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Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettetd de l'exemplaire film6, et en cnnformitd avec les conditions du contrat de filnreparation—Ti.e Start for the Plains— The Rendezvous— Occupations of the Camp —Horse-Racing and C.amblin-— The Camp by Night— The Morn- ing Headache— The Half-Rrecd Plain hunter — A Donnyhrook Fair— A Prairie lilection— The Officers of the Hunt— The Code Napoleon— Departure for the Plains— The Line of March — A Rurncd l'ra"ie— The Night Camp— Sunday Oi)servances— Open- air Devotions— 'I'hc Challenge and Race— Snaring a Buffalo— The Feast and the Famine— Approaching the Ilerils— The BufTalo Runner— The Charge— How the Hunter Loads— Cutting Up— Pemmican— How it is Made— How it is Used— Dried Meat— In- creasing Scarcity of Buffalo— Prolonged Feasting— The Return- Encroaching Civilization 136 CHAPTER VIII. The Fraternity of Medicine-Men. — Life at Trading- Post— A Medicine-Feast — Spiritual Communion— Indian Medicines— Pe- riodical Poisons and their Queer Effects— The Curious Contents of a Medicine-hag— Totems— The Medicine-Men— The Cures they Perform— Medical Students— A Queer Ceremony— Initiation by Torture— Indian Spiritualism— A Total Wreck— An Aboriginal Medical College— The Conjuror's Legerdemain — Old Prob— Mysterious Power 168 CHAPTER IX. The Blackkeet — A Plain-Indian "Trade."' — The Blackfeet Country— Perpetual Warfare— Origin of the Blackfeet— Their Con- federacy — The Sircies— Language and Location of the Tribes Dress and Appearance of the Blackfeet— Their Mental Character- istics—Civil Organization of the Confederacy — Fondness for Liquor — Funeral and Burial Ceremonies — Trade with the Blackfeet Rocky Mountain House— The Aboriginal Commercial Traveler His Purple and Fine Linen — " Drumming " — Preparations at the Vlll CONTENTS. Fort — The Trade- Room — IIow the Customer is Received — Ap- y)roach of the Band — A Tiavaiile — A Tepee — Hlackfeet Ponies — A Palaver — An Indian Present — How the Indian Trades — The Ins and the Outs — The Rush to get In — Characteristic 01)jections — A Horse Trade — The Current Coin of the Fur Land — A New Suit and its Fate — Liquor Trading — A New Legal Tender — Some Queer Scenes PAGR 185 CHAPTER X. Winter Travel. — Autumn in the Fur Land — Wheels vs. Runners — The Red River Cart — The Carriage of Madame — Raw-hide Har- ness — Shaganappi — The Cart-Pony — A Native Horseman — An Indian Pony — The Careening Caiiole and its Uses — Locomotion on Snowshoes — Sledge-dogs — The Hudson's Bay Dog-sledge — • The Freight-Sledge — Dog Harness — The Dog as a Draught Ani- mal — Intense Cold — How the Winter Traveler Dresses — How the Half-Breed Dresses — Tents in Winter — The Yellow Dog — The Morning Start — The Traveler's Irritation — A Fight in Harness — A Winter Landscape — The Travelei's Sensations — Incidents of the Journey — The Night Camp — An Open-air Bedroom — The Daily Routine of Travel 213 CHAPTER XL The Fur Hunter. — Wood Indians — The System of Advances — The Trapper's Dress — His Outfit — Tiie Start into the Forest — The Trapper's Life— Reading Signs — How to make a Marten-trap — Lenten Feasts — Steel Traps for Wolves and Foxes — The Poisoned Bait — A Beaver Colony — The Trapper comes — The Beaver Lodge — Trapping Beaver in Summer — The Wolverine — The Way he gets a Living — His Destructiveness and Persecution of the Trapper — Pleasures and Pains of the Trapper's Life — The Vast P'orests in Winter — Short Commons — Sleeping Out 240 CHAPTER XIL A Winter Camp. — A Social Photograph— The Winter Hunters— Half-Breed Houses — The Wife's Relations — Work of the Women — Treatment of Infants — Half-Breed Hospitality — Forest Gour- mands — Prolonged Feasting with Famine to Follow — A Bill of Fare — The Hudson's Bay Ration — Some Phases of Matiimony CONTENTS. IX — The Inconvenience of having but one Room — Wooing in Com- pany — Gabriel Dines — Sechision by Courtesy — I low the Half- Breed Lover Courts his Sweetheart — Ilalf-Hreed Pet Names — Love's Wliippers-in — The Worth of Sisters and a Katlier to a Maiden whose Lover is Shy — Tiie Wedding Gifts — Later Progress of the Wooing — The Groom's Leggins — The VVeddinj — The In- dian Ilanger-on — Communism in tiie Woods — How the Indian Begs — The Indian in his Cups — Home of the Hanger-on — The Indian Languages — Home Costume of the Red Man — The Mis- sionary I'riests and their Curious Flocks — The Merchant of the Plains — His Store and Customers — The Free-trader's Station in Camp — Liquor Trade — March to the Settlements — Disposition of the Furs — Sojourn of the Trader in Civilization — The Winter Hunt — Departure for the DutTaio Grounds — Strategy of the Hunt — Striking — Cutting up the lUiffaloes — A P'orest Meat-house — Knd of the Expedition — The White Stranger — The Poetry of Wild Life PACB 254 CHAPTER XIII. The Frost King. — The Prairie \.ean — Its Antiquity — Some Curious Features — Sun Guidance — Lost upon the Praiiie — The Plains in Winter — The Mirage — The Guideboards of the Plain-dweller — A Winter Scene — Frozen Noses — Some Phenomena of Arctic Weather — A Poudre Day — Incidents of Winter Fravel — The Melancholy Still Days — Night on the Prairies — Clothing for Cold Weather — A Winter Landscape — The Terrors of a Blizzard —A Freezing Experience 289 CHAPTER XIV. A Half-Breed Ball. — The Inviiation — Mental Pictures — Consular Archives — The Habiliments of Rejoicing — An Upset — Peculiari- ties of my Attendant — Discharged from the Sledge — My Host and his Guests — A General Introduction — Pauline — French Osculation — The Groom Expectant — My Hostess and her Cuisine — A Time to Dance — A Half-Breed Terpsichore — I Dance — Then Swear Off — The Ball Supper — A Satisfied Appetite — Disposal of Wearied Guests — Morning and Departure 315 CHAPTER XV, A Wood-Indian " Trade." — How the Hudson's Bay Company gathers Furs — The Extent and Methods of Business — Winter '^amiiiuimiimmiMm i'CwBti CONTENTS. PACB ill the Forts — Indian Trappers' Spring Visit — The Company's Prices and Profits — High Prices paid for Muskets and Blankets — The Cost of Goods — The Liquor Traffic — A Fair Standard of Value — An Indian's Queer Ways of Shopping — The White Medicine- Man — The Luxuries of Life — The Trappers' Relations to the Com- pany — The Preservation of Game — The System of Advances — Tea and Tobacco — Spring Work — The Wealth of Furs — The Pine Mar- ten — The Fisher — The Mink — The Raccoon — Costly Fox-fur — The Decline in demand for Beaver-skins — Muskrats — The Lynx and Sea Otter — Bear and Rabbit Skins — The Rob2 of Commerce — The Buffalo's Coat — Likeness to Lions — Women's Work — Painting the Robes — The Indian's Friend — Finis 326 ILLUSTRATIONS. One of the Team ^^°^ The Line of March The Night Camp, . . | ' ^ A Half-Breed's Cabin ' A Hudson's Bay Company's Post [][ A Hudson's Bay Company's Outpost A Portage Landing A Northern River ^^ Making a Portage ^°^ A Portage Camp Tracking ' ^^"^ A Blackfeet Grave ^^* The Trading Store ' ' '_ ^^^ Cart-Wheel Scow, A Cariole * ••••• ^ •,,, 221 Hudson's Bay Dogs,.. • ••..•• ,, ••»# 22*^ A Freight-Sledge ' 226 A Fight in Harness Steel Traps ^^^ 245 A Winter Camp Half-Breed Leggins ^^^ Indian Costume A Fire-Bag ^'^^ 339 ni -Jl -^■.« ill !i i! THE GREAT FUR LAND. CHAPTER I. A JOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE. A MEMORY which refuses to associate with ordinary -^^ remembrances, and has an odd preference for the company of sportive and incongruous dreams, is that of a cer- tain charming gentleman, of extremely punctilious bearing, careering wildly over a frozen Northern prairie in a dog- sledge. He was the proprietor and determined wearer of the only silk hat within a radius of four hundred miles, and still adhered to the use of a shawl as an outer covering long years after it had ceased to be employed as an article of wear. Added to this was an irreproachable suit of black broadcloth the like of which was not to be encountered within the same radius, and a pair of tight boots, that would have frozen the feet of a half-breed runner. In this civilized apparel he was essaying his first ride in a dog-sledge, and a more incongruous spectacle it has never been my lot to behold. Seated in a cariole resembling in shape a heelless shoe, the unfortunate gentleman was whirling over the drifted plain in rapid but tortuous course. Having, in the confidence of perfect ignorance, refused the proffered services of a driver m. ^ THE GREA T FUR LAND. lest he should excite ridicule by beu:^ i^uarded and guided like an infant in a baby-cab, he was now reaping the fruits of his rashness in a series of the most remarkable gyrations of which the human body is capable. The dogs being unac- quainted with the language of their freight, and evidently animated by the spirit of evil, wandered at their own sweet will over the snow-covered plain ; their will generally prompt- ing them to plunge headlong into every drift, or to skirt the steep sides of the long ridges. Under these depressing cir- cumstances, it behooved the neophyte to use his utmost en- deavor to retain an upright position, in order to avoid a sledge-ride in which his own body would be used as the run- ners, and the cariole assume the place of passenger. Being limited by the construction of the sledge to the use of his hands alone, hitherto employed in holding hi shawl, he was forced to drop that favorite covering in order that, by swaying rapidly from side to side and plunging his hands in the snow, he might right the sledge. This continuous seesaw, and the crowning incongruity of the silk hat, gave him at length the appearance of a jumping- jack, or " the gentleman in black," as he starts suddenly from the box and swings pendulous from side to side. His frantic shouts of " Whoa ! " availed nothing ; the dogs, having been sent out to give their passenger a ride, were evidently bent upon doing it, and wandered vaguely about on the drifting snow. At length, a more than usually vertical drift being reached, the tired arms gave out, and the cariole, left without support, poised a moment in mid-air, then turned over, leaving the recumbent voyager with his legs still fastened to the sledge, but with arms thrust deep into the snow and head calmly pillowed in A JOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE. the depths of his hat. From this position he was powerless to move, except at the will of the dogs, who had now faced about in their harness, and seated themselves to gaze imper- turbably upon the wreck. The spectacle of this representa- tive of a higher civilization lying stranded upon a thin board in a limitless ocean of snow, proved too much for half-breed courtesy ; and there he lay until the owner of the cariole had sufficiently recovered from successive convulsions of laughter to run to his assistance. A determination to avoid a like experience led the writer, some time afterward, before undertaking a winter's journey across the frozen expanse of Lake Winnipeg, to pursue a little judicious training, surreptitiously undergone upon an unfre- quented by-road, before even attempting to decide upon the merits of the various teams presented for that service. To begin my journey, I purchased a board about nine feet long and sixteen inches wide, which was duly steamed and turned up at one end. To it wooden bows were fastened, while over it was stretched a stout covering of raw-hide. This accomplished, the board resembled the front of a slipper. To complete the likeness, a heel-top was made by attach- ing an upright back about two feet from the rear end, and ex- tending the raw-hide covering to it. Then the shoe was sub- mitted to an Indian friend, who decorated its outer surface with mystical emblems in red and yellow pigments, covering the whole with a coating of oil. When the motive power was furnished, the slap would be ready to sail. The selection of the propelling force was more difficult of accomplishment. Dogs of high and low degree were brought for inspection ; for dogs in the North have but one occupa- i¥ 4 r//£ GREA T FUR LAND. tion — to haul. From the Esquimaux down through all the stages of canine life to the Indian mongrel, all are alike doomed to labor before a sledge of some kind during the winter months ; all are destined to howl under the beatings of a brutal driver ; to tug wildly at the moose-skin collar ; to haul until they can haul no longer, and then to die. When I look back at the long line of seared and whip-marked heads, whose owners were put through their best paces in demonstration of their perfect fitness for the work, what a host of sadly-resigned faces rises up before me ! There were heads lacking an ear, an eye ; heads bearing the marks of blows with sticks, whips, the heels of boots ; heads that had been held down and beaten out of all semblance of life ; and heads yet all bleeding and torn with the brutal lashings thought necessary to impart an air of liveliness before a probable purchaser ! The same retrospect brings up the hybrid drivers of those dogs, upon the majority of whose countenances a painful indifference to suffering and an inherent brutality were plainly visible — dusky, athletic fellows, whose only method of dealing with the poor dog, who gave up everything in life for them, was by blows and fierce invective. For a time all teams submitted for inspection seemed wanting in some essential quality. At length, however, my prospective driver informed me of a half-breed acquaintance who was the possessor of a team which he thought would answer the purpose. His mongrel friend resided sixty miles away ; but distance and time go for naught in the North — in fact, are about the only possessions with which the inhabitants are plentifully endowed ; so we compassed the space and pur- chased the dogs. There were four of them — long-haired, i !,! : A yOURNE Y BY DOG-SLEDGE. 5 clean-legged, fox-headed animals, with more the appearance of wolves than of dogs. With them came four sets of har- ^,.tt ONE OF THE TEAM. ness, qach set having a tinkling row of bells in its back-band which, being of different tones, rang a merry chime as their wearers trotted briskly along. This completed the passenger accommodation ; now for the baggage-van. Another board, ten feet in length and fourteen inches wide, was purchased, steamed, and turned up at one end. But, instead of the raw-hide covir.hg, shoe-latchets were in- serted in the outer edges of the board, which would tie down tightly to its surface the load of provision, bedding, and camp-equipage, necessary for the journey. For this sledge the motive power was selected less critically ; strength was the requisite, not symmetry ; so dogs of strong sinew and large bone were chosen, regardless of looks. For provision, we had pemmican — the pounded dried meat of the buffalo mingled with fat — and black tea ; the dogs had frozen whitefish. n O THE GREA T FUR LAND. My driver was a heathen Cree. He was, moreover, a lin- guist, speaking several aboriginal dialects and a kind of mongrel French. Five golden sovereigns constituted the bond of union between us. He was a lank, muscular man, the bones of whose huge frame stood out conspicuously at the joints and angles, and the muscles showed distinctly in his gaunt meagreness. He had yellow paint on his face, and was arrayed in rather bewildering apparel. His headgear was the luxuriant chevelure with which Nature had endowed him. On his feet he wore moccasins ; on his limbs he wore leggins, which extended only a certain way above the knee, leaving that Providence which " tempers the wind to the shorn lamb " a dreary waste of yellow-mottled skin upon which to experi- ment ; on his body he wore a cotton shirt perennially innocent of soap. Attached to this shirt, and stretched straight and taut across the pit of his stomacn, he wore a brass watch- chain. Over all, like the mantle of Charity, was strapped a green blanket. Thus attired, he resembled a settled melan- choly, or a god of bile from a dyspeptic's inferno. Neverthe- less, he could travel from forty to sixty miles a day, running alongside the sledge. ■i! ' Hi It was the loth of December when we left Fort Garry, bound down the Red River of the North, across the frozen length of Lake Winnipeg, to Norway House, at its northern extremity. There started with us the four dog-trains and two drivers which constitute the Great Northern Packet of the Hudson's Bay Company, and which, with its connecting links, scatters news over all that vast region lying between the forty- ninth and sixty-seventh parallels of latitude, in North A JOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE, America, and reaching east and west from Labrador to Alaska. Our route being the same, we joined company with the hybrid Mercuries, and began our journey amid much cracking of whips, howling of dogs, and profanity discreetly veiled by de- livery in the heathen tongues. To the novice the spectacle presented by a number of gayly-accoutered dog-trains gliding merrily by is a cheerful one. The tiny bells keeping time to the foot-falls of the shaggy train ; the cariole fantastically decorated in bright, warm colors ; the passenger cozily wrapped in furs and woolens of shades suggestive of warmth and comfort ; the active driver trotting unweariedly alongside, until the sledge with all its belongings becomes a mere speck of black upon the limitless expanse of snow — all conspire to commend dog- sledging to the transient spectator as the ideal of winter travel, the veritable poetry of motion. The swan-like motion of the sledge as its thin bottom yields in graceful curves and undu- lations, to adapt itself to inequalities of surface beneath it, is strangely suggestive of the progress of a canoe over waters faintly ruffled by a passing breeze. To lie in such a cradle, and be gently rocked over a varying landscape hour after hour, would seem an idyllic life in which satiety could never come. But, suppose the cold to be of that intensity which it is neither possible to picture nor describe ; of that degree in which, after having spoken of the whip-handle which burns the hand that touches it, the tea that freezes while it is being drunk ; in which an instant's exposure of the face leaves the cheek or the classical nose upon which one prides himself white and rigid as a piece of marble ; in which the traveler, with head bowed to meet the crushing blast, goes wearily on, ' '1 illii ! i 8 THE GREA T FUR LAND. as silent as the river and forests through which he rides, and from whose rigid bosom no sound ever comes, no ripple ever breaks, no bird, no beast, no human face appears — a cold of which, having said all this, there is a sense of utter inability to convey any adequate idea, except that it means sure and certain death, with calm and peaceful face turned up to the sky, and form hard and unimpressible as if carved from granite, within a period whose duration would expire in the few hours of a winter's daylight if there were no fire or means of making it upon the track. Suppose, too, that the gently-undulating motion of the sledge, in accommodating itself to the inequalities of the frozen surface, which seemed so suggestive of a canoe floating cork-like upon rippling water, felt, now that one is seated in the sledge, like being dragged over a gravel-walk upon a sheet ; or that the track has been completely snowed up, and the wretched dogs are unequal to the emergency. Mistatim, the leader, is willing, but young, thin, and weak ; the middle one, Shoathinga, is aged and asthmatic ; and the shafter, Kuskita- ostiquarn, lame and lethargic. From morning till night the air resounds w^ith howling and the cries of their drivers anathe- matizing Shoathinga and Kuskitaostiquarn. The sledges constantly upset from running against a stump or slipping over a hillside ; and, when one hauls and strains to right them, the dogs lie quietly down, looking round at him, and not offer- ing to pull an ounce to help. When the driver, aggravated beyond endurance, rushes up, stick in hand, and bent on punishment, they make frantic exertions, which only render matters worse, resuming their quiescent attitude the moment he returns again to haul at the sleigh ; and all this time, per- J^ 1 A yOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE, \l 10 THE GREAT FUR LAND, m \ 1 1 ! ! I i in ^ M. • \\\ !! !!^ haps, the unfortunate passenger lies, bound and helpless, half buried in the snow. Under these conditions the scene changes, and the envious spectator of the poetry of motion retires with more sympathy for those old voyageurs of the fur-trade, who used to pay stipulated sums to the happy inventors of new and strange oaths. The fall of snow on land being insufficient for sledding purposes, we followed the frozen channel of the river as a track, the six trains gliding smoothly over the first stage of their journey. Harnessed in tandem fashion, one after an- other, the twenty-four dogs and accompanying sledges formed a long line, and presented a gallant spectacle. Fresh from a long rest, they trotted gayly along, affording their drivers but little pretext for blows or imprecation in the breath-taking pace they attained. True, the gaunt Cree dealt Whiskey a merciless flick, from time to time, and urged upon Brandy the necessity of minding his eye ; but I fancy it was owing more to a desire to keep his hand in play, and his vocabulary of invective in memory, than from any defect in their work. Nevertheless, such casual and indifferently-bestowed abuse revealed the fact that, of the eight animals who were doing their best individually and collectively, to haul me and my baggage over that waste of ice, five rejoiced in the names of Brandy and Whiskey, while the remaining three distributed Coffee and Chocolate between them. This knowledge was a blow under which I reeled. An apostle of temperance sweep- ing past lonely dwellings, and dashing with a wild scurry through Indian camps, shrieking for strong drink, and followed by a wild retainer opposing his demands with suggestions of coffee and chocolate, would likely convey to the startled A JOURNEY BY DOC-SLEDGE. II dwellers on the plain the idea of a migratory delirium tre- mens, or a peripatetic advertisement of " The Bar-tender's Own Book." Upon inquiry, however, my misery was found to have abundant company ; for, of the sixteen dogs attached to the packet-trains, no fewer than eleven reveled in an alcoholic nomenclature. The reason assigned by the drivers for so general use of spirituous appellations was, that the mere sound of these names was suggestive of warmth, comfort, and good cheer ; from which the wearied driver doubtless derived a satisfaction equal to washing " . . . . his hands with invisible soap, In imperceptible water." Still, upon second thought, it may be held that, as certain colors are suggestive of warmth and comfort — a stove painted red about the base ofttimes deludes the casual visitor with the idea of heat — so may the influence of certain names be pro- ductive of like genial effect upon the imagination. How- ever it may be, I know that if such nomenclature be adopted without well-founded reason on the part of the dog-driver, it is the only thing in the many curious phases of his life that is so accepted. Not a thread in the web of his existence but has its use. Twenty miles below our point of departure, and perched upon the lofty and precipitous bluffs of the river, we caught sight of one of those impossible pictures of mediaeval fortifi- cation which so often adorn the lids of snuff-boxes, or the pages of ancient albums. There were the same peaked roofs and turrets, the same bleak view of unadorned stone-wall, with bastions, ramparts, gates, and all, as in the original. But no M '*•« fii mm la 77//-; r;A'A,4 7' /ta' /..'ixn. , phuuod knight or trusty squire isstted from its portnh. uor douhlo-hiitulotl sword or glittcriug armor tlockod its halls. It WAS the abode ol Dives, atul !)ivc!« Uavles in beads and gilt, in furs atul tobacco, in caiile and cabt^o, As a rom|>any'»* trading-post it proved a somewhat extensive eolleelion of resi- de»\ces, shops, and stores. These were all inclosed within a stone-wall, pierced throughout its entire circuit with loop- holes, so arrai^ged as to suggest the inipiiry whether, in the extremely im]>robablc evetit of tb.e place being besieged, they would presen. greater facilities t«i the defenders of the estab- lishment. fV to the assaihnits ii\ firing through them at the garriscit. within. The banks hereabouts were high .•.■.ul drp.sely wooded. Some miles below, however, the >\oods disappeared, and the banks, which gradually satik to a lower level, were covered with long, reedy grass Itidian tents, surrounded cvet\ at that late season by nets hung up to dry, indicated the pursuits of their owners. The stream, after reaching the low country, split into nutnerous channels, through several of which its waters found their way into Lake Winnipeg. At the outlet of the main channel our sledges were run ashore. The bank here was a long strip of shingle running out into the lake, the frozen waters of which extended north- ward out of sight. We had accomplished over forty miles ; the night w as closing in, and this was the last available camp- ing-place before setting out upon the long stretches from islet to islet, or point to point, of the lake's shore. So the drivers loosed their dogs, and proceeded to gather drift-wood for the ♦ The Company referred to here, and elsewhere tliroughout the book whelms the wcrd occurs, is invariably the Hon. Hudson's Bay Company. .-/ youKNP.Y nv iwasLEnaE, n night. I'lic twcnly-foiir (logH, nicmiwhilc, Hnrveycd each other grimly, discovered points of ctitinctle upon which they rouM not agree, and fell into a general light, threatening dis- asi roils ronscqucnccH until the loaded whip-stocks of the men separated them. The snow having been cleared away by the aid of a snow- shoe used as a shovel, and our own stip[)cr prepared and eaten, we turned our attention to the dogs who had borne the burden if not the heat of the day ; for the sledge-dog's day is one long tissue of trial. Put to a task from which his whole na- t\jrc revolts, he is driven to the violation of every instinct by the continual lashings of a driver's whip. Before Night has lifted her sable mantle to shroud the stars, the sledge-dog h.is his Rlumbers rudely broken l)y the summons of his master, Close by the camp, under the protecting Ice of stimip or fallen tree, he has lain coiled in the roundest of l)alls tluring the night. Perhaps, if his lines are cast in pleasant [)laces, he has en- croached upon his driver's blanket, and contributed his vital heat to the comfort of that merciless functionary. Perhaps, too, the fast-falling Hakes of the struw-storni have covered him in their soft folds, adding to his sense of warmth, and reveal- ing his presence only in the shape of a rotmded hillock of snow. He may, perchance, dream ti«e dreams of peace and comfort, or imagine that his soft covering will render him undistinguishable irom the surrounding mass of white ; to be awakened from his delusion by blew of whip-stock, a kick of the driver's foot, and the stern command to find his place in the gaudy gear of moose-skin and bells awaiting him — an ornamented and bedizened harness that mocks the pathos of his whip-marked face and tremoling figure. Then comes the I \r h M 14 T//£ GREA T FUR LAND. ] f\ W '! ? !l! t rt start. The wooded copse is left behind, and under the in- cipient dawn he plods along through the snow. The sleepy driver seeks to dissipate the morning cold by rapid motion, and mercilessly urges the dog to his utmost effort. The crisp air resounds with the crack of his whip and the echoes of his dire imprecation. The dog, not yet nerved to his uncongenial labor, cunningly takes every advantage to shirk, refusing to pull when it is most required, and showing wonderful speed and alacrity, rushing off with the heavy sledge when the dis- tracted driver comes near to punish. The day dawns, sun rises, morning merges into mid-day, and it is time to halt for a dinner in which the hauling-dog cannot share ; then on again in Indian file, as before. If there be no path in the snow, the driver travels before to beat one with his snow-shoes, and the " foregoer," or leading-dog, follows close behind. But if there be a track, however faint, the animal follows it himself ; and when lost to sight by wrack and drift of tempest, his sense of smell enables him to keep it straight. Thus through the short hours of the winter's day they travel on, in withered woods through which the wind howls and shrieks, or on the endless expanse of snow, the glare of whose unsullied whiteness blinds the vision of the lake-traveler ; through solitudes which, save when the occa- sional dog-sledge with its peals of bells in winter, or the swiftly-passing boat-brigade resonant with the songs of the summer voyageurs, intrudes, with its momentary variation, upon the shriek of the all-penetrating wind, the ripple of the stream, the roar of the thunder-toned waterfall, or the howl cf the wild beast of the woods, are abandoned to the undisturbed possession of the Indian hunter and his prey. if A yOURNE Y BY DOG-SLEDGE. 15 When the winter's day draws to a close, and the twilight landscape has warned the traveler to choose his resting-place for the night, the sledge-dog finds relief from his harness, and his day's work is at an end. His battered and disfigured face loses in some slight degree its rueful look, to assume an air of expectation. He stretches and rolls in the powdery snow, then lies down to watch the preparation of the evening meal, in faint hope that some meagre portion may slip from his master's hand, or be left a moment unguarded. Soon, however, his watch merges into unconsciousness, and he sleeps. But the termination of his master's meal, followed by the sound of the axe striking the block of pemmican, or the unloading of the frozen white-fish from the provision-sledge, at oncp wakens him to life and vigor. He leaps quickly up, an alert, vicious animal, with every instinct centred in an eager craving for food. In the plain-country a daily ration of two pounds of pemmican is thrown him ; in the region of foresi and stream, where fish forms the staple food, he re- ceives two large white-fish raw. In his diet he prefers fish to meat, and betrays its superiority in his work. His one daily meal is soon despatched ; no pleasures of deglutition are his, A quick snap, followed by a moment's rapid munching, and the pemmican has disappeared ; the same short snap, a few convulsive throes, and the frozen fish is bolted almost whole, and the wistful eyes turned up for more. Not finding it, he indulges in a season of growling and snapping at his fellows, then lies down out in the snow to sleep, or, perchance, to dream of that day, which never comes for him, when the whip shall be broken and hauling shall be no more. Thus he re- mains till morn, unless some old shafter, grim and grey, rising s3« r iiiii' ! 1 iili i6 r//£ GREA T FUR LAND. at midnight on his haunches, inaugurates a chorus to the skies ; or a pack of wolves, seated like sentries in a huge circle about the camp, challenge him by quick barks to renew their hereditary feud. The preparations for repose were of the simplest descrip- tion. As the wind swept down the lake from the north, our heads were placed in that quarter, with feet in dangerous proximity to the fire. On the summit of the heap of snow formed in digging out our camping-ground were placed, as a protection against the fierce blasts, the inverted dog-sledges, which assumed amid that dreary landscape the likeness of head-stones, marking our resting-place with a rude " Hie jacet." Descending into bed from the surface of the snow, and muffled in unlimited bedding, the sensation given by the surrounding banks and overhanging sledges was that of sleep- ing in a gigantic four-poster with a highly-decorated head- board. The three drivers lay close together, but for certain sanitary reasons their freight chose to form a single spoke in the wheel, and reclined at an angle of his own. Sleep comes soon to the traveler in arctic winters ; but a beautitul dream of a little maiden who was wont to disport upon my knees was rudely broken by a visible perception of peril — a consciousness of the hovering presence of evil. How to describe these feelings I know not ; but as, if the eyes of a watcher are steadily fixed upon the countenance of a sleeper for a certain length of time, the slumberer will certainly start up, wakened by the mysterious magnetism of a recondite principle of clairvoyance, so it was that, with closed eyes and drowsed-up senses, an inward ability was conferred upon me to detect the presence of danger near me — to see, though A yOU/iiVEY BY DOG-SLEDGE. 17 \ \ i I i8 THE GREAT FUR LAND. %\\ IL ;i slcc|)-l)lind, the formless shape of a mysterious horror crouch- ing beside me. And, as if the i)eril that was my night-mate was of a nature to he (luickened into fatal activity by any motion on my part, I felt in my very stupor the critical neces- sity of lying (luite still ; so that, when 1 at last awoke and felt that, as I lay with my face to the sky, there was a thick, heavy, shivering thing upon my chest, I stirred not, nor littered a word of panic. Danger and fear may occasionally •dull the sense and paralyze the faculties, but they more fre- quently sharpen both ; and when I say that the whole of my chest and even the pit of my stomach were covered with the heavy proportions of the thing, its considerable size will be acknowledged. A cold sweat burst from every i)ore. I could hear the beating of my heart, and I felt, to my in- creased dismay, that the palsy of terror had begun to agitate my limbs. "It will wake," thought I, "and then all is over ! " At this juncture there sounded above my head a prolonged howl, caught up and reiterated in varying chorus by a circle of hoarse voices surrounding our couch. And upon this the thing rose up on my chest with a quick start, and joined the dismal refrain with a barytone of remarkable power ; while the voice of my protecting Cree rang out in sudden anger : " Whiskey, marche ! Sacre chien, passe partout ! " and the warmth-seeking Whiskey shrank quickly from his living ped- estal to join his brethren of the mystic circle on the snow above. Thus relieved from the weight of the sledge-dog, who had presv- . ' upon a gentler nature to increase his own com- fort, ^ ' V i.iutiously up and beheld a scene the most grote&i A JOURNEY BY DOG'SLEDGE. 19 Seated upon tlic highest inverted sledge, with a look of utter dejection and overpowering anguish of soul, sat the aged leader of a packet-train, lifting U[) his voice in a series of heart-rending howls in deep bass. Seated in a like manner at regular intervals about him, and forming a huge circle inclos- ing the camp, were the remaining twenty-three dogs, taking their cue from the leader, and joining the chorus in dismal tenor and rasping soprano. The weird melancholy of that howling brought a sense of utter loneliness and desolation. The echoes reverberated over the lake, and died away in mournful, wailing cadences on the night-wind. The isola- tion seemed to deepen, and become [)alpable. Above, the sky was spangled with such myriads of stars as are only seen in northern latitudes ; around lay a dreary waste of greyish white, empty, desolate, and void of life ; no sound save the dismal howling of the dogs. Soon, however, there was inter- mingled with it much heathen profanity and objurgation, de- livered in various tongues. The chorus had awakened the drivers, who were endeavoring to quiet the dogs by impreca- tions, in order to avoid the necessity of rising and using the whip. " Brandy ! Brandy I sacre d^mon ! " " Coffee ! ye ould sinner, pren' garde ! " ** Chocolat, crapaud that ye aire, Chocolat!" "Whiskey! ah, sal-au-prix ! " "Whiskey!" " Ah, Coffee ! you will catch it presently ! '* " Capitaine ! Mistatim ! " "Brandy ! 'ere d^mon ! " Then followed an out- burst of profanity, and a hasty, furious shout to the whole circle, resembling a call for mixed drinks which has had no equal since the " opening " of the first bar on the Pacific slope. All this, however, proved of no avail, and the distracted drivers were finally forced to leave their warm beds and grasp their ii I i lil ts I H I i I 20 THE GREA T FUR LAND. whips, upon which the wretched animals darted off in agonies of fear. Three hours before dawn we arose and prepared for de- parture by eating a fat breakfast and swallowing a great many cups of tea. Then my uncivilized driver of dogs, who joined the second-sight of a weather-seer to his other accomplish- ments, took an inventory of the weather, and predicted a storm before nightfall. However, the morning was as favora- ble as one could wish, and, incased in robes and blankets, 1 slid into the shoe-like sledge and was off, the central figure of the six sledges and a herd of howling dogs and drivers. The point at which we had encamped became speedily undistin- guishable among the long line of apparently exactly similar localities ranging along the low shore. On in the gray snow- light, with a fierce wind sweeping down the long reaches of the lake ; nothing spoken, for such cold weather makes men silent, morose, and savage. Lake-travel, though rapid, is exceedingly harassing on account of the high winds which perpetually sweep over the immense plain of their frozen surface, intensifying even moderate cold to a painful degree. The ice is always rough, coated with snow of varying thickness, or drifted into hillocks and ridges, alternating with spots of glass-like smoothness, which are constantly upsetting the sledges. And this same upsetting, a trifling matter enough on shore, is likely to prove a serious annoyance where the hardness of the ice nearly breaks one's bones. The same hardness, too, increases the fatigue of sledge-travel, which at its best may be likened to sitting on a thin board dragged quickly over a newly-macad- amized road. Then, too, the pedestrian on a frozen lake I A JOURNEY BY DOG-SLEDGE. 21 labors under peculiar disadvantages. Where the snow lies deeply, the crust gives way at each step, precipitating the driver to the bottom with a sudden jar ; where it lies thinly on the surface, or is drifted away, the hardness of the ice injures even the practiced voyageurs, causing swellings of the ankles and soles of the feet, and enlargement of the lower bacli sinews of the legs. Again, the winter traveler speedily dis covers that very slight exercise induces copious perspiration, which in the most momentary halt, gets cold upon the skin , in fact, in a high wind, the exposed side will appear frozen over, while the rest of the body is comparatively warm and comfortable. Once cold in this way, it is almost impossible to get warm again without the heat of fire, or the severest exercise ; and, should the latter be adopted, it must perforce be continued until a camping-place is reached. Moreover, to a strong man, there is something humiliating in being hauled about in a portable bed, like some feeble invalid, while the hardy voyageurs are maintaining their steady pace from hour to hour, day to day, or week to week ; for fatigue seems with them an unknown word. Toward noon there were indications that the prophetic skill of my heathen driver was about to be verified. The wind still kept dead against us, and at times it was impos- sible to face its terrible keenness. So great was the drift that it obscured the little light atforded by the sun — which was very low in the heavens — through a cloudy atmos- phere. The dogs began to tire out ; the ice cut their feet, and the white surface was often dotted with the crimson icicles that fell from their bleeding toes. The four canines hauling the provision-sled turned back whenever opportunity I ;y 22 m THE GKKA T FUR LAND. presented, or faced about and sat shivering upon their haunches. Under these circnnnstances the anathemas of the Cree grew fearful to the ear ; for, of all the (jualifications requisite to the successful driving of dogs, none is more neces- sary than an ability to imprecate freely and with considerable variety in at least three different languages. But, whatever number of tongues be employed, one is absolutely indispen- sable to perfection in the art, and that is French. Whether the construction of that dulcet tongue enables the speaker to deliver profanity with more bullet-like force and precision, or to attain a greater degree of intensity than by other means, I know not ; but I do know that, while curses seem useful ad- juncts in any language, curses delivered in French will get a train of dogs through or over anything. For all dogs in the North it is the simplest mode of persuasion. If the dog lies down, curse him until he gets up ; if he turns about in the harness, curse him until he reverts to his original position ; if he looks tired, curse him until he becomes animated ; and, when you grow weary of cursing him, get another man to con- tinue the process. As the eaucation of the Cree, so far as regarded the French language, had seemingly been conducted with an eye single to the acquirement of anathemas, which long practice enabled him to use with such effect that the dogs instinctively dodged them as if they had been the sweep of a descending lash, our speed at first was not materially affected by the attempted baitings of the weary animals. But, as the storm increased in violence, and the swirl of powdery snow swept in their faces, the dogs turned about more frequently, and seized every opportunity of shirking. Then ensued that inhuman thrashing and varied // JOURNEY BY DOCSLEDGE. 33 cursing, that howling of clogs and systematic brutality of dri vers, wliich make up the romance of winter-travel, and degrade the driver lower than the brutes. The perversion of the dog from his true use to that of a beast of l)urden is productive of countless forms of deception and cunning ; but a life of bond- age everywhere jiroduces in the slave vices with which it is unfair to blame him. Dogs are often stubborn and provoking, and require flogging until brought into sul)jection ; but lash- ings upon the body while laboring in the trains, systematic floggings upon the head till their ears drop blood, beatings with whip-stocks until nose and jaws are one deep wound, and poundings with clubs and stamping with boots till their howls merge into low wails of agony, are the fretjuent penalties of a slight deviation from duty. Of the four dogs attached to the provision-sledge, three underwent repeated beatings at the hands of the Cree. IJy mid-afternoon the head of Whiskey was reduced to a bleeding, swollen mass from tremendous thrashings. Chocolat had but one eye wherewith to watch the dreaded driver, and Brandy had wasted so much strength in wild lurches and sudden springs, in order to dodge the descending whip, that he had none remaining for the legitimate task of hauling the sledge. But one train of dogs out of the six sledges fared better, and that one was composed of animals of the Esquimaux breed. Fox-headed, long-furred, clean-legged, whose ears, sharp- pointed and erect, sprang from a head imbedded in thick, tufts of woolly hair, hauling to them was as natural as to watch is natural to the watch-dog. And of the whole race of dogs, the Esquimaux alone should be made a hauling-dog. He alone looks happy in his work, and is a good hauler ; and although 24 TffE CKEAT ruK r.AXtX other do^s will surpass him in speed tor a few tlays, only he can inaintain a steady pace throughout a long journey, and come ii\ fresh at its end. At length the vi»)len«e of the storm forced us to seek the Bhore, and camp for the nighl ; and no sooner had this been accomplished, at^d supper over, than the C'ree, fearing a ccn- tinuance of the storm, summoned a driver of the packet-trains to assist in performing a solemn invocatioti to the Manitou to stay the tempest. Rattles made of blatlders, with pebbles \\\ them, were brought out fron\ their limited luggage ; " medi- cine " belts of wolf-skin donned, and other " tnedicine " or magic articles, such as ermine-skins, and musk-rat skins, covered with beads and (juills. I'hen the Cree and his com- panion drunimed and rattled, and sang songs, finishing, after some hours, by a long speech, which they repeated together, in which they i>romised to give the Manitou a feast of fat meat, and to compose a new song in his praise immediately upon the cessation of the storm. After this performance they fell asleep. I-ong before daylight, however, I was awakened by the conjurers, who, in high glee, were cutting off tidbits of pemmican and casting them into the fire as the promised offer- ing to the Manitou, at the same time chanting monotonously, and sounding their rattles. Then they engaged in feasting, and banished sleep by the persistency with which they sanv; the new song they jiretended to have composed for the occu • sion, w^hich they continued to sing over nnd over again without cessation until morning. As they had both been fast asleep nil night, it is shrewdly suspected that they attempted to im- pose upon their Maiiitou by making shift with an old hymn, A JOURNEY liV DOU.SLEDGR, 35 for they certainly could have had no o|)portnnity for compos- ing the new one jjroniised. However this may be, th>' Mnnitoii performed iiis part, for the storm was much abated At an early hour a start was again made in the usual man- ner — the harsh command "Marchc !" followed by deep-toned yells from the crcuuhing dogs ; then, a merciless bei'ting and thumping, antl the cowerin;, animals at length set off with the heavy loads, howling as if their hearts would break. After the thrashing came the abuso and curses. Coffee would be ap- pealed to " for the love of Heaven to straighten his traces." Chocolat would be solemnly informed that he was a migratory swindle, and possessed of no character whatever. Brandy would be entreated to "just see if he couldn't do a little bet- ter ; " that he was the offspring of very disreputable parents, and would be thrashed presently. The passenger's only occu- pation was to keep from freezing. Vain task ! Though buried head and all in two robes and a blanket, the wind found its way through everything, and the master, sitting still in his wraps, suffered more from cold than his man who was running against the wind, and suffered, besides, under the depressing sense of his idle helplessness, while the driver felt the cheering influence of hardy toil. Thus we journeyed on, the incidents of one day being but an iteration of that preceding. For eight days our course led from point to point of the lake's shore, upon the immense sur- face of which our six fleeting sledges seemed the veriest crawl- ing insects. Nevertheless, we passed in rapid flight, at last sweeping up the rocky promontory and within the palisade of 11 36 VHH iifiEA r FCK' LAND. Nv^nvay House, like the ghostly stoimers of the Rhenish rnHtle. In this hospitable shelter wo halted for a time, while the ^rcat Northern paeket i»>v>rneyeil on toward the unknown land of the far N«)rth. The tlogs slept ^piietly in their kennels ; the heathen Cree, with his hardly-earned sovereigns, arrayed him- self in n\orc intricate apparel, and stalked a grecn-and-yellow ai^parition among the stpialid t a quarter of an inch thick. Inside of it is laid a lining c 'lely thin flakes of wood, over which are driven a numbei • ''^iit bows to give strength and solidity to the canoe. In this frail bark, which measures anywhere from twelve to forty feet long, and from two to five feet broad in the middle, the Indian and his family travel over the innumerable lakes and rivers, and the fur-hunters pursue their lonely calling. In the old life of the wilderness the canoe played an im- portant jiart, and the half-breed voyageur was a skilled rival of the red man in its management. Before the consolidation of the Fur Companies,* when rival corporations contended for the possession of the trade of the Fur Land, the echoes along the river reaches and gloomy forests were far oftener and more loudly awakened than now. The Northwest Company, having its head-quarters in Montreal, imported its entire supplies into the country and exported all their furs out of it in north canoes. Carrying on business upon an extended scale, the traffic was correspondingly great. Not less than ten brigades, each numbering twenty canoes, passed * The Hudson's Bay, Northwest, and X. Y. Companies. m CANOE LIFE. 51 over the route during the summer months. The first half of the journey, over the great lakes, was made in very large canoes, known as canotes de maitrc^ a considerable number of which are still kept at the border posts for the use of the company's travelers. These canoes are of the largest size, exceeding the north canoe in length by several feet, besides being much broader and deeper. They are, however, too large and cumbersome for traveling in the interior — where the canoe goes literally over hill and dale — requiring four men to carry them instead of two, like the north canoe ; be- sides, they are capable of carrying twice as much cargo, and are paddled by fourteen or sixteen voyageurs. The north canoe, the ideal craft of the summer voyageur, and which still plays an important part in the fur-trade, is a light and graceful vessel about thirty-six feet long, by four or five broad, and capable of containing eight men and three passengers. Made entirely of birch-bark, it is gaudily painted on bow and stern with those mystical figures which the super- stitious boatmen believe to increase its speed. In this fairy- like craft the traveler sweeps swiftly over the long river- reaches ; the bright vermilion paddles glancing in the sun- shine, and the forests echoing back the measures of some weird boat-song, sung by the voyageurs in full chorus ; now floating down a swiftly-rushing rapid, again gliding over the surface of a quiet lake, or making a portage over land where a rapid is too dangerous to descend. Those who have not seen it can have but a faint idea of the picturesque effects of these passing canoe-brigades. I •' 4 \ t T 32 THE GREA T FUR LAND, Sweeping suddenly round some promontory in the wilderness, they burst unexpectedly upon the view, like some weird phantom of mirage. At the same moment the wild yet simple chansons of the voya^i:;curs strike upon the ear : " Qui en a compost la chanson ? C'est IMerre Falcon ! le bon gallon ! EUe a cte faiie et compose Sur le victoire que nous avons gagn^ ! Elle a et^ faite et compose Chantons la gloire de tons ces Bois>bruIes !" Sung with all the force of a hundred voices ; which, rising and falling in soft cadences in the distwre, a;^ '> is borne lightly upon the breeze, then more steadily as ll.ey approach swells out in the rich tones of many a mellow voice, and bursts at last into a long, enthusiastic chorus. The deep forests and precipitous banks echo back the refrain in varying volume ; the long line of canoes is half shrouded in the spray that flies from the bright vermilion paddles, as they are urged over the wr v r with the speed of the flying deer, until, sweep- ing round some projecting headland, they disappear, like " the baseless fabric of a dream." But the winged passage of these birds of flight conveys but a faint idea of the sensation experienced on witnessing the arrival of a brigade at an inland post after a long journey. It is then they appear in all their wild perfection ; and the spectator catches a glimpse of the supreme picturesqueness of the Fur Land. The voyageurs upon such occasions are at- tired in their most bewildering apparel, and gaudy feathers, CANOE LIFE. 33 ribbons and tassels stream in abundance from their caps and garters, (layly ornamented, and ranged side by side, like con- tending chariots in the arena, the frail canoes skim like a bird of passage over the water ; scarcely seeming to touch it under the vigorous and rapid strokes of the small but numerous paddles by which the powerful voyagcurs strain every muscle and nerve to urge them on. A light mist, rising from the river, etches them while yet afar in shadowy outline, augment- ing their symmetry, like a veil thrown over the face of Beauty. The beautifully simple, lively, yet plaintive chdnson^ so much in unison with, that it seems a part of, the surround- ing scenery, and yet so different from any other melody, falls sweetly upon the ear. In the distance it comes with the l)leasing melancholy of " Home, Sweet Home ! " and seems the vocal expression of the voyageurs' thoughts of their native land. On its nearer approach, it changes the feeling into one of exultation, as the deep manly voices swell in chorus over the placid waters — the " Marseillaise " of the wilderness. Hearing the landing, a spirit of competition arises as to who shall arrive first. The long canoes speed over the waters, like a flight of arrows, to the very edge of the wharf ; then, as if by magic, come suddenly to a pause. The paddles are rolled on the gunwale simultaneously, enveloping their holders in a shower of spray, as they shake the dripping water from the bright vermilion blades, and climb lightly from their seats. Canoe travel in the Fur Land presents many picturesque phases. Just as the first faint tinge of coming dawn steals 1/ 34 THE ORE A T FUR LAND. ji tli over the east, the canoe is lifted gently from its ledge of rock and laid upon the water. The blankets, the kettles, the guns, and all the paraphernalia of the camp, are placed in it, and the swarthy voyageurs step lightly in. All but one. He remains on shore to steady the bark on the water, and keep its sides from contact with the rock. It is necessary to be thus careful with canoes, as the gum or pitch with which the sides are plastered breaks off in lumps, and makes the craft leaky. The passenger takes his place in the centre, the outside man springs gently in, and the birch-bark canoe glides away from its rocky jresting-place. Each hour reveals some new phase of beauty, some chang- ing scene of lonely grandeur. The canoe sweeps rapidly over *he placid waters ; now buffets with, and advances against, ithe rushing current of some powerful river, which seems to "bid defiance to its further progress ; again, is carried over rocks and through deep forests, when some foaming cataract bars its way ; and yet again, dashes across some silvery lake with a favoring breeze. The clear unruffled water, studded with innumerable islets, stretches out to the horizon, reflecting the wooded isles and timber-clad bluffs upon its margin. The morning sun, rising in a sea of light, burnishes the motionless expanse with a golden sheen, and turns the myriad of dew- drops upon the overhanging foliage into sparkling diamonds. But there falls upon the ear the rush and roar of water ; and, rounding some wooded promontory, or pine-clad island, the canoe shoots toward a tumbling mass of spray and foam, studded with huge projecting rocks which mark a river rapid. !