by John Tanner
It was immediately after this storm that some one told me Ba-gis-kun-nung was coming to see me about the horse I had taken away from him. “Very well,” said I, “I believe Ba-gis-kun-nung has one or two more horses, and if he gives me any trouble about the one I have taken, I will take another.” At noon he came, but Wa-ge-tote, Ke-me-wun-nis-kung, and other men of my friends, had prepared themselves to resist any violence he might attempt to practise on me. He walked up to me as I was roasting some meat, and stood a very long time, I should say two hours, regarding me sternly, without saying a single word, and then walked off. Two days afterwards, two hundred of the Assinneboins turned back. They were reviled and insulted at parting by those who still continued on, but this seemed not in the least to shake their determination. Desertions in small bodies were now very numerous, and the remaining chiefs, with the hope of checking it, appointed fifty of the best of the young men to act as sentinels over the others, but this measure was productive of no benefit. When at last we arrived within two days’ march of the village it was our intention to attack, four hundred men were all that remained, and the next day very few of these were found willing to follow Match-a-go-ge-wub. He started at the usual time, and walked on by himself, but when at the distance of about a mile he saw that none followed him, he sat down in the prairie. From time to time, one or two men would start forward to join him, but for one who went forward, twenty or more would commonly start to go back. With my young brother-in-law I stood at the camp to see what would be the result, and when, at last, I saw that of the four hundred, only about twenty were willing to follow the chief farther, we determined to join them. We had proceeded but a little distance, when one of the Assinneboins who had turned back, purposely set fire to the prairie, and we now all turned back except the chief and one or two men. He went on to the Sioux village, and was lurking about it for one or two days, when, finding himself discovered, he fled without attempting any thing. The Sioux pursued on our trail, and came in sight of us, but offered no molestation, and, in due time, we all arrived at home in safety. Thus ended this war excursion for which such extensive preparations had been made, and from which so much had been expected. On the way home, Ke-me-wun-nis-kung took away the horse of the Assinneboin who had set the prairie on fire, and beat him, he daring to make no resistance.
When we returned to Pembinah, there was, as is usual on a return from a war-party, a drunken frolic in which I joined, though not to very great excess. After I had drank a little, I heard some one speak sneeringly about my gun which Wa-me-gon-a-biew had broken. I had lent my knife to some one to cut tobacco, but there was lying by the fire a pointed stick, on which meat had been roasted. This I seized, ran out, and finding his horse standing by the door of his own lodge, I stabbed him with it, using, at the same time, in a loud voice, the same words I had been told he had spoken when he broke my gun. The horse fell immediately, but did not die until next morning.
There were six of us to return together to the Lake of the Woods, and our principal man, She-gwaw-koo-sink, being alarmed, took a little canoe and set off in the night. I would not start then, nor even early in the morning, lest Wa-me-gon-a-biew should think I was afraid of him. I remained near his lodge until I had seen him and Net-no-kwa, and shaken hands with all my friends, and at about noon I was ready to follow She-gwaw-koo-sink, whom I found waiting for me in the woods. Wa-me-gon-a-biew made no complaints of my having killed his horse. Probably he was perfectly satisfied that I had done so, as an Indian always expects any outrage he commits shall be retaliated, according to their customs, and a man who omits to take proper revenge is but lightly esteemed among them.
Heavy snow and severe cold came upon us at the Muskeeg carrying place; the trees cracked with the cold, but the water in the swamp was not yet frozen hard enough to bear. Our canoes, however, could not be pushed through. The utmost exertion of our strength would no longer avail to move them. We were hungry and much fatigued, and sat deliberating what was best to be done when we discovered our women coming from the Lake of the Woods, and dragging their light canoes through water, ice, and snow above their knees. When they came up, we found they were my wife, the wives of She-gwaw-koo-sink and Ba-po-wash, and my mother-in-law. Three of our party, whose women had not come, had to continue on to Lake of the Woods. Our wives laughed at us, telling us it was more like old women than like warriors returning to their village, to sit shivering in a canoe which could move neither way, through fear of a little water and ice. They had brought us a supply of corn, sturgeon, and other food, and with them we returned to our last encampment where we rested a few days, then went down to Red River with the intention of spending the winter there.
There was now no snow on the ground at Red River, though the weather was very cold, and the ground so hard frozen that it was nearly impossible to kill any game. I hunted day after day without the least success, and we were reduced to extreme hunger, when one day I found a moose, and after I had, with the greatest difficulty, crept near, I was about to shoot him, when my best dog, which I had confined at home, came running past me, and scared the moose away. I returned home, and calling my dog to me outside the lodge, I told him that it was his fault that there was now no food for my children. I then killed and gave him to my family to eat.
Other families beside my own being in distress for the want of food, the Indians called on me to make a medicine hunt. I accordingly told Me-zhick-ko-naum to go for my drum, and as preparatory to the commencement of my prayers and songs, I directed all my family to take such positions as they could keep for at least half the night, as, after I began, no one must move until I had finished. I have always been conscious of my entire dependence on a superior and invisible Power, but I have felt this conviction most powerfully in times of distress and danger. I now prayed earnestly, and with the consciousness that I addressed myself to a Being willing to hear and able to assist, and I called upon him to see and to pity the sufferings of my family. The next day I killed a moose, and soon after, a heavy snow having fallen, we were relieved from the apprehension of immediate starvation.
