoe, and that his fVet wore weary witli hard walking in the poi'ta^cs. So, hecauso thov j)rotcss('d to be his friends, lie drank tluur fire-water and found out that they wore his emunies. They ^'ave him more and more, tellin«; him it was good, and ho foolishly drank and drank until he lost all of his senses, and was in a drunken stupor for days. When he came to himself he* found he was out in a cold slu d and very miserable. ITis head ached and ho was very sore. His coat was gone and so were his beautifully beaded loggings and moccasins. His gun was also gone, and with it his bales of rich and valuable furs. His wife was also ^^ iie, and then^ he was, half-naked and alone. Alarmed, he cried out, and asked how it was that he was in such a sad plight. Hearing him calling out, some of those white men who had pretended to be his friends came to him, and said, — " Begone, you poor Indian fool ! " " Where are my furs? " he asked. With a laugh, they said, — " We have taken them for the whisky you drank." "Give me my furs," ho cried, " or pay me for them." " But," added the old man, " they were stronger than T, and had taken away not only my gun, but my axe and knife, and so I was helpless before them. '" Where is my wife ? ' I then asked. But they only laughed at my questions, and it was weeks before I heard that they had insulted her and would have foully treated her but that she had pulled out her knife and threatened to kill the first man that tonched her. While keeping them away with her knife she moved around until she got near an open window, when she suddenly sprang out and fled like a frightened deer to the forest. After long weeks of hardship she reached the far-off home. She had had a sad time of it and many strange adventures. Foot-sore and nearly worn out she had been at times, but she bravely persevered. Her food had been roots and an occasional rabbit or partridge which she snared. Several times she had been chased '.I 111 1 64 OOWIKAPUX, !l l\\ \ w HT by wild nninials. Once for several days the savapfe wolves mndly howled !i round the foot of a tree into wliich she had mana^'ed to clind) for safety from their fierce attacks. Fortunately for her a jj^reat moose deer ut she feared them less than she did the rudo white men fiom whom she had lied." The man, when kicked out of the place of the white traders, had, after .a couple of days' wanderings, fallen in with some friendly Indians, who took pity on him, clothed and fed him, and sent him hack in care of some of their best canoe men. He thus reached home long !)efore his bra\e wife did, who had to work her way along as we have described. Oowikapun listened to the story of the old man with patience until he closed. Then in strong language he expressed his horror and indignation. It was very unfortunate that he should have heard it in the state of mind in which he was at that time. From his meeting with Memotasand Astumastao, he had inferied that all white men were good people, but here was a rude aM^akening from that illusion. Terrible, indeed, have been the evils wrought by the white men in these regions where dwell the red men. The native prejudices, and even their superstitious religions, are not as great hindrances to the spread of the gospel among them as are the abondnable actions and rascalities of white men who bring in their fire-water and their sins from Christian lands. For a time the old man Mookoomis exerted quite a strong influence over Oowikapun, and many were the hours they spent together. Oowikapun was in that state of restlessness that the only times he could be said to be at peace were when either engaged in the excitements of hunting or when listening to Mookoomis' excited woi'ds as he talked away hour after hour of the old legenfit; and traditions of his people, whose glory, alas, was now about departed. One evening, -when a few interested listeners were gathered around the wigwam fire of the old story-teller, and they liad made iMHAN 'r/r\/)///o.\ OF nil: oiuaix of hacfs. (ir» liiiii li!4)]»y hy tlio gifts ot" v«'iii.s(,n iind toljacco, 0()wika|>iiii !>aiyond tho setting sun, and there abodi'. After a while he thought ho would come back and see how the men wore getting on. So he called them to meet him at a certain place, and as h<3 talked with them he found they were nnhap[»y because thoy had' nothing to do. When the Great Spirit hoard this he told them to come back to-morrow, and he would make this all right for them. On the morrow when they had mot they saw that the Groat Spirit had three parcels, llo laid them on tho ground and told them they were to choose which they would liavo. As tho parcels dillored very much in size it was decided that they would cast lots and thus settle who should have the first choice. When this was done it was found that the black man was to choose first, the rod man socond, and the white man would have to take what was left. So the black man chose the largest parcel, and when he opened it he found that it contained axes and hoes and spades and shovels and other implemants of toil. Tho Indian selected the next largest bundle, and when he opened it he found that it c n- tained bows and arrows and spears and lances and knives and other weapons used by the hunter. Then the turn of the white man came, and he took up the last parcel, which was a small one, and when he had opened it there was nothing in it but a book. " When the black man and the red man saw that the white man had nothing but a book they laughed out loudly and ridicided Tin: WiriTE MASS HOOK.