|lifl!! CANOE LIFE. 35 It is a wild scene of wood and lock and water ; but the voya- geurs advance upon it with a calm assurance. The boiling rapid is nothing to them. All their lives long they have lived among them. They have been the playthings of their early youth, the realities of their middle life, the instinctive habit of their old age. As the canoe approaches the foaming flood, ad- vantage is taken of the back current created by the mad rush of the mid-stream, and flowing backward close to the banks, to push the frail craft as far up the rapid as possible. Then the voyageur in the bow — the important seat in the manage- ment of the canoe — rises upon his knees, and closely scans the wild scene before attempting the ascent. Sinking down again, he seizes the paddle, and pointing significantly to a certain spot in the chaos of boiling waters before him, dashes into the stream. The rushing flood seems to bear the light canoe down with the speed of an arrow ; the water boils and hisses to within an inch of the gunwale ; and to an unaccustomed traveler it seems folly to attempt the ascent. But the skilled canoemen know every feature of the rapid. In the centre of the boiling flood a large black rock rises above the surface. From its lower side a long eddy runs, like the tail of a fish, down the stream. It is just opposite this rock that the canoe leaves the back current, and toward it the voyageurs paddle with all their might. Swept down bj» the force of the stream, however, they just reach the extreme point of the eddy ; but a few vigorous strokes of the paddle float the canoe quietly in the lee of the rock. Here a momentary halt is made — just long enough to 36 THE GREA T FUR LAND. look for another rock. The bowsman again selects one a few yards higher up, and a good deal to one side. The paddles are dipped once more, the canoe heads into the torrent again, and the sheltering eddy of the second rock is soon reached. Yard by yard the rapid is thus ascended, sometimes scarcely gaining a foot a minute, again advancing more rapidly, until at last the light craft floats upon the very lip of the fall, and a long smooth piece of water stretches away up the stream. Frequently the ascent is not made without mishap. Some- times the canoe runs against a stone, and tears a small hole in the bottom. This obliges the voyageurs to put ashore imme- diately and repair the damage. They do it swiftly and with admirable dexterity. Into the hole is fitted a piece of bark ; the fibrous roots of the pine-tree, called "watape," sew it in its place ; a small fire is made and pitch melted, and the place plastered so as to be effectually water-tight, all within the space of an hour. Again, the current is too strong to admit of the use of paddles, and recourse is had to poling, if the stream be shallow, or tracking if the depth of water forbid the use of poles. The latter is an extremely toilsome process, and would detract much from the romance of canoe-life in the wilderness were it not for the beautiful scenery through which the traveler passes. Rapid after rapid is surmounted ; and yet, with every rounding of point and headland, rapids and falls arise in seemingly endless succession. Fairy islets, covered to the very edge of the rippling water with luxuriant vegetation, rise like emeralds from the broad bosom of the river ; white- CANOE LIFE. 37 winged birds sail about the canoes, or rise in graceful circles into the azure sky, and long lines of waterfowl whirr past in rapid flight. But if the rushing or breasting up a rapid is exciting, the operation of shooting them in a birch-bark canoe is doubly so, True, all the perpendicular falls have to be "portaged," and in a day's journey of forty miles, from twelve to fifteen port- ages have to be made. But the rapids are as smooth water to the hardy voyageurs, who, in anything less than a perpendicu- lar fall, seldom lift the canoe from the water. And it is im- possible to find anything in life which so effectually condenses intense nervous excitement into the shortest possible compass of time as does the running of an immense rapid. No toil is required, but as much coolness, skill, and dexterity as man can throw into the work of hand, eye, and head. He must know where to strike and how to do it ; the position of every rock, the sweep of every drop of water, and the combinations which rock and water in relative positions will assume. As the frail birch-bark nears the rapid from above, all is quiet. One cannot see what is going on below the first rim of the rush ; but tiny spirals of spray and the deafening roar of falling water give a fair premonition of what is to be ex- ■ pected. The most skillful voyageur sits on his heels in the bow of the canoe, the next best oarsman similarly placed in the stern. The hand of the bowsman becomes a living intelligence as, ex- tended behind him, it motions the steersman where to turn the craft. The latter never takes his eye off that hand for an in- stant. Its varied exj^ression becomes the life of the canoe. . -it} it! ■ ,«i .1 1 '1 m t m 38 7W£: (7A'£/< r F(//i LAND. The bowsman peers straight ahead with a glance Hke that of an eagle. He has got a rock or splintered stump on shore to steer by, and knows well the only door by which the slope of water can be entered. The canoe, seeming like a cockle- shell in its frailty, silently approaches the rim where the waters disappear from view. On the very edge of the slope the bowsman suddenly stands up, and bending forward his head, peers eagerly down the eddying rush, then falls upon his knees again. Without turning his head for an instant, the sentient hand behind him signals its warning to the steers- man ; then the canoe is in the very rim ; she dips down the slant, shooting her bow clear out of water, and falling hard and flat on the lower incline. Now there is no time for thought ; no eye is quick enough to take in the rushing scene. Here peers a rock just above the surface, there yawns a big green cave of water ; here a place that looks smooth-running for a moment, suddenly opens up into great gurgling chasms sucking down the frail canoe. There are strange currents, unexpected whirls, and backward eddies and rocks — rocks rough and jagged, smooth, slippery, and polished — and through all this the canoe glances like an arrow, dips like a wild bird down the wing of the storm ; now slanting with a strange side motion from a rock, as if with an instinctive shrinking from its presence ; now perched upon the very edge of a green cavern, with one foot almost in a watery grave, as it were ; now breaking through a backward eddy, as if eager to run its wild race. Ofttimes a huge rock, time-stained and worn, stands full in the midst of CANOE LIFE. 39 the channel, seeming to present an obstacle from which escape is impossible. The canoe rushes full toward it, and no human power can ' from being dashed to pieces. Stay ! there is just one power that can do it, and that is provided by the rock itself. No skill of man could run the canoe on to that rock ! The fierce current sjjlits upon it, and a wilder sweep of water rushes off both its polished sides than on to them. The instant the canoe touches that sweep it dashes off with redoubled speed. The jagged rock is a haven of safety com- pared to the treacherous whirlpool and twisting billow. All this time not a word is spoken ; but every now and again there is a quick convulsive twist of the bow paddle to edge far off f ^e rock, to put her full through some boiling billow, to h( r steady down the slope of some thundering chute. All this is wild life if you will ; but how tame and bare the simple narrative of these facts appears beside their actual realization in a north canoe manned by dusky voyageurs ! But the old canoe-life of the Fur Land is rapidly passing away. The unpicturesque Mackinaw boat has usurped the place of the birch-bark canoe, and the forests no longer echo the refrain of the voyageur's boat-song. The passage of three or four canoes once or twice a year is all that breaks the silence of the scene. In many a once well-beaten pathway, nought save narrow trails over the portages, and rough wooden crosses over the graves of travelers who perished by the way, remain to mark the roll of the passing years. ii m P4 rnvr ri'.K m, TMr u.\\,r*»ul vSiutlhcsk. is givon ll\o fiillmvinj^ " V Srou h\«i\n. thowjih with l\\»o ^v.^^ lH^n^ iU\\l b«v\l i\', tho SaskiUnhowan »o»ti^tr\, l»U *l . u\i Ih\ \\»«o A w'sivUMM of Vow K\i\v\\\ i\\u\ cnlovoil Iho c\M^^(v*\\vN cm^^K^v. Whothov as giuilo or hut^tor. \w was wni\xM"Si»nv uvkono\! ono of thoii host tnon, lnnnonsrlv brwui-oK-stwl anv\ nwiMular, thovtgh \\o[ tall, ho \\oigho«i tf\Jih^oo1^-s^o«o : \-eU in spite of his stonttu^ss, ho \va> o\ooovlorful hv^sotuan. ""His face — soovowhat .\^syrian it\ typo — is very hand- sow^e; short, dolioAtc, rt«pnlinc nose; pioroing, ilark-grey «ws : long, dark lm>\vn hair, boarvi. ;\t\d tmjstaohe ; small white, regular tooth : skin tant\o^i to ;v roguhir bronze l)y ex- ^x^snre to the weather. Me was dressed in a bbio-oloth ..;/ . ^hvxxiod frock-cvxu), with brass buttons, red-and-l>lack * Th< term " hilf-bwcvi * is appliot! iiuiiscriwinately in the Fur Land 1.^*11 persvvns hiving ln»i>*n bUxvi in their >'tfin!s and bears no especial i-ifcreitce to .juaniity. In \-«r>- msny instances it is difticuU to tell exactly v^itere d»e h*lf-hi««vi envU and th* white man begins. riih N.utnu/rn I'oswa/afh'. 4« fliiiiiH'l wliiil, whirl) RJMvt'il iihd fni w/ii«tr ( oiil ; liiir'-U'iitlifif tiKM'c'rtNihN Oh IiIn I(H'I, Itldi k Itrll (iiuiiimI IiU vvitin! : lf(»t(ftcrft ol' litowiMiiid-wltilf Hlii|t«'(l liMiiM^ irwido wuoUmi nfiirf." This I'll liin^ of M) Kiiy will do duly, m nil csNcnfirtl )ioiiUN, tiN the ((iiToct iMirlniiliirc of n Iihkc mid d!«»tin«t (\m% of |ii'o|ilr inliidtilin^ tilt' I'll! I.ttlid, ttiiH o( nllt'od over our own iioiiImiii ftdtilicr, finiiiliiitly known km lndf lM((i>ly of fvHul for the «l;iv, loinorrovv hcitig loft to lare for itsch\ Iho iilca of ;te» \un\ili\ting snpplios of provisions in rtdvance, s,ivo in tho late fall, novor apparently enters the half-hree«l minil. If he fails to sceurc snl^icient game or lish for the ilay's pt\>vision, he simply goes without his dinner ; nor do frequent privatit>tvs of this sort seem to impress upon his volatile nund the poliey of reserving of preset\l exeess for future Si-anity. Hut, should he by stune fortuitous < iretnn- strtnee beeotnc possessed o\ a surplus oi salable provision, its ownership beeomes a eonsunting llame to him until disposed of. Th* idea of keeping any thing which he (an sell is an absuulity which his intellect cannot grasp. It is in the winter season, when the cold has put an end to their labors for the most part, and the cares of existence are lightened by reason of advances made them upon the work of the .ipi>roaehing season, or the fair supply of provisions laid by from the last, that the social life of the half-breeds may be said to be at its highest. It is then that they marry and are given in marriage ; that feasting, dancing, and merry-nuikings of all descriptions, do much abound. F,very log-house then echcx's to the violin of some moccasined and straight-haired Paganini, who after years of sedulous i>ractice has attained a certain ghastly facility of execution. It is rumored weekly that, at the residence of Baptiste, or Pascal, or Antoine, there will be given a dance, and the rumor THE ttAtrnffKEn voyaceuk. 49 Ih acrcpU'd iih n ^^cncral invilntifin, 'I'lic yoiin^ Imk kn of llie npighbdi'hood jirrny thcinNflvcH in thr liewilderinK ftjipftrcl which obtainH upon orcaNJoiiH of Ihis nalurr ; a hhic-rloth rapotc, with brass liuttons ; bhuk or drab f nrcbiroy troiiBcm, the icHlhi'tic effect of which Ih dcKtroyed by a variegated sa«h, with fringed ends pendent ab(»iit the knees ; nior < asinH, and a fur cap with gandy tassel. The young maidens apparel thein- selves in sombre prints or woolen stuffs, but with bright- colored shawls about their shoulders. This, with a false lustre ui)on their black locks, from t opious applications rjf grease, is all that is shfiwy about them. The dances are reels and Hfiuarc-dances. When they begin, however, they continue for days at a time ; the younger people occupying the night, and the older ones the day, rc[/airing home to rest, and (hen re- turning. (Uistom makes it obligatory ufion the entertainers to furnish food and li(pu)r for the dancers, and there is a vast consumption of botli. It fre(piently ha[)pens that, fr<;m the numl)er of participants, and the long continuance of the dance, the amount of supplies demanded reduces the host to poverty. We have known rejieated instances where at (me ball, continuing three or four days, the entire winter's provis- ion for a family was consumed, and ponies were sold to pay for the liquor. Yet, the improvident half-breed thinks noth- ing of it, and gives the ball, well knowing the result. He wants either a feast or a famine. If he .spends his substance for others, however, he retaliates by haunting all the festivities of his neighbors during the entire winter. At home, when not engaged in dancing and feasting, or 3 50 THE GREA T FUR LAND. taken up with the sordid and petty cares of his existence, the half-breed smokes and drinks tea. His consumption of tobacco is ceaseless, and his libations of tea would do no discredit to John Chinaman. If he hires out by the day to labor, he spends ten minutes of each hour in filling and lighting his pipe ; if he is voyaging, he halts at every headland or wooded promontory to put his kettle on and drink tea. Of a winter's day he curls up by his neighbor's fire, and smokes and i elates his adventures. His life has run in a limited channel, but he knows every point in its course. Virtues may have abounded in it, but cakes and ale have much more abounded. But we may learn from it that many admirable things are consonant with an entire ignorance of books. When the ploughing is done in the spring-time, and the seed in the ground, the half-breed agriculturist experiences a yearning for the chase, or goes to fulfill his engagement as voyageui . If the former, the fractured wooden carts are bound up with rawhide thon;^s, the broken-spirited ponies coaxed into a semblance of life and vigor, the dusky progeny packed in with boxes and blankets, the house locked up, and the migra- tory family set forth for the prairie or stream. With the first pitching of the wigwam the manners and customs of civilized life cease, and the half-breed assumes the habits of a savage. He hunts for the pot ; for this spring-time chase is simply to obtain daily subsistence while his meagre crops mature. His tent is encountered in the usual Indian haunts — by the side of a stream or lake, or half hidden in some timber-bluff on the prairie. He has become a nomad pure and simple. But, THE HALF-BREED VOYAGEUR. 51 when the harvest-time approaches, he returns again to his miniature farm. In a negligent manner his crop is gathered and thrashed. Reserving barely sufficient for the winter's needs, the remainder is sold, and with the proceeds an outfit for the long fall hunt is purchased. Perhaps, if they can be obtained on credit, a few goods are selected for trade with his savage brethren. Again, with his family, he seeks the prairie and stream, and hunts for his winter's food, trading betimes for such furs as may yield a profit. Later in the fall he returns to his winter's residence, adds a few repairs to its leaky roof, plasters up the interstices in its log walls, and settles down to hibernal monotony and the dance. If the half-breed is a voya^eur or guide, the task of culti- vating the garden-plot is left to the members of his family, if he have one, the season of his service being the summer and fall months. For the most part, however, little or no planting is done by this class. They rely for support on a system of advances, which obtains with the trading corporations of the wilderness. Engagements are generally made in the month of December for a certain trip or amount of service, either boat- ing or land freighting, to be performed during the ensuing season. A small advance is made the voyageur at that time, to bind the bargain, as it were. When the meal becomes low in the measure and the wine gone from the jar, he repairs to his employers, and at times receives small advances. If he is economical — which he seldom or never is — these advances may eke him out a scanty subsistence until spring and labor arrive. The probabilities are, however, that he is prodigal, has his 52 THE GREA T FUR LAND. «li feast, and then lives, in want and squalor, upon any refojc that may come to hand. Nevertheless, he accepts the situation as a matter of course, and is light-hearted through it all. At the opening of navigation he receives another advance, which is quickly spent ; then takes his place on the benches of an inland boat or canoe, pulls an oar hundreds of miles into the interior, and crosses long portages with the huge packages of the cargo strapped to his back. Over vast and trackless wil- dernesses echoes his monotonous boat-song ; on many a bleak promontory shine his camp-fires ; and isolated posts waken into life and joy for one day in the year at his coming. His journey made, and the cargoes exchanged with boats from yet farther inland, or distributed at the numerous forts on the way, the voyageur returns home again, receives the remnant of his wages, to be dissipated in the shortest possible time ; then relapses into a condition of uncertain sparring with destiny for diurnal sustenance. If he be freighter, the life is essentially the same : merely exchanging the boat for the wooden carts, creaking their way in long lines over the plains, like a caravan in the desert. His days are spent in toil, his nights in fighting stinging insects, or shivering in the cold and wet. But his good-nature never tires ; his pipe is smoked in quiet satisfaction under all cir- cumstances, and no occasion is too serious to prevent the per- petration of his practical joke. The tastes of the half-breed are of a decided sort, and essentially like those of other mixed races. In apparel, he is fond of color, and, in most instances, exhibits good taste in THE HALF-BREED VOYAGEUR. 53 the combinations he effects. Ornaments, too, are held in great favor, quality not being so much sought for as quantity. In this regard, however, there is a marked decadence from the extravagant ornamentation of former days. We remember when the arrival of the plain-hunters at our border-posts was the signal of a dress-parade which, if lacking in artistic merit, amply atoned by its rainbow hues and constellations of tawdry jewelry. Ofttimes the entire profits of a season's trade would be invested in highly-colored wearing-apparel and cheap jewelry, in which the hunter decked his tawny family and him- self, and paraded the adjoining camps, with all the pride of a Hottentot chief. It was a brave and pleasant show, neverthe- less, to see these athletic men and supple and graceful women, arrayed in holiday attire, galloping swiftly and lightly over the green prairies. Unfortunately, after this parade of bravery, the demon of thirst would seize them, and, if liquor was attainable, the rivalry of dress was succeeded by a rivalry of drink, ending in a low debauch ; for, in his tastes and appe- tites, our half-brother follows the maternal root. The religion of the half-breed is the creed of superstition. Roman Catholic in the main, he adds to its formulas a shadowy belief in the Great Spirit. He acknowledges a purgatory, yet fondly hopes thnt in the next world human shades will hunt the shade ot L n. ^ and other animals which have lived here. W^ lies, he '^opes to be carried to the bosom of the St . yet he feci lat his shade will linger four nights round the pi 'ce c\ his decease ere taking its flight to the village of the dead. He believes i sign'^ and omens to some extent, and m t, lYJi i «' U' 1 1 \ 54 T//£ GREA T FUR LAND. ties a certain number of feathers to his horse's tail, or paints rude emblems on his bark canoe, to increase their s])eed. Nevertheless, he yields implicit obedience to his priest, and obeys, in his volatile way, the traditions of his Church ; but, over all, cherishes a dim faith in the shades of shadow-land. it THE HA LF- BREED VO YA GE UR. 55 p l! CHATTKR IV. THE Hudson's hay comi'any. "P7i)R more than two cenlmios Hritisli North America has -*- been occupied by the Hudson's Bay Company, which has turned the country to the best account possible by utilizing the sole portion of its wealth which, on account of the barbarous nature of the reijion and its almost imparalleled completeness of isolation, could be profitably exported. This is its furs. At various periods attempts hiive been made to give an im- petus to the pursuit of other branches of industry by the formation of suborainate companies ; but, like the dwellings of the region, such institutions have hitherto held their exist- ence by a frail tenure, amounting almost to an artificial life. The fur-trade alone possesses strong vitality. And although this branch of industry, in its relations to the few small settle- ments of the country, has been much and most ignorantly abused by one-sided reasoners, of late years, as the all-de- vouring monster which monopolizes the resources of the terri- tory, yet the fairer course would be to describe it as the motive spring which gives life to anything in the way of business existing there. Furs compose the only species of merchandise in the countr>- the export of which is remunerative, and, with- out them, even what market exists for other commodities THE HUDSON'S BA Y COAfPANV 57 would speedily disappear. In fuel, the inlluence of the trade permeates all (lasses ; everybody talks fur, and every avail- able pusitidti in the accessible parts of the territory is seized tipon l>y free-traders for the collection of peltries, Hut while many arc gathered in this way, and traders speedily grow rich, (heir furs form scarcely a drop in the bucket when com- pared to the vast collections of the Hudson's Hay Company, It is only a vast corporation, posscHsed of unlimited means, long experience, and immense facilities for transportation, that can hope to comjiete with this last great monopoly. It is, of course, to be expected that, as the wave of po|)U- lation rolls westward, the agricultural and other latent re- sources possessed by the immense territory will be developed, and the fortunes of the dwellers in that remote region no longer depend solely upon the success of the warfare main- tained by the Indian against the wild beasts of the North ; but it is undeniable that, until the present decade, the trade which from a single department alone brings annually to the English market an average value of ^150,000 in furs, and in the aggregate furnishes the world with three-fourths of its pel- tries, has presented the only means of commercially benefiting the aboriginal tribes, or of turning to profitable account the inaccessible regions over which its operations extend. The Hudson's Bay Company is a wheel within a wheel, consisting of the company proper, which furnishes the capital stock, and the partnership of the Fur Trade, which is em- ployed to carry out the actual workings of the business. Under the charter, the supreme control of its affairs is vested 3' fj m m 58 T//£ GREA T FUR LAND. I::! !ii||l MM in a Board consisting of a Governor, Deputy Governor and Committee of five Directors, all annually chosen by the stockholders at a meeting held each November at the compa- ny's house in London. These functionaries delegate their authority to an officer resident in their American possessions, called the Governor-in-chief of Rupert's Land, who acts as their representative. His commission extends over all their colonial possessions, and his tenure of office is unlimited as regards time. Sir George Simpson, the Arctic explorer, in company with Dease, was the first person appointed to fill this high office, which was instituted immediately after the coalition of the Hudson's Bay and Northwest Companies in 1 82 1. Previous to that date the various districts had been ruled by numerous petty officers, subject to no efficient control, and practically answerable to none for abuse of povver. The authority of the Governor-in-chief is supreme, except during the session of his council, which is held once a year, and continues its formal sittings for two or three days. The Governor is president or chairman of this council, at which he represents the interests of the Board of Directors in Eng- land. It is called the " Council for the Northern Department of Rupert's Land," yet it assumes a general authority over all other departments, and, to quote the words of the preamble to its official minutes, it convenes " for the purpose of establish- ing rules and regulations for conducting the business of said department, and in order to investigate the trade of the past year." As before stated, a council for the Northern department THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY, 59 is held every year, and at it the Governor-in-chief is invaria- bly present ; but he, also, from time to time, has held coun- cils for other departments, though his usual plan is to leave the details to be managed by competent ofificials on the spot, and, by correspondence, exercise a general jurisdiction over the trade. His council is composed of the highest rank of officers in the service, called Chief Factors, whose duty and right is to sit at its meetings whenever their attendance is practicable. Members of the second rank of commissioned officers, called Chief Traders, when they can arrange to be present, are also requested to sit in the council, which is held with closed doors, and when so invited, the traders are permitted to debate and vote equally with the factors. The chief factors and chief traders together constitute the partnership in what is called the " Fur Trade." From this the profits of the Hudson's Bay Company may be said to be entirely derived ; it con- stitutes the means by which the company avails itself of the right to trade, which it possesses in its territories. Vacan- cies in its ranks are immediately filled up as they occur from the death or retirement of its members, the qualification necessary to obtain the commission being a majority of the votes of all the chief factors. The candidates for a factor- ship are necessarily traders, while those for a vacant trader- ship are from the ranks of salaried clerks, seldom of less than fourteen years' standing in the service. The members of the Fur Trade, also called " Wintering Partners," furnish none of the capital stock, and receive their commissions merely as the reward of long and faithful service. I I I : f - . ' ■■- } 1 ■ ; \ '■■'■ . 1 ■% I 60 7'HE GREA T FUR LAND. Their pay is a definite number of shares of stock, never ex- ceeding a certain limit. Of these, a chief factor possesses two, and a chief trader one, so that their emoluments are directly affected by the fluctuations of the trade equally with those of other stockholders. While the Fur Trade is recognized as a partnership by the company, yet it is allowed no distinct or- ganization. No annual election of officers forming anything like the company's London Board takes place among the part- ners of the Fur Trade, who, scattered over the vast territories of the coTtipany, could not, under existing circumstances, take united action in any matter, how nearly soever it might affect their corporate interests. The only approximation to a com- mon action which exists is afforded by the meeting of the annual council, at which all factors within practicable distance are entitled, and traders, under similar circumstances, invited to attend. The partners in the Fur Trade are, moreover, allowed no representative at the company's house in London. An annual dispatch, bearing the signatures of the Board, and treating of the different matters of interest then pending in connection with the company's affairs, is addressed each year to the council of the Northern Department, and is answered by its president. But this constitutes the sole occasion in which the company as a body approaches the Fur Trade as a body in the whole course of their business. On the other hand, the Board in London has a special representative in the Fur Trade in the person of the Governor-in-chief. He is president of all councils of officers held in the country, and there is no in- stance of his being outvoted by any such body. THE HUD JON'S BA Y COMPANY. 6i Under these circumstances it is scarcely to be wondered at that an occasional murmur arises from the partners in the Fur Trade, when a series of unfortunate years has brought them but little remuneration. Still, upon the whole, the rela- tions of the two bodies aie harmonious, and the wintering partner is well paid for his labor. With the exception of personal clothirg the company furnishes everything, even to the paid clerk and the men under him. The partners in the Fur Trade hold their rights as a body, with respect to the stockholders of the company, in virtue of a deed-poll, dated 1834, under which the commissions to in- dividuals are issued. These commissions, held from the company, entitle the officers holding them to their share in the profits and all the other privileges they enjoy.* The vast operations of the company, extending over so great an extent of territory, with establishments remotely con- nected, and at times only accessible by the accident of favor- able stages of water, demand an army of employes, in each of whom the prosecution of its peculiar business necessitates certain well-defined mental and physical characteristics, and a rigid training in the duties pertaining to his situation. No mere neophyte assumes even a minor command in the com- pany's affairs ; and the fortunate winner of a higher station must invariably be well qualified for his place by long identi- fication with its active duties as well as traditions. Although itself an entirely English corporation, its officers in the fur * For most of the information contained in the foregoing pages of this chapter, the author is indebted to the valuable work on " Red River," by J. J. Hargrave, F. R. G. S. T i^^HHTiB If iii 'lii:. I" iii 111!'' liH"! 62 7'//£ (7i^-£// T' FUA' LAND. country arc nearly all natives of Scotland and the Orkneys. More than one consideration, probably, contributed its weight in the selection of this nationality as its working representatives, viz., their proverbial shrewdness and propen- sity for barter ; their generally vigorous physique and love of adventurous life ; a steady perseverance in the attainment of an end ; close economy, and the giving and receiving of the last half-penny in trade ; and, above all, a certain Presbyte rian honesty begotten of the Established Kirk, Successful applicants for place in the company's service — a service highly esteemed and much sought after in " pla- cing," the youth of the well-to-do Scotch boiirgcoisc — are en- listed invariably at an early age — generally from sixteen to eighteen — having first pa'ssed a rigid scrutiny as regards educa- tional attainments, moral character, and, above all, physical build ; and having, moreover, tendered such letters of recom- mendation as. could not well fail of success. The nominal term of enlistment is five years, although the more direct un- derstanding is that the applicant shall devote his life to the trade — an event which happens in nearly every instance, the style of living being calculated to unfit him for active duty in any other vocation. With the arrival of the annual requisi- tion for additional help from the fur country, the accepted applicant is notified to hold himself in readiness, and sails for York Factory, on the Bay coast, by return packet. With his departure his salary begins. The magnificent sum of ;^2o per annum is his, together with rations, quarters, etc., and personal clothing from the company's shops at cost and ten THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. 63 per cent. As this latter expenditure is the only one he is obliged to make, or, indeed, can well be tempted to indulge in, the bulk of his yearly stipend remains from year to year in the hands of his employer at compound interest. Arrived at York Factory, he is generally sent to pass the first five or ten years of his apprenticeship in the extreme northern districts of Mackenzie River and Athabaska. This is done that he may at once be cut off from anything having a tendency to distract him from his duties ; in order, also, to be drilled in the practical working of the Indian trade ; and because of an established rule in the service which starts the apprentice at isolated posts in remote districts, bringing him up finally in the great depot forts on the borders of civiliza- tion, thus acquainting him with every duty pertinent to the trade. The occupations of his first years are those of sales- man behind the counter in the trading-shop, and an occa- sional trip with the half-breed traders attached to the post to the various Indian cai s in the vicinity for the barter of good? for peltries. The cultivation of the Spartan virtue of truth also obtains, no misrepresentations being permitted in order to effect sales in that service. In the discharge of such minor duties a few years glide uneventfully away, and the next advancement brings him to the accountant's office. Upon the assumption of this position he passes in the race for promotion another class of apprentices, probably enlisted at the same date as himself, known as "postmasters." These are generally natives of the country, half-breeds of the better class for the most part, yet lacking the requisite education to V. Ill' m G4 r//£ GKEAT FUA' LAND. successfully compete with the Scotch importations. They are older men, as a rule, and are assigned the duty of superintend- ing the lal)t)ring men, of whom each post has its complement, and have, in fact, a general supervision of the rougher details of the trade ; but are entitled, nevertheless, to the title of com- pany's gentlemen, as distinguishing them from the lower order of employes entirely outside the line of promotion. The advancement of a postmaster is necessarily slow, and they seldom atyiin a position higher than that of clerk in charge of a small post, although instances are on record where high place has been reached, and filled with much credit and pecun! iry profit. At the accountant's desk the apprentice — now known as a clerk — remains generally until fourteen years of service have elapsed, unless placed in charge of a fort, other than a depot, as chief clerk. During this period he has been, in most in- stances, gradually nearing the great forts forming the depots of supplies and forwarding, or the headquarters of a district, by a series of transfers from the unimportant and remote posts whence he started to those still larger and more con- tiguous to the desired centre. His salary, too, has increased from;^2o to ;^ioo. He has lived entirely in the mess-rooms of the posts at which he resided ; his associations have been with his elders and superiors in the ranks of the service ; his conversation for years has been for the most part upon sub- jects relative to the trade ; its traditions have become familiar to him, its routine almost a second nature ; his habits of life are fixed, and sit so easily upon him as to suggest no desire THE HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. 6$ for change ; in short, he has fallen so completely into the groove, become so much a part of the machinery of the trade, and so totally unacquainted with the requirements of any other business, as to render a change both imj^olitic and im- possible. His ambition points but one way — to a higher rank in the service he has chosen. He pictures to himself, doubt- less, in a vague and misty way, a certain far-off day when, with the accumulations of years, he will return to the world ; never thinking that the world he will find will prove so strange and bizarre that a cursory glance will frighten him back to his solitudes again. At the expiration of fourteen years of service, if a vacancy occur, the clerk steps from the ranks of salaried employ(Js into the partnership of the Fur Trade, and assumes the title of chief trader. Upon the assumption of this dignity, in place of a yearly stipend, his emoluments take the form of "X pro rata of the annual profits of the trade, and he is appointed to the command of some important post. Here his duties are a gen- eral oversight of the business immediately connected with the establishment and vicinity. The thorough practical knowledge of all the petty details of the business, acquired in the years of his previous service, enable him to judge of their correct performance by those now under him. He has now, also, an opportunity of devising new methods of increasing the trade, of developing pet projects previously conceived, and of adding proportionately to his own share of profit. The field opened before him is sufficiently wide for the employment of all his energies, and the desire to rival his compeers is necessarily m 06 . r//£ GKEA T FUR LAND. strong. H<' still retains in his new position the usual allow- am 1. s of food, quarters, etc., from the ( onii)any, as in the days of his clerkship ; but the feeling that his pecuniary emolu- ments in n measure depend U|)on his own energies, adds new life and vigor to his movements. He becomes alert, restless, active, and indulges in much speculation relative to the in- crease of trade, until death or retirement opens the way for entrance into the ranks of chief factors — the highest class of otticials known to the service. In the exercise of the functions of this oflice he assumes control of a district — in many instances as large as a European kingdom — with headquarters at the largest fort within its limits, and a general supervision over all other posts. He directs the course of trade, erects new establishments, orders the necessary outfits for the year, suggests needed reforms to the council, and in his capacity as chief magistrate of his principality, rules supreme. He has attained the summit of the ladder, with the exception perhaps of governorship, and can rest secure. The accumulations of many years, which he has had little op- portunity of spending, have by this time placed him beyond the reach of pecuniary care, and he finally resigns upon half l)ay, to visit the scenes of his youth for a season, then to return and pass the remainder of his days in the far settlements of the isolated country where his life has been spent. As a man, the wintering partner is eminently social, and given to a generous hospitality. His years of isolation have only served to render him the more gregarious when opportu- nity presents. He throws his doors open to the congenial TlfE HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. ^7 id lal \ stranger, setting apart a room for his use, or W' '' ' i^itf 70 r//-£ CA-i^:/^ 7' /V 'y? LAND. Confidence, on Bear Lake, exceeds 1350 geographical miles, and the space between the company's posts on the Labrador coast, or their station at Sault Ste. Marie, and Fort Simpson, on the Pacific, measures more than 2500 miles. The area of country under its immediate influence is about four and a half million square miles, or more than one-third greater than the whole extent of Kurope. This vast hunting country is every- where sprinkled over with lakes, and in all directions inter- sected by rivers and lesser streams, abounding with edible fish. East of the Rocky Mountains are vast prairies over which roams the bison, lord of the plains ; while west of these mountains the land in densely tit. bereU. The most northerly station, east of the Rocky Mountains, is on the Mackenzie River, within the Arctic circle ; so terribly intense is the cold at this point that axes tempered specially can alone be used for cutting and splitting wood, ordinary hatchets breaking as though made of glass. West of the Rockies, the most north- ernly station is Fort Simp.son, situated near the Sitka River, the boundary between Alaska and British Columbia. Throughout this vast extent of territory, a regular com- munication is kept up between the Governor and the numer- ous scattered posts, and supplies are forwarded to all the dis- tricts with a regularity and exactness truly wonderful. The chartered territories and circuit of commercial rela- tions of the Hudson's Bay Company are divided into vast sec- tions, named the Northern, Southern, Montreal and Western departments. Of these the Northern department is situated between Hudson's Bay and the Rocky Mountains ; the South- Tin-: HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. 71 ern, between J-inies' Bay and Canada, comprehending, also, East Main, on the eastern v:oas( of Hudson's Bay. The Mon- treal department (■oni])rehen(ls the extent of the business in the Canadas, while the Western comprises the regions west from the Rocky Mountains, '['he depots to which supplies frf)m the civilized world are periodically sent, and which form the keys of these various sections, are York Factory, in the Northern department ; Moose Factory, in the Southern ; Mon- treal, in the Canadas, and Victoria, Vancouver's Island, in the West. In the Northern department, which includes the grand bulk of the chartered territo.ies, in which alone, until recently, the burden of government fell upon the company, the most important interests of the business are concentrated. Its vast extent necessitates . ' pot for the " inland districts," which exists at Norway House, on Lake Winnipeg ; and many causes have combined to render Fort Garry, in which are stored the goods passing over the United States route, the centre of business, and a large depot for the " plain districts." It is also the residence of the Governor-in-chief, and the headquarters of the civil service of the company, while York Factory, on Hudson's Bay, is the headquarters of the accountants' depart- ment. These four departments are again divided into smaller por- tions called districts, of which there are fifty-three, and each of which is under the direction of a siq:)erintending ofificer. These again are sub-divided into one hundred and fifty-two minor establishments, forts, posts, and outposts. There is connected witli each district a depot to which all the supplies 72 THE GREA T FUR LAND. \ t! Si I :fi.. ii; ! •il for the district are forwarded periodically, and to which all the furs and produce from the forts are sent to be shipped to England. Some of the dej)ot forts have a complement of thirty or forty men, mechani.':s, laborers, servants, etc.; but most of them have only ten, five, four, or even two, besides the superintending officer. As in most instances a space of forest or plain, varying from fifty to three hundred miles in length, intervenes between each of these establishments, and the in- habitants have only the society of each other, some idea may be formed of the solitary lives led by many of the company's servants. But every man knows his place and his work ; the laws regulating their duties are clearly defined and well under- stood, and are enforced with a strictness and rigor truly mili- tary or naval. Hence the harmonious working of the whole extensive and complicated machinery, and the wonderful financial results of its operation.-. The term fort, as applied to the trading-posts of the Fur Land, is strictly applicable to but two ; most of them do not merit the name. The only two in the cou'nrv ♦hat, are real, bona-fide forts, are Upper and Lower Fort Garry, in the Province of Manitoba. The others are merely half-a-dozen frame buildings defended by wooden pickets or stockades; and a few, wh^re the Indians are quiet and harmless, are en- tirely destitute of defence of any kind. Upper Fort Garry, as the residence of the Governor, and the central post of the Northern department, may be considered the most im- portant fort of the company. Its business consists of trading goods for cash, furs, or country produce ; of forwarding the THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. 7i supplies for certain large districts to their destination in the interior, and of banking and transacting a variety of business with the inhabitants of the settlement round about. The means by which these affairs are carried on consist of a bonded warehouse, a sale-shop, a general office, and sundry stores for pemmican and other articles of a special nature. Each of these departments is furnished with its staff of clerks, ware- house-men and laborers. Lower Fort Garry, more commonly called the Stone Fort, in allusion to the material of which its houses are constructed, is perhaps a better sample of the larger posts of the company than any within the ordinary range of travel. It is situated on the west bank of the Red River of the North, about twenty miles from the foot of Lake Winnipeg. The banks in this locality are very high, and, in consequence, the fort is favorably situated for the avoidance of floods during periods of inundation, by no means of infrequent occurrence. The business of the estab- lishment, which is one of the subordinate posts of the Red River district, consists of farming, retail dealing, and boat- freighting. At this post, during the summer months, boat- brigades are outfitted for the trip to York Factory and other posts inland. The buildings consist of officers' and servants* dwellings, shops and stores. These are all inclosed within a stone wall, embracing an area of about one and a half acre, and pierced through its entire circuit with a tier of loop- holes. Entering through the huge gateway pierced in the centre 4 ■ji'l A' 1 "; ■ V4\ 74 T//£ GREA T FUR LAND. of the east wall, facing the river, the first view is of the res- idence of the chief trader in command, and also of the clerks and upper class of employes under his charge. It is a long two-story stone building, with a broad piazza encircling it on three sides. A square plot of green sward surrounding it is fenced in with neat railing, and kept in extremely good order. A broad gravel walk leads from the gateway to the piazza. Huge shade trees border it, and beds of waving and fragrant flowers load the business air with their perfume. In this building the mess of the chief and his subordinates is held. Its hospitalities are extended in good old English style. A room is set apart for the use of the transient guest, who is free to come and go as he lists. With the exception of the residence of the chief trader in charge, the buildings of the fort follow the course of the walls, and, facing inward, form a hollow square. Following this order, immediately at the left of the gateway is the trad- ing-stoie, dev ■; .d solely to the sale of goods. A large stone structure of three stories, it has vnthin its walls nearly every article us.d in that climate. The sales-room is a square apartment, with no attempt at ornament, no plaster, the ceil- ing merely the joists and flooring of the second flat, thickly studded with nails and hooks, from which are suspended various articles of trade. Along the side walls are box shelves, nearly two feet deep. On the floor within the counter are piled bales of goods, bundles of prints, hardware, etc. ; and this space within the counter comprises almost the entire room. A small area is railed off near the door, sufii- THE HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. 75 e y d X He imi 1 1 t '< : ; ■■ i ^H. 1 '' H Iff { \ ; i !!l i tlif ^ I>1 il>t 1 H ,;.(■■ i ■ ■ li: ' ' '■ ■ li> ■ ' ^^^1 H!:.;- pi jPi'. 76 T//£ CJiEA T FUR LAND, ciently large to hold twenty standing customers. When this is filled, the remaining patrons must await their turn in the courtyard; and it is not at all an unusual sight to see from fifty to one hundred people standing quietly about outside until their time comes to be served. The best goods of all manufactures alone are sold here. No shoddy or inferior goods are ever imported or sold by the company. Every- thing is purchased direct from producers, and of a stipulated (luality. The principal articles of trade are tea, sugar, calico, blankets, ammunition, fishing-gear, and a kind of cloth, very thick and resembling blanketing, called dufile. Coffee is rarely sold, and green tea is almost unknown, the black only being used. Raw spirits are sold to a large extent in the posts immediately contiguous to settlements. In former times the sale of this latter article was permitted only upon two days of the year. On Christmas and the Queen's birth- day each head of a family was permitted to purchase from the stores of the company, upon an order countersigned by the Governor, one pint of spirits. In the event of spirits beirg required for medicinal purposes, the signature of both Governor and attending physician were necessary. Amidst this stock of merchandise, composed in so great a part of staple articles, may be found, nevertheless, an as- sortment of dress goods ^nd gewgaws over a century old — old-time ruffs, stomachers, caps and whatnot; garments of antique cut and trim, articles of vertu, and apparel long since out of vogue are mixed up in a heterogeneous mass. What a day of delights and surprises would it prove to the ladies m THE HUDSON'S BA V C KMPANY. 77 of the present age lo toss and tumble all that collection of decayed finery ! Yet, doubtless, much would be found (fpro- pos to the reigning fashions ; for here, too, may be purchased the latest styles of wear upon Cheapside and Regent's Park — kid gloves at fabulously low prices ; made-up silks, Paris- ian bonnets, delicate foot gear, etc., with near neighbors of huge iron pots, copper cauldrons, and iron implements of grim aspect and indefinite weight, together with ships' cordage, oakum, pitch, and other marine necessities. Over this dis- pensary of needfuls and luxuries presides an accountant and two clerks, none of them gotten up in the elaborate costumes of the counter-waiters of civilization, but rather affecting buckskin coats, corduroy trousers, and the loudest styles of flannel shirts. Here all the multitudinous accounts of the fort are kept, a statement forwarded quarterly to the chief post of the district, and from thence sent to the company's great house in Fenchurch street, London. In the store there is no such thing known as exhibiting goods with a view of increasing the purchases of a probable customer. Whatever is asked for is produced, and, being paid for, the customer is ignored at once ; his room is evidently better than his company. There is, however, no need to urge the majority of its patrons to purchase. The nomadic half- breed or Indian brings his money, or whatever he may have to exchange, wrapped carefully in a handkerchief, places it upon the counter and begins to trade. First, he purchases what he absolutely needs ; then, whatever he sees — candy, chewing-gum, fancy ties — in short, anything that tastes sweet 1 i i iiil llii If ST. . !! m I y 78 T//£ GREA T fUR LAND. or looks flashy. When all is spent, to the last halt-penny, he trudges off with his happy wife — his invariable companion when shopping — quite contentedly, although probably in doubt where his next meal is to come from.* The currency with which business was transacted, until quite recently, consisted chiefly of promissory notes, issued by the company, redeemable by bills of exchange granted at sixty days' sight on the Governor, Deputy Governor and Committee in London. The notes were, however, readily re- deemed in coin at Fort Garry, without deduction for dis- count, whenever presented ; and being more easily carried than coin, bore a corresponding value in the eyes of the in- habitants of the territory. It is reported that General Pope, when resident on duty as an officer of engineers, many years ago, at Pembina, having observed the preference evinced by the settlers for the company's notes, more than for American gold, actually instanced it to the Government as a symptom of the degraded state of ignorance in which the unhappy colonists were kept by the Hudson's Bay Company. The notes are about the size of a half-sheet of letter paper, and are of three denominations — one pound sterling, five shillings sterling and one shilling sterling. Besides these, liowever, there is a good deal of English and American gold and silver coin in circulation in the country. Leaving the trading-store, a succession of warehouses containing stores and supplies, is next encountered. The last * The aspect of Lower Fort Garry, as well as the character of the business trnnsacted there, has undergone considerable modification within the last decade. THE HUDSON'S BAY COMPANY. 79 and most massive building, near the gateway, is the ware- house of packages destined for posts inland. These are goods imported from England and other countries, and to be used in the fur-trade exclusively. In this vast bulk of merchan- dise there is not a single package of over one hundred pounds weight. The greater portion weigh but eighty or ninety pounds, strongly packed, the cases lined with zinc and bound with iron. The packages are of this limited weight from the necessity of " portaging " them from river to river, sometimes a long distance, upon the shoulders of boatmen ; and they must be strong in order to insure safe transport over a thou- sand or more miles of rough travel. Twice annually this warehouse is emptied by the departure of the boat-brigades for the interior, and as often replenished by shipment from England. Summer is the busy season, as then all the freight- ing is carried on, and the accounts for the year closed. It is also a time of much bustle, created by the constant arrivals and departures which take place at so central a point as Fort Garry, in a country where locomotion may be called the nor- mal condition of the majority of the people during the sum- mer months. The wall surrounding the fort is about twelve feet high, and flanked by two-story bastions or turrets at each corner. In the centre of the inclosure rises an immense double flag- staff, bearing the flag of the company, with its strange design, and still stranger motto, "'' Pro pelle cutem" — skin for skin. Near by stands the bell tower, at the signal of whose tones work begins and ends. When it announces the dinner hour IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 ii^lilM 1^ flu u Hi! 1^ ^ 1^ 2.0 1.8 U III 1.6 m ^ /a ^1 ^ ■> ''F.* UC r" Sciences brporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ,\ ,v % A \ ^9) V ^A. ^"^ ,*•, im lill I!!' I' ;. li 80 T//£ GREA T FUR LAND. the trading-store is closed, and the customers are turned out to await the return of the clerks. Outside the walls of the fort, but belonging tO it, is situ- ated a miniature village of many and varied industries. In neat dwellings reside the heads of the different departments of what may be termed the outdoor business of the company. Here dwells the chief engineer of all the steam power in use upon its ships, boats, mills, etc. Here also lives the farmer who directs the cultivation of the immense agricultural farm connected with the fort ; the herdsman, who superintends the rearing and care of the droves of cattle, horses and other stock of the corporation ; the miller in charge of the milling interests ; the shipwright, who directs the building, launch- ing and refitting of the company's fleet. In the rear of these dwellings are mess-rooms for the accommodation of the workmen and the residences of the different overseers. Separate a little stand the flouring-mills, brewery, ship-yards, machine shops, etc., all supplied with the latest labor-saving machinery. Scattered along the bank of the river lie moored or drawn up on the beach the miniature navy of the company; here a lake steamer, there river steamboats, then schooners, yachts and a whole school of whale boats, with one mast, un- stepped at will, and of three and a half tons burden, used in the freighting service, and requiring nine men as crew. Drawn upon the beach lie birch-bark canoes of all sizes and conditions, from the little one of a single passenger capacity to the long dispatch boat requiring thirteen navigators. The steam vessels are mostly manned by Americans ; the sailing THE HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. 8l •'nl craft by the Orkney servants of the company, and the whale- boats by the native half-breeds. The birch-bark canoe is the Indian's buggy. One or two steam-tugs whistle and puff rapidly up and down the stream, towing rafts of lumber, boats laden with limestone, fire-wood, etc. The remaining sur- roundings of the fort are made up of a well kept vegetable garden, extensive stock corrals and a large farm under per- fect cultivation. At a distance of some twenty miles, at the foot of Lake Winnipeg, among the marshes and lowlands, are the cattle ranches of the company. There the stock is herded during the summer and housed in winter, being only driven to the uplands during the spring and fall freshets. The generally high price of cattle makes stock-raising extremely profitable, and the wandering life attendant upon their care is particu- larly suited to the native herdsmen. The stock is co'llected every spring and branded, and such a number selected as may be required for work purposes during the summer months. Oxen are used for freighting to a large extent ; trains of several hundred, harnessed singly in carts, crossing the prairies, being not an unusual sight. The majority of the large forts in the Southern country have their stockyards and farms, and the amount of wealth accumulated in this way is enormous. The business transacted at the Stone Fort, if we 'except freighting and some minor details of the fur-trade, may be presented as a fair sample of that carried on at the majority of the large posts contiguous to settlements ; and its archi- 4* 82 THE GREA T FUR LAND. lecture and surroundings, if wood be substituted for stone, identically the same. But the great depot posts in the North are of another character, and of one we wish to speak. Churchill Factory is situated about five miles from Hud- son's Bay, upon a small bay on the Churchill River, and above it, extending a distance of seven miles, to the lower rapids, is a large marsh. The factory receives its supplies once a year from a vessel which arrives in the latter part of August or early in September, and starts back upon her homeward voyage after a delay of about ten days, the se- verity of the climate rendering it imprudent to make a longer stay. By the middle of November the Churchill is enchained in ice, on which even the spring tides, though they rise ten or twelve feet above the ordinary level, have no effect. Not till the middle of June does the sun, getting the mastery of the frost, compel it to release its hold and let the river flow on its course. By the middle of October the marshes and swamps are frozen over, and the earth covered with snow. By the latter end of December snow covers the stockade which surrounds the factory from six to ten feet deep. Through this mass pathways about five feet in width are cut. Late in April the snow begins to melt away. From the end of October to the end of April, it is possible to walk only upon snow-shoes. In such a climate, much of what is done by the white inhabitants has a direct reference to their self-preservation. Before annual supplies of coal were forwarded from England, all the fuel that could be collected in the neighborhood of the |!l)Miiii' )(i THE HUDSON'S BA V COMPANY. 83 factory was barely sufficient to supply a single fire in the morning and evening. During the remainder of the day the only recourse of the company's servants, when the weather was bad, was to walk in the guard-room under the protection of heavy coats of fur. By a stroke of ingenuity ice was turned into a means of protection against the piercing cold. The interior walls of the house were covered with water, which froze into solid ice. This lining was found to hold firm until the general thaw of spring came. In the intensity of frost, rocks, into the crevices of which water has run, split with a report resembling that of a gun. Everywhere they are punctured and riven from the effects of freezing water. The return of spring and summer, after a long, gloomy winter, in this region, is like an awakening to a new life. The welcome change is thoroughly enjoyed. Summer treads so closely upon the heels of winter as scarcely to leave any standing ground for spring. One of the great drawbacks to the enjoyment of the summer consists in the myriads of mosquitoes that fill the air, and give the weary dwellers no rest day or night. They crowd in such numbers at Churchill Factory as to appear to crush one another to death ; and the victims are sometimes in such piles that they have to be swept out twice every day. Nothing but a northeast wind, carrying the chill from the ice over which it has passed, gives relief from these tormentors. As a cure for mosquito bites, the natives anoint themselves with sturgeon oil — an effective remedy, but one requiring to be often applied. Nor is man alone the only victim of these insects. They prey equally Ml 84 THE GREA T FUR LAND. '!! ! .ill upon animals of various kinds; even the feathered tribe, so far from being safe, suffer about the neck and eyes. No per- manent relief can be expected until the chilly nights of Sep- tember set in. In this month the sandflies and midges are innumerable, the latter insinuating themselves all over the body, the clothes affording no adequate protection. These insect plagues cease their torments at sunset, and they dis- appear entirely in October. However the fact may be ac- counted for, all these pests become more numerous the farther one goes north. In the swamps, where they are most numer- ous, they make the dogs howl, roll on the ground and rush into the water. The fox shows his restlessness by barking and snapping about, and when inclination would suggest his going after birds' nests, he is compelled to seek shelter in his burrow. If the chief business of the company's servants in winter is to struggle for existence against the cold, in the summer an equally fierce contest takes place aga'nst mosqui- toes, sandflies and the overpowering heat. Widely different from the great depot forts, however, are the trading-posts of the company — (juaint-looking places con- structed according to a uniform type. Built generally upon the second or lower bank of a river or lake, though some- times perched upon the loftier outer banks, a trading-fort is invariably a square or oblong, enclosed by immense trees or pickets, one end sunk deeply in the ground, and placed close together. In the prairie country this defence is stout and lofty, but in the wooded region it is frequently dispensed with altogether. A platform, about the ordinary height of a man. THE HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. 85 is carried along inside the square, so as to enable any one to peep over without being in danger from arrow or bullet. The entrance is closed by two massive gates, an inner and an outer one, and all the houses of the chief trader and his men, the trading-store, fur-room and warehouses are within the square — the former always standing in the middle, the latter ranged about the walls, facing inward. At the four corners of the palisade are bastions, generally two stories high, pierced with embrasures, to delude the Indians into the belief that cannon are there, and intended to strike terror into any red-skinned rebel daring to dispute the supremacy of the company. The trade-room, or, as it is more frequently called, the Indian-shop, at an interior trading-post, bears a close resem- blance to the store of civilization. It contains every imagina- ble commodity likely to be required by the Indian. Upon its shelves are piled bales of cloth of all colors, capotes, blankets, etc.; in smaller divisions are placed balls of twine, scalping-knives, gun flints, fire-steels, files, gun-screws, canoe- awls, and glass beads of all colors, sizes and descriptions. Drawers under the counter contain fish-hooks, needles, scis- sors, thimbles, red and yellow ochre and vermilion for paint- ing faces and canoes. Upon the floor is strewn an assort- 'ment of tin and copper kettles, ranging in capacity from a pint to half a gallon. In the corners of the room stand trad- ing-guns, kegs of powder and boxes of balls, while from the ceiling depend other articles of trade. In many of the forts the trade-room is cleverly contrived to prevent a sudden rush of Indians, the approach from out- 1 86 THE GREA T FUR LAND. \ ! Ill''' side the pickets being through a long, narrow passage only of sufficient width to admit a single Indian at a time, and bent at an acute angle at the window where the trader stands. This precaution is rendered necessary by the frantic desire which sometimes seizes the Indian to shoot the trader. Time moves slowly at many of these isolated trading-posts and change is almost unknown. To-day they are the same as they were one hundred years ago. The requisition for the goods of this year contain precisely the same articles as that of a century since. The Indian trapper still brings his marten and musquash, and his wants are still strouds, cot- tons, beads, and trading-guns. The sun-dial, placed in the open courtyard three generations ago, has apparently changed no more than the great luminary whose course it marks. Only outside the walls, where a rude cross or wooden railing, blown over by the tempest, discolored by rain and snow-drift, marks the lonely resting-place of the dead, does the roll of the passing years leave its trace. Until a comparatively recent date the system of trading at all the company's posts was entirely one of barter, money values being unknown. Latterly, however, the all-potent dollar is becoming a recognized medium of exchange, espe- cially at the forts nearest the borders of civilization ; but the standard of values throughout all the territories of the com- pany is still the beaver-skin, by which the prices of all other furs are governed. Every service rendered, or purchase made, is paid for in skins, the beaver being the unit of com- putation. THE HUDSON'S BA Y COMPANY. 87 The collection of fur skins throughout the company's territory is made during the autumn and winter months at the different trading-posts ; the summer season being occu- pied in transporting goods to the various districts, the con- centration of furs at the depots, and the collection of a suffi- cient supply of provisions to last over winter. The latter consist in the plain districts of pemmican — dried buffalo meat mingled with fat — and flour; in the wood districts of fish and dried moose and reindeer-meat. A winter very rarely passes at the more isolated forts, however, without the little garrison being reduced to very short allowance, often being obliged to kill their horses to maintain life. The life of the company's servants is a hard one in many respects, yet it seems admirably suited to the daring men, who have shown a patient endurance of every hardship and privation in the fur-trade. Indeed, no other branch of com- merce has tended more to bring out man's energy and cour- age. To the pursuit of fur may be traced the sources from which the knowledge of three-fourths of the continent of North America has been derived. ' % I 1; ^ if M' CHAPTER V. LIFE IN A Hudson's bay company's fort. ' I '"HE people resident in a Hudson's Bay Company's post ■*• form a community of themselves, more or less gregari- ous, as the establishment is designed for trading purposes, a depot of supplies, or merely an isolated stockade for the ac- cumulation of provisions for the use of the larger forts. But, of whatever character the place may be a regular business- routine, demanding certain times for the performance of special duties, is strictly observed. This routine, which at certain seasons of the year degenerates into the merest for- mality, there being literally nothing to do, is the great pre- ventive of physical and mental rust among the inhabitants, and an antidote for that listless apathy which would certainly obtain were no defined rule.3 of action and employment fol- lowed. Every member of the community, from the factor or clerk in charge to the cook, is expected to be, and almost in- variably is, at his post of duty at the times designated for its especial performance. And wherever this rule of action is followed, it is wonderful what a multitude of affairs con- stantly develop to demand attention, and what an amount of the smaller details of business may be thoroughly cared for. From this system come the close economy with which the ItH LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. 89 affairs of the company are conducted, and the perfect under- standing of the petty details of every branch of its business on the part of its employes. This is augmented in a great measure, of course, by the assignment of certain persons to the performance of particular duties, and their retention in that position for a term of years, enabling each incumbent to gain a thorough knowledge of the requirements of his place. For example, a clerk in the service, in the great majority of instances, must remain a simple clerk for a term of fourteen years before he is even considered as being in the line of pro- motion. During these long years of service he must, per- force, gain a thorough practical knowledge of the duties, and even of the most trivial details, relating to his station. From long custom he falls into the beaten channels of the trade, its manner of executing business details, and identifies him- self with its traditions. So, when he assumes charge of a post or district, he carries with him, to assist in the discharge of his new responsibilities, that punctuality, adherence to routine, and careful regard for the little things of his position, which he has so well learned in his apprenticeship. These characteristics are of such a nature as to develop a sufficient amount of employment for the chief officer of a post even in the dullest times. The real life of the fort, then, consisting for the most part of mere routine, may be said to begin at the breakfast-hour, which is as regularly appointed as those for the dispatch of business. The breakfast-time with the lower class of em- ployes, the nature of whose duties demands early rising, is ii m. ■f' 90 THE GREA T FUR LAND. m it about six o'clock in the winter and five in the summer seasons. These servants mess by themselves, drawing ra- tions at regular intervals through a steward, much after the fashion of army-life. A cook is appointed from their num- ber, who performs that duty alone, and who is responsible for the provisions, quantity and quality of food, etc. A short season, generally devoted to pipe-smoking, is allowed after each meal, when they separate to their various duties. At the officers' mess, over which the trader or factor in charge of the post presides, and which is located in the build- ing he occupies, assemble the family of that official, the clerks and apprentices of every grade who are entitled to the name of "company's gentlemen," and the stranger temporarily within the gates. In conformity with the system of early hours prevalent in the country, breakfast with this mess takes place at half-past seven or eight o'clock at different seasons, dinner at two, and supper at six in the evening. It is at these hours that the social life of the day may be said to trans- pire. Here the limited budget of local and foreign news is discussed. Whatever of wit and humor may have occurred to the minds of its members during the day is carefully treasured up to be gotten off with appropriate effect amid the genial surroundings and mello'ving influences of meal- time sociality. Should the chance gleam of humor happen to be upon some subject foreign to the discourse in hand, the conversation is adroitly trained into the desired channel to afford an occasion for its opportune delivery ; for a gleam of humor is too precious a thing to be lightly thrown away. LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FONT. 9» The conversation, however, hinges for the most part, from the very nature of their isolated position, upon local subjects, connected more or less remotely with the trade. The suc- cess of Pierre's last venture w^ith an outfit of goods traded at some Indian camp ; the quantity of fish or pemmican pro- cured by Sandy at his provision-stockade ; the amount of goods needed for the season's trade, etc., form staple and interesting topics of discourse and comment. The habit soon forms of making the most of the'ie meagre subjects, until quite a degree of enthusiasm can b< sadily excited about really trivial matters. Not that th»^, mental scope of the mess-i'-able is necessarily limited t crivialitie«: uut that S'"':'-' ts of discussion requiring .-^.ny profim. ty of thought present themselves infrequently. The habu, too, of close attention to mere details tends to draw thougl.L in that direc- tion, to the exclusion of more general n-atters. The comparative monotony of the mess-room, which ob- tains from the meagreness of the conditions of its isolated life, and from the long and perfect intimacy of those compos- ing its social circle, is, nevertheless, often broken by the ad- vent of a stranger at the board. This stranger may be a passing official from another post in the service, or some wanderer who braves the discomforts of travel through those inhospitable regions from a traveler's curiosity. In either case he is equally a stranger to the mess-room, from the fact of the unusual budget of news he brings to add to the some- what worn and threadbare stock of discourse already in hand. The arrival of such a personage is a matter of much bustle • »' r :is I I if ; W 1 \ nv^y '/A- vxNh^'iAUn. hNvWrxli hr <-» \A\\\ in \\v \\\\\x^\\ m\A tlliuni IH W >SS\Ax:^ \\\t xSxYiXfiWW \M ;\ x\xAmWx\ i\\\x\ 'kWxtWw^ Avv\\\\\\\ \\\ WviSUVW^xSWk!^ M whivh ho h^n hA\Vct\ on ihr unv. As ihf \\\ t^^^AmAjit** tMt^'^ tm<>U>vif^A ^Vitr a v^nmivy ^t^Avhiw^ w ihtj rtnnpn»U'«. \'\\v Ane^^N5 th^ v^tAx -i^NmxM \n t'uU \\M i)f vonv^v»e^ rt\ui the t^ftifwsv»<' tKis WAi«n\ ht* h{\"s h\!* own .u\tohiogti»)>hv sinoe t^ nwt ot' tW>v \am mtvung h> uM<\io ; u^kts to pevpeMrtte 'ftx^er th« <'5M\^|\'\i^-e'? \Nf ^>rt^!seni tomjvwn M \\h\«h ho hns l!«6a^U wt\^»!six tH<> Ktt^^sd news ttMm ihe >>utvM wotUi to ovunnumi- x\t«>, A51 those t\N?vros -iX' ii'xM\\-efs{^tiot\ vtre tvligivnisly ; oserx od fer -d5?9*n?5>!;>«>« A«ii reveUtion At the twess-tAhle, that the en- tire o<>wiWtti4ky mAv pnNfii by their disiH.n\s.^tion. f n !• IX \ ( itWHh)\i t\^9hiti\iH Htuift thd HiiiMlltil ^-yt llfitiMil. MiHftll iHf^i't nt ¥f\htf rth/l np\fifn, htmtt^cti I'rlllh|t« (1 fl<«' rlniir-i, ()(M/ll(i c/l ;(<« M Klf-^ tfMf, ttfi'l H(^lf Wrty HiV'^tt'Htiimly liiln llic fMMiM f^'MM »f((/(f ((Mhi'(wf» t\ifni iti wliii li iltcy llrtVM l.'ild IdiHt-'l tut ytewN, Tl/f n^tih^ fiiow ftt rt'lltiwihlji tli't»|!-n«i tvlfli hHi'U niiH-fHWuji a^ntht'titut, tiUnnf thi- liHrli'il. until III.' wIimIc MiMiirMihlfy ftt\ \in tirviv\tnt, Uit^tiftitf'. Tlu- loll|jt cvfliitiijjM ol Horl.'d ililf'frO««f«t? UtiS \tttittA('ii:ti irtf lifyotitl iln-if ihsiKtl «'Mfi(, ,Mf)(l Mhl tMef«^H«?« ntt tuthktmif dhiiitgt'tl Ifttili In (ffd the liic, of t ntii/^tntiiUm nhtiuUi tht^y «liiMV ivmptuitiH (t( !il»/(tr'inf'Ml- i'jvcu Uttiu. nUt>t iht' ti^pnrtutt^ nl lite lf-MMHi"tll V iMilnC, l(h «)iyi(i^'<, ffl'' (M'W«* )i<" imf^rtf^H, -'rw^il lllu htllit-Miin liiiit'of (Mf'f-rlfiit'fil Uc tm nn'ufni;()i fiituinh nhutt^h Khi itinlh'i nf i (miimm'IiI. Tilt' Miiiviil nffi iKivN'T froMUli*' '/((fff vforld i»< h'/v^^^v^f, the girrtt (•|iimn|f' iii the ♦•vefy-dfiy life of thef» of the community delight in exf/iaining to him II ! 94 THE GREA T FUR LAND. i:iii: any matters pertaining to their isolated life which may attract his attention, thereby affording an opportunity of conversa- tion. His companionship is eagerly sought by all, and the fortunate individual who secures his preferred acquaintance excites at once the envy of less favored ones. Nothing is left undone to render his stay pleasant, and to prolong it to the utmost. When he finally takes his departure, he is sent upon his journey freighted with the good wishes of the isolated post, and certain of the same cordial treatment at his next stopping-place. The mess-table has, too, other attractions than those of sociality, and of a more solidly substantial kind. The officers of the forts are all good livers, and, although accustomed to rough it on short allowances of food when necessity requires, take particular care that the home-larder shall be well stocked with all the delicacies and substantials afforded by the sur- rounding country. The viands are of necessity composed, in the greater part, of the wild game and fish with which the prairies and waters abound. But they are of the choicest kind, and selected from an abundant supply. One gets there the buffalo-hump — tender and juicy ; the moose-nose — tremu- lous and opaque as a vegetable conserve ; the finest and most savory waterfowl, and the freshest of fish — all preserved by the power of frost instead of salt. True, the supply of vege- tables at many mess-tables is wofuUy deficient, and a continu- ous diet of wild meats, like most other things of eternal same- ness, is apt to pall upon the appetite. But the list of meats is so extensive, and each requiring a particular mode of cook- LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. 95 ing that a long time may elapse without a repetition of dishes. Then, too, the climate favors the consumption of solid food, and, after short residence, the appetite becomes seasoned to the quality of the fare obtainable. Bread, as an imported article, is in many instances regarded as quite in the charac- ter of a luxury ; the few sacks of flour which constitute the annual allowance of each officer being hoarded away by the prudent housewife as carefully as the jams and preserves of her more fortunate sisters. In such cases it is batted into small cakes, one of which is placed beside each plate at meal- time ; the size of the cake being so regulated as to afford a single one for each meal of the year. The more common vegetables, such as potatoes and turnips, can be successfully cultivated in some places, and, wherever this occurs, enter largely into the daily menu. Fruits, either fresh or dried, seldom make their appearance upon the table ; lack of trans- portation, also, forbidding the importation of the canned article. At many of the remote inland posts, however, the daily bill of fare is limited enough, and a winter season seldom passes without the garrison of some isolated station suffering extreme privation. At Jasper and Henry Houses, for ex- ample, the officers have been frequently forced to slaughter their horses in order to supplement the meagre supply of provisions. These posts are situated in the very heart of the Rocky Mountains, with the vast region marked " swampy " on the maps separating them from the depot forts. In many of the extreme Arctic stations the supply of provisions is % .;.', i % Li. % % ,f - ' im 96 TJ/£ G/iEA T FUR LAND. !!! limited the year round to reindeer-meat, and fish, and not infrequently to the latter alone. Under these circumstances, no wonder that the company's officer comes to regard the possession of flour and sugar as among the most essential requisites of life. As to the comforts of upholstery and furniture in the mess-room, and, indeed, throughout the entire establishment, but little attention is paid to it. The constantly-recurring changes of residence, occasioned by the necessities of their condition, render the officers of the company, as a class, some- what careless about the accommodations afforded by their houses. At remote stations, the most simple articles of fur- niture are held to be sufficient, and shifts are made to adapt different objects to uses not contemplated by their makers. The strong, compact wooden trunks or traveling-cases used in the country, for example often constitute the chief pieces of furniture — if we except, perhaps, a bedstead — and db duty as chairs, tables, and wardrobe. At the larger posts, how- ever, and at the principal depot-stations, the residents are furnished with more of the appliances of civilization, and means exist whereby such as may be so inclined can render themselves very comfortable ; more especially as changes of appointments occur less frequently at headquarters than elsewhere. While it must be confessed that the main body of officers confine themselves in this regard to the practical and useful, yet it not infrequently happens that a gentleman of independ- ent taste turns up who, animated by the desire of giving an -„;-i. t , LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. 97 artistic air to his chamber, graces the useful with more or less of the ornamental. These peculiarities of individual taste be- tray themselves most strikingly in the selection and disposal of bedroom furniture. Brightly burnished arms, powder-flasks, and shot-pouches, are arranged in fantastic figures upon the walls. Objects of aboriginal handiwork in birch-bark, por- cupine-quills, and beadwork, impart a certain barbaric splen- dor to the apartment ; while in vivid contrast appear rude frames enclosing highly-colored lithographs of deeds of daring on the British turf, highways, and waters. Prize-fighters, sway- ing in fierce conflict, and surrounded by excited and applaud- ing hundreds, may be seen in round the last ; race-horses, flecked with foam and dirt, stretch away in the dim perspec- tive in a neck-and-neck race toward a winning-post where an eager crowd of spectators stand with uplifted hands to wel- come the favorite ; wild huntsmen, with impossible dogs, and guns with crooked barrels, fire wildly toward the left and bring down myriads of birds at the right ; and, to crown all, a red- and-yellow picture of Queen Victoria in the character of a female Neptune, seated on a solitary rock in raid-ocean and holding a pitchfork in her hand, occupies the post of honor, and is supposed to represent the omnipotent Britannia. The business of the post, with the exception of the neces- sary employments of the lower servants, is transacted between the hours of nine in the morning and six in the evening, with an interval of an hour between two and three o'clock for dinner, when the offices and stores are closed. Generally speaking, this division of time holds good all the year round iiil I!!l 98 THE GREAT FUR LAS'D. thougli slight modifications take place with the changing seasons and periods when little work is done. During these hours of business there is much to be looked after, especially in the summer season. When the bell announces the open- ing of the fort-gates, the inclosure soon fills with Indians and traders, who besiege the counter of the trading-store, or lounge idly about the yard — picturesque vagabonds in motley attire. The few clerks in charge are busily engaged in meas- uring tea, sugar, ammunition, etc., into colored-cotton hand- kerchiefs unwrapped from greasy aboriginal heads for their reception ; in examining furs and paying for them in instal- ments; in measuring off the scanty yards of blue-cotton prints that are to clothe the forms of dusky belles, or causing howls of delight by the exhibition of gilt jewelry to be sold ^it ten times its original cost. Outside the stockade, the voyagcurx are loading whale- boats, in the adjacent stream with bales of fur for transporta- tion to depot-forts, or discharging cargoes of merchandise destined to wide-spread distribution. Over this process an accountant keeps careful watch, as he does over everything involving a representative value for which he will be held to account. All is bustle and activity ; yet there is no haste. The careful attention to details exhibits itself in everything, and the minutest w-atch is kept over all. As the day advances, the arrivals at the fort increase in number and importance. Ofttimes a large band of Indians ride rapidly up to the stockade, and, turning their ponies loose upon the prairie, enter upon the barter of small quan- LIFE h\ A COMPAXV'S FOKT. mm hi! ! 100 T//E GREA T FUR LAND. tities of peltries to supply their immediate necessities. Again, the band will encamp about the stockade, trading the results of a long and successful hunt, and making the days and nights hideous with their heathenish festivities. Their camp-fires light up the plain round about with a fitful glare ; their green- and-yellow-painted visages and blanket-attired forms assume at length a certain degree of individuality ; and the more im- portunate beggars even become familiar objects to the sight ; when suddenly they are gone, only to be replaced by others of a like description ; for a company's fort is seldom free from its complement of chronic hangers-on. There is, too, much bustle created by the arrivals and departures of officials from other forts of the service, en route in charge of boat- brigades for distant points, who stop but for a few hours, and are off again. Should the season be winter, however, the business hours are, to a certain degree, merely formal, and the time is occupied in those petty details to be found in any occupation. True, a certain amount of trade prevails at the larger posts throughout the year, which, at the remote estab- lishments, takes the form of outfitting traders who visit Indian camps, or small trading-stations at a distance, with dog-trains. But there is always much time, even during the hours sup- posed to be especially devoted to business, for which it is dif- ficult to find full employment. At six o'clock in the evening the labors of the day termi- nate, and the members of the community are at liberty to pass the remaining hours of the twenty-four as they list. And these are the monotonous hours which drag most wearily upon each individual member. In the summer season, recourse is had to athletic exercises during the long twilights — rowing ' 1 i ' LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. lOI upon the rivers, pitching quoits, equestrian excursions, etc., obtaining with the younger and more hardy clerks ; others the pleasures of the chase attract, and prolonged forays with dog and gun are made upon the waterfowl in the neighboring water-courses. But this vernal season is brief, and the time soon comes when the attractions of in-door life must supply the mental pabulum. For this purpose numerous modes of employment are resorted to. With the officer in charge the long evenings are generally passed in the society of his family, and in writing up the log- book of the post. This latter work, if he be a man given to composition, soon becomes a labor of love. In it he chroni- cles all the petty incidents of the day : the arrivals and depart- ures ; the principal receipts and expenditures ; the health of the little community under his charge, etc. To this he ap- pends a meteorological report with all the exactness of " Old Prob." himself. There may be added, also, the general reflec- tions of the writer on subjects pertaining to the service, and such suggestions as seem to grow out of the events noted. He may even wander to a limited extent outside the bounds of strict business matters, and indulge in little flights of com- position on subjects irrelevant to the trade. It happens not infrequently that short poems of greater or less measures of excellence, and brief prose sketches of fair diction and vivid ■ imaginings, appear scattered among the dry bones of statistics. But it must be said of the majority of log-books that they smack only of weather-reports, the deficiencies of the frozen- fish supply, or the accumulation of peltries. With the younger portion of the community — the clerks, apprentices, and post-masters — conversation and the peaceful ip It 102 THE GREA T FUR LAND. Ill ii 1 ■ i i i !' 1 ^^^1 "' 1 i j j ! Li: ! \ Ij i X' ■ :r!l 1 i i 1 ij 1 ' ' li .li pipe occupy a prominent position in the passage of time. Games, too, are in great demand, and every apartment pos- sesses its well-thumbed pack of cards, its rude cribbage- board, and sets of wooden dominoes. Reading men find abundant leisure to pursue their favorite occupation during the long winter evenings. Books, as the property of private indi- viduals, from the difficulty i n transporting them, are, however, more scarce than might be expected. To atone somewhat for this, the company have established extensive libraries for the use of the officers and servants in many of the larger stations in the north, from which supplies for the adjacent smaller posts may be drawn, so that the diligent reader may command new books from time to time. Then, too, there comes once or twice during the winter season a red-letter day, upon which the mail arrives, bringing a long list of letters to be answered, and periodicals from the outer world. As in the remote northern posts the mail has been a year upon the way, the file of newspapers is laid carefully away, each number being pro- duced and read as its date, one year after publication, is reached. In the answering of letters considerable difficulty is experienced from the absence of anything new to write about. To obviate this and produce the requisite novelty, the writer generally succeeds in composing a single letter having the desired degree of spiciness. This he copies and sends to all those friends whom he is desirous of placing under the obligation of an answer. Thus, for many days after the arrival of a mail, occupation for the long evenings is easily found, until the returning dog-train bears his correspondence away, and with it that method of passing time. Parties not studiously inclined often pass their spare hours LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. 103 ,1 • in exercising their skill upon one of the musical instruments. Of these the violin, on account probably of its portable nature, is most ordinarily selected, and the votary, after a series of years passed in sedulous practice, usually attains a certain ghastly facility of execution. So common an accomplishment indeed is fiddle-playing in the service, that violin-strings are annually forwarded as a part of the regular outfit for sale in the northern districts. Under the inspiration of this instru- ment, it is scarcely to be wondered at that the few holidays of the year, and frequently the long evenings also, should be en- livened with dances, in which all the dusky maidens within hailing-distance of the fort participate. It is in the enjoy- ment of this pastime that the wearied clerk finds his chief de- light ; and he jigs and reels the hours away to the measures of monotonous and oft-repeated tunes. On such occasions the company is cosmopolitan to a striking degree, and all grades of employes mingle on terms of the most democratic equality. With such simple pleasures and in the discharge of such duties, the life of the isolated community glides uneventfully away. If its amusements are few, they are at least innocent and improved to the utmost. Few temptations to wrong- doing are presented to their solitary lives. Each succeeding year adds to the accumulations of the last, until, in the early afternoon of life, the company's officer finds himself possessed of abundant means to pass the remainder of his days under more genial conditions. But, strange to say, it almost invari- ably happens that his old life has so grown upon him, so en- tirely possessed him, that the charms of a higher civilization have no power to attract. We have seen many bid a final ^ I I ^'t 104 THE GREA T FUR LAXD. farewell to the inhospitable regions where the best years of their lives had been spent, with the purpose of returning to their early homes to pass the decline of life ; but one after another they drifted back again. The change was too abrupt. They had outlived their former friends ; their ways of life were radically different ; in short, the great busy world moved all too fast for their quiet and placid lives. \\ W 1 J ■ Hi ^pHHraljl ii Ms . 1 ;■ '.-. LIFE IN A COMPANY'S FORT. 105 'i 5* wmmmt wmmmmmmmmm m 1 k V i ^^^ V ^ .\^ \^v ^A\^> \\\m\ \\\\\\\\ \m ^ ^ vA^/n ;Nk\\\^ ^Wik^^WM^^^iW^i^- i- W*v ■ -^ ■ • V ##j* H^ ^v«>?^f^ K^\^y^^yss^^ \^ \vA^ 1 1 Ir / il nH iif^ f'Hi'lliHilf^ \Hi (mull) ■ II m^ Ww ill iii, ' / . Ill} H-lllill IIIh ku0f\i hiii^^iih iifh h ilii' Kill iM liHiiJlf f/f ll/ii IH f,M \\\ \M\m ^\\\\ ikw Ihi iififi ^ v// ^ ////^^ liiiiii hHi ! Imi t^li^^ii \m liim hmi ih iih nUH\\^m^,ii fif^m HMilltiiij mill ^i^wmm, niHi iiiiiiuhiin liii: : ,| i, ff^ ((iHflff^lvM^i a ililiiHhifJMf ■/ I ng Kiiik iinIim hi,m IKh li!i^«j \mM m^\ (\ii\iiNi, NitihMH^ fCtpi* mfliMr^^'f IihhIih II llin thHtrt0ftf W^th UiiU \it>»ht^,iiti»('Hf, tit' ji.r*. ,f ^f^ iiltHVh fli»« tHwthim iH'lj^fOi #H^ 1)^^^ ^/'^fM Umn^f t^i nuitjiihht^tiff^ tiftd »Hfff^'i*>M^ fh^ a/m*^ U\ \\\\\m\ It .'j'H-'ilH MdlHMy /yf ftnfHf ht-ii'ttfH 'Ht ^ «*'/^. io8 THE GREA T FUR LAND. Xu brown ; eyes black, and long black hair hanging down in a straight mass over his shoulders. He wore a tasseled cap, and was also en capote^ but of fine blue cloth ornamented with two rows of silver-gilt buttons ; variegated sash, corduroy trousers, and moccasins, of course. As a rule, the voyageins are of French origin, descendants of the traders and trappers of the old fur-companies, though by long intermarriage the blood of three or four nationali- ties mingles in their veins. Their grandfathers have been French-Canadian, their grandmothers Cree squaws ; English, and Crow, and Ojibway, have contributed to their descent on the mother's side. This mixture has produced, in most in- stances, a genial, good-humored, and handsome fellow ; although, as a class, with some cleverness and cheerfulness, their faces generally betray a certain moodiness of temper, and lack the frank and honest respectability stamped upon countenances more purely Anglo-Saxon. Swarthy in com- plexion, with dark hair and eyes, their features are genei'ally good and aquiline in character ; and, though sometimes coarse, are invariably well-proportioned. Physically they are a fine race ; tall, straight, and well-proportioned, lightly formed but strong, and extremely active and enduring. Of more supple build, as a rule, than the Indian, they combine his endurance and readiness of resource with the greater muscular strength and perseverance of the white man. In disposition they are a merry, light-hearted and obliging race, recklessly generous, hospitable and extravagant. When idle, they spend much of their time in singing, dancing, and gossiping from house to house, getting drunk upon the A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. 109 slightest occasion ; and when the vogageur drinks, he does it, as he says, comme il faut — that is, until he obtains the de- sired happiness of complete intoxication. Vanity is his besetting sin, and he will deprive himself and his family of the common necessaries of life to become the envied pos- sessor of any gewgaw that may attract his fancy. Intensely superstitious, and a firm believer in dreams, omens and warn- ings, he is an apt disciple of the Romish faith. Completely under the influence of his priest, in most respects, and ob- serving the outward forms of his religion with great regular- ity, he is yet grossly immoral, often dishonest, and generally untrustworthy. No sense of duty seems to actuate his daily life ; for, though the word " devoir " is frequently on the lips of this semi-Frenchman, the principle of " devoir " is not so strong in his heart as are the impulses of passion and caprice. But little aptitude for continuous labor, moreover, belongs to his <:onstitution. No man will labor more cheerfully and gallantly at the severe toil pertinent to his calling ; but these efforts are of short duration, and when they are ended, his chief desire is to do nothing but eat, drink, smoke and be merry — all of them acts in which he greatly excels. The ceremony of taking a wife, by which this mercurial race sprang into existence in the old days of the fur-trade, cannot be considered, in the light of the present day, as an elaborate performance, or one much encumbered with social and religious preliminaries. If it failed in literally fulfilling the condition of force implied in the word " taking," it usually degenerated into a mere question of barter. When no THE GREA T FUR LAND. illi'l the French-Canadian wanted a wife, he took a horse, a gun, some white cloth or beads, and, repairing to the lodge of his red brother in the wilderness, purchased the heart and hand of the squaw he desired from her stern parent. If she did not love after " these presents," the lodge-poles were always handy to enforce that obedience necessary to domestic tran- quillity. This custom, we may say, has by no means fallen into disuse, but is still in vogue along the border. As a class, the voyageurs rank very low in the country. Their priests profess to have a certain influence over them, but admit that their flock is disreputable, and not to be relied upon in the faithful performance of a contract. As a consequence, it sometimes happens that the crews of a boat-brigade mutiny during a voyage, and return home. This evil, it is true, might be obviated were it not for the system of advancing wages for the trip, necessary in dealing with the class of which, for the most part, the crews are composed. But, unfortu- nately, on the voyagcitrs' return from, the summer voyages they do not betake themselves to any special modes of indus- try, but vary seasons of hunting and fishing with longer in- tervals of total idleness. Toward mid-winter, a steady per- severance in this mode of life brings themselves, and their equally improvident families, to a condition closely allied to starvation. When, about the middle of December, the books SiXQ opened at the company's offices for the enrollment of men to serve in the trips of the ensuing season, a general rush of the needy crowd takes place. Upon their acceptance and en- rollment, a small advance is made; and afterward, at stated A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. Ill intervals before the beginning of the voyage, further sums are paid. Toward spring, however, when the difficulty of obtain- ing food lessens in some degree, the men assume a higher tone, and demand larger sums in advance ; threatening that, if their demands are not complied with, they will not proceed upon the voyage al all. Counter threats of imprisonment are superciliously smiled away with the remark that the time will be more easily passed in durance than in labor. The result is, that when the day of embarkation arrives, some of the en- rolled men do not appear, while those who do have already received half their wages. Once on the voyage, their wives and families draw as frequently as practicable upon the amount " still coming to them," so that the sum forfeited by mutiny and breach of contract is insufficient to ••estrain the men from a premature return. The continuance of this system has been caused by the necessities of the men, whom it preserves from absolute star- vation, and the undoubted fact that the laborious nature of the service renders it difficult, if not impossible, to secure men in the spring, when many other opportunities exist of gaining a livelihood in other and less trying channels. It is customary to distribute a small quantity of rum among the men immediately before starting, and this, together with the probably considerable amount previously surrepti- tiously obtained, materially increased the hilarity and excite- ment of our departure. The Pierres became gratuitously profuse in their farewells, returning again and again to clasp the hands of the entire assembly, and claiming every one as a m «.- 1 4 i ■ \\\ rns \12 THE GREAT FUR LAND. brother ; the Antoines, violently gesticiilative, declaimed with cheerful irrelevance sonie old i/ianson about the glory of their ancestors ; while the Baptistes hung, limply lachrymose, u[ion the necks of their best friends, murmuring maudlin sentiment into their receptive ears. Here and there, sober, and with an air of vast importance, stalked a sturdy steersman, getting his men well in hand, and having an eye to the lading of his par- ticular boat. llusy clerks and voluble porters vied with chatting, laughing women in augmenting the Babel of sound. All things being at last ready, the boat of the guide swung into the si:ream, followed closely by the others in single file. Vociferous cheers greeted us from the well-lined banks, and the wild boat-songs of the 7'(m/s,v///w, sung in full chorus, began — a weird but pleasing melody. Steadily the oars were plied, and regularly the beat and rhythn\ of oar-lock and song re- sounded, until, sweeping round a projecting headland, fort and friends were lost to view. The lower course of the Red River of the North presents, for the last thirty miles, a picture of grand simplicity, and, it must be confessed, monotony, which, raagnificent as it ap- pears, wearies the eye a.id tires the mind at last. Flowing, like all other prairie-streams, deep below the surface of the plain, there is nothing to be seen but the dead calm of an un- ruffled, mirror-like sheet of water glaring in the sun, and, as far as the eye can reach, two walls of dark-green foliage with the deep-blue firmament above them. In the foreground, slen- der stems of cotton-wood and gigantic oaks, with long fes- toons of moss hanging from their aged limbs, dip down into A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. "3 the turl)i(l flood. No hill breaks the finely-indented line of foli.ige, which everywhere hounds the horizon ; only here and there a half-breed's hut, or the tepee of some child of the prai- rie and stream, peeps out of the green. Happily, the novelty of a first voyage by boat-brigade was sufficient to engross the attention of the traveler, and attract his thoughts from the magnificent panorama offered by Nature, to the vignette of northern boat-life embraced within the limits occupied by the eight boats speeding their way down the centre of the broad stream. The comparatively limited season during which water tranportation is available in the Fur Land ; the nature of the cargoes to be transported, and the channels through which they must pass, render the strictly summer months a season of much bustle and activity. The loss of a few days in the departure of boats, destined for the interior, may deprive some important district of the means of traffic for the ensuing year, and necessitate the holding over of immense stocks of goods, to the serious derangement of trade, and a heavy cur- tailment of the annual profits. The matter of transportation, then, is one of vital importance to the fur-company, and is conducted with a care and system devoted, perhaps, to no other branch of a trade in which close attention to details and routine are distinguishing characteristics. Though the ac- tual duties of freighting occupy but about four months in the year, yet the preparation pertinent to its perfect performance engrosses to a great extent the remaining eight. The result is a system so perfect that over the long courses traversed by ! i ■^m 114 r//£ GREAT FUR LAND. the boat-brig;ides their arrival may be calnUated upon ahiiost to the hour ; and the anxious trader may ascend his lookout post with the certainty of seeing, sweeping round the nearest point, the well-laden boats, with swarthy crews bending low to their oars, and singing their weird chansons in time to the measured oar-stroke. The freighting season begins about the first week in June, M-hen the ice has disappeared from the rivers, and the spring supplies of merchandise, destined for the interior, have reached the depot-forts. At that period, the advance brigade of seven or eight boats leaves Fort Garry — now the principal point of forwarding in the service — followed a week later by yet another. This interval is allowed in order to prevent the meeting of the boats at any post, thereby creating undue bustle and confusion. These boats tend north and northwest, toward Methy Portage and York Factory, there to meet other brigades from the remote arctic regions, to whom they deliver their cargoes, receiving in exchange the furs brought down from the interior posts — the proceeds of the year's trade. When this exchange is effected, each brigade retraces its course. The time occupied by the longest trip — that of Methy Portage, the height of land from which the waters flow into Hudson's Bay and the Arctic Ocean — is about four months. Numerous shorter trips are also made, and the whole country is alive during this season with advancing and returning boats. The peculiar nature of the transportation service of the company necessitates certain conditions in freight, boats and /t VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEUKS, nS boatmen pertaining to it, not elsewhere to be found. The entire water-carriage of the country is performed by means of what are technically called " inland boats," of three and a half tons' burden, and recjuiring nine men as crew. Of the shape of the ordinary whale-boat, they carry a small mastj unstepped at will, upon which in crossing lakes, should the wind prove favorable, a square sail is set. A small i)latform. or deck , covers the stern of the vessel, upon which is seated the steers- man, using at times the ordinary rudder-lever; again, a long sweep, with one stroke of which the direction of the craft is radically changed. The steersman is captain of the vessel, the eight men under him being ranged as middle-men, or rowers. A number of these boats constitute a brigade, over which a guide, skilled in the intricacies of current and coast, is placed, and who may be regarded as the commodore of the fleet. His duty is to guide the brigade through dangerous waters, to support the authority of the steersmen, and to transact the business of the brigade at the stations touched en route. The position is an important one when properly filled, and is generally held by the same person until advanc- ing years necessitate his relinquishment. Rapidly we sped down the waters of the turbid stream, and monotonously echoed the loud " ough " of the boatmen, as they rose from their seats with each stroke of the oar, only to sink back again with a sudden jar as the broad blades left the water. Stately swans looking thoughtfully into the stream, tall cranes standing motionless on one leg, and ducks of every hue disappearing behind the foliage screening the mouth of ■ ii 1 ■ 3' I i i ii6 r//E GREAT FUR LAND. some creek or coolie, were the only living things to be seen. The landscape was monotonously splendid, and the hours passed in unvarying succession. Ten minutes in every hour were allowed the hardy voyageurs for rest ; the long oars were lifted from the flood, from every fire-bag came pipes and tobacco, and the bark of the grey willow, mingled with equal proportions of the Indian weed, lent its fragrance to the morn- ing air. After such pleasant interlude, the paddles were plied with renewed vigor, and soon the woods disappeared and the banks, which gradually sank to a lower level, became covered with the long reedy grass marking the delta of the stream. Further on, even the semblance of vegetation af- forded by the reeds ceased abruptly, leaving naught but a sandy bar, submerged at high tide, and the waters of an im- mense lake extending northward out of sight — a lake which stretched away into unseen places, and on whose waters a fervid June sun was playing strange freaks of mirage and inverted shore-land. Upon the sand-bar at the outlet of the main channel our boats were run along-shore, and preparations ensued for the mid-day meal. Generally speaking, while voyaging it is only allowable to put ashore for breakfast, a cold dinner being taken in the boats ; but as no voyageur could be expected to labor in his holiday-apparel, a halt was necessary before set- ting out upon the lake. The low beach yielded ample store of driftwood, the relics of many a northern gale, and of this a fire was lighted, and the dinner apparatus arranged in the stern-sheets of the boat. Ml!!-t-- .M A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGE URS. 117 The functions of the c/ie/f limited to the preparation of pern- mican in some palatable form, and the invariable dish of black tea, were simple enough. For boatmen pemmican is the un- alterable bill-of-fare, and is the favorite food of the half-breed and Indian voyageur. The best form of pemmican, made for table use, generally has added to it ten pounds of sugar per bag, and saskootoom or service berries — the latter acting much as currant jelly does with venison, correcting thegreasi- ness of the fat by a slightly acid sweetness. Sometimes wild cherries are used instead of the saskootoom. This berry-pem- mican is considered the best of its kind, and is very palatable. As to the appearance of the commoner form of pemmican, take the scrapings from the driest outside corner of a very stale piece of cold roast-beef, add to it lumps of tallowy, ran- cid fat, then garnish all with long human hairs, on which string pieces, like beads upon a necklace, and short hairs of dogs or oxen, or both, and you have a fair imitation of com- mon pemmican. Indeed, the presence of hairs in the food has suggested the inquiry whether the hair on the buffaloes from which the pemmican is made does not grow on the in- side of the skin. The abundance of small stones or pebbles in pemmican also indicates the discovery of a new buffalo diet heretofore unknown to naturalists. Carefully made pemmican, flavored with berries and sugar, is nearly good ; but of most persons new to the diet it may be said that, in two senses, a little of it goes a long way. Nothing can exceed its sufficing quality ; it is equal or supe- rior to the famous Prussian sausage, judging of it as we must. ii8 THE CREA T EUK l.AXD. Two pounds' weight, with bread and tea, is enough for the dinner of eight hungry men. A bag weighing one hundred pounds, then, woidd supply three good meals for one hundred and thirty men. A sledge-dog that will eat from four to six pounds of fish per day, when at work, will only consume two pounds of pemmican, if fed upon that food alone. Hungry men are often seen to laugh incredulously at a small handful of pemmican placed before them as suflTicient for a meal ; yet they go away satisfied, leaving half of it. On the other hand, half-breeds and Indians will eat four i)ounds of it in a single day ; appetites like that, however, do not count in ordinary food estimates. The flavor of pemmican depends much on the fancy of the person eating it. There is no other article of food that bears the slightest resemblance to it, and as a consequence it is difficult to define its peculiar flavor by comparison. It may be prepared for the table in many different ways, the con- sumer being at full liberty to decide which is the least objec- tionable. The method largely in vogue among the voyagcurs is that known as " pemmican straight," that is, uncooked. But there are several ways of cooking which improve its flavor to the civilized palate. There is rnhciboo, which is a composition of potatoes, onions, or other esculents, and pem- mican, boiled up together, and, when |^r perly seasoned, very palatable. In the form of richot^ hrvv.ver, pemmican is best liked by persons who use it, and by the voyagcurs. Mixed with a little flour and fried in a pan, pemmican in this form can be eaten, provided the appetite be sharp, and there is 1(1 A VOYAGE ll'/T/f THE VOYAGE UFS. 119 I«d TA^A r.A'A\l r f i A' l,A,Vt>. ■'',. Si i-l \\\\\\(^'\<\ A^x\ VHx^ WuW \s\\\ \S\\ \\\t rthN \vhr>vvtM !% ih\ itiHn ^ir^ tVftt, with \NNthM\ hA«\^ktM\^^^4iM'r sA'ArtK) <>tN lv\ hSN^ i^H^u ^>U-^\x*' { rt soavUh xrtsh f nt'ihU^i^ *#H. Th'C'n WAtt\\\s rt-s IrtUi ifyO — some tro?*(?A K> tK<^t t^hh^Uy-nv-^UxN^ h^iv tx> g\»A^\< \\\^\\\ S\\s\\\ the st«f\ jnftti vaM ^ 'SAmt" xsv^^ii? i"^Ns \si t^vitice cloth, ot)\c\-s (wisi^tJ *v>kvr<\i ki-^ivhkMs turK^n-t^Ashion nN«nv\ thoii hci«visomo sot ot «\o\^ ,15 thoy \a\ or s^<»^d m cAT-^^I^WBS ^ttinulos i\>u«d the iuvn ^mthng oK^uds of At The otf.'i. m (ittti ilif |inilttRf"? litiitU'Hiitlfl)' Uf^(s\u\. ¥h^ nu ihh wai^'tn Ity tiililfh, wi(l»'>fiill«t find it\Uniii\H, \h >iitmuiiin\ «vl(l/|( ff(f •lumln wHI) lliflt > rtf^i^Mj'H (iMve Im )«*" Irtft/l^l rtMd f rtfflH) wtmt^ \\U' itltqKtitllHM, ♦»! I"' ^r«)rtllM^ll^^ ,<< |»'>H((k^" ntitli ttth' slll(il»'« llip ItrtHlt'Bl ft^iiliih' »if llif* t'tipf^ffff'f Uihtit. Il h ttwlii)^ In lli«» Vrt«tl rt»MM((»il of iirt()/l(M(j(, /»«^Ms(f«f<^/| liy llic miiMffiMifl |Mi(l(iK»'M iiilf^vfftlM^ luM'tef^h tf»« df j/of f//tN iiiiil (Vt'ii llif hpfih'fll ImImiuI rlhlij' lq, lli/d fli^ |;»/ kifjj^ tff tmt- rhrthtlN^ lipcomrR M »ii«IIm /if lo ^r^xl iff(|/orfrtnrf. 'thfi Bltutilitnl wt'lylil of out II )»;(» kit^f? f(«»f«<1 lf» fl»>» f((f-frfld^ If <)t»« ItiMttlictl |Miii(nlfl, hihI pnih )»o«l h »f(|>)/o3^/l rfl|/rtf/l^ tff tuti- IrtiniiiM Movehly-fivp "ImIiomI |;ifr»>«i," ««) wrr.h j>fl/ kjtt^^sii are rrtllt*cl. It l« llin iiuMliod of iiuV(tu\u^i, [iinmi\t,h \r, ih*^ ttfilft- tty. riu' fill lliiy wllli wlii» I: siirh pier.es rtfe handiest fry fhft miiRinliir iii|MM(ii Im v^fy fi^mttfkfil/le— fl boat hcloj^ loade^J hy ItB « it'W of f'ih' I'M .;/ i)ve mlmite», fflf»<1 j»fe»ef»fin(( a Iiml. onleHy fl|ii|>"6!n -tii; upon r,om|/letlon of th« (4»er«tk/n, In c ronsittH i: pf;' Uf ,e, eanh boatman i» %{ipyfw*i io b« cqiijil In Ilic task lA f a ryln« two Inland p'men itp(m rti% hsttM, 'I'lioHc IoiuIb arc (aiiiro' in snrji ii manner a» to fi]U/w iiw whole HtrcMKtli of tlir body to be put into the work, A )>r(r3td Icnthc'i' l)and, ' ailed a " nortrtj^f htrap," j'f piiiM ^4 'wir-d th« 5:'i f h |! t 122 r//£ GREA T FUR LAND. forehead, the ends of which strap, passing back over the shoulders, support the pieces which, thus carried, lie along the spine from the small of the back to the crown of the head. When fully loaded, the voyageur stands with his body bent forward, and with one hand steadying the pieces, he trots nimbly away over the steep and rock-strewn portage, his bare or nioccasined feet enabling him to pass briskly over the slippery rocks in places where boots would inevitably send both tripman and load feet-foremost to the bottom. In the frequent unloading of the vessel, the task of raising the pieces and placing them upon the backs of the muscular voyageicrs devolves upon the steersman ; and the task of raising seventy- five packages of one hundred pounds' weight from a position below the feet to a level with the shoulders, demands a greater amount of muscle than is possessed by the average man. Winnipeg, like all other great lakes, is liable to be visited with sudden storms, which, taking a boat by surprise while in the process of making a long traverse, might be attended with fatal consequences. The coasts, generally speaking, offer only a limited number of harbors for small boats, but these fortunately within a few hours' sail of each other. In the event of a boat being overtaken by a sudden tempest, it is sometimes necessary to make for the nearest land and ** beach " her, carrying herself and cargo ashore by main force, over a considerable length of breaker-washed shore. It was for this reason, perhaps, that our guide marched solemnly to and fro upon the shingle, curiously examining, with twisted neck and upturned eyes, the signs of the I I ■ fin % VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. 123 sited ,'hile ided but In kt, it land liain Ihed the weather ; and presenting, with his long blue great-coat and cautious gait, a somewhat quaint and antiquated spectacle. Having with some difificulty satisfied himself that the weather would hold good until we could reach the nearest harbor, he recalled the crews — who had scattered along-shore, smoking their pipes — and loosed from land. The lake, changeful as the ocean, was in its very calmest mood ; not a wave, not a ripple on its surface ; not a breath of air to aid the untiring paddles. The guide held his course far out into the glassy waste, leaving behind the marshy headlands which marked the river's delta. The point at which we had dined became speedily undistinguishable among the long line of apparently exactly similar localities ranging along the low shore. A long, low point reaching out from the south shore of tiie lake, was faintly visible on the horizon, and toward it our guide steered. The traveler, seated comfortably on the deck of the boat, indulged alternately in reading and smoking ; the whole style of progress being more like the realization of a scene from Telemaque or the .^neid, than a sober business vf v, > undertaken in the interests of a trading company of th«^ ^yfcsen^: jay. The red sun sank into the lake, warning us to seek the t>o--: r. ^ camp for the night, as we reached the point toward which \}j. steered. A deep, sandy bay, with a high background of woods and rocks, seemed to invite us to its solitude. The boats were moored in a recess of the bank, or drawn bodily upon the beach ; sails brought ashore, and roofs extemporized as protection against possible storms. Drift-wood was again I % ~s>'j:^ l:r\ i 1 ■■' i f 124 r//£ GREA T FUR LAND. collected, and active preparations for the evening meal ensued. Each boat's crew had a fire to itself, over which were placed gypsy-like tripods, from which huge tin kettles depended ; while above them hovered numerous volunteer cooks, who were employed in stirring their contents with persevering industry. The curling wreaths of smoke formed a black cloud among the numerous fleecy ones arising from the steaming kettles, while all around, in every imaginable atti- tude, sat, stood, nd reclined the sunburned savage-looking voyagcursy laugh' ting, and smoking, in perfect happi- ness. Meanwhile, the bedding of the traveler, after being un- wrapped from its protecting oil-cloths, was spread upon the ground. Bedding consists of, say, three blankets and a pil- low. The former are folded lengthways, and arranged on the oil-cloth, which, when camp is struck in the morning, is so rolled about them as to form a compact, portable bundle, when properly corded, practically impervious to weather. All occupations ceased at the call of the cooks, and the crews gathered round the camp-fire with their scant supply of tinware. The bill-of-fare was limited, as before, to pemmi- can and tea. As the brigade penetrates the interior, however, wild-fowl become abundant, and the stews more fragrant and savory. Supper over, half a dozen huge log-fires are lighted round about, casting a ruddy glow upon the surrounding foli- age, and the wild, uncouth figures of the voyageurs, with their long, dark hair hanging in luxuriant masses over their bronzed faces. They warm themselves in the cheerful glow, smoking .7 VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS. 125 and chatting with much good-humor and carelessness of the day's adventures, or rather of what are regarded as such — un- usual good or ill-luck at fishing or hunting, the casual meet- ing of some aboriginal canoe, or the sight of some lone In- dian's leather lodge. Only the dense swarms of mosquitoes, which set in immediately after sunset, remind the traveler that he is not realizing a scene from tropical life. To be appreciated, the pain and inconvenience caused by the attacks of these little insects must be ff It. They swarm in the woods and marshes, and, lying amid the shade of the bushes during the heat of the day, come abroad in the cool of the evening and make night hideous where no grateful breeze blows for the protection of the traveler. They form, in fact, the principal drawback to the pleasure of summer travel in the Fur Land. The voyageur, after working hard through the long, hot day, simply spreads the single blanket he is allowed to carry on the ground, and with no other cov- ering than the starry firmament above him, sleeps undisturbed till dawn ; only occasionally brushing away, as if by way of diversion, the most obtrusive of the little fiends. But the more refined and less case-hardened traveler suffers severely. In vain are trousers tied tightly about the ankles, and coat sleeves at the wrist, while mosquito veils surround the head. The enemy finds his way in single file through apertures un- seen by human eyes, and bites without mercy ; while his personal escape is secured by the impossibility of hunting him up without making way for the surrounding hosts of his confreres. For the victim, feeding under such circumstances i nil, i"s ; • >! ; f 126 THE GREA T FUR LAND. is no easy matter. Independent of the loss of appetite occa- sioned by the nature of the situation, the veil must be removed to obtain access to the mouth, and the hands must be un- covered to work knife, fork, and spoon. Sleep is also to be obtained only for a few short, feverish moments at long inter- vals. Any attempt to gain repose by concealing one's self beneath the blankets is in vain ; and long before sleep can come, the baffled experimenter is compelled to emerge, half smothered, to breathe the sultry air. The traveler can, however, often have an awning fitted up over the stern-'^b'^ets of the boat, and sleep on board. By this arrangemeiit, in the event of a favorable breeze blowing at daybreak, the crews can pursue their journey without dis- turbing him. On f>e other hand, the traveler is often called upon to give up the boat to the men during the night, so that they may be further removed from the mosquitoes, and better prepared for work on the ensuing day, when the passenger can make up for the night's sleeplessness. Under this system, then, the steersman occupies the stern-sheets, while the crew, by arranging the mast and oars lengthways over the boat, and stretching oil-cloths over the framework so formed, turn the vessel into one long, snug tent, in which they can rest in com- fort. This device is called a " tanley," the word being cor- rupted from the French *' tendre-le." In the early morning, before the mists had risen from the waters, the loud " Leve ! leve ! leve ! " of the guide roused the camp. Five minutes were sufficient to complete the trav- eler's toilet, tie up his blankets, and embark. The prows of A VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS, 127 the boat-brigade swung into the lake, and the day's voyage began. Usually a short sail is made until a favorable camp- ing-spot is reached, when the boats are again beached, and the breakfast prepared. Then succeeds a renewed plying of the oars, or, if the wind prove favorable, the sails are set, and the little fleet glides smoothly upon its way. When the wind is fair and the weather fine, boats make very long traverses, keeping so far out that, about the middle of the run, neither the point from which they started nor the one toward which they are steering is visible. In calm weather, however, when the oars are used, it is usual to keep closer in-shore, and make shorter traverses. The pursuit of game and wild-fowl, daily indulged in, tends to vary the monotony of the voyage. Oc- casionally the breeding-places of the latter are found, in which event the crews lay in a stock of eggs and young birds suffi- cient for the voyage. Again, returning boats are encountered, and a short season devoted to the exchange of news and com- pliments. The wind springing up, the guide ordered all sail set, and stood far out into the lake. The boats of the brigade proving very unequal sailors, from difference of build and diverse lading, the white sails soon lost all semblance of line, and straggled over the placid waters of the lake, each upon its own tack. Nor did they meet again until we entered the mouth of Winnipeg River, shortly after mid-day, and prepared to encounter its twenty-seven portages, the first of which began but eight miles above the company's fort, at its delta. The Winnipeg River, with twice the volume of water the ;^'1l i ! ■ , ■ ;! ■ i .1 Iw^l '"'ill ' I M 128 THE GREA T FUR LAND. Rhine pours forth, descends three hundred and sixty feet in a distance of one hundred and sixty miles. This descent is not effected by a continuous decline, but by a series of ter- races at irregular distances from each other, thus forming innu- merable lakes and wide-spreading reaches, bound together by rapids and perpendicular falls of varying altitudes. It was over this pathway of rock and stream, of terrace and lagoon, that the course of the boat-brigade now lay. To describe the forcing of one barrier is only to iterate that of the one pre- ceding or following it. Passing through lonely lakes and island-siudded bays, there sounds ahead the rush and roar of falling water ; and, rounding some pine-clad island, or projecting point, a tum- bling mass of foam and spray, studded with rocks and bc.:- dered with dark-wooded shores, bars the way. Above the falls nothing can be seen ; below, the waters boil in angry surge for a moment, then leap away in maddened flight, threatening to toss the well-laden boats like corks upon their sweeping surface. But against this boiling, rushing flood comes the craft and skill of the intrepid voyageurs. They advance upon the fall as if it were an equally subtile enemy with themselves ; they steal upon it before it is aware. The immense volume of water, after its wild leap, lingers a moment in the huge cauldron at the foot of the fall ; then, escaping from the circling eddies and whirlpools, sweeps away in rushing flood into the calmer waters below. But this mighty rush in mid-stream produces a counter- current along-shore, which, taking an opposite turn, sweeps ' ! I ! y4 VOYAGE WITH THE VOYAGEURS, 129 inter- weeps back nearly, if not quite, to the foot of the fall. Into this back-current the stealthy voyagetirs steer their well-laden boat. On one side the rocky bank towers overhead, slender pine and fir-trees finding precarious foothold in its crevices ; on the other, ofttimes but a yard from the advancing boat, sweeps the mad rush of the central current. Up the back- current goes the boat, driven cautiously by its oarsmen, until, just in advance of its bow, appears the whirlpool in which it ends, at the foot of the fall. To enter that revolving mass of water is to be wrecked in a twinkling ; to turn into the broad current of the mid-stream is, apparently, to be swept away in a moment of time. What next ? For a moment there is no paddling, the bowsman aftid steersman alone keeping the boat in position, as she rapidly drifts into the whirlpool. Among the crew not a word is spoken, but every man is at his utmost tension, and awaiting the in- stant which shall call every muscle, nerve, and intelligence into play. Now the supreme moment has come ; for on one side begins the mighty rush of the mid-current, and on the other circle and twist the smooth, green, hollowing curves of the angry whirlpool, revolving round its axis of air with a giant strength that would overturn and suck down the stanch whale-boat in the twinkling of an eye. Just as the prow touches the angry curves, a quick shout is given by the bows- man, and the boat shoots full into the centre of the rushing stream, driven by the united efforts of the entire crew, supple- mented by extra oarsmen from the other boats. The men work for their very lives, and the boat breasts across the 6* mil -•■!» ! i 130 T//£ CREA T FUK LAND. Stream full in the face of the fall. The waters foam and dash around her ; the mad waves leap over the gunwale ; the voy- ageurs shout as they dash their oars like lightning into the flood ; and the traveler holds his breath amidst this war of man against Nature. But the struggle seems useless. Man can effect naught against such a torrent ; the boat is close against the rocks, and is driven down despite the rapid strokes of the oarsmen. For an instant she pauses, as if gath- ering strength for her mad flight down the mid-channel. The dead strength of the rushing flood seems to have prevailed, when, lo ! the whole thing- is done. A dexterous twist of the oars, and the boat floats suddenly beneath a little rocky isle in mid-stream, at the foot of the falls. The portage-landing is over this rock, while a few yards out on either side the mighty flood sweeps on its headlong course. A voyageur leaps out on the wet, slippery rock, and holds the boat in place while the others get out. The cool fellows laugh as they sur- vey the torrent they have just defeated, then turn to carry the freight piece by piece up the rocky stairway, and deposit it upon the flat landing ten feet above. Thr.t accomplished, the boat is dragged over, and relaunched upon the very lip of the fall. But slightly different was the ascent of many of the rapids encountered from time to time. Upon arriving at one, ad- vantage was taken of the back-current near the banks to run up as far as the eddy would permit ; then the bowsman rose from his seat, and craned his neck forward to take a look be- fore attempting the passage. Signaling the route he intended I A 1^0 Y AGE WITH THE yOYAGEURS. 131 to pursue to the steersman, the boat at once shot into tlie chaos of boiling waters that rushed swiftly by. At first it was swept downward with the speed of an arrow, while the mad flood threatened to swamp it in a moment. To the trav- eler, unaccustomed to such perilous navigation, it seemed utter folly to attemjjt tlie ascent ; but a moment more revealed the plan, and brought the stanch craft into a tempo- rary harbor. Right in the middle of the central current a huge rock rose above the surface, while from its base a long eddy ran, like the gradually-lessening tail of a comet, nearly a score of yards down the stream. It was just opposite this rock that the voyagcurs had entered the rapid, and for which they paddled with all their might. The current, sweeping them down, brought the boat just to the extreme point of the eddy by the time mid-stream was reached, and a few vigor- ous strokes of the oars floated it quietly in the lee of the rock. A minute's rest, and the bowsman selected another rock a few yards higher up, but a good deal to one side. Another rush was made, and the second haven reached. In this way, yard by yard, the boat-brigade ascended for miles, sometimes scarcely gaining a foot; again, as a favoring bay or curve presented a long stretch of smooth water, advancing more rapidly. In rapids where the strength of the current forbade ♦^he use of oars, progress was made by means of the trackinj, ,.,'. Tracking, as it is called, is dreadfully harassing work. Half the crew go ashore, and drag the boat slowly along, while the other half go asleep. After an hour's walk, the others take iifi '¥ -in 'a I II IIH! 132 T//E GREAT FUR LAND. their turn, and so on, alternately, during the entire day. As the banks about the rapids were generally high and very pre- cipitous, the voyagcurs had to scramble along, now close to the water's edge, again high up on Mie bank, on ledges where they could hardly find a footing, and where they re- sembled flies on a wall. The banks, too, composed of soft clay and mud, increased the labor of hauling ; but the light- hearted voyageurs seemed to think nothing of it, and laughed and joked as they toiled along, playing tricks upon each other, and plunging occasionally up to the waist in mud and water, with a reckless carelessness all their own. So, day after day^ the boat-brigade journeyed on ; through island-studded bays, over long reaches of limpid water whose placid surface not a ripple stirred, over turbid floods thick with the ooze of muddy banks, breasting fierce rapids, climb- ing thundering waterfalls ; sometimes making a fair day's travel, again, after a day of weary toil, bivouacking almost within sight of last night's camp-fire. One day the traveler became aware of an undue bustle and excitement among the swarthy crews of the brigade. The pointed prows were turned shoreward and run upon a pebbly beach, affording easy access to the limpid water, and facing the warm rays of the sun. The voyageurs brought forth all the soiled clothing worn upon the journey, and a gen- eral scrubbing took place. Soon the bushes in the vicinity, the branches of the trees, and the flat rocks, bore plentiful burdens of gaudy-colored apparel, waving in the breeze to dry. Copious baths were next administered to their persons, A VOYAGE WITH THE VOVAGEUKS. 133 I U4 VV// (,A'A\/ /• / CK /./,\7>, ii fu. Ribln^ns woro Im.uiKmI \\\ tho hiiir, llnshy sashes oMcinlod their w«i»ts, -^ '''^ r Photographic Sciences Corporation #^ V ^> V % <^ o^ '<}) 23 WEST MAIN STRIEET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4503 Ua 174 THE GREA T FUR LAND, attributed the phenomenon to a decoction of certain herbs given him by a medicine-man whom he had mortally offended. His family, so far as we heard of them, were innocent of any hirsute covering. In a family of three Cree Indians of advanced age, a sis- ter and two brothers, named respectively Sallie, Creppe, and Hornie, living near Fort Pelly, perhaps the strangest effects of the medicine-man's drugs appeared. These old people had been poisoned in early youth, with a different effect in each case. Sallie, who was a hanger-on about the kitchen, lost the nails of her fingers and toes regularly every year at the season when birds moult their feathers. This phenome- non had never failed to occur annually since the medicine had been taken in infancy. There was but little pain con- nected with this shedding of the nails, and they soon grew out again. Her brother Creppe was afflicted with an erup- tion of warts over his entire person, and was altogether as hideous a looking object as could well be imagined. The divisions of his fingers and toes were hidden by these mon- strous excrescences ; from his ears depended warts nearly an inch in length ; in fact, he was covered with them all over except his eyes. At certain seasons of the year they became very painful, and deprived him of the power of locomotion. But in the case of Hornie — a name conferred by some facetious Scotch trader, in allusion to a fancied resemblance to his Satanic majesty — the effects of the poison were of quite another character. Hornie's hair was simply changed from a generally deep black to alternate streaks of black and white. i^ : THE FRATERNITY OF MEDICINE-MEN. 175 These streaks were about an inch in width, and ran from the forehead to the back of the head. The line of demarcation between the two colors was very abrupt and distinct ; the white color being the purest that can be imagined. There was no gradual merging from iron-grey to grey, thence to white ; it was the whiteness of unsullied snow throughout the streak. And it never changed. We do not feel that strangers to the subject of which we write will receive these mcidents with the confidence which they deserve, nor even that those who are somewhat familiar with the actual circumstances will admit every inference to be drawn to be the living truth ; but our own assurance is so clear and strong that we c.in only judge the critic by his judgment of it. We know what we assert, and are upon honor with the reader. Medical gentlemen in the country have differed in their opinions as to the ability of Indians to cause the above-de- scribed symptoms; and, so far as we can gather, the subject is a difficult one, and resolves itself more into a question of evidence of facts than of the medicinal property of the roots and drugs. We were once furnished an opportunity of examining at our leisure the contents of many medicine-bags at a certain Indian mission station in the northern country. These bags had formerly been the property of sundry medicine-men, who, on their conversion to Christianity, had transferred them to the keeping of the reverend missionary. There was a large col- lection of them thrown promiscuously upon the floor of a ■w ; m Hi 176 T//£ GREA T FUR LAND. small out-building. The bags were, for the most part, formed of the skins of various wild beasts in embryotic state, taken off whole, and so stuffed as to retain as much as possible the natural position of the animal. They had evidently served as the totems of the owners. The contents of these primi- tive medicine-chests were as varied as the most enthusiastic curio could desire. Each article was wrapped carefully in a separate parcel by itself, with the inner bark of the birch- tree, and 'iuly labeled as to its contents with totemic sym- bols. An unwrapping of these packages resulted in the dis- covery of an extensive assortment of ingredients. There were dried herbs of many different varieties — bark and leaves of strange plants and trees ; white and orange-colored powders of the finest quality, and evidently demanding skill in their preparation; claws of animals and talons of birds; colored feathers and beaks ; a few preserved skins and teeth of reptiles ; but a total absence of liquids or any vessels that could be used to carry them. There were several pLints, packages of which were found in every bag; but the majority differed greatly, and the materia medica of each practitioner seemed to be the result of individual choice and research. One thing, however, was common to all — the small package of human finger and toe nails. Of what peculiar significa- tion they were, or used in what malady, we are unable to state. Among the other contents of the medicine-bags, and com- mon to all, were small images of wood, the presence of which was considered essential to the proper efficacy of the drugs. I!l THE FRATERNITY OF MEDICINE-MEN. 177 which drugs. This was the real totem which presided over the effectual use of the ingredients, and represented the guardian spirit of the owner. The Indians believe every animal to have had a great original or father. The first buffalo, the first bear, the first beaver, the first eagle, etc., was the Manitou or guardian spirit of the whole race of these different creatures. They chose some one of these originals as their special Manitou, or guardian ; and hence arose the custom of having its represen- tation as the totem of an entire tribe. But the medicine- men being, as it were, the priests of the spirits, and mediums between them and the world, are entitled to a special guar- dian spirit of their own, and hence carry his totem among their drugs. As they profess to heal through the direction of this spirit or guardian, they very properly place his image among the means he commands to be used. These images were, as a matter of course, of limited size and rough workmanship. Their designs were various, and represented different animalb, birds, reptiles, the human figure in strange attitudes, the sun and moon, and combinations of all these in many forms. Whatever they held to be superior to themselves, they deified ; but they never exalted it much above humanity, and these images never betrayed the ex- pression of a conception of a supernatural being on the part of their owners. But, whatever may have been the value of the contents of these medicine-bags, certain it is that a fraternity of medicine- men exists among the Indians, and that those without its pale look with great awe upon the power of its members. 8* , Ml 1 I 1 i . It II J 'I 178 T//£ GREAT FUR LAND. The latter are the great actors in the dog-feasts. They make medicine for the recovery of the sick, who apply for their as- sistance, and initiate novices into the mysteries of the frater- nity. In payment for each exercise of these offices, a remu- neration of some value is required ; the charges being, like those of many of the medical profession, in proportion to the wealth of the patient. In many cases it happens that, through a pretty thorough knowledge of the virtues of certain herbs, a firm determination on the part of the sufferer not to die, and a constitution inured to noxious lotions of every kind, the medicine-man effects a cure. Some of his cures and specifics are wonderful, too. We recall to memory a certain bufTalo-hunt in which we once participated, accompanying a French-Indian family. Among the members of this nomadic domestic circle was a young woman about nineteen years of age, and of very strong physique. It happened one day that, in drawing a loaded shot-gun from the cart by the muzzle, the charge exploded, and passed entirely through her body in the region of the chest. The gun being not over twenty inches distant from her per- son when discharged, the shot left a hole through which one's finger could be thrust. We were tented on the plain, hundreds of miles from settlements, and totally destitute alike of medical knowledge and remedies. The girl was given up for lost, of course. Near our own camp, however, were a few lodges of Indians, and among them, as usual, a medicine- man. The report of the accident soon reaching the Indian tepees^ this conjurer stalked over to our tents, and looked ' strong oaded ed, and chest. ler per- which plain, stitute IS given were a dicine- Indian looked THE FRATERNITY OF MEDICINE-MEN. 1 79 without; comment for a time upon the unskilled effort'; being made for the sufferer's relief. At length he addressed the father of the girl, offering to cure her if she was intrusted to his care. Clutching at this straw, in the absence of any better thing, with the girl's consent the father accepted the proposal ; and the patient was transferred to the lodge of the medicine-man. Strange as it may appear, the woman re- covered after a time, under the drugs and care of the con- jurer, and was able to return home with us at the termination of the hunt. We saw her some years after, and she expressed herself as enjoying perfect health. The payment for effecting this cure was, if we recollect aright, two Indian ponies, which, it is needless to say, were cheerfully paid. On his initiation into the mysteries of the brotherhood, the candidate, besides paying the medicine-men a fair price, must be a man known to the adepts as eligible. This eligi- bility consists, it has been contended, in physical perfection alone; but, having known conjurers who were deformed from birth, and others maimed at the time of their initiation, we incline to the opinion that mental characteristics are those most closely examined. A certain dignity of appearance, a severe and mysterious manner, and a more than usual taci- turnity and secretiveness in the candidate, are favorably con- sidered. Different tribes, however, or, it may be, different schools of medicine, have their distinct methods of initia- tion. The most curious initial ceremony coming to our knowl- edge was that of a tribe in the far North. The candidate I ; m i8o THE GREAT FUR LAND. ^m ' Mil ! Il # was required to repair to the forests for a certain number of days, to be passed in fasting, until, from extreme physical privation, he should be wrought up to close communion with the spirits. He then returned, and entered the pale of the fence marking the limits of the dog-feast, to be at once sur- rounded by a circle of conjurers and bruves of his tribe, who indulged in a wild dance. In the midst of this dance a live dog (white in color, if to be had) was brought within the cir- cle by the instructing medicine-man, and handed to the no- vitiate. Seizing the sacrificial canine by the neck and a hind- leg, the candidate finished his initiation by devouring the animal alive. The spectacle of this poor wretch, his face covered with blood, the howls and contortions of the suffer- ing animal, and the yelling, dancing demons- circling about in their monotonous dance, was appalling to the last degree. The dogs consumed were generally of small size, but in some instances large ones were given, and the neophyte was in a gorged and semi-dormant condition at the termination of his repast. With some few orders of medicine-men physical torture in the initiation obtains. The candidate, to cure others, must be a perfect physical man himself; and, as he may oc- casion pain to his patients, must be able to endure it without murmur in his own person. At an appointed time he appears before a medicine-man, who cuts four gashes about three inches long on the shoulders near the point. With a smooth stick of hard wood he makes a hole underneath the slits he has cut, taking in an inch or more in width, and through THE FRATERNITY OF MEDICINE-MEN. I8l \ which a buffalo-thong is passed and tightly tied. Then the breast is served in the same manner. After this one thong is fastened to a long pole, the other to a buffalo-skull, or other heavy weight, with about ten feet of rope between the back and skull. The candidate then jumps into a lively dance, singing a song in keeping with the performance, and jerking the skull about so fast that at times it is four or five feet from the ground, all the time pulling as best he can at the thong fastened to the pole by jumping back and swing- ing upon it. At times the flesh on back and breast seems to stretch eight or ten inches, and, when let up, closes down again with a pop. This dancing and racing continues un*il the flesh-fastenings break. The novitiate is by that time a terrible looking object, and so nearly exhausted that he has to be helped away. His wounds are washed and bound up, presents are made to him, and he is themeforth recognized as a medicine- man. A fast of ten days' duration has been stated to us, on oral and trustworthy testimony, as a necessary preliminary among some tribes to becomipf? a conjurer. During the time indicated the candidate sleeps among the branches of a tree, where a temporary residence has been fitted up for him. His dreams are carefully treasured up in his recollection, and he believes that the spirits who are afterward to become his familiars then reveal themselves to him. Indeed, this intent watching for his spiritual familiars is the principal object of his retirement and fast. He is taught to believe in two kinds of spirits, one eminently good, the other emi- f,i M I 'I 1 182 r^^ C/'^/J T FUR LAND. nently evil. But the latter are inferior in power to the former. The good spirits are his guardians and familiars, yet he may use the devices of the evil ones if he so desire Every accident of life with a medicine-man is accounted for by spiritual agency. An amusing incident may serve to show the extent to which this belief may be carried : A small company of Indians drifted into our premises, one winter's day for the purpose of begging provisions. Among the number were several noted conjurers. Some freak of curiosity tempted us to try how far their belief in the supernatural would carry them; and, having a large music-box in our possession, it was wound up and placed unnoticed upon the table. In a moment it began playing, and the notes of "Bonnie Doon," "The Lass o' Gowrie," etc., reverberated through the apartment. At its first chords the faces of the savages assumed a wondering, dazed expres- sion. But, quickly recovering from that phase of amaze- ment, they began to trace the sound to its origin. After some minutes of deep attention, one old man evidently dis- covered the source, and without a moment's hesitation raised his guu and fired it at the box. It is perhaps unnecessary to mention that the instrument was, to use a nautical expres- sion, " a total wreck." The conjurer asserted that the music was produced by an evil spirit concealed in the box, and could only be driven out by a gunshot. Our curiosity was satisfied, but at a considerable expense. For whole nights previous to the public and final cere- mony of the dog-feast, the principal medicine-man, installed f r :f- 'i f THE FRATERNITY OF MEDICINE-MEN. 183 in his medicine-tent, instructs his pupils. The quaint party is accompanied by an individual who beats the medicine- drum, the monotonous tones of which are kept up during the whole time the lesson continues. What special branch of medical science is instilled into the minds of pupils we do not know. It is probably but a lesson in incantation or some senseless jugglery, intended to awe the candidate; for the medicine-men are acute deceivers, and as despotic and absurd in social life as are the priests and oracles and con- jurers of civilized man in another hemisphere. It has been our good fortune to see some of the tricks performed by the medicine-men, among the most curious of which is one analogous to the celebrated Davenport trick. The conjurer in every instance permitted an inspection of tent and person ; he was then securely tied inside the tent and left alone for a moment, when he would appear untied at the door; a moment later he would be tied again. This trick is, in certain localities, quite common among them, and exceedingly well performed. They exhibit also many other feats of jugglery, in themselves very curious and interesting, but not calling for notice here. An interesting circumstance obtains, however, in their weather divinations. During stormy weather, the medicine- man may be heard in his tent engaged in loud incantations. After half a day spent in this manner, he appears, and pre- dicts at what time the storm will begin to abate, the direc- tion the wind will take, and the time that will elapse before its entire cessation. In short, he gives a complete meteoro- il ( ; !1 rft 1 84 THE GREA T FUR LAND. logical and storm tabic; and, in the many instances in which these predictions were made in our presence, they in- variably proved correct. However, neither from undoubted medicine-men who have been converted to the Christian faith, nor from any others of whom we have heard, has any thing worth knowing in relation to what may be termed the mysteries of the cere- monies above indicated been ever elicited. Christian ex- conjurers have, we believe, been known to express an opin- ion that they possessed a power when pagans which they were unable to exercise after baptism. What this belief may be worth we do not know. CHAr-T-ER IX. THE BLACKFEET — A PLAIN-INDIAN " TRADE." \T 7H0EVER has studied the geographical position of ' ■ the posts of the Hudson's Bay Company canno. '1 to have noticed the vast extent of country intervening betwec u the forty-ninth parallel of latitude and the North Sasl tche wan River, in which there exists no fort nor trading-statio" of the company. ■ his is *he country of the Blackfeet, 'ha. wild, rest^ s, erring race, whose hand is against every nun, and every man's hand against them. With the Rocky Moun- tains and the forty-ninth parallel as a portion of the circum- ference, a line drawn from the latter through the elbow of the South Saskatchewan River and the Bad Hill, thence trending northwest along the course of the Red-Deer River, nearly to the Rocky Mountain House, would inclose the British Amer- ican territory of the Blackfeet nation. In the United States it extends along the course of the Missouri River to a point below the Sun River, thence diverging north of east to the elbow of the South Saskatchewan. A line drawn from the latter point to the Rocky Mountain House would measure six hundred miles in length, and yet lie wholly in the country of the Blackfeet. Along its northern border lies a fair and fer- tile land ; but close by, scarcely half a day's journey to the 1 86 THE GREA T FUR LAND. south, the arid, treeless, sandy plains begin to supplant the rich, verdure-clad hills and dales, and that immense central desert spreads out those ocean-like expanses which find their southern limit down by the waters of the Canadian River, full twelve hundred miles due south of the Saskatchewan. Within the territory of the Blackfeet nation scarce a trace of settlement exists, and but few trading-posts stand to wel- coi\ie the booty-laden warrior to their rude counters* Along its entire border there prevails, during the months of summer and autumn, a state of perpetual warfare : on the north and east with the Plain Crees ; on the south and west with the Kootanais and Flatheads ; on the southeast and northwest with the Assiniboines of the plain and mountains ; on the south there are ceaseless predatory excursions against the Ameri- cans on the Missouri. Ever since the tribes first became known to the white traders, there has existed this state of hostility among them. The red-man has always three great causes of war — to steal a horse, to take a scalp, or to get a wife. On the north, the Crees and Assiniboines continually force on hostilities, for the sake of stealing the Blackfeet horses, which are far better than their own ; while, on the south, the Blackfeet make war upon the Crows and Flatheads for a similar reason. At war with every nation that touches the wide circle of their boundaries', these wild, dusky men sweep like a whirlwind over the arid deserts of the central ♦ Considerable change has taken place in the character of the Black- feet country within the past six years, owing to the rapid settlement of the Northwest Territories, and the establishment of Mounted Police Sta- tions at different points. \ n THE BLACKFEET. 187 Black- merit of ice Sta- plateau. They speak a language distinct from that of all other native tribes ; their feasts and ceremonies, too, are difierent from those of other nations. Not absolutely sta- tionary residents of a domain, and wandering much by families and tribes, yet they are not nomads ; a confed- eracy, there is not the semblance of a national government anywhere. In fact, they form the most curious anomaly of that race of men who are passing away beneath our eyes into the infinite solitude. The legend of their origin runs thus : " Long years ago, when their great forefather crossed the Mountains of the Setting Sun, and settled along the sources of the Missouri and South Saskatchewan, it came to pass that a chief had three sons : Kenna, or The Blood ; Peaginou, or The Wealth ; and a third who was nameless. The first two were great hunters ; they brought to their father's lodge rich store of moose and elk meat, and the buffalo fell beneath their unerring arrows ; but the third, or nameless one, ever returned empty-handed from the chase, until his brothers mocked him for want of skill. One day the old chief said to this unsuccessful hunter : * My son, you cannot kill the moose, your arrows shun the buffalo, the elk is too fleet for your footsteps, and your brothers mock you because you brinp no meat into the lodge ; but see ! I will make you a mighty hunter.' And the old chief took from his lodge-fire a piece of burnt stick, and, wetting it, rubbed the feet of his son with the blackened charcoal, and named him Sat-sia-qua, or The Blackfeet ; and evermore Sat-sia-qua was a mighty hunter, and 1 88 THE GREA T FUR LAND. his arrows flew straight to the buffalo, and his feet moved swift in the chase." * According to tradition, from these three sons descended the three tribes of Blood, Peaginou, and Blackfeet ; but for many generations there have been two other tribes or parts of tribes recognized in the confederacy. These are the Gros- Ventres, or Atsinas, on the extreme southeast, a branch of the Arrapahoe nation who dwelt along the sources of the Platte ; and the Sircies, on the north, a branch or offshoot of the Chippewyans of Lake Athabasca. The latter are a small but very mischievous band, which, last of all the tribes, joined the confederacy. How the former tribe became detached from the parent-stock has never been determined ; but of the latter tradition tells how a tribe of Beavers, fighting over the wanton killing of a dog, concluded a peace only on condition of separation ; and the friends of the chief whose arrow had killed the dog marched out into the night to seek their for- tunes in the vast wilderness lying to the south. A hundred years later, a Beaver Indian, following the fortunes of a white trader, found himself in one of the forts of the Saskatchewan. Strange Indians were camped about the palisades, and among them were a few braves who, when they conversed together, spoke a language different from the other Blackfeet ; in this the Beaver Indian recognized his own tongue. And to this day the Sircies speak the language of their original tribe — a guttural tongue which may be heard far down in Mexico and Nicaragua, among the wild Navajo i*nd Apache horsemen of * Major Butler, " Great Lone Land." THE BLACKFEET. 189 the Mexican plains — in addition to that of the adopted one. The Blackfeet tongue is rich, musical, and stately ; that of the Sircies harsh, guttural, and difficult ; and while the Sir- cies always speak the former in addition to their own tongue, the Blackfeet rarely acquire the language of the Sircies. Al- though the remaining tribes of the great Blackfeet nation live in close alliance and speak the same language, yet it is com- paratively easy to distinguish them by differences of dialect and pronunciation, such as prevail in the various districts of our own country. Of the territory occupied by the Blackfeet nation, the Sircies, numbering scarcely two hundred souls, inhabit the northern border ; joining them on the south come the Black- feet proper, numbering, according to the late annual counts, of the Hudson's Bay officers at their posts, about four thou- sand. From their southern limit to the South Saskatchewan! range the Bloods, numbering two thousand ; and thence to> the Missouri wander the Peagins, numbering three thousand. In March, 1870, the small-pox, carrying off large numbers of the latter tribe, swept northward through the remaining tribes, and reduced the nation by a fourth. Previous to the ravages of this terrible epidemic, the Blackfeet confederacy was believed to comprise from twelve to fourteen thousand people, all included. But the Blackfeet, taken as a body, are still the most numerous and powerful of the nations that live wholly or partly in British North America. In person they have de- veloped an unusual degree of beauty and symmetry. Though I go THE GREA T FUR LAND. of less stature than many other Indians, they are still tall and well made. Their faces are very intelligent, the nose aqui- line, the eyes clear and brilliant, the cheek-bones less promi- nent, and the lips thinner than usual among other tribes. The dress of the men differs little from the ordinary costume of the Indian of the plains, except in being generally cleaner and in better preservation. The Bloods dress more neatly and are finer and bolder-looking men than the Blackfeet, who, in turn, surpass the Peagins in these respects. The Bloods are said to have among them many comparatively fair men, with grey eyes, and hair both finer and lighter-colored than usual in the case of pure Indians. This tribe is sup- posed to bear its savage name, not from any particular cruelty of disposition, but because, unlike the other tribes, its warriors do not steal horses, but only seek for the blood of their ene- mies, whom they generally overcome, for they are among the bravest of all the natives. The faces of both Blackfeet men and women are generally highly painted with vermilion, which seems to be the national color. The dress of the latter is very singular and striking, consisting of long gowns of buffalo- skins, dressed beautifully soft, and dyed with yellow ochre. This is confined at the waist by a broad belt of the same mate- rial, thickly studded over with round brass plates, the size of a silver half-dollar piece, brightly polished. The Blackfeet, how- ever, in common with other Indians, are rapidly adopting blan- kets and capotes, and giving up the beautifully-painted robes of their forefathers. The ornamented robes that are now made >are inferior in workmanship to those of the days gone by. THE BLACKFEET, 191 The mental characteristics of the Blackfeet resemble closely those of Indians everywhere. Similar circumstances give shape and force to thoughts and emotions in all. Intel- lectual vigor is manifested in shrewdness of observation, and strong powers of perception, imagination, and eloquence. They are quick of apprehension, cunning, noble-minded, and firm of character, yet cautious in manner, and with a certain expression of pride and reserve. They are strong and active, and naturally averse to an indolent habit. Their activity, however, is rather manifested in war and the chase than in useful labor. Pastoral, agricultural, and mechanical labor they despise, as forming a sort of degrading slavery. In this they are as proud as the citizens of the old republics whose busi- ness was war. Their labors are laid upon the women, who also are, upon occasion, the beasts of burden upon their marches ; for the egotism of the red-man, like that of his white brother, makes him regard woman as his inferior, and a predestined servant to minister to his comfort and pleasure. The Blackfeet have, moreover, both a local attachment and a strong patriotic or national feeling, in which respect they differ favorably from all other tribes. In their public coun- cils and debates they exhibit a genuine oratorical power, and a keenness and closeness of reasoning quite remarkable. Eloquence in public speaking is a gift which they earnestly cultivate, and the chiefs prepare themselves by previous re- flection and arrangement of topics and methods of expression. Their scope of thought is as boundless as the land over which they roam, and their speech the echo of the beiuty that I -I 'J,; 192 THE CREA T FUR LAND. lies spread around them. Their expressions are as free and lofty as those of any civilized man, and they speak the voices of the things of earth and air amid which their wild life is cast. Their language being too limited to afford a wealth of diction, they make up in ideas, in the shape of metaphor furnished by all Nature around them, and read from the great book which day, night, and the desert, unfold to them. As before stated, although the Blackfeet nation is really a confederacy of five tribes, yet there is no semblance of a national government anywhere. All political power is vested in the head -chief of each tribe, and is nearly absolute while he exercises it. He is the executor of the people's will, as determined in the councils of the elders. Some of them are men of considerable natural abilities ; all must be brave and celebrated in battle. Sometimes they are hereditary leaders, but more frequently owe their elevation to prowess in war, or merits as orators and statesmen. Public opinion elevates them, and that, together with an uncompromising assertion of their rights, alone sustains them. To disobey the mandate of a chief is, at times, to court instant death at his hands. But, when a chief is once established in power, the tribe generally confide in his wisdom, and there is seldom any transgression of the laws promulgated by him. He has absolute control of all military expeditions ; and, whithersoever the chief or leader of the soldiers is sent by him, the warriors follow. At the present time, the two most prominent chiefs of the Black- feet nation are Sapoo-max-sika, or " The Great Crow's Claw," chief of the Blackfeet proper, and Oma-ke-pee-mulkee-yeu, or THE BLACKFEET. 193 " The Great Swan," chief of the Bloods. These men are widely diverse in ch?racter, the former being a man whose word, once given, may be relied upon for fulfillment ; while the latter is represented as a man of colossal proportions and savage disposition, crafty, treacherous, and cruel. As a race, the Blackfeet are livelier than other Indian tribes. The latter are gen- erally quarrelsome when in liquor, while the former show their jollity by dancing, sing- ing, and hugging one anoth- er with all sorts of antics. Though so fond of rum, the Blackfeet are not habitual drunkards. They get com- pletely drunk once or twice a year, but at other times take nothing stronger than coffee, which the United States Government deals out a blackfeet grave. to them as part of an annual subsidy. They consider — and not without some icason — that these periodical excesses are good for them, curing the biliousness caused by their mode of life. Their funeral and burial ceremonies indicate their belief in the immortality of the soul. These forms are of a similar type among all the tribes composing the nation. They place their dei.d, dressed in gaudiest apparel, within a tent, in a sit- 9 %\ 194 THE GREA T FUR LAND. ting posture, or occasionally fold them in skins and lay them on high scaffolds out of the reach of wild beasts, under which the relatives weep and wail. Their arms and horses are buried with them, to be used in the long journey to the spirit- land, showing the possession of the idea of the dual nature of matter and spirit. A somewhat singular custom obtains upon the death of a child. Immediately upon its decease, the whole village rush into the lodge and take possession of whatever portable prop- erty they can seize upon, until the grief-stricken parents are stripped of all their worldly possessions, not even excepting their clothing. The only method of evading the custom is to secrete the most valuable property beforehand, generally a matter difficult of accomplishment. Although the Blackfeet nation is divided into detached tribes, yet the essen ial characteristics of the race may be found in all. Proud, courageous, independent, and dignified in bearing, they form the strongest possible contrast with the majority of the Northern tribes ; and they have many natural virtues which might carry them far toward civilization, but for the wars into which they have been plunged by the rapa- city of the whites. These wars have not only greatly dimin- ished their numbers, but keep alive a feeling of implacable hatred of the whole white race, which no extraneous influence has as yet served to mitigate. ** At this moment," wrote an American officer scarcely fifteen years since, " it is certain a man can go about through the Blackfeet country without mo- lestation, except in the contingency of being mistaken at night THE BLACK FEET. 195 for an Indian." But fifteen years of injustice and wrong have changed the friend into an aggressive enemy. Injustice and wrong toward the Indian have almost always formed the rule with the Government and individuals, and the opposite the exception. Smarting under a sense of these wrongs, the Blackfeet have been made implacable enemies of their op- pressors. Those who have paraded a '* knowledge of Indian character" have, in scores of instances, purposely fanned the flames of indignation and desire for revenge, and incited the Indians to make war that their own craft might prosper in government employ. Knowledge of Indian character has too long been synonymous with knowledge of how to cheat the Indian ; a species of cleverness which, even in the science of chicanery, does not require the exercise of the highest abil- ities. The red-man has already had too many dealings with persons of this class, and has now a very shrewd idea that those who possess this knowledge of his character have also managed to possess themselves of his property. At war on every hand, anything like regular trade with the Blackfeet nation is carried on with much difificulty. Years ago a desultory exchange of peltries and merchandise was conducted through the Peagin tribe at Fort Benton and other posts on the Missouri ; but constant imposition on the part of the white traders, and retaliation by the red-men. have now nearly estopped all commercial relations between the two parties. In recent years, a small post established by two Americans on the Belly River, sixty miles within British ter- ritory, on the Fort Benton and Edmonton House trail, for 196 THE GREA T FUR LAND. the purpose of trading improved arms, ammunition, and spirits, to the Blackfeet, has attracted the greater share of their trade ; the Blackfeet realizing the necessity of meeting their enemies with the improved implements of modern war- fare. This establishment, controlled by a band of outlaws, obtaining its goods by smuggling across the boundary-line, and the open and flagrant violation of all law, human and divine, and only safe from plunder by the savages by reason of superior armament and the known reckless character of its servants, was fortunately broken up by the Dominion consta- bulary a short time since. It is a matter of regret, however, that the Blackfeet should have been thoroughly supplied with repeating-rifles previous to its demolition. The closing of this post leaves the Blackfeet nation but one other trading-post* in the immediate vicinity of their own territory, and diverts the trade from an American to a British channel. The Rocky-Mountain House of the Hudson's Bay Com- pany stands upon the high northern bank of the North Sas- katchewan River, in the thick pine-forest which stretches away to the base of the foot-hills. The stream here runs in a deep, wooded valley, on the western extremity of which rise the towering peaks of the Rocky Mountains. The house itself is a heavy log structure, and presents many features to be found in no other post of the region. Built with especial reference to the Plain-Indian trade, every device known to * The writer refers to the old established trading-posts of the Fur Trade. Since the formation of the Northwest Territories by the Dominion Govern- ment, military and trading-posts have been scattered throughout the Blackfeet country. Tfia THE BLACKFEET. 197 r the trader has been put in force to secure the servants against the possibility of a surprise during a barter ; for the wily Black- feet seize every opportunity to overpower the garrison and help themselves, to the complete collapse of profit on the trade to the Hudson's Bay Company. Bars, bolts, locks, sliding-doors, and places to fire down upon the Indians, abound in every direction, and the apartments in which the Indians assemble to trade are cut off from all communication with the remaining rooms of the fort. In effect, the cus- tomers of this isolated mercantile establishment are handled very much after the manner of a hot coal, and surrounded, metaphorically speaking, with sheet-iron guards lest damage might result to the holder. When the Blackfeet have accumulated a sufficient number of peltries to warrant a visit to the Rocky-Mountain House, two or three envoys, or forerunners, are chosen, and are sent in advance of the main body, by a week or more, to announce their approach and notify the officers in charge of the quan- tity of provisions, peltries, robes, horses, etc., which they will have to dispose of ; and also to ascertain the where- abouts of their hereditary enemies, the Crees and Mountain Assiniboines. The envoys prepare for state visits of this nature by an assumption of their gaudiest apparel, and a more than usual intensity of paint : scarlet leggins and blankets ; abundance of ribbons in the cap, if any be worn, or the head- band trimmed with beads and porcupine-quills, while the bulk of the cap is made of the plumage of birds ; again, a single feather from the wing of an eagle or white-bird, fastened in i« i^ iqS THE GREA T FUR LAND. the scalp-lock, or the hair plaited in a long cue behind, and two shorter ones hanging down on each side in front, each bound round with coils of bright brass wire ; round the eyes a halo of bright vermilion, a streak down the nose, a patch on each cheek, and a circle round the mouth of the same color, constitute the effective head-gear of the advance-agents. The remainder of the costume is modified by climate and seasons. In the summer they are almost naked, seldom wearing more than the azain, or loin-cloth. In the colder months they wear clothing made of the skins of wild animals, dressed, or with fur on ; soft moccasins of deerskin, brightly ornamented with pigments, beads, and stained quills of the porcupine ; leather stockings or leggins of dressed deer-skin, ornamented generally by fringes of the same material, covering the moccasins and reaching nearly to the body, and suspended by a thong round the abdomen. With the females the leggins extend from the feet to the knees, below which they are fastened by a beaded and quilled garter. A shirt, made of soft buffalo -skin, and a necklace of bear's-claws and teeth, together with a fire-bag and tobacco-pipe — the inseparable companions of every In- dian — complete the costume. The forerunner is anxious to make every article of his elaborate toilet tell with effect, as his mission is regarded as an important one, in which a failure to produce a favorable impression on the mind of the trader would be fraught with disastrous consequences to the prospec- tive trade. . Upon arriving at the post, the envoys are received and handsomely entertained by the officer in charge, who THE BLACKFEET. 199 makes them presents according to their rank, and in propor- tion to the anticipated vahie of the trade. They are feasted, smoked, and, upon occasion, wined to a considerable extent. In turn, they report the number of peltries, horses, etc., to be traded by the band, and name the articles likely to be most in demand by their brethren. Such goods are at once placed where they may be easily accessible, and the quantity, if in- adequate, is augmented by supplies procured at the nearest post, should there be sufficient time for that purpose. The forerunners are shown the stock of merchandise on hand, and the quality of the goods ; the values of different articles are explained to them, . d the fullest understanding upon all matters relative to the trade is arrived at. This completed, and a few days of lounging indulged "n, the advance-agents depart to their tribe, and the little garrison of the Mountain House prepare for the coming struggle. Within the fort a searching examination is made of the efficient working of p.ll bolts, locks, gratings, etc., and of the closing of all means of communication between the Indian- room — a large apartment in which the Blackfeet assemble previous to being admitted into the trading-store — and the rest of the buildings ; guns are newly cleaned, reloaded, and placed, together with abundant ammunition, by the numerous loop-holes in the lofts above the trading and Indian-rooms. From the shelves of the former are taken most of the blankets, colored cloths, guns, ammunition, ribbons, bright handker- chiefs, beads, etc., the staple commodities of the Indian trade, with a view of decreasing the excitement under which the 'i^^pi 200 THE CREA T FUR LAND. i!bn> l^i red-man always labors when brought into immediate juxtaposi- tion with so much bravery — an excitement which renders him oblivious to furnishing an equivalent in exchange, and tends to foster his habits of forcible seizure. Preparations are also made within the stockade for the reception of the ponies to be purchased, and their safe-keeping afterward, for the Black- feet's fine sense of humor frequently leads him to ride away an animal he has just sold, by way of practical joke upjn the owner. All things being made secure, there remains for the use of the Blackfeet the narrow passage-way leading from the outer gate of the stout log stockade to the Indian-room — a passage tigntly walled up with smooth logs, in which no interstices or footholds occur, in order to pi event all entrance into the yard of the inclosure, — the Indian-room itself, and the small hall-way leading from it to the trading-store. This latter is closed by two heavy doors, the space between being barely sufficient to accommodate two persons standing with their peltries. In trading but two Indians are admitted into the trading-store at one time, after the following fashion : The passage-door leading into the Indian-room is opened, and two braves admitted therein ; then it is closed, and the other door leading into the trading-store opened. When the two war- riors have finished trading, their return to the Indian-room is effected by a similar process, one door always being kept shut. Both these doors are made to slide into their places, and are manipulated from an apartment occupied by the traders ; so that the supply of customers is regulated as THE BLACKFEET. 201 ixtaposi- ders him nd tends i are also ponies to le Black- ide away upjn the he use of the outer a passage rstices or into the the small s latter is ng barely vith their i into the Dn : The i, and two )ther door two war- m-room is teing kept eir places, d by the Kulated as desired. The trading-store is divided by means of a stout par- tition extending from floor to ceiling into two parts, one for the goods and traders, the other for the Indians. In the centre of this partition an aperture of little more than a yard THE TRAPINC STORE. square is cut, divided by a gratmg into squares sufficiently large to admit the passage of an arm, a blanket, or a robe, but inadequate to the admission of the red-man in person. This partition is necessitated by the fact of the Blackfeet's forget- 9* i- \i \ UMIJ 202 THE GREAT FUR LAND. fulness of the existence of counters, and the exasperating pertinacity with which he insists upon close and personal ex- amination of the goods. It sometimes happens, too, that he expresses his dissatisfaction at the price of a much-coveted article by desultory firing at the person of the trader, who, in the absence of such partition, has no means of escape or con- cealment. It is on account of a somewhat frequent repetition of this occurrence that the two loop-holes in the ceiling im- mediately above the grating are perhaps the most closely guarded of any during the progress of a trade. From time to time, as the shelves are depleted of their gaudy lading, ad- vantage is taken of the absence of all Indians from the room to have new supplies brought in ; care being taken to preserve an equilibrium, the loss of which would lead to a correspond- ing depression or excitement on the part of the braves. The furs and provisions traded are at once transferred to another apartment out of sight. On the day appointed for the trade a moving cloud ap- proaching over the prairie soon takes on a certain degree of individuality, and the picturesque throng come in mounted upon their gayly-caparisoned ponies, dashing over the ground at full speed, sometimes singly, most often in knots of two or three, or even larger groups. When the Blackfeet pay a visit to the Mountain House they generally come in large numbers, prepared to fight with either Crees or Assiniboines. The braves generally ride free, while the squaws and children bring up the rear with the ponies and dogs drawing the loaded travailles. A travaille is an Indian contrivance consisting ol THE BLACKFEET, 203 two poles fastened together at an acute angle, with crossbars between. The point of the angle rests upon the back of the dog or horse, the diverging ends of the poles drag along the ground, and the baggage is tied on to the crossbars. The In- dians use these contrivances instead of carts. It frequently occurs that, in addition to the packs of dogs and horses, the women are also heavily laden. The Blackfeet, having successfully forded the river with their peltries, by piling them upon the backs of ponies which they force to swim the stream, form a camp at some distance from the fort, pitching their tepees and spreading the wet robes out to dry. A tepee, or lodge, is generally composed of from ten to twelve buffalo-hides, from which the hair has been re- moved, and the skin nicely tanned and smoked. The usual number of Indians to a tepee is seven, of which at least two are warriors or able-bodied fighting-men. The camp being com- pleted, the ponies for barter are selected, and the furs and provisions made ready for transportation to the fort, and easily accessible during the trade. The ponies of the Black- feet are generally of a superior breed to those found among other Northern tribes, and command higher prices. The braves are very fond of their horses, and very careful of them, differing in this respect from th;^ Crees and Vssiniboines, who are rough and unmerciful masters. They have a custom of marking their horses with certain hieroglyphics, painting them over with curious devices, and scenting them with aromatic herbs. Everything being made ready in the Blackfeet camp — II ■ ■ — V— .- J- r ■ f ■ ■ '^■' \ ! ! i^r, 204 THE GREA T FUR LAUD. peltries collected in small bundles, provisions packed, robes and dressed skins dried and easily accessible, the best gar- ments and most vivid paint donned by the braves — whatever is to be traded is now laid upon the backs of ponies and squaws, and the entire camp approa'^h the fort in long caval- cade. Within a short distance of the stockade the procession halts, and the officer in charge goes out to meet them. A small circle is formed by the chiefs and head-men, the trader enters it, and the palaver begins. Many speeches are made ; each brave, first embalming himself in a few words of feeling eulogy, assures the officer of his inordinate affection for the white race in general and his person in particular, and avows his intention of conducting the ensuing trade in a strictly honorable and orderly manner — the whole affair terminating by the principal chief illustrating his love for his white brother and his own "big heart" by loading a pony with an hetero- geneous collection of robes, leather,- and provisions, and hand- ing horse and all he carries over to the officer. This is the Indian manner of beginning a trade ; and, after such a present, no sane man can possibly entertain a doubt upon the big- heartedness of the donor. The custom has, however, one drawback — the trader is expected to return a present of twice the value. Unlike the Spaniard, when the red-man extends one the key of his house, he expects the offer to be taken lit- erally, at the same time grimly smiling over the certain retri- bution which awaits the receiver. In fact, it is one of the in- conveniences of having Indian friends that, if one expresses admiration of anything they possess, it is almost invariably '^ THE BLACKFEET. 205 handed over, and the unfortunate recipient of a penny is in for a pound. In this case it is certain that, if the trader pur- chases a hundred horses during the trade which ensues, not one of the whole band will cost so dearly as that which de- monstrates the friendship and large-heartedness of the chief. For, immediately upon the knowledge of its receipt at the fort, 'the gate is again swung open, and there is sent out to the chief, in return, a gift of blankets, strouds, ammunition, and finery, u: . the combined weight of which he staggers off, looking like a vermilion Atlas. Such tangible proof of the corresponding size of the trader's heart being received, the chief addresses the assembled braves, exhorting them to con- duct themselves in an orderly and peaceable manner, and not prove him the possessor of a forked tongue by rude behavior. The braves, standing ready with their peltries, and eager to begin the trade, readily promise to observe his commands, and move up toward the gate of the stockade. The trader having returned to the post, all preparations for the trade are completed, communication cut off, men all stationed at their posts ready for anything that may turn up. Then the outer gate is thrown open, and the eager crowd rushes into the Indian-room. In a moment the door leading into the little hall-way connecting that apartment with the trading-store slides back, and two Indians with their peltries enter. Then the door slides into place again, and the other one opens, admitting the braves into the store. They look through the grating, select the articles they want, and pay * for them in installments. An Indian never asks at once for i'.|!5SR ■ 11 m n 206 TI/£ GREA T FUR LAND. everything he wants, and then pays for it in one payment ; but purchases one thing at a time, receives his change, then turns his attention to another. In this way he seems to get more for his money ; and the linked sweetness of shopping is longer drawn out. The trade is rapidly pushed, and the braves are at once returned by the double-barred process to the Indian-room, and a fresh batch admitted, when the doors are again locked. The reappearance of each installment of fortunate braves, with the much-prized articles of ornament and use, continually augments the growing excitement of the waiting throng in the Indian-room. Each one is eagerly questioned as to what he saw, whether there was any of this or that article, and whether the supply would be likely to be exhausted before the ques- tioner's turn arrived. Each succeeding statement that there were on the shelves but a few guns, blankets, a little tea, sugar, etc., intensifies the anxiety, and the crush to get In increases in proportion, under the belief that everything will be gone. The announcement by the trader, through a loop-hole, that there will be enough for all, scarcely allays the confusion in any measure, the universal desire and rush to obtain the first choice still remaining. Thus the trade progresses until all the furs and provisions have changed hands, and there is nothing more to be traded. Sometimes, however, the trade does not proceed so smoothly. It frequently happens that the Blackfeet repair to the fort with but a small collection of robes and leather, under which circumstances, being of a fru- , \ oiind, they object to seeing their stock in trade go for a THE BLACKFEET. 207 little tea and sugar. These objections generally assume the shape of bullets and knife-hacking, of which the walls of the Indian-room bear plentiful evidence. Then the trading-store is promptly closed, only to be re-opened when the sudden ebullition of anger has passed away. Upon the completion of the exchange of peltries and goods begins the horse-trading ; and the method of carrying it on depends much upon the humor which the Blac!'feet ex- hibit. If they appear well satisfied with the trade of goods, then the horse-trading takes place immediately outside the stockade — the animals being led within as fast as purchased, and the Indians shown singly into the trading-store to be paid. If an aggressive spirit obtains, however, a single brave, with his pony or ponies, is admitted at a time within the yard of the stockade, the trade effected, and the owner paid and passed without the gate before the admission of a second. Perhaps a more than usual care is exercised during the pro- gress of this trade, from the fact that the Blackfeet generally all gather about the stockade at that time, and, the majority being already supplied with goods, they fail to recognize the necessity of longer preserving peaceful relations with the traders. A peculiarity of these trades lies in the fact that money values are unknown, everything being reckoned by skins, as is the case throughout a great portion of the company's territory. The skin is a very old term in the fur-trade, and is based upon the standard of the beaver-skin, or, as it is called, the made beaver. For example : a beaver, or skin, is reck- 208 r//4 GREA T FUR LAND. oned equivalent to one mink-skin ; one marten is equal to two skins, one buffalo-robe to six skins, a silver fox to twenty skins, and so on throughout the scale of fur. In a like manner all articles of merchandise have their value in skins. Thus a brave brings a pony, which is valued at fifty skins, and these fifty skins will be divided as follows : a kettle, five skins ; a blanket, ten skins ; a capote, ten skins ; ammunition, ten skins ; tobacco, fifteen skins. The brave hands over the pony, and receives in payment a capote, a blanket, a kettle, ammunition, and tobacco. The original skin, the beaver, now seldom makes its appearance at the Mountain House, those animals having been nearly exterminated in that part of the territory ; but, notwithstanding the fact of the marked deterioration in the price of the beaver-skin since it was originally adopted as the standard of value in the fur-trade, owing to the extensive use of silk in the manufacture of hats, it still nominally retains the fictitious value first placed upon it. A somewhat amusing illustration of the universal passion for dress, which forms a distinguishing characteristic of the Blackfeet, equally with other Indians, occurs in these trades. The fashionable costume of the red-man is not generally reg- ulated by the variable moods of the mercurial Parisian ; indeed, it has undergone but little change since the memory of men. Certain interesting specimens of the race are said to have been seen attired in even less than the vaunted Mexican costume — a shirt-collar and pair of spurs. We ourselves re- member to have seen one chastely appareled in a stove-pipe |i:M. Il ! THE BLACKFEET. 209 hat. But it frequently occurs, during the trades, that some doughty chieftain elects to appear in more than regal magnifi- cence before his tribe ; and for his benefit, and those of similar tastes, the company annually import certain ancient costumes prevalent in England some half-century since. The tall, stove-pipe hat, with round narrow brim ; the snuff -brown or bright-blue coat, with high collar, climbing up over the neck, the sleeves tightly fitting, the waist narrow — this is the Blackfeet's ideal of perfection in dress, and the brave who can array himself in this antique garb struts out from the fort the envy and admiration of all beholders. Often the high hat is ornamented with a decayed ostrich-plume, drooping like the shadow of a great sorrow, which has figured in the turban of some dowager of the British Isles long years since. While the presence of trousers is considered by no meaus essential to the perfect finish of the costume, the addition of a narrow band of gold lace about the coat is regarded as imparting an air of tone to the general effect not to be obtained in any other way. For such a costume the Blackfeet brave will bar- ter his deer-skin shirt, beaded, quilled, and ornamented with the raven locks of his enemies ; his head-band of beautiful feathers and shells ; and the soft-tanned and flowing robe of buffalo-skin — a dress which adds a kingly dignity to his athletic form for one which Pantaloon would scorn to wear. Fortunately, the new dress does not long survive. Little by little it is found unsuited to the wild life which its owner leads, an^, although never losing the originally high estimate placed upon it, is discarded at length by reason of the many r m 310 T//£ CUE A T FUR LAND. inconveniences arising from running buffalo in a plug-hat and fighting in a swallow-tail coat against the Crees. In the old days of the fur trade, when spirits were used as a medium of exchange, the most frightful scenes were wont to occur. First suggested as a stimulant to the manufacture of provisions, the amount given was limited to a small quantity to each Indian at the termination of a trade. Even then no drinking was permitted within a mile of the forts. Unfortu- nately for the moderate use of this incentive to pemmican- making, on the part of the redman, his acute intellect in- stantly conceived the idea of utilizing this particular provision as a perpetual legal tender for liquor. So he withheld his pemmican until the food supply ran short among the forts of the corporation, and forced a compliance with his own terms. For all the other wants of his savage life he had furs and robes to trade. The scenes that occurred in the Indian rooms of the forts, during the progress of a liquor and pem- mican trade, were not calculated to impress one favorably ■with the moral status of either his white or red brother. 1'he spirit used was generally rum, which, although freely diluted with water, soon reduced the assemblage to a state of wild hilarity, quickly followed by stupidity and sleep. The strength of the fire-water dealt out was varied according to the capacity or hard-headedness of the different tribes. The liquor for the Crees, as living in the neighborhood of the forts and supposed to be capable of standing more, was composed of three parts of water to one of spirit ; that of the Blackfeet, a distant tribe, who had access to liquor infrequently, seven THE BLACKFEET. 21 I of water to one of spirit. So great, however, is the power which alcohol, in any form, exercises over the red-man that the Blackfeet, even upon their well-diluted liquor, were wont to become hopelessly intoxicated. A liquor trade generally began with a present of fire-water all round. Then business went on apace. After an Indian had taken his first drink, it was a matter of little diffi( iilty to obtain all he had in exchange for spirits. Horses, robes, tents, provisions — all would be proffered for one more dram of the beloved poison. As the trade advanced it degenerated into a complete orgy. Nothinjj could exceed the excitement inside the room, except it was the excitement outside — for only a limited number of the thirsty crowd could obtain entrance at a time. There the anxious braves could only learn by hear- say what was going on within. Now and then a brave, with an amount of self-abnegation worthy of a better cause, would issue from the fort, with his cheeks distended and his mouth full of rum, and going along the ranks of his friends he would squirt a little of the liquor into the open mouths of his less fortunate brethren. There were times, however, when matters did not go on so peaceably. Knives were wont to flash and shots to be fired, and the walls of the Indian-rooms at many of the forts show frequent traces of bullet-marks and knife hack- ing, done in the wild fury of the intoxicated savage. Some seventeen years ago this baneful distribution was stopped by the company in the Plain districts, but the free-traders still continue to employ liquor as a means of acquiring the furs be- longing to the Indians. Great as was the quantity of pemmi- m:Vr' 212 r//£ GREA T FUR LAND. HA' :i! can obtained from the Indians during these trades — more than thirty thousand bags being stored in the company's forts at one time — it is still small as compared with the amount produced in a favorable year by the semi-annual buffalo-hunts of the nomadic half-breeds. uiiil 1 CHAPTER X. Winter Travel. A TJTUMN in the Fur Land merges by almost imper- ■^ ^ ceptible degrees into winter. Nature yields reluctantly to the cold embraces of the Frost King. The yellow leaves cling tenaciously to the tree-tops ; the prairie grasses are still green when the snow comes. Early in November a thin covering of fleecy flakes veils the landscape ; but the South- ern sun is yet warm, and restores the autumal tints to the face of Nature. A few days later on, the contest begins anew : winter triumphs for a day, only to be again vanquished by autumn. At length the battle-ground is occupied equally by the contending forces. The traveled roads especially are claimed by each ; and, plowed and furrowed by their fierce forays, afibrd neither the splendid sleighing of the later win- ter nor the dry wheeling of the summer. This has the effect of bringing out in full force the various methods of locomo- tion peculiar to the Fur Land. It is refreshing to view fromi a window fronting a well-traveled highway the queer vehicles as they pass; and if the reader chooses to occupy one-half of our lookout, we can study the shifting panorama at leisure. The picture before us is framed by the window-sash, and has a dreary perspective of prairie, covered equally with snow I ii IM 7WA' t7A'^:.4r Mrff f..4Xn. iWUS \\\f \\\\v^\'iS\\\u\ In tht* \iv\\ Uivov rjtvi. 'I'IiIh V«*lllt'lr with UuMv ttitUly rtni\ \uuTviinn n^otion, llr Knnw« jii«t \vho\>» hi* is. rhone ortVls .ur ill! \\\' unHovni Rhi»|u\ iiml rtfe i^^WslvorhM tM\tilvty tM" \Vx>o«l, th»' nxlon nm! HniR lo thi- wlicrh fvMmin)i \\\> o\rr|Mion lo ihr vnlo. Althounh thi^ hi llisl sight wight .n>jv;\v t\> ho ;\ ilii^itih !»nt! mon»l ;\n\ hvo;vkiigo whiih \\\.w ontii'. The t>ttly tx^ols tiooossnvy, \\o{ otUy to luoml hut to oonsinit t A t\^n> AtM? AW rt\t\ ,1 s.iw, {tnis«Hi upon An ,ixlo « onnooting \m) strong wotiMon x^'hecK Thoso ATx^ ot'movo \\\i\\\ tho nsu;il diainoter, and siro enon«o«sly iiisho\i. As soats in vohioU's aro ;\ suporHnons InxuTv, om altogothor. 'Vho passenger sits on the K>ttv>m plank, usually tho hanltsl <>nc about tho oarl; «nvi AS the bed ol iho vohiolc is lower tl\an the shafts, his h-fH>ls arc somewhat higher than his hips, whioh gives him the grf'^tcT bcnont of the inequalities in the road over whioh he WAV j-»As&. When, as is often the Cvtse, the cover is low and H'lNrnn tNAVki.. its 4 Vfllitli' 1 1 i'< M nnlitlitv. nvH JMrtt , (\\\i\ rth' ( t\\ \h^\ i^ ti WiUX ronnh V I' \\[U\ in w ni rni. •onsniii I tho hall- ,ohiilo is H i\ lii^hl ; wooilon , ;nul iue HMllnOllH [\w l'Hlllofi, mu\ it\it'ttin^\im if wifh «fi ntttwpf t(» kn'ji hl« ItidjiMr f Oh i(. ( ft fpff !»,'»>< or ofhfr hiifullf, fnke* hi« pliicc with thf* (Irlvff oh th« nhttfi. tU' wny sit oppttnitt Ahloihc, Iku k lo l)(uk,or lihfhfflifttcly )whhn\ him j (hf firni' ItiiiiUMl |ioHilioh h»'ihj< ihf; mo«l n;tt\nfn» r>rately (oiten-up tba,-» those des- tined for the commoner uses of frcij(hting. The whceh and shafts are shaved down to more deiicate prartortions ; tbe il 'n't f/UfPI. V.'IV. £1 . ^ '^(mat i ^^^" I. m Mr 216 THE GREA T FUR LAND. body is decorated with certain mystical emblems in red and yellow ochre, supposed to represent flowers ; while over it is stretched a covering of oil-cloth or dressed skins to protect the fair traveler from the inclement weather. It is drawn, too, by the best pony in the half-breed's herd, and becomes as legitimate a subject of rivalry as the equipage of her more highly civilized sister. Like the freight cart, its wheels are always guiltless of grease. The creaking that results the natives are very proud of, having no wish, as they say, to steal upon people unawares, like a thief in the night. A perfectly new cart is seldom seen ; each being in a greater or less condition of fracture and dislocation, and splintered and bandaged with raw-hide thongs. Every cart is drawn by a single pony or ox ; the latter, which is most affected for freighting purposes, will draw a load of nine hundred pounds at the rate of twenty-five miles per day. The steed is fastened between the shafts by means of a rude harness, generally made of dressed ox-hide. We have seen this same harness, however, made in a much more novel fashion. In buffiilo-hunting, when the harness gives out, it is the habit of the half-breed, always fertile of re- source, to manufacture a new one made all in one piece. Killing a buffalo bull, he skillfully marks out his harness on the hide of the fallen animal, then strips it off with his knife. A fesw hours' exposure in the sun dries it, a string or two supply the place of the necessary buckles, and it imme diately does duty on the back of pony or ox. The long lines called shaganappi, that are used for so many purposes WINTER TRAVEL. 217 fU i 1' J ill :i in the country, are all made in a similar fashion. They are carved out from the hind-quarters of a bull, by forming a series of spirally-enlarging circular cuts, passing the knife under them, and lifting off the hide exactly like the skin of a well peeled apple or orange. The ends are then attached to twv jtakes, between which the strips being tightly stretched, soon become a straight and perfect line. In traveling with carts — the common method of summer locomotion on the northern plains — generally as many ponies 1 :n loose alongside as are worked in harness. These loose rt /».e" one ir.ight fancy, would be prone to gallop away when tne/ na ' themseWes at liberty to do so. Nothing seems further from their thoughts; they trot along beside their hurncsed jomi anions as if they knew all about it. When the shaft «n'»'nr.; tires, to change horses is the work of but a moment. Oat comes one horse; the other is standing close by and never stirs while the hot harness is put on him ; in he goes into the rough shafts, and, with the crack of the driver's whip across his flanks, starts away with the rest. The fact that the pony m?- v^ver have been in harness before makes no sort of difT»r''..'Cij \q, the driver. At first the animal re- fuses to mo- ^a inch; in'^n comes loud and prolonged thwacking from . ' oreeds and Indians. Whips, raw-hide lines an • sticks arc ♦'•'^p!) used, when, like an arrow from a bow, away goes the pony ; suddenly he makes a dead stop, gives tv, o or three plunges high in the air, and falls down flat upon the ground. Again comes the threshing, and again up starts the pony and off like a rocket. Ox-hide harness is 10 2l8 THE GREA T FUR LAND. tough ; a broken cart is easily mended ; and for all horses the native has this simple method of persuasion. In fine contrast to this method of locomotion appears the native horseman just passing. Mounted on a little wiry ash- colored pony, he rides with that free, swinging motion pecu- liar to the practiced equestrian. And he is, perhaps, one of the finest horsemen in the world. His long dark-blue capote, and jaunty fur cap with pendent tassel, impart some- thing of a military air to hi appearance. He sits squarely upon a small pad of deer-skiii ' * ~iles with a long stirrup. Every motion of the horse, g," .! more by the pressure of the knee than the bridle-rein, is anticipated and met intuitively by the rider. There is no half-way gait with this impulsive horseman ; he goes either at a walk or a mad gallop, and seldom exchanges this method of locomotion save for the canoe, the snowshoe, or the dog-sledge. Com- mon pedestrianism is to him a lost art. The fact that he »:ould walk to his next neighbor's door never seems to occur to him. His little lithe, sinewy ponies are faithful beyond descrip- tion, yet a fine-looking one is seldom seen. They stand about the dooryards with a discouraged, heart-broken air, and will take considerable pounding without much exhibi- tion of life. Yet they endure privations and hardships bet- ter than their more delicately-nurtured brethren. True, if you ride them about the settlements, you are at first nearly pitched over every gate and fence you come to. When your pony catches sight of one of these he makes for it, and sud- U 'III ' i' WINTER TRAVEL. 219 1 horses )ears the viry ash- )n pecu- laps, one lark-blue .rt some- squarely r Ktirrup. pressure and met with this )r a mad comction - Com- that he to occur i descrip- ey stand oken air, exhibi- hips bet- True, if rst nearly hen your and sud- denly stands stock still, as a hint to you to dismount and tie him up — an illustration of the gossiping habits of his late owner. But out on the plains the daily distance compassed by these ponies without breaking down altogether under it seems scarcely credible ; still less does it appear possible upon the food which they have to eat. Neither hay nor oats is given them — nothing but the prairie grasses, often dry as tinder, and eaten only during the frosty hours of the night. From forty to fifty miles a day, stopping only for one hour at midday, and going on again until late at night, is but average travel. Of course the stranger journeys on in constant fear lest the game little limbs will grow weary and give out ; but no, not a bit of it. An Indian pony does not die of hard travel. His shaggy coat roughens, and his flanks grow a little thinner, but still he goes on as pluckily as ever. If very tired he sometimes lags behind until his companions have disappeared behind some distant ridge in the prairie ; then he begins to look anxiously around, whinnying and trying to get along after his comrades, and suddenly breaks into a wild dash down the trail until he regains his fellows — far- away specks in the great waste before him. When the night camp is reached the little animal is stripped, the thong of soft buffalo-skin untied from his neck and twisted well about his forelegs as a hopple, and he jumps away into the darkness to find his night's provender. He feeds and lodges himself and carries his master ; all he gets in return is a water-hole cut in the ice for him in winter, and not always even that. 220 THE GREA T FUR LAND. I tit I Trotting briskly into the foreground comes a diminutive pony in harness. A moment after appears the long pair of shafts to which he is attached, and, just when you have given over all hope of ever seeing their end, comes the vehicle of which all this is the propelling power. It does not come straight into the scene, like any other well-conducted vehicle, but zigzags into it, winding from one side of the road to the other, as if it had a drop too much. It acts as a sort of peri- patetic pendulum, of which the diminutive pony is the pivot ; even the hinder parts of that animal partaking of the vibrat- ing motion of the vehicle, so '^- \\. he seems certain only as to where his forelegs are going. This conveyance looks like a ship set on runners. It is »'ery low amidships but very lofty as to poop and forecastle ; it L"-' broad in beam, and, the runners being not more than six inches high, there is always a pleasing uncertainty as to when it will capsize. It inevi- tably must, sooner or later, but just when is the conundrum. There are two seats, one low down amidships, the other high up in the stern of the craft. The driver sits forward, yells constantly at his pony and pushes on the lines to increase its speed; the passengers sit aft, with anticipation written on their countenances, and the sensation of being whirled alonig without any visible motive power — the horse being so far distant as seemingly to bear no relation to the vehicle. It is the cariole, native to the country, and the best equipage for general love-making we know of. Darby and Joan take a seat in the stern of the craft ; the driver sits in the bow and looks at his horse alone, heaping on it plentiful profanity WINTER TRAVEL. 221 I « discreetly veiled in the heathen tongues. The back seat, following the shape of the sledge, gravitates toward the centre; so do Darby and Joan, until they really seem to A CARIOLB. assimilate, so to speak. In fact, they are in a manner obliged to hold fast to each other, as the sledge overturns at the slightest provocation. It is a pleasant spectacle to see the well-freighted carioles, gay with gaudily-lined robes and wraps, careering along the highway ; but it is still more pleasant to sit on that back seat and slowly gravitate toward Clarise or Angelique. There comes midway into our picture the figure of a man moving over the surface of the snow with a swinging move- ment, like that of a fen-skater. Evidently he has something attached to his feet — something that clings to the toes, yet drops from the heels, and trails upon the enow as he raises a foot. Ah, he is a snowshoe runner ! To walk well on deep snow, to follow the dogs, to run down the moose, there is nothing like snowshoes. These are composed of a light wooden frame, about four feet in length, • 222 THE GREAT FUR LAND. tapering from a width of about fifteen inches at the centre to points at either end, the toes being turned up so as to pre- vent tripping. Over this frame a netting of deer-skin sinews or threads is stretched for the foot of the runner to rest upon. The object of this appliance is by a thin network to distribute the weight of the wearer over so large a surface of snow as will prevent him from sinking. The credit of the invention is due to the Indians, and, like that of the canoe and other Indian instruments, it is so perfectly suited to the object in view as not to be susceptible of improvement by the whites. On snowshoes an Indian or half-breed will travel thirty, forty, and sometimes even fifty miles in twenty-four hours. It is the common and indeed the only available mode of foot-travel away from the public highways in winter. But here comes the winter vehicle of the Fur Land ! The traveler who lingers long at any season of the year about a Hudson Bay Company's fort will be struck with the unusual number of dogs lying about the square court during the day, or howling and fighting underneath his windows at night. To leave his door open at any time is only to invite an in- vasion of the wolfish brutes, who come crowding up, and seem inclined to take possession of the apartment. During the summer season they do nothing for man, but pass their time in war, love, robbery, and music, if their m.ournful howls can be dignified by that name. And yet, neglected as are these noisy, dirty animals in their months of idleness, unfed, kept in bare life by plunder, the mark for every passer's stick or stone, they are highly prized by their owners, and a team of m WINTER TRAVEL. 223 fine, good, well-trained dogs will bring a handsome price when the winter season approaches. Then two well-broken dogs become as valuable as a horse ; then it is the dogs that haul the sledges and that perform, in fact, nearly all the work of the country. HUDSON S BAY DOCS. These animals are mostly of the ordinary Indian kind, large, long-legged, and wolfish, with sharp muzzles, pricked ears, and thick, straight, wiry hair. White is one of the most HI i|4|H ,':. **« ,11 Mi Ill H 9 224 T//E CUE A T FUR LAND. usual colors, but brown, blue-grey, red, yellow, and white marked with spots of black, or of the other various hues, are also common. Some of them are black with white paws, others are covered with long rough hair, like Russian setters. There are others of a light bluish-grey, with dark, almost black spots spread over the whole body. Almost all of them have black noses, but with some of the lighter-colored ones this part is red, brown, or pink, which has a very ugly effect. Most of them are very wolfish in appearance, many being half or partly, or all but entirely, wolves in blood. One frequently sees dark-grey dogs which are said to be almost pure wolves. Seen upon the prairie, it is almost impossible to distinguish them from the ordinary wolf of the middle- sized variety ; and their tempers are spoken of as a match for their looks. Indeed it often happens that the drivers of such dogs are obliged, before harnessing or unharnessing them, to stun them momentarily by a blow on the nose, on account of their savage natures. Many of the others, moreover, are nearly as bad, and need a touch of the same rough treatment. In some instances the worse animals are emasculated, with a view of improving their tempers without rendering them unfit for work. It sometimes happens, however, that among this howling pack of mongrels there may be picked out a genuine train of dogs. There is no mistake about them in size or form, from foregoer to hindmost hauler. They are of pure Esquimaux breed, the bush-tailed, fox-headed, long-furred, clean-legged animals, whose ears, sharp-pointed and erect, spring from a ■Hi WINTER TRAVEL. 225 he"d embedded in thick tufts of wooly hair. Or there may be a cross of Esquimaux and Athabascan, with hair so long that the eyes are scarcely visible. These animals have come from the far-northern districts, and have brought a round sum to their owners. They are of much more equable temper than their wolfish brethren, and frequently have a keen apprecia- tion of kindness. To haul is as natural to them as to point is natural to a pointer. Longer than any other dogs will their clean feet hold tough over the rough ice. But it is with dog- driving as with everything else ; there are dogs and dogs, and the difference between their mental and physical characteris- tics are as great as between those of average men. The vehicles to which dogs are harnessed in the Fur Land are of three kinds — the passenger-sledge, or dog-cariole, the freight-sledge, and the travaille. A cariole consists of a very thin board, usually not over half an inch thick, fifteen to twenty inches wide, and about ten feet long, turned up at one end in the form of a half circle, like the bend of an Ojibway canoe. To this board a light frame-work, resembling a coffin or a slipper-bath, is attached, about eighteen inches from the rear end. This frame-work is then covered over with buffalo- skin parchment, and painted and decorated according to taste. When traveling, it is lined with buffalo-robes and blankets, in the midst of which the passenger sits, or rather reclines ; the vehicle being prevented from capsizing by the driver, who runs behind oa snowshoes, holding on to a line attached to the back part of the cariole. The projecting end or floor behind the passenger's seat is utilized as a sort of boot 10* : I; !?■ ' 'iiH tii;l \ It ;-t r I I i 5 u i ■1 'I J . J ^ 11 Hn 4 < mM 1" s M k tULi jj njs^il 226 r//E GREA T FUR LAND. upon which to tie baggage, or as a platform upon which the driver may stand to gain a temporary respite when tired of running. The freight-sledge is of more simple construction. It is made of two thin oak or birch-wood boards lashed together with deer-skin thongs. Turned up in front, like a Norwegian snowshoe — scarcely a quarter of a circle — it is from nine to twelve feet in length, and sixteen inches broad. It runs A FRRIGHT-SLBDGE. over hard snow or ice with great ease. Along its outer edges a leather lashing is run, through the loops of which a long leather line is passed to tie down tightly to its surface what- ever may be placed upon it. From the front, close to the turned-up portion, in both baggage-sledge and cariole, the traces for draught are attached. Dogs in the Fur Land are harnessed in a number of ways. The Esquimaux run their dogs abreast. On the coast of Hudson's Bay they are harnessed by many separate lines into a kind of band or pack ; while in Manitoba and the Saskatchewan they are driven tandem. Four dogs to each sledge form a complete train, though three and even two are used, and are harnessed to the cariole by means of two long traces. Between these traces the dogs stand one after .the other, with a space intervening between them of perhaps a r? 'hich the tired of n. It is together orwegian am nine It runs ter edges .h a long ace what- se to the iriole, the ■ of ways. coast of ate lines and the ! to each even two IS of two one after perhaps a WINTER TRAVEL. 227 foot. A round collar, passing over the head and ears and fitting closely to the shoulder, buckles on each side to the traces, which are supported by a back-band of leather. This "ck-band is generally covered with tiny bells, the collar ueing hung with those of larger size, and decorated with party-colored ribbons or fox-tails. In no single article of property, perhaps, is greater pride taken than in a train ot dogs turned out in good style ; and the undue amount of beads, bells, and ribbons, frequently employed to bedizen the poor brutes, produces the most comical effect when placed upon some terror-stricken dog, who, when first put into harness, usually looks the picture of fear, resembling a chief mourner clad in the garb of Pantaloon. The It 'i- crous effect is intensified when the victim happens to be ung in years, and still retains the peculiar expression of ^appyhood. The rate of speed usually attained in sledge-travel is about forty miles per day of ten hours, although this rate is often nearly doubled. Four miles an hour is a common dog-trot when the animals are well loaded ; but this can be greatly exceeded when hauling a cariole containing a single passenger upon smooth snow-crust or a beaten track. Very frequently extraordinary distances are compassed by a well-broken train of dogs. An in- stance is recorded where a young Scotch half-breed, driving the mail-sledge between Fort Garry and Pembina, was desir- ous of attending the wedding of his sister, which was to occur at seven o'clock of the morning following the evening of his regular departure for the latter place. To do this he would ^lll! It;.': I 228 "^HE CREA T FUR LAND. iili \fH: have to make the journey in a single night. Leaving Fort Garry at five o'clock in the evening, he reported again with his return mail at a quarter to seven o'clock the following morn- ing, having compassed a distance of one hundred and thirty- five miles in a single night with the same train of dogs. This remarkable speed is capable of ample verification. Sixty to eighty miles per day is not infrequently made in the way of passenger travel. Mr. McFarlane, a company's officer, made the journey down from Mackenzie River, a distance of twenty-one hundred miles, in forty-six traveling days, using the same dogs the entire way. An average train of four dogs will trot briskly along with three hundred pounds' weight without difficulty. Trains loaded to travel short distances with a barrel of liquor and two sacks of flour, or about six hundred and eighty pounds avoirdupois, are not an uncom- mon sight. This weight is exceptional, however, and only to be hauled when the roads are perfect. When light showers of snow fall in minute particles, as if it were frozen dew, from a sky without a cloud, and the sun shining brightly, the winter traveler in the Fur Land knows just what degree of cold he may expect. He knoxt^s that masses of ice, the size of a man's fist, will form on his beard and mustache, from the moisture of his breath freezing as it passes through the hair ; that his eye-lashes will have to be kept in rapid motion to prevent them from becoming permanently closed ; that his hands can scarcely be exposed for a moment ; that his bare fingers laid upon a gun-barrel will stick to it as if glued, from the instantaneous freezing of Hi WINTER Tl iVEL. 229 their moisture ; that the snow will melt only close to the fire, which forms a trench for itself, in which it sinks slowly to the level of the ground ; that the snow, light and powdery, will not melt beneath the warmth of his fooi, and his mocca- sins will be as dry on the journey as if he had walked through sawdust ; that a crust of ice will form over the tea in his tin- cup, as he sits within a yard of the roaring fire ; that he will have a ravenous appetite for fat, and can swallow great lumps of hard grease — unmoulded tallow candles — without bread or anything to modify it. So he dresses accordingly — that is, the white traveler. He first puts on three or four flannel shirts, one of duffel, and over all a leather one, beaded and fringed to suit the taste ; his hands are encased in mittaines, or large gloves of moose-skin, made without fingers, and extending well up toward the elbows ; loose enough to be easily doffed on occasion, and carried slung by a band about the neck to pre- vent being lost ; his feet are swathed in duffel, and covered with enormous moccasins ; his legs are encased in thick duffel leggins, until they resemble a severe case of elephantiasis ; his ears and neck are protected by a thick curtain of fur ; and yet, with it all, he is hardly able to keep warm with the most active exercise. With his Indian or half-breed companion it is different. Inured to the climate and accustomed to winter travel, he is comfortable under a meagre weight of clothing. He relies upon vigorous exercise for the development of caloric, and is constantly in motion. A pair of corduroy trousers, a cotton 230 THE ORE A T FUR LAND. shirt, a capote, moccasins and a fur cap, constitute his winter costume. His hands are encased in mittaines, but in lieu of underclothing he ties his trousers tightly about the ankle, and the sleeves of his capote closely about the wrists. This, with the gaudy sash always wrapped around his waist, divides his clothing into two air-tight compartments, as it were. If it becomes cold in one, he always has the other in which to take refuge ; or, he can loosen his belt, thus turning on a supply of caloric, which equalizes the temperature in both compartments. Lightly clad, he is in excellent trim for run- ning, and seems warm and comfortable while his more heavily appareled companion shakes and shivers on the slightest halt. Next in importance to personal clothing on the winter journey is transportation ; and as the snow is too deep for horses to travel, the only available vehicle remaining is the dog-sledge. Upon this is placed the blankets and pemmican, together with the paraphernalia of the camp. Tents are not used for winter travel, as the huge fires necessary for com- fort and even safety could not be made available. In fact, unless it is desirable to make a long halt in any one locality, tents are only an incumbrance to the traveler, without adding proportionately to his comfort. Well sheltered ^y timber, and with an enormous fire blazing at his feet, sleeping in the open air is generally feasible enough. As to dogs for his sledge, the traveler follows the custom of the country and takes the best he can get. Every canine in the Fur Land, without regard to age, sex, or previous con- dition of servitude, hauls a sledge in the winter months ; so WINTER TRAVEL, 231 s winter 1 lieu of J ankle, . This, , divides ere. If ivhich to ng on a in both for run- i heavily ;est halt, e winter deep for ig is the mmican, s are not or com- In fact, locality, It adding timber, ng in the e custom •y canine ous con- nths ; so that he has an unlimited opportunity of selection ; any one he may take being only the choice of a greater or less evil. He is; always careful, however, not to select too many yellow dogs tor service in the same train. The fact is, that in haul- ing the dog is put to a work from which his whole nature revolts ; that is to say, the ordinary yellow dog. The result being, that just when one imagines everything to be going on swimmingly, and after he is well wrapped in robes and fairly seated in the sledge, the four yellow dogs in front of him suddenly stop, face about in harness, seat themselves calmly, and with tears in their dark-blue eyes, break forth into howls of regret at their inability to proceed farther. There have been men distinguished for kindness and humanity toward their fellows, and yet who, when placed in circumstances like these, gave way to a sublimated and lurid profanity which would have curled the hair on a bronze idol. For mere dress- parade the yellow dog may do very well, but he is not to be relied upon as a steady and persistent hauler. The experi- enced traveler generally inclines to a large raw-boned canine of a grisly-grey color, and possessing many of the distinguish- ing characteristics of the wolf. This fellow is hard to manage, treacherous, and a fierce fighter. When near the settlements, the safety of young calves and pigs necessitate his being securely tied ; but he is a strong, untiring, and steady hauler, and his temper can be kept in subjection by the lash. To assist his own locomotion, the traveler ties on his largest pair of snowshoes, say five feet long and fifteen inches wide. A man can walk much faster on "-nowshoes, i h !' I: i ( 'I >]i ' I :\\ (i\ ' 232 TB£ GREA T FUR LAND. with a fair track, than on the best road without them ; but when the trail is frozen perfectly hard, the traveler casts them off, and runs behind the dogs, who are able to gallop at great speed along the slippery path ; and in this manner the most extraordinary journeys have been made. With a crack of the whip, and a harsh command to the dogs, the train moves off. After that, a perpetual shouting and cursing cracking of whips and howling of dogs, seems necessary to keep the cavalcade in motion. And it is scarcely to be wondered at when one comes to consider the conduct of the dogs at the very beginning of the journey. The start is generally made at a very early hour in the morning ; for the traveler invariably accomplishes a good portion of his day's tramp before breakfast. It is, say, two long hours before daybreak when the dogs are put in har- ness. It is a morning of bitter cold ; a faint old moon hangs low down in the east ; over the dreary stretch of snow-covered plain a shadowy Aurora flickers across the stars ; it is all as wild and cheerless a spectacle as the eye can look upon ; and the work of getting the unwilling dogs in their harness is done by the half-breeds in no very amiable mood. In the haste and darkness of the time but scant attention is given to getting the cowering brutes into their proper places in the traces. In consequence, when the traveler assumes charge of his sledge, an ominous tendency to growl and fight tell^ him that some- thing is wrong in his train. It is too dark to see plainly, but a touch of the cold nose of the leader informs him that the right dog is in the wrong 1 lace. It is too late, however, to but WINTER TRAVEL. 233 rectify the mistake ; the half-breeds are already off, and the sound of their dire anathemas grows fainter and fainter upon the ear. So the whip is mercilessly applied, and, amid the yells of the unhappy brutes, the sledge grinds slowly off through the frozen snow. But the memory of that mistake rankles i.i the breast ot 1 - I 234 THE GREA T FUR LAND. m I 't "^4^^ 'M,\. ■MlfeS-ii.: ^y"" Mi-' the foregoer ; and just when a steady pace is attained, and peace seems to have returned to the train, he suddenly coun- termarches in the harness, and prostrates the unoffending steerdog at his post. The attack, too, is made with so much suddenness and vigor that the wondering victim — who is perfectly contented with the change, having thereby won the easiest place in the train — instantly capitulates, and ** turns a turtle " in his traces. The trouble might end here but for the fact that the unlooked-for assault is generally accom- panied by a flank movement on the part of the two middle dogs, who, when there is any fighting lying around, are pretty sure to have a tooth in on their own account. And having no particular grudge to la^e out, but only mad on general principles, they are equally indifferent in attacking the head of the rear dog or the tail of the one in front. This condition of things naturally leads to fearful confusion in the train ; they jump on one another ; they tangle their traces, and back-bands, and collar-straps, into inextricable knots and interfacings, which baffle the stiffened fingers of the angry traveler to unravel. Frequently they roll themselves into one huge ball, presenting the appearance of a hydra-headed dog, with multitudinous legs and innumerable tails. The rapid application of the whip only seems to make matters worse — conveying the idea to each infuriated dog that he is being badly bitten by an unknown antagonist. The trav- eler, having tried everything else, and with patience entirely gone, at last in sheer despair, but unwittingly, follows the example of the poet of Perth, who " stoode in ta middle of f if. WINTER TRAVEL. 235 ta roade and swoore at lairge ; " having a faint idea, neverthe- less, that he is in no way capable of doing justice to the subject. The effect, however, is magical ; the confused train straightens out under illimitable imprecation, with a celerity clearly illustrating the manner of its early training. As for the bewildered traveler, he has unwittingly discovered the true secret of dog-driving. By the time the mistake is rectified, however, and the dogs are tugging at their moose-skin collars in peaceful equanimity, the traveler's half-breed companions have disappeared in the distance. Extreme cold has a tendency to make men un- social ; in a fight with the elements, it is each man for him- self ; and the traveler knows he will be left alone until the camping-place is reached — possibly till night. Traveling thus day after day through the intense stillness and solitude of the snow-clad plain, without meeting a sign of man, and rarely seeing a living creature, strikes strangely upon the mind at first. The half breed or Indian delights in wandering alone ; but the traveler who first tries the experi- ment, finds the silence and loneliness so oppressive as to be unbearable. He often journeys over a space where no tree or shrub breaks the monotony of the sky-line ; only the un- ending vision of snow and sTcy, the vague, distant, and ever- shifting horizon ; the long snow-ridges that seem to be rolled one upon another in motionless torpor, or, in a storm, moving like the long swells of the ocean ; the weird effect of sunrise and sunset, of night limiting the vision to almost nothing, and clothing even that in a spectral, opaque grey; of morning slowly ' I t 236 THE GREA T FUR LAND. expanding it to a hopeless, shapeless blank ; the sigh and sough of the ceaseless wind, that seems an echo in unison with the immeasurable solitude of which it is the sole voice ; and, over all, the constantly growing sense of lonely, never- ending distance, which deepens upon the traveler as morning after morning dawns upon his onward progress under the same fantastic, ever-shifting horizon of snow and sky. All this becomes doubly intensified to the traveler left alone to shape his course for the day. But the reality of the storm, drift, and desolation, has the excitement of the very pain which they produce. To be lost in the blinding haze of a ** poudre day ; " to have a spur of icy keenness urging him on to renewed effort ; to have the dead weight of that dread inertia, which always accompanies the traveler on northern plains, keeping him down with an iron grasp ; to have Despair constantly suggesting the futility of further ex- ertion ; to seek with dazed eyes and sickening fears, hour after hour, for the faint print of snowshoe or moccasin upon the snow ; to see night approaching, and not a thing of life or shape of shelter within the scope of vision ; to urge the tired dogs with whip and voice to fresh exertions, to greater effort in gaining some far-off aspen bluff, or willow copse, ere night shall wrap the dreary scene in darkness ; all this is but the reiterated recital of the traveler's daily misery. In the face of a cold, the intensity of which it is difficult to imagine, he must keep on. Right in his teeth blows the bitter blast ; the dogs, with low-bent heads, often face about in the traces, and can only be induced to proceed by repeated '%* ■;■* WINTER TRAVEL. 237 thrashings ; the haJf-breeds, with blankets wrapped tightly over their heads, bend forward as they walk against the wind. To run is instantly to freeze ; to lie upon the sledge, even for a moment, is to chill the body through to the very marrow. Under these circumstances, the traveler is apt to wonder if the game is worth the candle. He compares himself with all the other adventurers who have gone on fool's errands since the world began, and finds the result very much to his own disadvantage. Like Touchstone^ he is sorry he came. ** Ros. Well, this is the Forest of Arden. Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I ; when I was at home, I was in a better place ; but travelers must be content." Small wonder when, after such a day of toil and hardship, the traveler sees through the gloom the haven he so long has sought — it may be only the camp-fire in the aspen-clump, or the dull glow of a chip-fire in a snow-drift — he hails with in- tense joy the gleam which tells him of a resting-place. And yet, as he stretches his weary limbs in the snow, or on the soft broom, he laughs at the fatigues and fears which, one short hour before, were heart-sickening enough. Yet so it is. When the light begins to fade over the silent plain, and the greyish, opaque pall settles slowly down upon the frozen landscape, the traveler looks about him for a good camping- place. A poplar thicket, or a pine bluff, supplies all his re- quirements — a few dead trees for fuel, a level space for his fire and his blankets, and broom for his bed. Every one sets to work as quickly as possible. One unharnesses the dogs l- ■t .U'.i I'X'^?'- M f.m ^;ii --4+ 238 T//E GREA T FUR LAND. and unpacks the sledges ; another collects dry logs ; a third cuts pine chips and starts the fire ; while a fourth shovels away the snow in front of the fire with a snowshoe, and strews the cleared ground with the pinebroom. Then all squat down, smoking and superintending the cooking of sup- per, the hungry dogs seated around anxiously waiting for their share. A pipe and smoke follow, then the blankets and robes are spread out for the bed. The operation of undressing is re- versed, and the traveler literally dresses for the night ; cover- ing head and all, and placing his feet as near the fire as he dares. All huddle together as closely as possible, and when silence reigns, the dogs creep softly in toward the fire and lie at the sleepers' feet. Then begins the cold. The mercury in the thermometer placed at the bedside sinks down — down, till it disappears in the bulb, and may be used as a bullet. The traveler is tired with his forty-mile march on snowshoes. Lying down with blistered feet and stiffened limbs, sleep comes to him by the sheer force of fatigue ; but the dim consciousness of that frightful cold never for an instant leaves his waking brain ; and, as he lies in a huddled heap beneath his robes, he welcomes the short-haired, shiver- ing dog, who, forced from his cold lair in the snow, seeks warmth on the outside of his master's blankets. Strange as it may appear to those who, living in warm houses and sleeping in cosy rooms from which all draughts are zealously excluded, deem taking one's rest in a poplar thicket, at such a temperature, next to an impossibility, it is •T'iji, WINTER TRAVEL. 239 quite the reverse. The men who brave such dangers are made of sterner stuff, and do not perish so easily. On the other hand, it frequently occurs that when, before dawn, the fire again glows ruddily, and the cup of tea is drank hot and strong, the whole discomfort of the night is forgotten — forgotten, perhaps, in the dread anticipation of a cold still more trying in the day's journey to come. Day after day the same routine of travel is pursued. To rise at three o'clock of the bitterly cold mornings, to start at four, and plod on till dark, halting twice for an hour during the day, is the dull history of each day's toil. No literary skill is able to enliven the dreary monotony of the journey. In front goes a train of dogs, floundering along in the deep snow ; then the other trains wind along upon a firmer footing. As the day wanes, the dogs begin to tire, but still go on as gamely as ever. At sundown the trains have straggled widely apart, the weaker ones dropping far to the rear. The dogs begin to look wistfully back at the driver running behind the sledge, who, " filled with strange oaths," only responds to their pathetic appeals with fiercer impreca- tions. Dogs and men seem to go forward from the mere impulse of progression. All have been tired long since ; not partially so, but regularly weary ; yet, somehow, the sense of weariness seems to have passed away ; the step forward upon the snowshoe is taken by a mere mechanical effort, destitute alike of sense or feeling. Where all is a wilderness, progression means preservation ; and sick or sore, weary and blistered, the traveler must push on. m .1 lilp r\ CHAPTER XI. THE FUR HUNTER. 'nr*HE most expert hunters and trappers of fine furs in the 1 Hudson's Bay Territory are the Wood-Indians — Crees, Beavers, and others — and from them are traded the greater portion of the peltries exported by the company. They are of different hauits and dispositions from their relatives, the Plain-Indians — a sort of solitary hunters and trappers on foot, contrasted with a race of gregarious horsemen. Generally very peaceable, they pride themselves upon an honesty un- known to their lawless brethren of the prairies ; and although great beggars, and inclined to importune one to give them different things to which they may take a fancy, yet they never offer to dispute one's right of ownership. Expert hunters of moose, and occasionally seeking the buffalo, when they enter the skirts of the timber in winter, yet they confine their labors in the main to trapping the smaller furs. As a consequence, they are better clothed and equipped than the Plain-Indians, being able to obtain what they require at the trading-posts in exchange for furs. On the other hand, they often suffer severely from starvation, owing to the increasing scarcity of the larger animals ; while the Plain- Indians, following the buffalo, seldom lack food, although THE FUR HUNTER. 241 s in the — Crees, greater hey are Ives, the on foot, renerally isty un- ilthough ve them yet they Expert o, when confine s. As a ed than require ^e other swing to he Plain- although they possess but little marketable property wherewith to buy clothes and luxuries at the forts. Upon the arrival of the summer and autumn boat-brig- ades at the different posts throughout the Fur Land, bring- ing supplies of merchandise for the trade of the ensuing year, it is the custom of the company to issue to their hunters and trappers goods up to a certain amount, to be returned in furs at the end of the season. These advances are generally all made by the month of November, so that the hunters may be in readiness for the season's work. The different methods by which the Indian succeeds in snaring and trapping animals are many, l^iit as by far the most numerous of the more valuable of the fur-bear- ing animals of the territory are the marten and mink, to the capture of the former of these two — the sable of the trade — the exertions of the trappers are principally directed. By the beginning of November the animals have got their winter coats, and fur is in season, or "prime," as the phrase is ; and the Indian trapper, who has taken up his residence in some favorite locality, now prepares to lay out his trapping-walk. As he has a long tramp before him, and the temperature is below zero, he attires himself in the winter costume of the trapper : a large deer-skin or duffel capote, very much over- lapped in front, and fastened about his waist by a brilliant ted sash, protects his body from the cold ; a small rat or fox-skin cap covers his head, while his legs are encased in th dinary blue-cloth leggin ; large moccasins, with two or three pairs of duffel socks — simple squares of blanket cloth — 11 •nr^ f 34i ntK (iKr.A r FttK r.A,v/), rlotho luH lool ; i\\u\ hiigi' i\\in;>ii\i'a, rMi'iulin^ to llic rlliow, conlrl. li sefVCR ;5:; a habnco to llio l\ii|JiO Inmling- knilo ami lirc-liaii, lirtugihg iVom l]u« olhor Rithv 1 1 in piu k i» proparod in the ToMowing luannor : In tho miihll.' of his blankol ho pIm'OH n. plcoc of prnnni can, snnitiont for live tir xiv days' ronsnniplion : as nnu h [ca M he crtu get ; a (in kettle and i \ip ; and, if he he rich, some steel traps, an«l a httU* sn^ar and salt. A ^nn ami annnnni- tiot\ eoniplele his onttit. Douhlitig Ihr himdvet over all, he ties it down npi>n a sn>all hand-sledge, or tol>ogan. Thin hand-sledgi* is a thin llat slip of wood, froni live to sis feet K>ng by vme l>t\)ad, at\d Inrned np at the oi\d in a ronsider- able eurl. It is very light, an-l the Indians always use it \vhen laying ont their walks, or in visiting their traps, fi)r Ihc purpose of earrying their provisions and hauling home the rti\imal.. or game they may have eanghl. ryii\g on a pair of snowshoes, he throws the line of the hand-sledge over his shoulder, and starts alone into the gloomy forest. A sky of darkness is above, bleak wiUls and frozen lakes before him ; the reeesses of the forest, the icy margins of the lakes must be traversed, for there are the haunts of the s;\ble. Silently forward he trudges ; for the trapper ean never enliven ihe solitude of his journey by whistling or a song. The cold is below xero, but the fur will prove all the finer. Nerved by necessity, and stimulated by the love of gain, on he presses, Fatigvte and eold exhaust him ; a snow-storm overtakes him ; the bearings and landmarks are obliterated i'p olbow, m\\ rtxd \n\vV. IH pern ml- munuini' n nil. lu' i\». 'riiiM i> Htx feet 1 oiisitloi- yH uso il s, for ll»o uMUC ibo ;» \i;\ir of over his \;\ /on lakes ruins of Is of the an never Y a song, the finer, f gain, on in)W-storm obliterated 77/A /'7//.' //f/A"/7r./f. Hi nixl lotgolten ; HoinoliineH pioviHiont fiiil, .iimI he wlio Idih protTiiRftl II Bpeedy rrliirti is nrvu no iii'irr. The lrii|i|i('r, he In- while iMtin or Itidiaii, (»l nc» csHity leads n Bolhnry, ch'sohlle, iitid diiligci'iiHi lilc To he (done in llic trackieRH foreHi deiiiainh n (uiirn^e aner scrapes away the snow from about its roots with a snowshoe. Clearing a space seven or eight feet in diameter, and nearly four feet deep, he cuts the pinebroom from the ends of the ^! 252 THE GREA T FUR LAND. branches above him, and strews them at the bottom of the hollow, till the snow is covered. This done, he collects a huge pile of firewood and heaps it about the foot of the tree. The ruddy flame glances up among the branches overhead, and sends a myriad of sparks into the air. The sombre forest undergoes a sudden and magical transformation. Before, it was Cijld, silent, gloomy, desolate, and the pale snow looked spectral in the dark. Now, the thick stems of the trees are bathed in a genial glow, which penetrates the branches above, tinting those near the fire witJi a ruby tinge. The white snow changes to a beautiful pink, while the tree-trunks, bright and clearly visible close at hand, become more and more indis- tinct in the distance, till they are lost in the gloom. The snow walls about the trapper sparkle as if set with diamonds. They do not melt as might be expected ; the cold is too in- tense for that, and nothing melts except the snow quite close to the fire. Lying on a soft elastic couch of pine boughs, at his feet a roaring fire of great trees heaped high, from which arises an enormous cloud of smoke and steam, the hunter, wrapped in his blanket, sleeps in peace. Sometimes, however, when the cold is very intense, or the wind blows strongly, a single blanket is poor protection. The huge fire is inadequate to prevent the freezing of one extremity, while it scorches the other. Sleep is impossible, or if obtained, is quickly broken by an aching cold in every limb as the fire burns low. » a. A WINTER CAMP. 253 of the Uects a he tree, /erheacl, re forest ;efore, it ' looked rees are :s above, iite snow right and re indis- m. The iiamonds, is too in- uite close his feet a arises an rapped in when the a single equate to )rches the y broken V. ! ] f'M CHAPTER XII. A WINTER CAMP. JOURNEYING along the line of open country extend- ing between the North Saskatchewan River and the great forest region stretching out toward the Polar Sea, in company with a party of half-breed plain-hunters, we reached, one dreary evening in November, one of those curious communi- ties which are to be found in winter only along the borders of the great plains of the Fur Land. Nothing like them exists on the plains of the United States territories, because the peculiar nomadic population necessary to their being is lack- ing. On the south side of the forty-ninth parallel there are comparatively few half-breeds; on the north side there are half-breeds whose great-grandfathers were half-breeds. Situated in the sparse timber bordering a small tributary of the Saskatchewan, the community consisted of French half-breed hunters engaged in the usual winter quest of buffalo. It was a picturesque though not over cleanly place, and will probably look better in a photograph than it did in reality. Some thirty or forty huts crowded irregularly together, and built of logs, branches of pine-trees, raw- hides, and tanned and smoked skins, together with the inevitable fe/ee, or Indian lodge ; horses, dogs, women and children, all intermingled in m^ A WINTER CAMP. 255 extend- :he great :ompany hed, one ommuni- orders of em exists ;ause the I is lack- there are there are Is. tributary French )f buffalo, and will 1 reality, ther, and d tanned or Indian iingled in a confusion worthy of an Irish fair ; half-brcud hunters, rib- boned, leggined, tasseled and capoted, lazy, idle, and, if liquor was to be had, sure to be drunk ; remnants and wrecks of buffaloes lying everywhere around ; here a white and glistening skull, there a disjointed vertebra but half denuded of its flesh ; robes stretched upon a framework of poles and drying in the sun ; meat piled upon stages to be out of the way of dogs ; wolf-skins, fox-skins, and other smaller furs, tacked against the walls of the huts, or stretched upon minia- ture frames hanging from the branches of trees ; dusky women drawing water and hewing wood ; and at dark, from every little hut, the glow of firelight through the parchment win- dows, the sparks glimmering and going out at the chimney- tops, the sound of violin scraped and sawed by some long- haired Paganini, and the quick thud of moccasined heel, as Baptiste, or Francois, or Pierrette footed it ceaselessly on the puncheon-covered floor. Inside the huts a bare floor of pounded earth, or halt- hewn boards ; in one corner a narrow bed of boughs, covered deep with buffalo robes; a fireplace of limited dimensions, a few wooden trunks or cassettes ; a rude table and a few blackened kettles ; on the walls an armory of guns, powder- horns and bullet-bags ; on the rafters a myriad of skins. Every hut was the temporary home of several families, and we have slept in structures of this kind, of not more than twelve by fifteen feet in superficial area, where the families ranged from fifteen to twenty members, of all ages and both sexes. It might be useful to investigate the influence of this ; I Ul t . Jl 256 THE ORE A T FUR LAND. mode of life upon manners ; whatever may be the result upon the coarser sex, its effect upon women and children is not so lamentable as may be supp'^sed ; no perceptible lowering of tone or compromising of taste follows, nor does the nature of young girls, thus exposed to the gaze of an indiscriminate crowd, change as much as might be expected ; the hereditary sentiment, " honi soit qui vial y pcnse,'' is too deeply seated for that. As a rule the winter hunters are of French origin, de- scendants of the old traders and trappers of the Northwest and X. Y. Fur Companies, though by long intermarriage the blcod of three or four nationalities often mingles in their veins. Their grandfathers have been French-Canadian, their grandmothers Cree or Ojibway squaws; English and Black- feet and Assiniboine have contributed to their descent on the mother's side. Now, as in the olden time of the fur-trade, there is no uniform price for squaws, their qualifications being taken into account, and a price demanded in accordance with their capacity to render service. Usually one may be purchased for a pony, a small quantity of flour and sugar, a little tobacco and a bottle of whisky. But woe to the purchaser if he should make his abode at any point convenient of access to the band to which his squaw belonged. While she is with the tribe the squaw is kicked about and whipped by any one that takes a notion to do so. When she becomes the white man's squaw things are different. There is not an Indian she meets who does not claim relationship with her. She is sistei A WINTER CAMP. 257 ■ 1 to most of them and first cousin to the remainder. They meet her with a kiss, and she feels that she must ask them in to din- ner, and give each one something to remember her by. The result of all this is, that the white man soon finds that he has married an entire Indian tribe, and has made an anii.-mortem distribution of his property. Many of the women in the winter camp were clearly of unmixed Indian blood. Their general occupation, like that of all tiic married women in the camp, when not enfTo.ged in culinary duties, seemed to be the dissemination of ■ jurish- ment from the maternal font to swarms of children. This maternal occupation among the half-breeds is protracted to an advanced age of childhood, a circumstance probably due to the fact that for four days after its birth the newly-born infant receives no nourishment from its mother, in order that in after life it shall be able to withstand the pangs of hunger. The infantile mind, doubtless being conscious that it has been robbed of its just right, endeavors to make up for lost time by this prolongation of the term of nursing. In a simi- lar manner the half-breed doubtless obtains his appetite for strong drink from the face that the first thing administered to him after birth is a spoonful of strong port wine, or even spirits, in order to insure '^'tt. .• vigorous constitution in after life. From the per^istorcj with which he follows this practice as he grows oldei i. ir only fair to suppose that he is insuring himself a vigor of coustitution which will carry him i'^ito the nineties. Children, however, eat freely of buffalo or other meat. In fact, half-breed and Indian life know only two seasons — 258 THE GREA T FUR LAND. the feast time and the famine. When in camp in the neigh- borhood of the buffalo-herds, or other game, living on the fattest hump and tongues, the moose nose, or the daintiest tidbit of forest and stream ; when on the march, glad to get a scrap of dried meat or a putrid fish to appease the cravings of hunger. While the meat lasts, life is one long dinner. A child scarce able to crawl is seen with one hand holding a piece of meat, the other end of which is tightly held between the teeth, while the right hand wields a knife with which it saws away between fingers and lips till the mouthful is de- tached. We have never seen a native minus his nose, but how noses escape amputation under these circumstances is an unexplained myrtery. The amount oi meat consumed in a winter camp is sim- ply enormous. In every hut feasting is kept up from morn- ing till night, and it is impossible to enter the dwelling of a half-breed without being invited to dine. As a refusal is regarded in the light of an intentional slight to the host, it happens that the unwary guest goes about in a highly surfeited condition. The invitation to eat forms, however, the most prominent feature of half-breed hospitality, and is always ex- tended in the kindest and politest manner. If spirits are attainable, the feast sometimes occupies a secondary position, but in one form or the other the stranger within the gates is invariably invited and expected to participate. With the half-breeds themselves the custom is invariable, and no well- regulated metis expects to leave his neighbor's door without a feast of the best viands in the house. And a feast with this hybrid personage means no small draft upon the larder, for, if the half-breed can starve better than any other man, A WINTER CAMP. 259 he can equally surpass other men in the quantity of food which he can consume at a sitting. For long days and nights he can go without any food at all ; but catch him in camp when the buffalo are near and the cows are fat, and you will learn what a half-breed can do in the way of eating. Here is one bill of fare, as given by a traveler in the North,* which may seem incredible, and yet we can vouch for it as not being a whit exaggerated : " Seven men in thir- teen days consumed two buffalo-bulls, seven cabri deer, fifty pounds of pemmican — equal to half a buffalo — and a great many ducks and geese, and on the last day there was noth- ing to eat. This enormous quantity of meat could not i\^,\Q weighed less than sixteen hundred pounds at the very lowest estimate, which would have given a daily ration to each man of eighteen pounds! " Incredible as this may seem, it is by no me; ' ^ ,>ipossible in a severe climate and living the active life these men lead. We remember camping one evening with three half-breed plain-hunters beside a buffalo-calf they had killed shortly before dusk. The men began cutting the animal up and feasting upon it. They were eating when we retired for the night, and were still hovering over the fire when we arose early in the morning. With the exception of the head, which was slowly roasting upon the coals, there was nothing left of the calf except the bones ! As an instance of what the half-breed regards as abstemi- ousness, a certain missionary once told us that one of his people came to him one day, and with great gravity and seri- ousness said : *' I know that Christianity is true ; that it is * Major Butler, " Great Lone Land." s. ■■ - 1 ■ 1 ■:/! '«;■• 26o r//£ GREA T FUR LAND. the great, the best religion — much better, very much better than the pagan, my old religion. Now," said he, " when I was a pagan and followed my old ways — the religion of my mothers — I could eat eight rabbits for my dinner and then was not satisfied. But since \ have become a Christian, and follow the new way, six rabbits at a time is plenty for me ; I don't want any more ! " So well is their tremendous power of digestion, and the real necessities of their nomadic life, known to the Hudson's Bay Company, that the daily ration issued by that corpora- tion to its half-breed voyageurs and hunters is ten pounds of beef per man, five pounds per woman, and three pounds pei child, regardless of age ! Beef is so much stronger food than buffalo-meat that ten pounds of the former would be equivalent to fifteen pounds of the latter, and so on in pro- portion. Beef is, of course, only used near the settlements and is not regarded as equal in any respect to wild meat. The diet of the company's servants depends much, however, upon the district in which they serve, although the amount in any locality is equally enorn.r us. In the plain or Sas- katchewan district the ration is almost wholly of buffalo-meat, either fresh or in pemmican. In all the other districts, while ,/emmican is issued when procurable, the regular ration is the game supplied by the neighborhood. On the south shores of Hudson's Bay, where wild-fowl abound, each man re- ceives for his day's food .:ne wild-goose; in the lake district or English River, three large whitefish; in the Arctic region, two fish iii.d five pounds of reindeer-meat ; on the Pacific A WINTER CAMP. 261 coast, eight rabbits or one salmon ; in the Athabasca dis- trict, eight pounds of moose-meat. All this in periods of plenty. When the meal gets low in the bin, and the oil in the cruse fails, the half-breed goes hungry with an indifference to the existence of gastric juices that is affecting to behold. But no amount of starvation has the effect of making him re- serve from present plenty for future scarcity. The idea of saving for the inevitable rainy morrow is entirely foreign to his nature. It is useless to tell the plain-hunters that the winter is long, and that the buffalo might move out of range, and want stare them in the face ; they seem to regard starva- tion as an ordinary event to be calculated upon certainly, and that so long as any food is to be obtained it is to be eaten at all times ; when that is gone — well, then the only thing is to do without. This is the universal half-breed logic : let us eat, drink and be merry, lest to-morrow we cannot ; and it is in perfect keeping with the simplicity and cunning, faith, fun, and selfishness which are mingled in the half- breed's mental composition. As a consequence of ;,j general a commingling of the sexes in the many huts of the winter camp, it occurs that when the young men are not engaged in dancing or feasting they are usually making love; and as there is a large number of young women and girls in every camp, each family rejoic- ing in the possession of several, the wooings of the dusky Pyr- amuses and tawny Thisbes is going on continually, and without exciting any particular comment. Many of the ,■ •■J\ 262 THE CREA T FUR LAND. women are very handsome, but run the gamut of color from a clear white of the Caucasian type to the deep and dirty cop- per-color of the Indian. They receive the attention of their lovers, we are bound to say, with a degree of propriety and maiden coyness which reflects much honor upon their native modesty, situated as they are. As no opportunity is offered for retirement or privacy, the love-making is carried on in the presence of all the other occupants of the room, and very frequently each corner of the single apartment will have its couple whispering soft nothings, to be heard, of course, by all the rest. To civilized young persons, no doubt, a courtship pursued under these depressing circumstances would be try- ing to the utmost ; but Frangois and Philomel are not in the least embarrassed by having their conversation overheard, and they caress each other, and call pet names, as if there were no ears within a mile of them. Francois or Gabriel generally comes early in the evening, and having been duly embraced and handshaken by the en- tire family, is at Ciice invited to dine. The fact of it being past the dinner hour makes no difference, as the invitation is extended in accordance with hospitable custom. The father of Philomel takes his seat at table with his guest, being in duty bound to eat with every one he entertains, and the fe- male members of the family wait upon them. Both proceed to make themselves omnipresent as far as possible. Their fingers anc everywhere, and ignoring such confining influ- ences as knives and forks, they soon attain an enviable state of greasiness. During the progrc.«!- of the meal the host is im A WINTER CAMP. 263 untiring in his efforts to overload his guest with buffalo-hump and tea. He informs him that he eats no more than a spar- row ; that it is a constant mystery to him how he is able to preserve life at all on so small a quantity of food ; that he confidently expects him to become a saint in glory ere long, but intends doing his best not to let him go up from his roof by reason of starvation; that Philomel has an appetite some- thing like his own, and that it has been a cause of anxiety to him all her life long. While thus commiserating his guest's poor appetite, man pere is rapidly and bountifully helping himself, and makes amends for what he is pleased to call his visitor's abstemiousness. When both have eaten enough to cause immediate surfeit, and the father-in-law in prospect is blue in the face, a smoke is suggested. While the smoking is going on Philomel deftly sweeps from the table the remnants of the repast, and retires to a corner of the apartment by herself. Here, when the fumiga- tion is over, the enamored Gabriel joins her, and his doing so is a signal for the rest of the family to become suddenly un- conscious of their presence. This oblivion does duty on such occasions for a separate apartment. Whatever incidents of a tender nature occur are supposed to be invisible to any person save the principals. Everybody acts on this theory. Even the respected but dissipated host produces his black bottle with the hoarded store of rum, and drinks it himself under the assumed belief that his young guest is in the next room. The small brothers-in-law that are to be, indulge in a rather vindictive skirmish over a moccasin-game in utter U.'h ' I J64 T//E GREA T FUR LAND. ignorance of any bodily presence; and the seven sisters of Philomel criticise the cut of her lover's garments, and the classic but retiring beauty of his countenance with a charming unconsciousness of his close proximity. Philomel, plastic and pliable Philomel, is in no manner abashed at being wooed in the presence of her relatives, and even becomes herself the wooer on discovering that Gabriel is in a certain degree timid. She intimates by caresses of the hand that they are alone, and converses in a tone of voice sufficiently loud to dispel the idea that they can be overheard. If Gabriel re- covers courage in some measure, he looks upon Philomel admiringly, as he would upon any other thing of beauty, and it is not long before she becomes conscious of the observa- tion. Then it is a study to watch the airs assumed by this half-breed belle. She is as well versed in the masonry of her sex as if born with a white skin and reared in Madison Square. There is no difference in her mode of action ; the only difference is in the effect. Gabriel, unless he is an adept at the business, cannot en- tirely rid himself of tix? depressing effect of twelve pairs of eyes taking in his glances. He is, in consequence, not so susceptible to her wiles as he would be if otherwise situated. At first he limits his love-making to affectionate looks, caresses, and the simpler forms of speech which convey to her the knowledge that she is the light of his eyes. As the evening advances, and his embarrassment wears off, he ven- tures upon remarks of a more intensely passionate nature, indicative of his love and desire to be first in her affections. A WINTER CAMP. 265 The mixed language spoken by the lovers affords an unlim- ited supply of diminutives; and Gabriel may call his sweet- heart by the names of almost all the animal creation, and yet use but legitimate pet names. In the Cree tongue he may address her as his musk-ox, or, if he desires to become more tender, may call her his musk-rat with equal propriety. By a blending of two Indian tongues she becomes a beautiful wolverine, and a standard but commonplace love-name is "my little pig." The half-breed's pet names have all been taken from those of animals that seem to be especially innocent or beau- tiful in his eyes ; and the fact that different persons have dif- ferent standards of beauty and innocence has led to the invention of an almost unlimited vocabulary of diminutives. When the lady-love is inclined to be stout, the names of the larger animals are chosen, and rather liked by her upon whom they are conferred. We remember that one woman was affectionately called the Megatherium, a name that clung to her for months, as being peculiarly the representative of ideal love. After the lovers have passed a considerable time in this manner alone, as it were, the sisters and other female rela- tives of Philomel evince an inclination to take part in the wooing. They participate in the conversation by almost imperceptible degrees ; then gather by slow approaches into the corner set apart for the courting; and at last become a radiant but tawny group, sparkling and scintillating in the humor of the heathen tongues. They resolve themselves 12 ■ ! ' I- 266 THE GREA T FUR LAND. V >A into a species of whippers-in ; condole with each other upon the prospective loss of their dear sister; congratulate Gabriel upon having gained the affections of so irreproachable a maiden as Philomel, and feel assured that their lives will be one of unalloyed happiness. In this way the half-breed lover is wafted into matrimony with a facility and dispatch not easily excelled by her fairer sisters of paved avenues. After a short season of courtship, the anticipated mother- in-law contributes to the certainty of the matrimonial ven- ture by exhibiting, with commendable pride, the household goods which are to accompany Philomel upon her departure from the domestic fold. A feather bed, certain articles of embroidered clothing, highly decorated moccasins, and sun- dry pieces of earthenware and tin constitute the whole. To this the host adds a trade-musket, which, he says, has been used by him in the chase, and has been destined from the period of earliest infancy as a present to the fortunate win- ner of Philomel. He takes occasion, at the same time, to produce the black bottle, and ask the pleasure of drinking the health of his prospective son-in-law, which he does in a demonstratively paternal way affecting to behold. ■. If Gabriel seems to be overcome by the beneficence of the family, and the threatening prospects of immediate matri- mony, and relapses into quietude and sombre thought, his host insists that he must be suffering from hunger again, and expresses his wonder that he has been able to keep up so long. As the half-breed idea of hospitality consists in oft repeated food and drink, Gabriel knows that it is useless as i A WINTER CAMP. 267 well as impolitic to refuse, and is accordingly made the re- cipient of more buffalo-hump and tea, which leaves him in a surfeited and numbed condition, and quite willing to be married out of hand. P'rom this time on Gabriel is, so to speak, an engaged man. As the evenings return, he re- pairs to the corner of the room where the placid Philomel awaits him, and again the imaginary walls are reared up, ren- dering it an apartment of itself. Here he may hurl amatory adjectives and noun substantives at htr brow to his heart's content; for there comes a day ni ihe near future when they must repair to the priest, and when Philomel will re- move the gaudy handkerchief from her head, and wear it crossed meekly upon her breast in token of her wifehood. Against this marriage day Gabriel accumulates rich store of buffalo-meat and Jamaica rum, and, if possible, a fine-cloth capote of cerulean hue, and ornamental leggins of bewilder- ing beadwork ; for the unmarried half-breed in the consummation of his toilet first pays attention to his legs. His cap may be old, his capote out at the elbows, but his leggins must be without spot or blemish. A leg- gin of dark-blue cloth, extending to the knee, tied at the top with a gaudy garter of worsted-work, and having a broad stripe of heavy bead or silk-work running down the outer seam, is his insignia of respectability. Gabriel's marriage generally takes place in the winter, when the cares of existence are lightened by reason of ad- HALF-BREED LEGGINS. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I If iiM IIM itt iim M 1.8 1.25 U 16 ^ 6" ► ^ W ^/ ""^ oy. Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 o '<■' [)her and Irienil, of a very disreputable lloek, and his duties, if eonseientiously performed, are of a very arduous nature. And it is seldom that they are not conscientiously perft)rmeil ; for no n»an can labor more disinterestedly for the good of his fellow than the missionary priest. It is a startling contrast to find in these rude camps men of refined culture, and the highest mental excellence, devoting them- selves to the task of civilizing the deni/ens of the forest and plaits — sacrificing all the cotnforts and advantages of their bet- ter lives to the advancement of a barbarian brother, whose final elevation to the ranks of civilized men they can never hope to see. And yet they are to be found everywhere through(;ut the lone places of the North, dwelling in the midst of wild and savage peoples, whom they attend with a strange and pater- nal de.otion. On the banks of lonely lakes they minister to the wants and needs of the wild men who repair thither peri- odically to fish ; in the huge camps of our barbarian brethren on the limitless plains; at the isolated trading-posts scattered over the Fur Land; and, seeking them in their lonely huts or squalid lodges, one ever finds the same simple surround- ings, the same evidences of a faith that seems more than human. Prominent among the rude landmarks of the winter camp is the store of the free-trader. Of more pretentious exterior, and of larger proportions than the dwellings of the hunters, A WINTER CAAfr. 27$ perhaps, tcnipo- !il nuidi', , uiul his arduous cntiously UuUy for It is a Df refined ing ihem- forcst and ■ their bet- ,vhose final ^er hope to ugh(;ut the wild and ;ind paler- Iminister to ither peri- n brethren s scattered |lonely huts surround- more than ['inter camp jus exterior, Ihe hunters, it is easily discerned at a glanrtf. Ah a rule, itii owner i» developed from the ordinary plain-hunter, Anloine, or Van- <;al, or Haptiste, having followed the ( liasc f(jr yearn, and proving a more succesKful hunter than liin fcllowH, accumu- latCH a fair supply of robes and pennies. On some springtime visit to the settlemenls, the fur-trader with whom he ban dealt for years, noticing his thrift and success, offers t(j (nufit him with goods on condition of receiving the first offer of the furs for which they are exchanged. Pascal \h delighted with the prospect of becoming a free-trader, and |)ays down a small sum in cash and furs, and receives a considerable amount of ammunition and finery on credit. With this he starts for the plains, and at some eligible point near a water-course, and in, advantageous jjroximity to both buffalo gtoimds and forest, in order to attract a trade in both classes of fur, locates his trading-store. Around this nucleus gather the nomadic plain-hunters and Indians, and lastly the priest; for Pascal may be said to be the founder of the winter camp. The si/.e of his store is regulated by the amount of his stock, but likely in any event to be the most pretentious in the camp. It may have two apartments, but more likely one. The goods are kept in boxes and bales, and produced only as required. Pascal has yet to learn the art of attracting custom by the display of his wares. In tr.'-i, there i:; but little need for him to do so; for, if the improvident Indian or half-breed should by some fortuitous circumstance become possessed of a surplus of salable provision or fur, its ownership be- comes a consuming flame to him until disposed of. So i 276 r//Ji GREA T FUR LAND. Pascal's stock of merchandise decreases rapidly ns the winter advances, and his store of robes and furs increases in propor- tion. Most of the hitter are purchased cheaply, and for an equivalent of gilt and color, as it were; for the tastes of his customers are of a very decided sort, like those of other mixed races. If rascal trades merchandise alone, his life flows unevent- fully along, and he may enjoy counting his store of peltries as they increase day by day. He is looked up to by his fel- lows as a kind of Delphic oracle upon all disputed points, on account of his superior wealth and standing. His vanity is flattered by such adulation, ami he assumes an air of vast importance as the head man of the camp. He becomes the arbiter in all petty disputes, the umpire at horse-races, and general referee in knotty and vexatious games oi grand-major , poker, and the moccasin-game. His authority is second to none save the priest, who, as the spiritual head of the camp, assumes the first place by right of eminent fitness and pro- priety. If Pascal trades liijuor, however, his lines are not cast in pleasant places, notwithstanding the heavy profits upon the barter. Every day turmoil reigns in the camp, and sounds of revelry fill the midnight air. His otherwise quiet store becomes the rendezvous of a cursing, clamoring, gestic- ulating assemblage of men. There the betting and drinking of the afternoon are succeeded by the deeper drinking and gambling of the evening; and the sound of shuffling caids, the clinking of the buttons and bullets of the moccasin-game, and the exclamations of triumph and despair of winner and A W'l.WTER CAMP, VI e winter propor- [1 for an ;s of his of other uncvcnl- peltries y his fel- (oints, on vanity is r of vast omes the aces, and econd to he camp, and pro- 5 are not y profits amp, and vise quiet ig, gestic- drinking king and ng caids, sin-game, nner and loser are heani at all times. Kiim flows freely ; for the plain-hunter carries to the trading-store every peltry he can obtain. Under these circumstances the free-trader becomes a curse to his brethren, and his store a plague-spot upon the plains. Toward the middle of April Pascal begins to pack up his furs, collect his outstanding debts, and make preparations for a return to the settlements with the proceeds of the year's trade. His ponies are brought in from the prairie where they have wintered out; the fractured wooden carts are bound up with raw-hide lines ; the broken-spirited ponies coaxed into a semblance of life and vigor; the dusky progeny packed in with bales and blankets, the hut locked up, and he sets forth for the lonely oasis of civilization nearer the bor- der. On the main prairie trails he joins the trains of other traders, who have left their winter stations at the same time. Constantly augmented by new additions, and following each other in single file, the long line seems at length intermina- ble; and by the time the border settlements are reached, often varies from two to three miles in length. Their long winding columns sparkle with life and gayety; cart-tilts of every hue flash brightly in the sun ; hosts of wolfish dogs run in and out among the vehicles, and troops of loose horses gallop alongside. The smartly-dressed men ride their showi- est steeds, their wives and daughters traveling in the carts, enthroned on packs of fur. The traders wear their pictur- esque summer dress — brass-buttoned dark-blue capotes, with moleskin or corduroy trousers and calico shirts. Wide-awake I 1 ! 1 { I f- 2;8 THE GREAT FUR I.AXD, hnts. or cloth taps with peaks, aro tho favorite hoad-rovcring. ( I ayly cinltroidorod saddk'-cloths and varii'nalod sashes nre pre- ferred to those of less showy appearance ; red, white and Ithio beading on black ^;round is conunon. Reaching the sclllenuMits, the free-trader ascertains the current price t)f peltries, then repairs to his outfitter and offers him his stock at the highest niarki't rates. To protect himself, the merchant generally accepts ; for, if Pascal sells elsewhere, and i)l)lains the money for his peltries, the chances are that he forgets his obligation, and returns to the plains without licpiidating his debt. Having soltl his furs, however, the half-breed trader next proceeds to clothe himself and his family in all the gaudy finery that money can pur- chase, ami then, procuring an ample supply of rum, gives a party to his frienils. In this manner, and by the dissipations induced by a prolonged sojourn in the settlements, he manages to squander the greater portion of the season's earn- ings, and finds himself, when ready to return to the plains, as poor as he was the year before. Then he returns to the trader, who has anticipated just such a consummation of things, and obtaining credit for a new outfit, finally departs. But it is a month or more before the last half-breed trader in tasseled cap, sky-blue capote, brilliant sash and corduroy trousers, has had his last dram in the border grog-shops, and carries his fevered brow off toward the setting sun ; a month before the last ^art-train, with its following of mongrel dogs, unkempt ponies, lowing kine and tawny human beings, has disappeared beyond the horizon. Very brilliant and pjctur- /f WINTER CAMP. 279 cnquc they were while they stayed almiit the Hettlements. Their hrown and Hinoke-discohjrcd leather tents dotted the prairie for weeks ; there was always a scurrying of hoises and a barkinj^ of doi^s in the neighborhood ; a ( (jiilinual feasting and drinking ; a re( klcss riding to and fro, and the jargf)n of voices vociferating and shouting in h.df-a-do/.en languages. I'ierre and Antoine ran a mad race through the streets of the tf>wn ; dusky Darby and tawny Joan made love U|)f»n the open plain in anything but the conventional manner ; (labriel drank deep of the white man's fire-water, and fell prone in the gutter, but, raised to his pony's back, went off at a wild gallop, to the astonishment of every one, as if he were part and parcel of that unkempt animal; Philomel, appareled in scarlet cloth and bewildering beadwrk, like the little savage perl that she was, danced down tne still hou»-s in the shoii grass of the prairie, to the mu .ic of some long-haired and rnoccasined Paganini. Dark but comely was Philomel ; her full rounded figure, black hair, bewitching eyes and little affectations, were enough to soften the soul of an anchorite. Like Mr. Locker's heroine, she was — " An arifjel in a frock, With ii fascinating cock To tier nose." Her little rnoccasined feet will accompany the quick thud of hunter heel, as Louison or Baptiste dance unceasingly upon the half-hewn floor of some winter hut, in the glow of firelight through parchment windows, and to the sound of fiddle scraped by rough hunter hand. m ■4: •'I H \^s\ \\fyvV ¥V¥V^ WW \\\s \\\v^\A^v \s\ )\ \\\M\ ^m^ m\\ \\M\m W^ ^\ \M '^^\\\>S\s\\\\ '^^v^My^^vy^rt^ vhMrt>^V«*h >sv^* vsNS ^^wsvM^ ^vvW^^sU^. \ \ \' \\m\\\ i\\\\m\\\\\\\\ %^^ ^)S^\t yS|^VA^S\\ \\\M\S\\ ?\\\>^ *^\n^ MH^ ^^< Hi** >!>'*'< H\\\\\\ ^<« #i«*v^^ vsV^^^x^ ^v*i ^^^^^'' NV^N^vK ^% Asm \\ss \mm\\ M\ i ;j^ ^i^^^ ^vv^\y^^ ^\vNW ^W tW< x\V ^W hxSV^x^ \\A\S\i^ rt i.U^»' \\\\\\\^ .^i^tif^ ^ ^i^'^^^x .v^< ^^ At Av^ Avs^ xnV t^Nvix^ttw^ x\x^^\i^^i Wxm \\\^ \t* ) ' f I /( hrtJrff I ,1 Jiff' m m\ HllHf)!»'lliN !(|ll(((Nf «|//N^ Ik I||.<' itHHiii^^ WHU ffthf'ti Hl^ht'f MH^ h'fifif^f, iiMill II fhhiUN\ iUh tnmuitiiiih itm ul ttHt* Umfiff^f^ ^i^ot^ Nif'HiHiti Hrllhl* fif/' ihtihtdUit' Pt-Wi^H, 0ifi Htt*) tf^fpfH' Hiitfly H(i|(prtf^fl i\\im iUti ¥-t'tit*f fti hHt'M fy^w Pffth UfifH lilt- M'M-M*^»i Hi \iU tt'fi iiintiifht ( :*uttfth hnii #«♦ tm.^fi »')! Iiy n y"((Mj< (ff****/ ll>^ '/M hht**^ t-niH^, h fttt *>^ w'^" itfi, iIm' nn\utn)tit> i'^n^twh pHt-hMtHi( f}t^ mm*^ iH'mi^M 14 ftitlll" Im »ll«(li/fl> fljib* /y<.'*/'>/|>^/ (-^ >rrf tH^iA/^ f-MtH**' iitiil (it(l»'*»«» nv«'Hrtl<*'« l/y r^v^M-^f, /^f *#*'^,'|[^4 l>»f fivwr Mb^&** 282 THE CREA T FUR LAND. \v\ 1c?.* '\m of some cheated red brother, will probably become a very rich man. From time to time, as the winter camp runs short of pro- visions, expeditions are made to the buffalo grounds to obtain a fresh supply. The herds, which wander far to the south- ward in the fall, strange to say, return in the winter and col- lect in great numbers in the broken country between the two Saskatchewans, finding shelter in the timber, and brows- ing upon the willows, or coarse grass, still uncovered by snow. The half-breeds generally go to the winter hunts in small parlies, and with horse or dog-sledges to haul home the robes. The journey thither occupies a week or ten days, as the herds are near or far out. Proximity to the buffalo grounds is known by the radical change in the aspect of the country. Instead of an interminable plain, with an illimitable per- spective of wrack and drift, the country becomes undulating, with scac'ered patches of small timber alternating with minia- ture meadows and grassy levels. Here the buffalo sepa- rate themselves into small bands, and often into twos and threes, and find abundant food beneath the light snows. But into this sylvan retreat come the hunters with their dog- trains. Carefully skirting its border, but not penetrating it needlessly to alarm the herds, they select their camping- place in the thickest of the timber, and thence make pro- longed forays upon their shaggy game. Aside from the mere selection of the camping-ground, but little time is lost in ren- dering it comfortable ; for on the winter hunt the main object is attended to with a singleness of purpose that would u< m A WINTER CAMP. 283 delight the soul of a business martinet. But few fires are lighted during the day, for fear of frightening the game ; so that the labor of making camp is limited to securing, out of reach of the dogs, not only the provisions — of which by this time there is likely to be but little left — but snowshoes, harness, and everything with any skin or leather about it. An Indian sledge-dog will devour almost anything of animal origin, and invariably eats his own harness and his master's snowshoes, if left within his reach. Dividing into parties, the hunters pursue different direc- tions, endeavoring, however, whenever practicable, to encircle a certain amount of territory, with the object of driving the quarry toward a common centre. Again, the small parties follow the same plan on a smaller scale, each one surround- ing a miniature meadow, or grassy glade ; so that, if the num- ber of hunters is large, there are many small circles within the limits of the general circumference of the hunt. The winter hunt for buffalo in the Fur Land is generally made by stalking the animals in the deep snow on snowshoes. To hunt the herds on horseback, as in summer, would be an impossibility ; the snow hides the murderous badger-holes that cover the prairie surface, and to gallop weak horses on such ground would be certain disaster. By this method of hunting the stalker endeavors to approach within gunshot of his quarry by stealthily creeping upon them, taking advantage of every snow-drift, bush, or depression in the prairie, which will screen his person from view. And it is a more difficult feat to approach a band of buffalo than it would appear on [ : I 284 THE GREA T FUR LAiVD. first thought. When feeding the herd is more or less scat- tered, but at sight of the hunter it rounds atid closes into a tolerably conii)!Ut circular mass. If the stalker attempts nil ojjcn atlvance on foot — concealment being impossible from the nature of the ground — the buffalo always keep sheering olT as soon as he gets within two hundred yards of the near- est. If he follows, they merely re[)eat the movement, and always manage to jireserve the same distance. Although there is not the slightest danger in approaching a herd, it re- quires, in a novice, an extraordinary amount of nerve. When he gets within three hundred yards, the bulls on that side, with head erect, tail cocked in the air, nostrils expanded, and eyes that seem to tiash fire, walk uneasily to and fro, menacing the intruder by pawing the earth and tossing their huge heads. The hunter still approaching, some bull will face him, lower his 1k\u1, and start on a most furious charge, lUit alas for brute courage ! When he has gone thirty yards he thinks better of it, stops, stares an instant, and then trots back to the herd. Another and another will try the same strategy, with the same result, and if, in spite of these ferocious demonstrations, the hunter still continues to advance, the whole herd will incontinently take to its heels. By far the best method of stalking a herd in the snow is to cover oneself with a white blanket, or sheet, in the same manner as the Indians use the wolf-skin. In this way the animal cannot easily get the hunter's wind, and are prevented from distinguishing him amidst the surrounding snow. The buffalo being the most stupid and sluggish of Plain animals. njv m ! A WINTEK CAMP. 285 ss scat* } into a npts an le from ihccring ic near- !nt, and .llhough ■tl, it rc- Whon clc, with md eyes lenacing re heads, m, lower ahvs for le thinks back to strategy, erocious mce, the e snow is the same way the prevented 3VV. The animals, and endowed with the smallest possiMc amount of instinct, the little that he has seems adapted rather for pelting him into diflicnltieH than out of them. If not alarmed at sight or smell of the stalker, he will stand stu|)i(lly gazing at his companions in their death throes imtil the whole hand is shot down. When the hunter is skilled in the stalk, and the buffalo are plentiful, the wild character of the sport almost repays him for the hardships he endures. With comrades ecptally skillful he surrounds the little meadows into which he has stalked his cptarry. Well posted, the hunter nearest the herd delivers his fire. In the sudden stuj)id halt and stare (;f the bewildered animals immediately following, he often gets in a second and third shot. Then comes the wild dash of the frightened herd toward the o|)ening in the jj.irk, when the remaining hunters instantly ai)pear, pouring in their fire at short range, and pretty certain of securing their game. The cutting up follows ; and the rapidity with which a skillful hunter completes the operation is little short of mar- velous. When time permits, the full process is as follows : He begins by skinning the buffalo, then takes off the head, and removes the paunch and offal as far as the heart ; next he cuts off the legs and shoulders and back. The chest, with the neck attached, now remains — a strange-looking object, that would scare a respectable larder into fits — and this he proceeds to lay beside the other joints, placing there also such internal parts as are considered good. Over the whole he then draws the skin, and having planted a stick in the ground close by, with a handkerchief or some such thing fastened to ^ i 286 THE GREA T FUR LAND. it to keep off the wolves, the operation of cutting up is com- plete, and the animal is ready for conveyance to camp when the sledges arrive. The half-breed goes through this whole process with a large and very heavy knife, like a narrow and pointed cleaver, which is also used for cutting wood, and per- forming all the offices of a hatchet ; but unwieldy as it is, a practiced hand can skin the smallest and most delicate crea- tures with it as easily as with a pocket-knife. A few days' successful stalking generally supplies a party with sufficient meat, and, unless hunting for robes, they are not likely to linger long upon the bleak plains for the mere sake of sport. The winter stalk is emphatically a ** pot-hunt," the term " sport " being scarcely pertinent to a chase involv- ing so serious discomfort. A cache of the meat is accordingly made, from which supplies may be drawn as required. And this cache has to be made in a very substantial manner to resist the attacks of wolves, which invariably hang about the camp of the hunter. Generally speaking, it is made in the form of a pyramid, the ends of the logs being sunk slightly into the ground, against which a huge bank of snow is heaped. This, when well beaten down, and coated with ice by means of water poured over it, holds the timber firmly in position, and is per- fectly impregnable to a whole army of wolves, though a wol- verine will certainly break it open if he finds it. At last comes the departure. The sledges are packed with melting rib, fat brisket, and luscious tongues ; the cow- ering dogs are again rudely roused from their dream of that far-off day, which never comes for them, when the whip shall A WINTER CAMP. 287 ) IS com- ntip when lis whole row and and per- is it is, a ;ate crea- ;s a party they are the mere lOt-hunt," 5e involv- cordingly id. And r to resist he camp form of into the This, of water id is per- h a wol- packed the cow- 1 of that hip shall be broken and hauling shall be no more. Amid fierce impre- cation, the cracking of whips, deep-toned yells, and the grating of the sledges upon the frozen snow, the camp in the poplar thicket is left behind. The few embers of the deserted camp- fire glow cheerily for a while, then moulder slowly away. The wolves, growing bolder as the day wears on, steal warily in, and devour such refuse as the dogs have left. As night settles silently down, the snow begins to fall. It comes slcwly, in a whirling mist of snowflakes that dazzles and confuses the eye. The ashes of the camp-fire, mingling with it, take on a lighler grey ; the hard casing of the cache receives a fleecy covering. Feathery shafts of snow, shaken from the long tree-branches, fly like white-winged birds down over what has been the camp, l^ut all traces of its use are hidden by the spotless mantle flung from above. The coming morning reveals only a pyramidal drift of 'snow among the aspens — around, a hopeless, uncharted, trackless sea of white. Such is the winter stalk — a hunt that has often formed the theme of the traveler's s'.ory. And yet it may be doubted if there has ever been placed before the reader's vision anything like a true account of the overpowering sense of solitude, of dreary, endless space, of awful desolation, which at times fills the hunter's mind, as, peering from some swelling ridge or aspen thicket, he sees a lonely herd of buffalo, in long, scattered file, trailing across the snow-wrapt, interminable expanse into the shadows of the coming night. Life to the white stranger temporarily resident in the win- ter camp becomes after a season pleasant enough. The study W w. ijll li «.'! 'i I •i= I'll, 288 THE GREA T FUR LAND. of Indian and half-breed character and customs, the visits of his barbarian neighbors, the exciting incidents of his every- day life, all conspire to relieve the monotony which would otherwise hang over him like a pall. It is true that of life other than human there is a meagre supply ; a magpie or screaming jay sometimes flaunts its gaudy plumage on the meat-stage ; in the early morning a sharp-tailed grouse croaks in the fir or spruce-trees ; and at dusk, when every other sound is hushed, the owl hoots its lonely cry. Besides human companionship, however, the white resident of the winter camp has many pleasures of a more £Esthetic character. It is pleasant at night, when returning from a long jaunt on snowshoes or dog-sledge, to reach the crest of the nearest ridge and see, lying below one, the straggling camp, the red glow of the fire- light gleaming through the parchment windows of the huts, the bright sparks flying upward amid the sombre pine-tops, and to feel that, however rude it vwy be, yet there in all that vast wilderness is the one place he may call home. Nor is it less pleasant when, as the night wears on, the long letter is penned, the familiar book read, while the log fire burns brightly and the dogs sleep quietly stretched before it. Many a night thus spent is spread out in those pictures which memory weaves in after life, each pleasure distinct and real, each pri- vation blended with softened colors. m ■ '! Isits of 1 every- would ;of life gpie or on the 2 croaks ry other 5 human ter camp pleasant •shoes or and see, f the fire- hius, the tops, and that vast r is it less s penned, .ghtly and a night memory each pri- CHAPTER XIII. THE FROST KING. 'HP* HE old maps, based upon the discoveries of Cabot and ■*" Castier, which represented the centre of America as a vast inland sea, erred only in the description of the ocean which they placed in the central continent. The ocean is there ; but it is one of grass and waves of sand, and its shores are the crests of mountain ranges and dark pine-forests. The eye travels over it to the farthest distance without one effort of vision, and reaching there, rests unfatigued by its long gaze. No jagged peaks break the monotony of sky-line ; no river lays its silvery folds along the middle distance ; no dark forests give shade to foreground, or fringe the perspective; no speck of life, no trace of man, nothing but wilderness. Strip- ped of its drapery, space stands forth with almost terrible distinctness. The salt sea does not present a more infinite variety of aspect than does this prairie-ocean. In early summer, a vast expanse of waving grass and pale pink roses ; in autumn, too often a wild sea of raging fire ; in winter a dazzling surface of purest snow, heaped into rolling ridges or frost-crested waves. The phosphorescent waters of the ^Egean cannot show more gorgeous sunsets; no solitude of mid-ocean can 13 Ul 290 THE GREA T FUR LAND. mA P '\i m vie with tlic loneliness of a night-shadowed prairie. The still- ness can be felt, the silence heard. The wail of the prowling wolf makes the voice of solitude audible ; the stars look down through infinite silence upon a silence almost as intense. This ocean has no past ; treeless, desolate, and storm-swept was it when the stone of the Sphinx was yet unhewn, and the site of Nineveh was a river-meadow, and it is the same to-day. Time has been nought to it ; and the races of men have come and gone, leaving behind them no trace, no vestige of their i)res- encc. It is an unending vision of sky and grass, and dim, distant, and ever-shifting horizon. *' The seasons come and go, grass grows and flowers die, the fire leaps with tiger bounds along the earth, the snow lies still and cjuiet over hill and lake, tJie rivers rise and fall, but the rigid features of the wilderness rest unchanged. Lonely, silent, and impassive ; heedless of man, season, or time, the weight of the Infinite seems to brood over it." * To the unaccustomed voyager upon the great prairies of the Fur Land they bear no landmark. As well might he be left alone upon an uncharted sea. There are spaces where no tree or bush breaks the long monotony of sky-line, and he gets "out of sight of land," Standing in the middle of the plain, it presents the appearance of an immense sheet slightly raised at both ends; for the level prairie has the peculiarity of seemingly being elevated in whatever point of the compass one may turn, leaving the observer always in the depression. So clear is the atmosphere that the natural range of vision is <^ Major Butler, " Wild North Land," m THE FROST KFXG, 39 T he still- )rowling 3k down sc. 'I'l^'s pt was it lie site of ly. Time ::ome and heir pres- and dim, come and with tiger it over hill .ires of the impassive ; he Infinite prairies of ght he be )aces where ine, and he ddle of the leet slightly peculiarity the compass depression. of vision is greatly extended, and distant objects may be clearly and easily seen ; which, anywhere elsc*, it would be impossible to distinguish or define. It is almost like looking through a telescope. As a result, one finds it difficult to ascertain the relative distances of objects, and in consecpience, to estimate their size. One makes the blunder of mistaking a buffalo for a crow, or, more frecpicntly, a crow for a buffalo. If anyone be inclined to laugh at this, let him stand upon the sea-shore with a sailor, and compare their estimate of distance with his, and mark the difference. The eye ranges over a sea of short waving grass, without a single intervening object to afford the accustomed means of estimating relative «i/,e and distance. Left to himself, the inexperienced traveler finds it impossi- ble to pursue a straight course, and invariably begins to de- scribe a circle by bearing continually to the left — a weakness incomprehensible to the plain-dweller, who looks upon it as the most arrant stupidity. Unless he be an expert in the use of a compass, the possession of an instrument is likely to prove of little avail. If he take the sun for a guide, he will find no theory quite so fallacious for an unskilled voyager ; for, let him be as careful as he will, he can keep the sun in the position he requires, and yet go round in a circle. After one becomes accustomed to prairie or ocean-travel, he learns almost intuitively to be guided by the sun, and can travel by it ; but it cannot be learned by a neophyte in a single lesson. Alone upon the illimitable plain, passing by, in his igno- rance of prairie-craft, those numberless milestones to safety If ' K'l I»I. i 293 THE GREAT FUR LAX P. wliich make to the plain-dweller a great public highway, the lonely wanderer begins at length to realize that he is lost. It dawns upon him first in a sense of absolute bewilderment — a bewilderment so intense as to produce for the moment an almost perfect blank in the mind. He is incapable of summoning thought sufficient to realize anything — to consider his present situation, or take measures for future action. It is an indefinable state where all is chaotic ; (juickly succeeded, however, by an all-pervading terror, which chains thought and action in a manner nearly akin to death — a vague, shape- less terror, imagining all possible horrible things, and paint- ing mistily and hazily upon the numbed faculties nameless miseries yet to be experienced : a slow death by starvation or thirst ; exposure to the devouring elements, or wild beasts ; tortures of every imaginable description, always ending in a lingering death ; and, above all, never more to look upon a human face, never more to share human sympathy — a going out in utter darkness, perfectly alone. Then Despair joins Terror, adding her tortures ; and lastly conies that all-powerful, all-pervading desire for human companionship which, blending v/ith the former feelings, unhinges the intel- lect and renders the man insane. In winter the dangers of the prairie-ocean deepen and become manifold. The deep snows obliterate all landmarks ; to-day, the depressions are filled up ; the ridges levelled ; it is a dead surface of glistening white. To-morrow, the shifting winds start the breakers going ; they come at first in long even swells, the harbingers of the storm ; they break THE FKOST KING. 293 ay, the s lost. L-rment lomcnt able of onsidcr I. It is cccdctl, thought I, shape- d painl- lamcless Mtion or beasts ; ing in a ok upon pathy — a \ Despair mes tViat inionship the intel- epen and ndmarks ; levelled ; )rro\v, the ne at first hey break into short cliopping waves ; they pile one upon another in tuinultU(Mis billows that freeze into motionless torpor. The face of the snowy sea is never the same ; what is a landmark to-day is obliterated to-morrow. The peaceful summer scene that seemed only wanting the settler's hut, the yoke of oxen, the wagon, to become the paradise of the husbandman, is lost in fierce storm and tempest and blinding snowdrift. But there come calms upon the prairie-ocean — days when an infinite silence broods over the trackless expanse, when the Mirage of the Desert plays strange freaks of inverted shore- land. It is the moment following the sunrise of such a day. A deeper stillness steals over \' ; earth, and in its solemn hush colors of wondrous hue rise uiid spread along the horizon. The earth stands inverted in the sky; the ca[)es and promon- tories of the prairie-ocean are etched in deeper lines than graver ever drew upon the blue above ; the poplar and aspen islands which dot the plain, float bottom upwards, anchored by great golden threads in a deep sea of emerald and orange and blue, mingled and interwoven together. Dwellings twenty and thirty miles distant, seem but a few rods away ; the gliding dog-sledges, out of sight over the plain, are transferred to the sky, and seem steering their sinuous courses through the clear ether ; far away, seemingly beyond and above all, one broad flash of crimson light, the sun's first gift, reddens upward toward the zenith. But every moment brings a change ; the day gathers closer to the earth, and wraps its impassive veil again over the sunken soul of the wilderness. The mirages of the Plains are of wondrous beauty ; every mmmmmm n\ 7W^: vv>VA',i?'#r A' f h\f\ SH\\\w\^ \\\v\m\i\i\\^iwm \\\\\m\ uiili «i(|iHiinMiiiil \\k \%v\\\\ \\\^ \\\\\^ m\S\ \\ wmwm m\A m\\\\i¥ m ii \\\\\. m^ wwm, i\ \\\\\y \\m\\\, \\\\\\\ \\\\\h \\\m\ \\¥\\m\ ^\\M ^\\|^s\\% \\> Uw %w\s \\\^\\ \\\ \\H\\s \\w mm \\kHm \%^ wwK^^ ht%m \s\\\ A WW ms\ri \\u\m \m\\ m\*', m\\ \'*H^mN^W\s ^¥>\Uvt^v>ySNv* KtS^w^W^'^K m\\ y\\v\\WH\'^\\' Ih«1 trfi.VWt^. Hx^ >\4yv> W^\»^\^AV \x\'^\V W^ \\^^ \\\x- mw \\\ \\a\\ ,k,.5h^^ I si mmmmmmmi^mmmmmm m^mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm^Km^ Hlk f^l^^^^i' ^f^^ m \\m\ \\u \^ % i\m\ \s\\\\\\W^ tit \\\\\\\\ \\\\\\ (iiiiiiiiili '10 ii(iI()h\\> 'i i\\'\llflll I lliil , ■■■■,,■■ ,\\l,> *\liU 'I ■■ I li.. Ii>''h ilh't" m iHd/llHHfl*'! ' 'fM (fi ^./ / /I, l/( /f'/y" >>h> i' "•' f. . ?;'/! 4i'iH hill llii^ ((/<■(■///. 1/ ■ |, '/ . /(/ ihi I' >> f '/■./F ^ , /,' ',r'ftfif iliiH^M'! !((i*i liUiiiiiiiiiiff", ititiii iun,' '>f iitHtfgn^a ittuHMmii^i In |.' (linfHriK ff-fcjI/iH /fM-JN>^^(^./^/ ''• ' 'Hflfi^f," - ■ ■'ifif0f liH ((''*<''H()'*'I Me ■.nil, hf itiff-'i t ■, ii.ns.f.' Iiiil" l(*'i», 'Mf'i ffc \mYi* f" ''^ ' nt^ iifm 19 hi^fii^ 'tf^'mii^ \\v >)<• llti'l'i^i nil liiiiifhi'ih If I ' ',? /.Oif, ^ni •Ml-.y-f . ft'i- ll;tp■^ ■!•: Ill" H^k mn *¥M.\ < n \nii\^ h>-' '.' '^^A.f//p^ »i)iiy liffH'lf !<*• HltHN^'fl^sfr'''^ /^^'J'' - • ■ ■^f 'jv^riv ^^M IdhllCN, illlitii)lti>, ffr^ /','rr'' --^^ mm^ f^tMim-Mf*!*^ tfM". '-/ Ml iH'/Hf/N i^MfriM fl<' tfiiiti^' of -/''.'''fr \Miii'«€it IM ^ittih m4 296 THE GREA T FUR LAND. Ill 'ii' l^i^x \ii nitude of the scone are overpowering. The immensity of the dead level is overwhelming. You are an atom in the gigantic panorama of frozen Nature about you. Coming in from the rarefied atmosphere generated by sixty-seven degrees of frost, an extended and sentient fore- finger, pointing in the direction of one's nose, instantly in- forms him of the frozen condition of that member. Then he recalls the fact that, fifteen minutes before, a slight prick- ing sensation was experienced in the end of the nose — momentary, and in the hurry of the instant scarcely noticed. It was at that particular moment that it had frozen. Had he looked oui, or rather down, he would have seen the ghostly spectacle ; for firmer, colder, whiter, and harder than hard hearts, stony eyes, marble foreheads, or any other silicious similitude, stands forth prominently a frozen nose. Some theorist might make a study of frozen noses which would be interesting. Inference might be connected with inference in infinite duration. One might read an essay from it on the eternal fitness of things, and history viewed by the light of frozen noses might reveal new secrets. For example, the inability of the Roman nose to stand the rigors of an Arctic winter limits the boundaries of the Roman empire ; the Esquimaux nose is admirably fitted by nature, on account of its limited extent, for the climate in which it breathes, hence its assignment to hyperborean latitudes. This, however, is by the way. One's nose was frozen, say, in traversing at a rapid walk a distance of not more than one hundred yards; for it is n THE FROST KING. 297 a "poudre" day. Sixty-seven degrees of frost, unaccom- panied by wind, is endurable if you are taking vigorous exercise, and are warmly dressed ; but let the faintest possi- ble wind arise — a gentle zephyr, a thing which just turns the smoke above the lodge-poles, or twists the feather detached from the wing of a passing bird — then look out, for the chances are that every person met will extend that forefinger to mark some frozen s[)ot on your reddish-blue countenance. This, however, is the extent of the courtesy; they do not follow out the Russian ])lan of rubbing out the plague-spot with a handful of snow, probably out of deference to the limited amount of attrition most noses stand without peeling, A poudre day, with the temperature in the thirties below, is a thing to be spoken of in a whisper. Not a soul leaves the fireside who can avoid it ; to wander away from well- known landmarks is to run the risk of never returning. Every winter half a score of men walk off into the whirling particles of snow and drift, and the morning sun finds a calm and peaceful face turned up to the sky, with its life frozen out, and its form hard and unimprcssible, as if carved from granite. The early morning of such a day may be clear and still ; but upon close inspection the atmosphere will be found filled with crystal, scintillating, minute, almost im- perceptible particles of snow, drifting on wings of air, impal- pable and fleeting. Soon after daybreak the wind begins to rise. Off to the north rolls a little eddy of '•now, a mere puff, not larger than one's hand. Another follows ; minia- ture coils circle over the smooth surface of the snow, and sink back imperceptibly to the level again. Drifts of larger 13* 298 THE QREA T FUR LAND. \T^n- !'>** !)4 J Li: I ti 'I* M proportions roll over the expanse, until the atmosphere becomes thick with the frozen particles. All landmarks are lost, and the range of vision is limited to a few feet. The wind howls like a raging beast, and the merciless cold con- geals the very heart's blood. It is the sirocco of the North ! On such days traveling is particularly toilsome and dan- gerous. The state of the atmosphere renders respiration difficult, increasing the action of the heart, and producing a slight but constant dizziness. All landmarks are oblit- erated, and unless one is thoroughly conversant with the country, he is liable to lose his way, and be caught at night- fall without shelter or fire. But the most dangerous phase of travel is the tendency toward inertia. Fatigued by the least effort, paralyzed by the cold, perhaps frostbitten in many places, despite every precaution, the traveler is likely to give up in despair. " I cannot " and " I will not " become synonymous terms. All effort is apparently useless ; the attention is distracted by the necessity of fighting continually to keep face and hands free from frostbite ; keeping the road in so blinding a tempest seems to be impossible ; the animals one is driving face about in harness, and refuse to proceed ; and so, beset on every hand, with an intellect benumbed and paralyzed by the intense cold, and a body overcome by physical inertia, one gives up all effort as only adding unnecessary pain, and sits down to be bound hand and foot by the final stupor. Five minutes' rest in some snowdrift on the plain is enough, in certain conditions of fatigue and temperature, to paralyze the energies of the f- MlI m THE FKOST KING, 299 osphere jks are t. The )ld con- North ! ind dan- ipiration •oducing re oblit- with the It uight- )us phase d by the bitten in is likely " become less; the jntinually eping the 5ible; the nd refuse intellect d a body )rt as only 3und hand t in some ditions of ies of the strongest man, and make him welcome any fate if only let alone to take his ease. We recall more than one time when we would have given all we possessed simply to have been permitted to lie down in a snowbank for ten minutes ; and left to ourselves, we should certainly have done so. Some of the best dog-drivers on the plains have related to us similar experiences, where the inertia of a poudre day on the prairie seemed too intense to be resisted. Persons who know the priiirie only in summer or autumn have but little notion of its winter fierceness; and desolation. To get a true con- ception of life these solitudes they must go toward the close of November into the treeless waste ; there, amid wreck and tempest and biting cold, and snowdrifts so dense that earth and heaven seem wrapped together in undistinguisha- ble chaos, they will see a sight as different from their summer ideal as day is from night. But, though not so dangerous, the still days are the cold- est. There are every winter a dozen or more days so magic- ally still that all the usual sounds of nature seem to be sus- pended; whenthe ice cracks miles away with a report like that of a cannon; when the i)reaking of a twig reaches one like the falling of a tree ; when one's own footsteps, clad in soft moccasins, come back from the yielding snow like the crunching of an iron heel through gravel ; when every arti- ficial sound is exaggerated a hundred fold, and Nature seems to start at every break in the intense silence. The atmos- phere is as clear as crystal, and the range of vision seem? to be unlimited. Seen from a window, from the cosy limits 1 1 filif ii-^r ■ S! |l'< i i i 300 T'/ZyE G/iEA T FUR LAND. of an nlmost hermetically-sealed room, the clear sunshine and crisp freshness of the day appear to invite one forth to enjoy its seeming mildness. But the native knows better than to venture out. A fifteen minutes' walk in that clear ether is a fifteen minutes' fight for existence. A sudden prick and one's nose is frozen ; next go both cheeks ; one raises his hand to rub away the ghastly white spots, only to add his fingers to the list of icy members. Rub as you will, run hard, swing your arms — all to no purpose ; the little white spots increase in size, until the whole face is covered with the waxen leprosy. The breath congeals almost upon leaving the mouth, and the icy vapor falls instead of rising. Expectorate, and instantly there is a lump of ice where the spittle fell. Ah, it is cold beyond belief. The spirit regis- ters a temperature away down in the forties. We have seen a stalwart man, after a few hours' exposure on such a day, walk into the room where every footfall clanked upon the floor like blocks of wood clapping together ; his feet frozen solid as lumps of ice. On such a day one may stand for hours in the snow with moccasined feet, and leave no trace of moisture behind. The snow is granulated like sand ; there is no adhesiveness in it. It is as difficult to draw a sledge through it as through a bed of sand. Slipperiness has gone out of it. A horse gives out in a few minutes. And yet the aspect of all nature is calm, still, and equable as on a May day. One of these still nights upon the prairie is unspeakably awful. The cold is measured by degrees as much below the THE FROST KING. 301 sunshine forth to /s better lat clear sudden eks; one 3, only to you will, the little J covered ost upon of rising. vhere the irit regis- have seen ich a day, upon the jet frozen mow with lind. The ness in it. lugh a bed I gives out re is calm, ispeakably below the freezing j)oint as ordinary summer temperature is above it. Scraping away the snow, the blankets and robes are spread down. Then you dress for bed. Your heaviest coat is donned, and the hood carefully pulled up over the heavy fur cap upon your head ; the largest moccasins and thickest socks are drawn on (common leather boots would freeze one's feet in a twink- ling) ; huge leather mittens, extending to the elbows, and trebly lined, come next ; you lie down and draw all the avail- able robes and blankets about you. Then begins the cold. The frost comes out of the clear grey sky with still, silent rigor. The spirit in the thermometer placed by your head sinks down into the thirties and forties below zero. Just when the dawn begins to break in the east it will not infre- quently be at fifty. You are tired, perhaps, and sleep comes by the mere force of fatigue. But never from your waking brain goes the consciousness of cold. You lie with tightly- folded arms and upgathered knees, and shiver beneath all your coverings, until forced to rise and seek safety by the fire. If you are a novice and have no fire, count your beads and say your prayers, for your sleep will be long. This low temperature, however, is vastly preferable to, and more enjoyable than the shifting climate of the lake regions. One always knows just what to expect, and prepares accordingly ; and we doubt whether the feeling of being cold all through is not experienced on the levee at New Orleans as intensely as in the North. The air is crisp and entirely free from moisture, and there is an utter absence of that penetrating, marrow-chilling quality which makes winter life further south ■^p 302 THE GREA T FUR LAND. m IhA ^ «w» \X H t ».» .'■i '* ?:'?! i'5'j iii a burden. No sudden changes pile cold upon cold, and keep one's lungs in a continual congestion. The climate, while cold, is equable. From November till April one knows that he can never go out without abundant wrappings. Just what constitutes an abundance varies considerably in amount. The native attires himself in a pair of corduroy trousers, a calico shirt, an unlined coat, very much open at the breast to show the figured shirt, a fur cap, moccasins, and a pair of duffel socks without legs. Thus appareled, he is ready to face all day the roughest weather of the winter. But then he is continually in motion, and possessed of an unimpaired circulation. The foreigner, not to go into the minutiae of his wardrobe, simply puts on all the clothing he can conveniently walk in, then closely watches the end of his nose. As for the aboriginal occupants of the country, little Indians may be seen any daj running about in the snow before the lodge- doors, with the thermometer thirty degrees below zero, clad only in their own tawny integuments. The effect of the interminable winter landscapes of the Fur Land upon the mind of the new-comer is melancholy in the extreme ; more especially upon the still days, and where an occasional dwelling or tent is embraced in the desolate scene. No wind breaks the silence, or shakes the lumps of snow off the aspens or willows ; and nothing is heard save the occasional cracking of the trees, as the severe frost acts upon the branches. The dwelling, if any, stands in a little hollow, where the willows and poplars are luxuriant enough to afford a shelter from the north wind. Just in front a small THE FROST KING. 303 and keep te, while lows that fust what jnt. The ;, a calico t to show of duffel ^ to face then he ^impaired tiae of his iveniently . As for dians may the lodge- zero, clad >es of the incholy in ind where e desolate :he lumps leard save : frost acts in a little enough to 3nt a small path leads to the river, of which an extended view is had through the opening, showing the fantastic outlines of huge blocks and mounds of ice relieved against the white snow. A huge chasm, partially filled with fallen trees and mounds of snow, yawns on the left of the house ; and the ruddy sparks of fire which issue from its chimney-top throw this and the surrounding forest in deeper gloom. All around lies the unending plain, wrapped in funeral cerements of ghastly white, or dotted here and there with slender trees, which seem to bend and shiver as they stand with their feet in the snow. With the advent of a " blizzard," however, all still life ends and chaos begins. A blizzard is the white squall of the prairies, the simoon of the plains. Like its brother of the Sahara, when it comes all animate nature bows before it. The traveler prostrates himself in the snow, if he is of the initiated, and, covering his head, waits until it passed by. To pursue a different course, and journey on is to be lost. Let me give you an instance which may serve to illustrate its power, and the dangers of travel in the Fur Land : In the month of February, 1869, I was called by urgent business from my residence near the foot of Lake Winnipeg to an interior post, distant some two hundred and fifty miles. This call involved no ordinary journey. It meant a weary, exhaustive travel of ten or twelve days across an unbroken prairie, without shelter of any kind, without the probability of encountering a single human being throughout the entire route, and the almost certainty of being overtaken by some of W'.J 304 T//£. GREA T FUR LAND, the terrible storms prevalent at that season. But the call was imperative, and I set about preparing for the journey. The preparations were of a primitive sort, there being but two methods of travel admissible at that season — the one by dog-sledges, the other with horses attached to light carioles. The outfit embraced a combination of the two by the selection of a commodious dog-sledge, with trams in which to place a horse for myself, and a light cariole for my companion ; for attendant I must have over that desolate route. Choosing a stalwart half-breed, accustomed to the rough life of the prairies, and inured to all manner of hardship from infancy, we started one bitterly cold day toward the end of the month. In the forward conveyance was placed provisions for our- selves and provender for the animals, while my own sledge was comfortably furnished with the huge bundle of robes and blankets requisite for our comfort and even safety in camp. Into this shoe-like sledge I fondly hoped to creep and glide smoothly to my journey's end. But the intensity of the cold soon disenchanted me of that illusion ; for we had proceeded but a few miles when I was forced to take to my feet and run after the sledge to avoid being frozen. Even then the severity of the cold was such that, when jumping on the sledge for a momentary respite, on reaching the ground again my blood would r.eem frozen, the muscles refuse to act, and it would require a sharp trot of a mile or more before I could recover usual warmth. Our rate of travel was about twenty-five miles a day. The route pursued was that commonly taken by the voyagcurs the call ney. ;ing but one by carioles. election I place a on ; for oosing a of the infancy, e month, for our- n sledge Dbes and in camp, ind glide the cold oceeded and run severity ge for a ly blood it would recover a day. 'oyagcurs |il) TI/E FHOST KING. 305 in their summer trips, and in many of our proposed camping- places the fuel had been exhausted to supply the numberless trains which had come and gone in the years before. This necessitated, at times, continued travel for an entire day with- out stopping. At night, we descended the banks of the river, ])itching our camp upon the second terrace, in some spot equally con- venient to wood and water. Then, making an excavation in the snow, logs would be heaped up, until our fire was suffi- ciently large to afford a genial warmth throughout the night. Our sledges turned across the head, and blankets spread upon the snow, formed a bed into which, with caps and over- coats on, we were at all times ready to creep. Thus we journeyed on, until the closing of the seventh day brought us to the crossing of Elm River, a small stream upon our route. The day had been warmer than any experienced since starting. In the afternoon the snow had melted sufficiently to wet our moccasins thoroughly, and by its softness to impede our travel ; so that the distance made had not been so great as on other days, while the fatigue and discomfort had been greater. During the day we had fallen in with a Mr. Wheeler, a gentleman from Montana, with whom I had been previously acquainted ; a man of huge and burly physique^ capable of immense endurance. He was journeying in our direction, having come up on the mail-sled the day before, and gladly availed himself of an invitation to encamp with us for the night. It being nearly dark on our arrival at the I: i 3o6 rilE GREA T FUR LAND. wi m w.<^ ? 1*3 r*r— river, we did not think it necessary to build a fire, both on account of the warmth of the evening, and the quality of the fuel, of which we were unable to find any except wet, green elm, hardly ignitable. So, having eaten a cold supper, we set about our preparations for the night. Elm River, like all prairie-streams, is narrow and runs in a channel much below the surface of the plain, having, in consequence, high banks, which in most cases are precipitous but on this stream sloped back, with only moderate abrupt- ness, to the level prairie. It was on the farther bank that we selected our place of rest for the night, without shelter, of course, but sufficiently below the level to be out of the sweep of the wind, as we thought. The half-breed and myself had for bedding four large buffalo-robes and four blankets ; and our custom was to spread one robe and a blanket under us, and use the remainder as covering. The amount under was sufficient, owing to the snow preventing the cold reach- ing us from the earth, and rather increasing the amount of heat than otherwise. Mr. Wheeler had two robes and two blankets. We lay with our feet toward the stream, Mr. Wheeler placing himself immediately across the head of our bed — if so I may call it — wrapped in his own bedding, I am thus minute in the description of our positions and bedding, in order to more thoroughly impress the rei:'.a.?r with the intensity of the storm which followed. It was about six o'clock in the evening when, afte' taking off our wet shoes, we retired, with overcoats and caps on, as customary. The sky at that time exhibited no extraordi- A TJIE FROST KING. 307 re, both quality ept wet, . supper, I runs in aving, in icipitous e abrupt- k that we ,helter, of the sweep id myself blankets ; ket under Lint under Did reach- amount robes and ream, Mr. ad of our ing. iitions and ead-^r with US:-' taking i caps on, extraordi- nary appearance, and the temperature, if any thing, indicated snow. Being fatigued with the labors of the day, I was soon asleep, and did not awaken until about half-past nine o'clock, when I was aroused by the tossings of Mr. Wheeler in his efforts to adjust his bedding more comfoii ihly. I observed that it had grown colder, and that a sharp wind had sprung up, which seemed to come down the channel of the stream instead of across it, as we had anticipated in the selection of a camp. However, having the guide on the windward side, I thought but little of it, and was soon asleep. I awoke again, as near as I can judge, in about an hour and a half ; this time from a general sensation of cold which enveloped me. I found both my companions awake, on speak- ing to them, and that Mr. Wheeler had been unable to sleep at all, owing to the cold, as he lay with his head to the wind, and could not prevent it from entering under the covering. It was blowing a perfect gale, and the air was so filled with whirling particles of snow that we could not distinguish our animals at the distance of a few yards. From that time for- ward it was impossible to sleep. We did every thing we could devise to ward off the cold, and the half-breed seemed espe- cially anxious that I should not suffer ; covered me with care, and shielded me as much as possible with his own person. But the chill seemed to have taken complete possession of me. I could not restrain my desire to shake and shiver, although knowing that it augmented the difficulty. For a time we conversed on the severity of the storm, and our error in not having built a fire, but gradually relapsed into silence ; each It* tWA' rt'A^^'.O* ^t^A* U>Vh. It k It 1$ (i^vW \\\u\\\ M\\\ » hill iH bhH nl ht*h \t'l, I luul lut IVtII', \NV thi^wnht v\r«^yit 1Vt'oyil^^ tW MUWMliMtnl r»M\yl\\UM\ y\\ {\\v l»»t\(\\ \\\\\\v\ lh»' SIllTol- (>Sji AV\«^U^H tV.M\\ lV* \W\\\. l.\» M ihli^n WhHl'll'lU i\htl (llMllMfl, \ thxN\^ht vwvv th'» hwnim^M \ \\t\% upoH, tnul whiillrtl the »Sx^v^Mly «vy xv»m<\rt»s\\>\\ m\<>kt» u\ \\\i\ t^- t«Mu hinl \m n*»mly Alt thl\M\}i)N this OV\tx'V SUV»j\rt o( ll\n\l^^l\». |(o\vi'\iM. IJHMl' T«^ j^n ^>W\^\ tolt moiv \'\\\\\ nml hortvy. I be^n aW hx ov^vvuM^*^ j\ |HM'uUrtr xowsfUiow, m if tlu' llonli, ty>T tW tif^vih \>f a v^uAvUM ov hrtU !U\ \\m\ wrts fto/t'n Roliii, a*K^ t>»o \\M\j5x\-*'mont gT.ivturtllv oxlomhi^^ to tho Ihm\o. 'I'hc Kvft^* it!j!cW «t tim;^s iVh like a »vrl-l\ivi Uar. I luUiccil, fiulhrr, 4itt iihMXNfts<\^ UK>r in the Iv.iting o( \\\c luwit, (U\il louM iffh tffti.H' ktisfd n) |\i' nitlh mH lUl HM h'tU, H ol mowing i« \\\\> lU'«l>, howo. '''l»C hMiihl fh^l lh(> |i|mm(I ««'f'iiHlH(itly f»H)l?'' »(('• '•/*/! ^tf f^^^ v^lhf* (llltl Mllj'flhM IM llu* f-xl^^Hild^n Mil** tiUftH^UiifjituiUttitti rt mII((IiI »llfrliif't<^ IH 111*' ||«<(f((i(hM(ly (mm mtiip-n in «t(*f ii\ (\tiU^t-f, nttfl Misft \ii\\^\\N\ ((I Ml. W(l^f•l^^ MfrJHlfnl/*^, " M^^f, uihti, t ii^UH^a I Mill flc«'^iti() Im «|c)(I|« f " tldH'fVci, (lii»lttj< lliN w)(ol^ frf-fl^/^l nf iwh hoiftn nt tfUttt i I'Miiltl iinl iKcv^'iil !» \im\\um\ iih\vt(l Ni'Vt'hd HmM'h ht tntiifiii wy tinvt-n ufiti tMtin\fi ♦ |(lU'lly III uHm \im\\hiu, li«(( vfi^hiiui n^/n'ii, At ihtt ¥.fiA f/f IhttI li(M«« I i(*(li(»'(l M»«t ( wrtJi (yH:^//f!i)f»JOM)^C^/ J htti t whih l»liy«it ally hh, my iiuw) wnn »»uff«?f)ttj{ ttiottfi My whok i/ku wiiM It* ^(■( w/ifi»i. My l/'<'fy ^rtn (:;ll! thnt t ffrtiUI w'fU'm^f IhiiI'I t'Vffy iMiflhly prjMi'ssi'/fi fo fie wnttp. f «V/rf^! ?/t<- Icily of nil) Mil|/«l(|j' ritti-U-nnutnn in no* >/t,' :'">ti ». ftfe the evt'iiing |ir«'vioii«, nm] nf iht> yty i^ ^t\M <«« t// »ft 1i>eif/fe mirli l»liizinn fires ««( we. lui'l on f»ij(>y4^ »//•' fme. ff f *jfny\ only Kf'l wnrni (ixftin ! Was there fi'e. Con'.ir.'ing in t^ e consciousness of danger, and yet think- ing only of my suffering .:nd desire to become warm, after the lapse of an hour, probably, I began to get warm — that is, the sensation was one of warmth and comfort, but was in reality, a species of numbness. I felt my flesh in several places, and it produced a prickly, numb feeling, similar to that experienced when u, .''^'b is asleep. I was comfortable and happy, becar .e * • ur; waim, and grew indignant with my companion t>^^ M unv.earied thumps on my body, and the continual ivis-'^-rs 'le required to his questions; I wanted to oe let alone. I'uUy conscious that, if I went to sleep I vould never awaken again, I was perfectly willing to go asL^ep. Even then I remember thinking of poor 312 THE GREA T FUR LAND, % n ii ii travelers, lost in the snow, being brought in l)y St, Hcrnard dogs. But I was warm, and laughed silently at Mr. W-heeler's complaints of freezing. I paid no further attention to the shakings of my companion or his (|UL*stions, but gathered my- self up, and lay thinking how comfortable I was. Pretty soon I began to doze, then to awaken suddenly, when T received a more severe blow than usual. Then 1 awoke to see the half- breed sitting up and bending eagerly over my face, and hear a few muttered words to Wheeler-- -ind then a sense of com- fort and oblivion. Now I was dead. Sensibility had "- tc. It was evident that 1 would suffer no more. In thirty or forty minutes, an hour at farihest, my body would die. Then what ? That I should awaken with a bright fire before me, and be wrapped in robes and blankets, seemed the most natural thing in the world to me. For the matter of that, it appeared to me that when I had fallen asleep I had anticipated just such a consummation of things, and it was fully half an hour before I began in the least to comprehend that any thing out of the ordinary channel had occurred. True, I knew in a vague and indistinct way that the half-breed was talking of Mr. Wheeler being lost, but the matter seemed to be no affair of min", and created no surprise. I looked at him chafing my arms and legs, and simply felt that it was quite right and natural that it should be so. Gradually, however, I regained consciousness sufficiently to understand that, finding me fast freezing, and impossible to THE FKOST KING. 313 Ikrnard ^-heeler's n to the LTcd my- L'tty soon sceivcd a the half- and hear L' of com- LS evident Inutcs, an le, and be ural thing peared to just such )ur before )ut of the I a vague ig of Mr. o affair of hafing my right and Hift'iciently possible to arouse, he had gone, at the imminent risk of his own hfe, some three hundred yards farther down the stream, and, find- ing a dry and partially rotten log, had built a fire ; had then returned to find me totally unconscious, and to carry me, rol)es and all, to the fire. The few words he had addressed to Mr. Wheeler l)efore leaving me showed that he, too, was fast lapsing into the same state, and, when I was carried in safety to the fire, had returned to find Mr. Wheeler gone — having, evidently, awakened from his stupor sufficiently to realize that he was alone, and to wander off, half frenzied, in search of us. These facts being at last imjjressed upon my mind by the excited and voluble half-breed, I urged him to renew the seach for our lost companion ; but he jjositively refused. He explained that, in doing what he had already done, he had jeopardized his own life, and had frozen both hands and feet considerably ; that, while paid to care for me, he had nothing to do with Mr. Wheeler. He urged that, if he left the bank of the stream, he was likely to be lost, the snow at once ob- literating all trace of his tracks. I ordered him to go, begged him to go, but without avail. An offer of five golden sove- reigns met with a like refusal. At length, I told him that, if he would find Mr. Wheeler, dead or alive, I would give him a good horse. For this consideration he went. In twenty min- utes he returned, leading the unfortunate man, badly frozen, whom he had found running wildly about in a circle on the prairie. He was kept from the fire with some difficulty, until his hands, feet, and face, were thawed out with water, but pf. ' m if; i > .,'f 3H T^iY^ ^i?^'^ T FUR LAND. did not recover his mind until six hours after. From frequent personal observation, I am led to believe that nearly every one who freezes to death upon the prairies, or elsewhere, be- comes insane before death.* Having been thoroughly warmed and recruited by a steaming-hot breakfast, we followed the river to avoid losing our way, and in the afternoon reached a Hudson's Bay Com- pany's post. Here we were informed that the temperature had fallen, during the previous night, to forty-five degrees below zero ! We remained in that hospitable shelter for two days, during which the terrific storm raged with unabated fury. Some dozen Indians and h i^f-breeds peiished upon the route over which we had just p.vssed, After this lapse of time, I rctp.ll my thoughts and feelings with much more distinctness and ac cu'-acy than I could for some time immediately subsequent to the events related. No one who has passed through great danger realizes fully the extent of it at once. It requires time to impress the memory with all its circumstances. What my feelings were at this un- expected preservation from the dreadful fate which threatened m , it is impossible to express. * I have had five cases of freezing to death brought under my personal observation. In every instance the subject gave indubitable indications of insanity before death, and in every case exliibited it in the same way — by casting off his clothing and wandering away from it. One subject was entirely nude, and distant fully a mile from the last article of clothing he had discarded. frequent rly every here, be- ;d by a )id losing Jay Com- iperature ; degrees :r for two unabated led upon i feelings could for ted. No fully the i memory -t this un- lireatened ny personal dications of le way — by subject was clothing he CHAPTER XIV. A HALF-BREED BALL. T)EING invited to attend a ball at the residence of M. -L' Pierrette Pirouette, in the parish of St. Francois Xavier, given in honor of the betrothal of his daughter Pau- line, I am anxiously expectant of its delights for the inter- venient three days. I draw a mental picture of the daughter Pauline, by sur- mounting the customary attire of the country with a softened shade of her progenitors' features, and inserting an additional intensity into the blackness of her eye. I conceive, further- more, the /^;/f*» T 'I A HALF-BREED BALL. 33" he other not ob- ;onclude inwardly rothed, a nal, who jlingly to ns, over- ily inter- e females him in a as I have d refresh- lations to mong the ised nuni- rther pro- ing ; the , and cer- eon-wings earnestly ngs to my depths of ither, with whom I have a previous acquaintance. She receives me with cordiality, and embraces me with a knife and fork in her hands, which endanger the safety of my visual organs to an alarming extent. I am, however, appeased by an osculatory per ice on both cheeks, which would have been infinitely more agreeable coming from her daughter. I am assured of the excellence of the repast to be served, by the delicious odor arising from thr kettles, and from the numerous spits turning slowly before the huge fireplace, and of its prospec- tive extent, by the joints of bison, and the multiplicity of smaller game displayed upon the dresser. I am reminded of there being " a time to dance," by the gathering of the guests in the apartments devoted to that exercise, and by the tuning up of a mangy and enervated violin "hich produces a sensation on the tympanum not un- like 'ing of a saw. The musician, too, seems to suffer from a chronic attack of St. Vitus's dance, confined to the head, and thumps monotonously upon the floor, with mocca- sined feet, keeping time to his music. A festively-attired youth, with intensely Indian features, proceeds to call off the measures of the dance, in a corrup- tion of the musical language of la belle France. The dances do not partake of the nature of the dreamy waltz, or the mild mazourka, but rather of the wild eccentricities of the jig and physical labor of the reel. The volatile half-breed requires something vigorous and exciting in his amusements. The disciples of Terpsichore, male and female, take positions upon the floor, and, after a preliminary courtesy, start off in the 14* % J' ' \i .1 322 T//£ GREA T FUR LAND, jig ; the remainder of the guests looking on with admiring eyes. After a few minutes, a young man jigs across the floor, and usurps the place of the first performer, and the female is shortly relieved by another of her sex, who is soon superseded by yet another. So it continues, until all the company have taken turns upon the floor. I am matriculating for a stoic, yet confess to irreverent laughter at the trembling forms of the dancers, who perform with a nervous energy and excite- ment that is indescribable. At times there is an evident desire exhibited by the favor- ite performers to test the capacity of their legs and the sound- ness of their wind, by earnest efforts to dance each other down. On these occasions the audience become intensely sympathetic, and encourage their favorite champion by words of superla- tive endearment. I hear my neighbor apostrophizing the lady thus : " Oh, my little dear ! what legs you have got ! You are entirely too much for that little frog ! When you are done, you shall have a drink, my daughter ! Ah, holy Moses, what power ! what endurance ! You could outrun the deer, mon mignon ! Well, will you kvin, ma bichctte ? Sucre ! you are down, eh ! " Then come the reels, performed by six or eight danc;rs, who circle about in an energetic way, and, when exhausted, retire and give place to others. There is no cessation, save when the artist, wielding the instrument of Paganini, signifies to the parched condition of his throat by becoming ?lower in his touch. As the dance continues, the excitement grows more in- I admiring s the floor, e female is Hiperseded ipany have for a stoic, ig forms of md excite- the favor- the sound- ther down, mipathetic, of superla- ng the lady ! You are u are done, loses, what : deer, mon e! you are ;ht dancsrs, exhausted, sation, save ni, signifies ig slower in 'G more in- A HALh-BREED BALL. 323 tense, and the civilized and heathen dialects are more inex- tricably mixed up. The performers are unwearied in their efforts, and, when forced to retire from the field, are covered with perspiration. I am convinced of the uemocratic nature of the assembly, by seeing my uncivilized ririver of dogs em- braced in the number of the dancers. But it is becoming infectious. I am seized with a desire to join in the Terpsichorean maze, and, finding Pauline, I plunge into the intricacies of a reel. I am no match, however, for that matrimonially- inclined young woman, and, after a few turns, find myself swinging off at a tangent, like the loose finger of a compass. I am alarmed at the complicated machinery I have set going, but am, ere long, swung off to a wooden chest by the excited Pauline, v.-ho exhibits some inclination to encamp on my knees. That being a weak point in my anatomy, I forego the pleasure by sliding quickly to the end of the box, upon which the enthusiastic maiden sits down solidly. I discover that the gyrations of the dance have produced a dizziness about ;\e head, and a nausea in the stomach, to which I am unaccustomed. As it increases, I " swear off " dancing, and devote my talents to observation and pleasant chats with my friend Pierrette. Employed in this manner, I fail for some time to note the greasy mouths and fingers of many of the guests. When I do so, and the consciousness dawns upon '^ e that these are certain indications of supper, I at once retire to the depths, registering a vow to partake of every dish upon the table. riMI 324 THE GREA T FUR LAND. W'^\ 'i'f '1, 1 r \i». 41- I am assured that the engaged Pauline, and her fair sis- ters, do not feed alone upon ambrosia, from Avitnessing their prowess with knife and fork at table. What the delicate sex of civilization would think of such an exhibition of carnivo- rous appetite, is beyond my penetration. The viands consist wholly of meats, flanked by wheaten cakes, baked in the ashes. My vis-a-vis announces the termination of his meal, by asking the maiden whom he attends whether she is full (!) She replies that she is full. Imitating their example, I return to the ballroom in a gorged and semi-dormant condition. The dance still continues with unabated vigor, although now well toward morning. I note, however, the mysterious disappearance, from time to time, of the dancers, who reap- pear at unexpected intervals with a certain frouzy air, which, nevertheless, quickly disappears under the excitement of the dance. Impelled by curiosity, I pursue a retreating form, and am led to a distant part of the mansion, where I find, stretched out upon the floor, the recumbent forms of the miss- ing guests. From time to time, as many as are requisite to keep up the festivities, are awakened ; and, being forthwith revived with raw spirits, join in the dance with renewed vigor. Passing another apartment, I catch a glimpse of the female guests enjoying a similar siesta, and thus learn how the affair is continued for so long a period. On arising in the morning, I am astonished to find the dancers of the previous night replaced by an entirely new set. ^ fair sis- ng their icate sex carnivo- ,s consist 1 in the meal, by s full (!) , I return tion. although lysterious vho reap- ir, which, ;nt of the ing form, re I find, the miss- quisite to forthwith ved vigor, lie female the affair 3 find the y new set, ^ HALF-BREED BALL. 325 of more mature age and aspect, who have dropped in to bear the burden of the festivities during the day. On the approach of night: again, however, the former set resume their places, and thus it continues for a number of days. After three days, I make my adieus to the pleasant family, and am whirled back to civilization by my demoralized driver of dogs, fully satisfied with my experience of a half-breed Indian ball. Il' * 1 CHAPTER XV. A WOOD- INDIAN TRADE. TTROM the latter part of October, when the hunters and ■*- trappers take advances for the winter's hunt, to the latter part of March, when the season's catch of fur begins slowly to come in, but few indications of life are visible about the isolated trading-posts of the company scattered through- out the Fur Land. Through the deep snow, drifted within the stockades in fantastic outlines, narrow paths are cut. Occasionally a shivering figure hurries from one building to another, but for the most part they are deserted ; and, except for the light smoke curling from the chimney-tops, one might fancy the small collection of houses but a series of snow- drifts, shaped by the shifting winds into a weird but transient likeness to human habitation. As the spring approaches, however, the hibernal torpor which has influenced a large portion of the trading population, gives way to the active life generated by the vigorous prosecution of the fur-trade. Toward the latter end of March, or the beginning of April, the Indian trappers leave their hunting-grounus, and make a journey to the fort with the produce of their winter's toil. Here they come, marching through the forest, a motley throng ; not men only, but women and children and dogs, of A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE. 327 titers and t, to the Lir begins ble about through- ed within are cut. uilding to id, except 3ne might of snow- transient proaches, 3 a large active life de. of April, id make a iter's toil, a motley d dogs, of all ages and condition ; each dragging sleds, or hand-tobo- gans, bearing the precious freight of fur to the trading-post. The braves march in front, too proud and too lazy to carry anything but their guns, and not always doing even that. After them come the squaws, bending under loads, driving dogs, or hauling hand-sleds laden with meat, furs, tanned deer-skins, and infants. The puppy dog and the inevitable baby never fail in Indian lodge or cortege. The cheering spectacle of the two, packed together on the back of a wo- man, is not of infrequent occurrence ; for in the Fur Land wretched woman often bears man's burden of toil as well as her own. The unwilling dog also becomes a victim, and degenerates into a beast of burden, either drawing a sledge, or a loaded travaille. Fifty or one hundred miles away from the nearest fort the minks and martens of the Indian trappers have been cap- tured. Half-a-dozen families have, perhaps, wintered to- gether, and they all set out for the fort in company. The dogs and women are heavily laden, and the march through the melting snow is slow and toilsome. All the household goods have to be taken along. The black and battered kettles, the leather lodge, the axe, the papoose strapped in its moss-bag, the two puppy dogs not yet able to care for themselves, the snowshoes for hunting, the rush mats, the dried meat ; all together it makes a big load, and squaw and dog toil along with difficulty under it. Day after day the mongrel party journeys on, until the post is reached. Then comes the trade. !i Pi/ 328 THE GREA T FUR LAND. The trapping or wood-Indian not being considered a dan- gerous customer, the gates of the post are freely thrown open to him. Accompanied by his female following, bearing the burden of fur, he marches boldly into the trading-room. Here the trader receives him, and proceeds at once to separate his furs into lots, placing the standard valuation upon each pile. The company has one fixed, invariable price for all goods in each district, and there is no deviation from the schedule. Any Indian to whom particular favor is meant receives a suitable present, but neither gets more for his furs, nor pays less for his supplies, than the tariff directs. In the southern portion of the territory, which forms the great battle-ground between the company and free-traders, the Indians receive many presents to keep them true to their allegiance. Espe- cially is this true with the most expert trappers, who often get articles to the value of fifty or sixty skins (upwards of $35 in value), and the ordinary hunters receive large presents also. In the North, however, where the company is all-pow- erful, and rules its subjects with a mild and equitable sway, presents are only made in exceptional cases. The company reserve a very narrow margin of profit, so narrow, indeed, that on certain staple articles there is an absolute loss. In the Missouri country, some years ago, when several rival companies existed, the ^selling price of goods, as compared to their cost price, was about six times greater than that fixed by the Hudson's Bay Company's general tariff. And yet their total profits are so enormous that it has been deemed advisable, from time to time, to hide the truth by A WOOD.INDIAN TRADE, 329 ed a dan- Dwn open aring the )m. Here )arate his ach pile, all goods schedule, sceives a nor pays southern le-ground s receive e. Espe- /ho often pwards of ; presents 3 all-pow- ble sway, company V, indeed, loss. In sral rival npared to that fixed has been truth by nominal additions to the capital stock. Of two hundred and sixty-eight proprietors there \^rere, in July, 1858, one hundred and ninety-six who had purchased at two hundred and twenty to two hundred and forty per cent. In the hostilities between the French and English from 1682 to 1688 they lost ;^i 18,014, yet in 1864 a dividend of fifty per centum, and in 1869 one of twenty-five per centum, were paid. The capture of for- tresses by the French at intervals between 1662 and 1697 cost them ;^97,ooo. Yet soon after the peace of Utrecht they had trebled their capital, with a call of only ten per centum on the stockholders. No wonder that in those days, and for long after, a Hudson's Bay share was never long in the market. For a very evident reason— that of the goose and golden eggs— the price paid for furs is not in strict accordance with their intrinsic value. If it was, all the valuable fur-bearing animals would soon become extinct, as no Indian would bother himself to trap a cheap fur when a high-priced one remained alive. The hunter may possibly, in the remote northern regions, have to pay five silver-fox skins for his pair of three- point blankets, worth there about fifteen dollars, the value of the skins paid representing two hundred dollars ; but he can, if he likes, buy the same article by paying for it in muskrat red-fox, or skunk-skins of inferior worth. In the early days of the trade, before the facilities for transportation were as perfect as now, the price of merchandise far exceeded that of the present time. We have been credibly informed that when Fort Dunve- Ill' i'< \k 330 TffJS GREA T FUR LAND. gan, on Peace River, near the Rocky Mountains, was first established, the regular price of a trade-musket was Rocky Mountain sables piled up on each side of it until they were level with the muzzle. The sables were worth in England at least fifteen dollars apiece, and the musket cost in all not more than five dollars. The price of a six-shilling blanket was in a like manner thirteen beavers of the best quality, and twenty of a less excellent description. At that time beaver were worth eight dollars a pound, and a good beaver would weigh from one to one and three-quarter pounds. Gradually the Indians began to know better the value of a musket and of their furs, and to object most decidedly to the one being piled along- side the other, which, report goes, was lengthened every year by two inches. Finally a pestilent fellow discovered silk as a substitute for the napping of beaver hats, and that branch of the trade declined. Lest an erroneous impression of the profit made on the trade-musket by the company may be gained, however, it may be well to state that because the flint-gun and the sable pos- sess so widely different values in the world's markets, it does not necessarily follow that they should also possess the same relative values in the Fur Land. Seven years often elapse after the trade-musket leaves the company's warehouses in London before it returns to the same place in the shape of sable. It leaves England in the con>pany's ship in June, and for one year lies within the walls of York Factory, on Hudson's Bay ; one year later it reaches Red River ; twelve months later again it reaches Fort Simpson, on the Mackenzie River; A WOOD.INDIAN TRADE. 331 , was first vas Rocky they were !)ngland at 1 not more ket was in nd twenty vere worth •eigh from le Indians their furs, ed along- ivery year i silk as a branch of de on the Tr, it may ■able pos- ts, it does the same en elapse houses in shape of June, and Hudson's e months sie River; there it is turned into sable within the year, and returns to London in three years, following the same route over which it came. That old rough flint-gun, whose bent barrel the In- dian hunter will often straighten between the limbs of a tree or in the cleft of a rock, has been made precious by the long labor of many men ; by the trackless wastes through which it has been carried ; by the wi..l',-r famine of those persons who have to sell it ; and by the years which elapse between its de- parture from the workshop, and the return of the skin of sable or silver-fox for which it was bartered. It is a mistake also to suppose that spirits are supplied in large quantities from the company's stores. In the Northern districts spirits are not allowed to enter the country ; and in no case are they a medium of traffic for furs ; though in the Southern districts rum is sometimes exchanged for provisions when they cannot be got on other terms. It is only when the Indian is in communication with free-traders that he be- comes a regular drunkard ; those who deal with the company confining themselves, or rather being confined, to a small quantity twice a year; the first when they receive their sup- plies before the hunting season, the second when they return with the product of the chase. Even this custom obtains only with the Plain-Indians, and is being gradually abolished. The trader, having separated the furs, and valued each at the standard valuation, now adds the amount together and informs the Indian— who has been a deeply interested specta- tor of all this strange procedure— that he has got sixty or seventy "skins." At the same time he hands his customer If 11 I^M I'r; l^-.i f-m - 332 T//J: GREA T FUR LAND. sixty or seventy little bits of wood, to represent the number of skins; so that the latter may know, by returning these in payment of the goods for which he really barters his furs, how fast his funds decrease. . • The first act of the Indian is to cancel the debt of last year. This is for advances made him at the beginning of the season ; for the company generally issue to the Indians such goods as they need, up to a certain amount, when the summer supplies arrive at the forts, such advances to be re- turned in furs at the end of the se'^son. After that he looks round upon the bales of cloth, guns, b'ankets, knives, beads, ribbons, etc., which constitute the staples of the trade, and after a long while, concludes to have a small white capote. The trader tells him the price, but he has a great deal of difficulty in understanding that eight or ten skins only equal one capote. He believes in the single standard of values — one skin for one capote. If an Indian were to bring in a hundred skins of different sorts, or all alike, he would trade off every one separately, and insist on payment for each, as he sold it. It is a curious and interesting sight to watch him selecting from the stores articles that he may require, as he disposes of skin after skin. If he has only a small number, he walks into the shop with his blanket about him, and not a sVin visible. After some preliminary skir- mishing he produces one from under his blanket, trades it, tak- ing in exchange what he absolutely needs ; then he stops. Just as one thinks the trading is over, he produces another peltry from beneath his blanket, and buys something else. A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE. 333 e number I these in 1 his furs, :bt of last tinning of e Indians when the 5 to be re- loth, guns, stitute the ies to have ice, but he lat eight or I the single an Indian at all alike, m payment interesting :les that he le has only mket about inary skir- ides it, tak- 1 he stops, ces another ;thing else. Thus he goes on until, having bought all the necessaries he requires, he branches off into the purchase of luxuries- candy, fancy neckties, etc. Under so slow a process an Indian trader needs to possess more than average patience. When the little white capote has been handed the Indian, the trader tells him the price is ten skins. The purchaser hands back ten little pieces of wood, then looks about for something else; his squaw standing at his elbow, and suggest- ing such things as they need. Everything is carefully exam- ined, and with each purchase the contest over the apparent inequality between the amount received for that given is renewed. With him, one skin should pay for one article of merchandise, no matter what the value of the latter. And he insists also upon selecting the skin. Like his savage brethren of the prairies, too, he has never solved the conundrum of the steelyard and weighing-balance — he does not understand what " medicine " that is. That his tea and sugar should be balanced against a bit of iron conveys no idea of the relative values of peltries and merchandise to him. He insists upon making the balance swing even between the trader's goods and his own furs, until a new light is thrown upon the ques- tion of steelyards and scales by the acceptance of his proposi- tion. Then, when he finds his fine furs balanced against heavy blankets and balls, he concludes to abide by the old method of letting the white trader decide the weight in his own way ; for it is clear that the steelyard is a very great medicine, which no brave can understand, and which can only be manipulated by a white medicine-man. % am- 334 T//£ CREA T FUR LAND. ■(■'• The white medicine-man was, in the fur-trade of fifty years ago, a terrible demon in the eyes of ^he Indian. His power was unlimited, and reached far out upon the plains. He possessed medicines of the very highest order : his heart could sing, demons sprang from the light of his candle, and he had a little box stronger than the strongest Indian. When the savage Plain tribes proved refractory around the com- pany's trading-posts, the trader in charge would wind up his music-box, get his magic lantern ready, and take out his galvanic battery. Placing the handle of the latter instrument in the grasp of some stalwart chief, he would administer a terrific shock to his person, and warn him that far out upon the plains he could inflict the same medicine upon him. If the doughty chieftain proved penitent and tractable thereafter, the spring of the music-box, concealed under his coat, would be touched, and, lo ! the heart of the white trader would sing with the strength of his love for the Indian. " Look," he would say, " how my heart beats for you ! " and the bewil- dered savage would stalk away in doubt of his own identity. If the red-man made medicine to his Manitou, and danced before all his gods, the white medicine-man would paint gib- bering demons on the skins of his lodge, and send fiery goblins riding through the midnight air, until, in sheer terror, the superstitious savage hid his painted face in the dank grasses of the prairie. When the Indian trapper has paid his debt and purchased all needful supplies, if he has any skins remaining, he turns ■faifi attention to the luxuries of life. The luxuries of life with A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE. 335 de of fifty cUan. His the plains. : his heart landle, and in. When I the com- ind up his :e out his instrument Iminister a r out upon n him. If thereafter, ;oat, would would sing Look," he the bewil- m identity, nd danced paint gib- ery goblins terror, the ink grasses purchased g, he turns of life with this painted child of the forest and stream consist of fiincy neckties, colored beads, cotton handkerchiefs, red and yellow ochre, and cheap and tawdry jewelry. For articles such as these he hands over his remaining chips, amid childlike manifestations of delight on the part of his expectant stpiaw. Then he turns his attention to the last, and, to him, most im- portant feature of the trade — that of getting into debt again ; for a great majority of the Indian and half-breed trappers and hunters really live in a state of serfdom, or peonage, to the company. Indeed, it may be said that every man, woman and child living in the Fur Land contributes to the revenue of that corporation ; and also that the company feeds, clothes, and wholly maintains nine-tenths of the entire population ; nearly all classes being more or less engaged in the fur-trade, and bartering their produce at the many posts scattered over the country. Like the Mexican or Brazilian peon, the In- dian trapper is so constantly, and, for him, largely in debt to the fur-trade, as to be practically its servant. Twice during the year, perhaps, he is free from debt and his own master; but such freedom is only of momentary duration, continuing but for such time as he can get into debt again. In fact, the trapper seems ill at ease when free from pecu- niary obligation, and plunges into it with a facility and to an extent only limited by his ability to contract it. By this system of advances the company rules its vast territories, and ■ as . a :nonarch of the frozen latitudes as Crusoe was monarch of his island. The continuance of this system has been cai 1 by the necessities of the hunters and trappers; and by the fact that the company, like the wise corporation 11*'> THE CRF.AT i'Uk r.AMD. \\\\\\ it is, ilors not kill the jionm* lli;il \\\\^ tlir goUleh eggs, hut « aret'ully uires for the giuno ami ilu* htinlois on it^ vnst rnnlr.wy lo tho got\otnl \\\\v in lixili/i-d lilc, m dihi jh soKlon) lost, oxiH'iU in the event ol the ile;tlli oltlir (rapper. tto ni;\y rhange his place df ahntle hnmlveils of miles, Inil ho still has ot»ly a 'onipam's post at \vl\irli to ir.tijv; and it is iiupossihle Tot- hin\ so to eoneeal his itlenlity as nut lo be tiHind o»tt sooner or later. Il\it the irappi'r seMon» atteni|tl3 to evade the payment of his debts; he is no! yol eivilized to th;»t tlegroe whieh p'aetiees rehypotheeatiini. The i-onipany has always been a good friend to him and his, supplied his necessities^ ministered to his wants, and he pavs when he can. He ktu)ws that whei*. he liiptidates his old debt, he oan eot\traet a t>ew one just as big. He knows, too, that \vlien the eon^pany prontise him anything he will got it ; and that he will always pay jnsl so tnnrh lor his goods .ind no more, No aiten^pt was ever made to elieii him. and there ne\-er will be. When he is ill, he goes to the nearest fort And is cared for and attended ntuil he recovers. When he does his duty well, he gets a present ; and he never perlbrins any labor for his employers without reeeiving a fair eompen- sation. Such humane treatment binds the Indian and hall- breed to the company in a bond that is not easily broken. So, when ho has spent all his little pieces of wood, and asks for further advances, he is allowed to draw any reasonable amcant. Carefully looking over the purchases already made, counting up his supply of ammunition, clothing, gew-gaws, ilili'ii eggs, DM IN vdst , !1 (Ifl)l is ln' ttii|)|)er. miles, lull <\-: ; Mini il 1 tint In lie n iitleiii|)t3 ■iviliztMl to lonipaiiy t|tplif(| his i wIkmi ho (i (K'ltl, ho ^, t and ha Il- ly broken. I. and asks reasonable ady made, ge\v-g:nvs, // WoomNIUAN Tt^AtJE. ^■h7 fl( ., he ((in( hides lo lake mote f'-a and tol)a.( ro ; S{)^ the trnpper is a very Asiatic iti his love of soothing stimulants. The ( 'Mimimplion of tea in the Vwx Land is enortnoiis, tl>e flniiiial iiMpoilalioii foi one dcparlnMnt alone (th(.' N'ortlurn) ainonnling l(» over (Mie hundred and fifty thousand pounv. made; though he will lake it at ;iny temperature, ar)d of any (\i%xt^ of strength, rather than not get il at all. Me drinks enormous (pianlilies of it ;it his mealft, until, like Mr. VVeller's girl, he swells visibly before yoiii very eyes ; gets up in the night, time afler tune, and drinks it rold ; carries it with hinD in hi.. pn u-m but purchases a new handkerchief, or a square of white cot- ton, to put it in. He cherishes a vague and misty idea that brown paper absorbs the aroma of his tea, and lessens its strength. Besides, the cotton handkerchief becomes aromatic from its savory contents, and consequently more valuable. Nearly on a par with the consumption of tea in the country- ranks that of tobacco. The company's annual importation for the Northern department alone amounts to over seventy-five thousand pounds. It comes, for the most part, in the shape of manufactured plugs — small black "tens," composed of equal parts of molasses, tobacco, copperas, and other ingre- dients — for the aboriginal and his blood relations, and the large, flat, natural-leaf cavendish for the whites. The amount of smoking going on seems at first incredible to the new- comer. Everybody " puffs a cloud," and goes prepared with all the paraphernalia of a smoker. The native carries a fire-bag — a long leather bag, containing pipe, tobacco, knife, flint and steel, and haroiigc, the inner bark of the grey willow. He mixes an equal quantity of the Indian weed with the willow-bark, and smokes it from choice and economy. The compound has a rather pungent, aromatic odor, not unlike that produced by smoking cascarilla bark. The Indians also mingle with their tobacco an equal amount of a small species of sage, common on the prairie, in lieu of the willow-bark. Its continued use, however, is productive of certain irritable dis- eases of the throat and cellular tissues of the lungs, and finally of consumption. The dry, hacking cough, common among Indians, is said to be one of the primary results of its use. A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE. 339 white cot- r idea that lessens its 5 aromatic .luable. le country- rtation for ;venty-five the shape [iposed of her ingre- ;, and the le amount the new- prepared ; carries a xo, knife, ey willow, with the my. The lot unlike lians also ill species Ijark. Its itable dis- ind finally Dn among ts use. The purchase of such soothing solace terminates the trade of the Indian trapper. After going in debt to the extent of his ability, he wends his way to the forest again. The furs he has traded are thrown carelessly behind the counter, to be afterward carried to the fur-room. In the early spring, when the snow is gone from the plains, and the ice has left the rivers, the workmen at the trading- post begin to pack all the fur skins in bales of from eighty to one hundred pounds each, that being the usual weight of each package— goods or furs— in the company's trade. The outer covering is buffalo-skin, or raw-hide ; loops are made to each package in order to sling it on the pack-saddles, if the pack is sent from an inland post ; the pack-saddles are re- paired and thongs cut to fasten the bales on to the horses. The company's horses— of which each fort has its comple- ment—that have wintered in some sheltered valley, under the care of Indians, are now brought to the post; the packs are tied on, and the train starts for the depot or chief fort of the district, situated always on the banks of some navigable stream. This is calling fitting out a brigade, and forms the grand event of fort life— being looked forward to by the men as a boy anticipates his holidays. Arrived at the depot, the bales are handed over, and goods for the ensuing year re- ceived in return. ^ I' 'I hi I If i I 340 r^i? G/!L'A T FUR LAND, It generally occurs that several brigades meet at the depot simultaneously. In this event the spectacle presented is quaint and singular : the wild looks, long unkempt hair, sun- burnt faces and leather costumes of the traders being only exceeded by the still wilder appearance and absence of cloth- ing among their Indian attendants. So long as the brigades remain the scene is one continuous festivity, eating, drinking and quarreling. When the brigades depart, the furs are all sorted and repacked, and pressed into bales by an enormous lever — rum and tobacco being placed between the layers of skins to keep out the insects and moths. They are then shipped by slow stages to the nearest seaport, and eventually sold at public auction in London. It is estimated that the total worth of the furs collected by the Hudson's Bay Com- pany alone since its organization represents a money value of ^120,000,000 in gold. Still, strange to say, owing to the care- ful preservation of game by the company, the average yearly catch is not sensibly decreasing. It may not be uninteresting in this connection to give a brief sketch of the various furs traded by the company, and the average number of each species annually exported from its territories.* The first in point of value is the pine marten, or Hudson's Bay sable, of which about 1 20,000 skins, on an average, are exported every year. The martens or sables from this region are not considered so valuable furs as the sables of Russia, * For many of the statistics which follow the author is indebted to an article on " American Furs," by J. K. Lord, F. Z. S., in the Leisure Hour. fi| A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE. 341 t the depot resented is t hair, sun- being only ;e of cloth- le brigades 5, drinking "urs are all enormous e layers of ■ are then eventually :d that the Bay Com- ey value of the caro rage yearly 1 to give a iipany, and Drted from r Hudson's verage, are this region of Russia, debted to an Leisure Hour. although there is no doubt that the varieties are in reality one and the same species ; the difference in temperature, and other local causes, readily accounting for the better quality of the Russian fur. In fact the difference between the two is not always discernible, the lighter-colored skins being usually dyed and sold as Russian sable. The winter fur is the most valuable, and the Indian trappers say the first fall of rain, after the snow disappears, spoils the marten. When caught the animal is skinned like a rabbit, the peltry being inverted as it is removed, then drawn over a flat board, and dried in the sun. The animals haunt the pine forests, especially where fallen or dead timber abounds, and are mostly caught in the style of trap known as the dead-fall. A good marten skin is worth in trade from two and a half to three dollars. The best skins come from the far North, being darker and finer furred than others. The fisher is much like the pine marten, but larger. Just why he is called a fisher we cannot imagine, as he does not catch fish, or go near the water except when compelled to swim a stream. He climbs readily, but is trapped like the marten. The tail is very long and bushy, and at one time a large trade was carried on in them, only the tails being worn by the Polish Jew merchants. About twelve thousand are annually exported from the territory. The average trade price is from two and a half to three dollars. The fisher in full winter coat makes a finer suit of furs than the sable. The mink is vastly inferior to either fisher or marten in the quality of fur, and its habits are entirely different. It 342 T//E GREA T l-'UR LAND. fre([uents streams and water-courses, and feeds ui)on fish, crabs, etc. The Indian hunter catches it with a steel trap, baited generally with fish. The trade price is about fifty cents a skin. About 250,000 skins are exported, the majority of which ultimately go to the continent of Europe. The raccoon is widely scattered over the territories of the company, about 520,000 skins l)eing purchased and exported every year. The raccoons are generally shot, but a few are taken in steel traps. The fur is not very valuable, being prin- cipally used in making carriage-rugs and in lining inferior cloaks and coats. The most valuable fur traded by the company is that of the black and silver foxes. There are three species of fox found in the territory — the black or cross, the silver and the red fox. The two former are considered to be only varieties of the latter ; as in any large collection of skins every inter- mediate tint of color, changing by regular gradations from the red into the cross and from the cross into the silver and black, may be found, rendering it difficult even for the trader to decide to which of the varieties a skin really belongs. The Indians also assert that cubs of the three varieties are con- stantly seen in the same litter. The silver and cross fox skins bring from 1^40 to $50 each ; the red fox is only worth about five to eight shillings. About 50,000 red foxes, 4,500 cross, and 1,000 silver are annually exported. The silver fox fur is almost entirely sold to Chinese and Russian dealers. To illustrate the difference in the trade in beaver now as compared with what it was before the introduction of silk in A IVOOD.INDIAN TRADE, 343 upon fish, steel trap, fifty cents lajority of lies of the 1 exported a few are )eing prin- ig Inferior ' is that of ;ies of fox r and the J varieties /ery inter- ions from silver and the trader ngs. The s are con- s fox skins )rth about 500 cross, fox fur is • ;r now as of silk in the napping of hats, we may mention that in 1743 the com- pany sold in England 26,750 skins, and more than 127,000 were exported and sold at Rochelle, in France. In 1788 Canada alone supplied 176,000, and in 1808 again 126,927 skins. AbGiii, 00,000 are now brought annually from the company's tevritories. So much was this fur in demand be- forithe introduction of silk and rabbits' fur that the poor little rodent i-.^ some districts is entirely exterminated. The prin- cipal use made of the fur now is in the manufacture of bon- nets in France, and in making cloaks. The long hair is pulled out, and the under fur shaved down close and even by a machine ; some of it is still felted into a kind of cloth. The beaver is a very difficult animal to trap, but is, nevertheless, rapidly disappearing from the great fur preserves of the North. The musk-rat is similar in many of its habits to the beaver. Indeed, some of the species build their houses precisely as the beaver does. The hunters generally spear them through the walls and roofs of their dwellings. The annual destruction of these little animals, though immense, many hundreds of thousands being yearly exported, does not serve greatly to diminish their numbers. The fur is of very little value, being used in the coarsest manufactures. Large bundles of the tails of the musk-rat are constantly exposed for sale in the bazaars of Constantinople as articles for perfuming clothing. The lynx or wildcat is found in considerable numbers throughout the territory. Its fur, however, though prettily marked, is not of much value. Of wolf skins about fifteen thousand are annually exported, and of the land otter about Kmt.ik \<\ h ^ ?,i 344 r//£: GREA T FUR LAND, ■a 1 seventeen thousand skins are often procured. Thefurofthesea otter, though the most vahiable fur traded, is very difficult to obtain. The animal ranges along the seacoast between Cali- fornia and Alaska, and appears to be a connecting link be- tween the true seal and the land otter. It is generally caught in nets or speared by the Indians in the sea. Nearly all the sea-otter fur goes to China, and a good skin is worth about $200. The coarse fur of the wolverine or American glutton is used mostly in the manufacture of muflFs and linmgs, and is of comparatively little value. Only a small exportation — about twelve hundred skins yearly — is made by the company. Some years ago the caprices of fashion introduced the fur of the skunk into popular use, and for a few seasons the traffic in that odorous peltry was enormous. Now, however, its use is almost wholly abandoned, and only about a thousand skins are yearly collected. The Indians generally shoot the skunk, and always skin it under water. The skin of the bear — black, brown, and grizzly — is always in demand, and is used for innumerable purposes. The number of bears killed annually is not easily determined, but, at a safe average, it may be estimated at 9,000. The greater part are killed in winter, during their period of hibernation. An immense business is also carried on in rabbit fur. Besides the hundreds of thousands of rabbit skins exported by the company, there are sold annually in London about 1,300,000 skins which are used in the fur trade. The natives of the territory manufacture large quantities of these skins into A WOOD-INDIAN TRADE. 345 r of the sea iifficult to reen Cali- g link be- lly caught ly all the rth about glutton is gs, and is )rtation — company, the fur of the traffic er, its use and skins he skunk, -is always es. The ined, but, le greater »ernation. Besides id by the 1,300,000 es of the tins into bed-quilts, the pelts being cut into strips and braided into thick braids, which are then sewed together and covered with cloth, making a quilt unsurpassed for warmth. An immense annual export, which cannot properly come under the head of fur, is made by the company in the shape of buffalo robes. In the autumn of 1870 the line of forts along the Saskatchewan River, in the Plain country, had traded 30,000 robes before the first of January ; and for every one traded fully as many more in the shape of skins of parch- ment had been purchased, or consumed in the thousand wants of savage life. The number of buffaloes annually killed in the territory seems incredible; 12,000 are said to fall by the Blackfeet alone. It is only during a part of the winter that the coat is " prime," as the phrase is. Before the first of November the hair is not long enough to make a marketable robe. After the middle of January it gets ragged, and its rich black-brown is bleached by the v.'eather to the color of d- y tow, especially along the animal's hack. Dur- ing the summer months the hair is very short, and frequently rubbed entirely off in many places, from the animal's habit of wallowing in the mud. The robe of commerce is generally taken from cows, and sometimes from young bulls, but never from old bulls, whose hides are much too thick and heavy. In the winter months the latter are covered all over with thick, long and curly fur; a mane of light-brown hair and fur, like that of a lion, only larger, envelopes his neck; a long glossy dewlap, hanging from his chin like a deep fringe, sweeps the ground ; which, with his savage-looking muzzle, 15* 346 THE GREA T EUK LAND. and prominent black eyes flashing between the tangled locks of his hair, give him altogether a most ferocious appearance. In reality, however, he is a very timid animal, and it is only when he imagines himself unable to escape that he becomes desperate, and therefore dangerous from his immense strength. We have been struck more than once with the resemblance of old bulls to lions, as we have seen them standing apart on the low ridges and sandy knolls, eying one from afar with an air of savage watchfulness — each neck crested with a luxu- riant mane, swelled into greater largeness by the hump be- neath it, each short, tufted tail held straight out from the body in bold and lion-like defiance. The full grown bull is immensely shaggy, especially about the head, which is covered with so vast a quantity of fur, wool and long hair hanging down over its eyes, and almost concealing the horns, as to give it the appearance of being nearly one-third the size of the whole body. Such an outline, seen relieved against the night sky, as one lies in cheerless bivouac upon the plains, is not calculated to inspire a feeling of safety. Most buffalo robes are found to have been split down the middle and sewed up again, the object of the process being to lighten the labor of dressing the skin. The Indian women dress all the robes, and few of them are able to prepare a complete hide without assistance. Some Indians, when asked why they have married more than one wife, will answer that each wife requires another co help her in dressing robes ; and the more wives one possesses the more skins he is able to bring to market. A WOOD-INDIA!^ TRADE. 347 The hides are brought in from the hunt just as they are taken from the animals, and given to the women, who stretch them upon a rude framework of poles and flesh them with iron or bone scrapers. They are then slowly dried, and during this process various things are applied to render them pliable. The final work is painting the inside with pigments, a labor bestowed only upon unusually fine skins. We have seen some robes thus ornamented that were beautiful specie mens of Indian decorative art. The designs used in most instances are of the calendar style. The intention seems to be to keep a record of certain years on the buffalo robe by some symbol representing an event that took place in that year. The events selected are not always the most important of the year, but such as were, in some sense, the most striking, and could be best represented by symbols. For example, ^tars falling from the top to the bottom of the robe represent the year 1833, an event from which the Indians frequently count, The etching of an Indian with a broken leg and a horn on his head stands for a year in which Mr. Hay-waujina, One Horn, had his leg " killed," and so on. The symbols are placed in a spiral form, beginning in the centre, and going a little to the left ; the line then turns on itself to the right and below, and so on, turning with the sun. These designs are copied many times, of course, so that in a pack of painted robes, nine-tenths of them will be decorated in exactly the same manner. The work of dressing a buffalo skin perfectly is a very Ml i k )^ I » !■' # 1^ i!|, It.i It 348 T//£ GREA T FUR LAND. tedious process, and one squaw is only considered capable of preparing ten robes for market during the year. To the savage with any sort of an eye to business, this fact alone would be a sufficient incentive to polygamy on the most extended scale. The best robes are always reserved by the Indians and half-breeds for their own use, and some of them are marvels of beauty and finish. We have seen buffalo skins tanned to a degree of softness that would rival the finest cloths. The trader, for the most part, gets only second-ratie robes and the refuse of the luint. The Indian loves the buffalo, and delights in ornamenting his beautiful skin. The animal is his only friend, and small wonder he calls it so. It supplies every want from infancy to old age ; wrapped in his buffalo robe, the red man waits for the coming dawn. The catalogue of quadrupeds in the company's territory embraces ninety-four different animals ; but we have noticed the principal ones to whose fur the corporation confines its trade. There is a small traffic done in the robes of the musk-ox, and the furs of the ermine, siffloe, fitch, squirrel and chinchilla, but it is insignificant compared to the staples of the trade. THE END. PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS. I. Tent Life in Siberia. Adventures among the Koraks and OTHER Tribes in Kamschatka and Northern Asia. Fifth Edition. i2mo, cloth extra $i 75 " We stronRly recommend this book as one of the most entertaining volumes of travel that has appeared fur some years." — London Athtnaum, II. Travels in Portugal. By John Latouche. With Photo- graphic Illustrations. Octavo, cloth extra, . . . $3 50 " A deliffhtfully written book, as fair as it is pleasant. « • • Entcrtainin(^, fresh, and as fuU of wit as of valuable information." — London Sp*ctator. III. The Abode of Snow. 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