But though we were temporarily relieved, plenty did not return to us. I was about this time hunting one day, and fell on the track of a bear. My dogs followed for three days, and most of the time I kept nearly even pace with them, but at the end of that time they had not overtaken him. My moccasins and leggings were worn out, and I was almost in a state of starvation. I was compelled to return home, having killed nothing but eight pheasants. Me-zhick-ko-naum, Ba-po-wash, and the other Indians, now left me by myself, and I was soon able to kill enough to supply the wants of my family. I spent the winter here, and in the spring my friends rejoined me, and we returned together to our village at the Lake of the Woods.
At Me-nau-zhe-tau-naung great misfortunes awaited me. I omitted to mention an event of some importance, which happened long before the time I have now arrived at, being a very short time after the death of my friend Pe-shau-ba. I was then at Dead River, at our corn fields, where an Ojibbeway of Red Lake, called Gi-ah-ge-wa-go-mo, came to my lodge in my absence, and took away one of my sons, a boy six years old. On my return, my wife told me what had happened, and I immediately pursued, and overtaking Gi-ah-ge-wa-go-mo at the distance of one day’s journey, without his consent took one of his horses to bring my son back. I threatened him that if he should make any similar attempt in future, he should not escape unpunished. But about four months after, when the snow was on the ground, I returned home from my days’ hunt to hear the same account of my son being taken away by Gi-ah-ge-wa-go-mo. I now felt much irritated, and having inquired from the men in my lodge what horse he rode, I mounted my best, and pursued after him. They had lately moved from the place where I found them before, but following on, I overtook them on their journey. As I was coming near their party, I discovered Gi-ah-ge-wa-go-mo and another man, called Na-na-bush, watching for me in the bushes, a little behind their party. Before I came within gunshot, I called out to let them know I had discovered them,
and holding my gun in my hand, cocked, and in a position for immediate use, I passed them, overtook the party, and discovering my little boy, without dismounting I stooped down and lifted him into my lap; then turning back, went to meet Gi-ah-ge-wa-go-mo and Na-na-bush. They had now left the thicket, and were standing in the path, the former holding his favourite horse by the halter. When I rode up to them, I left my son on the horse with the reins in his hand, got down, and stabbed Gi-ah-ge-wa-go-mo’s horse twice with a large knife I had carried for the purpose. He clubbed his gun, and was about to strike me, but I caught it in descending, and wrested it out of his hands. He threatened he would shoot my horse whenever he could get a gun. I handed his own to him, and told him to shoot the horse now, but he dared not. “It seems,” said I, “you have forgotten what I told you four months since, when you took away my son before; but I have not forgotten it, as you see. I am disposed to kill you now, but as you are so much frightened, I will let you live, to see if you will steal away any of my children hereafter.” With this I left him. My friends could scarce believe I had killed his horse, but they did not blame me, neither did Gi-ah-ge-wa-go-mo. At least I never heard that he complained of it, and at the time he molested me no more.
It was on my return to Me-nau-zhe-tau-naung, and when I was about clearing for myself a field there, that I found the ill will of the Indians, influenced, as I thought, principally by the unfriendly offices of Ais-kaw-ba-wis, becoming so strong against me that I determined to leave them. But at this time an accident happened to me, which disabled me for many months. I had ascended a large tree to cut off the limbs, and having trimmed off the greatest part, I went up to cut the top off. Some of the upper branches struck the top of another tree, and threw the trunk, which I had cut off, against my breast, by which blow I was thrown off, and fell from a great height to the ground, where I lay for some time insensible. When consciousness returned I could not use my voice, so that it was some time before I could make the Indians understand that I wished them to bring me water. I fainted three times in attempting to reach the lodge where I then lived.
Several of my ribs being broken, it was long before I recovered so as to walk about without assistance. Dr. M’Laughlin, a trader at Rainy Lake, hearing of my situation, sent Mr. Tace with instructions to take me to his house at White Fish Lake. For a long time I vomited blood, and felt, if moved, the sensation of a hot liquid in the cavity of my body. At Rainy Lake I experienced much attention and kindness from Mr. Tace and other gentlemen belonging to the North West Company. In the latter part of the ensuing winter, I was better, but when the warm weather of the spring came on, I again relapsed, and became unable to hunt.
In ascending the long rapids of Rainy Lake River in the spring, our canoes sunk, and I carried my children ashore on my back. Mr. Tace’s canoe sunk also, but all the men were saved. A few days after this, we reached the trading-house of Dr. M’Laughlin at Rainy Lake. This gentleman gave me a room in his house, where my children took care of me for some time. Every thing necessary was furnished me, and the Doctor would have had me remain with him a year, but I felt lonely and dissatisfied, and determined on going back to the Lake of the Woods where my wife was, hoping that the trouble Ais-kaw-ba-wis had caused me might now be at an end.
My reception was not such as I could have wished, but nevertheless, I remained in the village until the corn was planted; then we went to collect and dry the blue berries which grow in great quantities in that country. Afterwards to the rice swamps; then we returned to gather our corn. Thus we were busy during all the summer.
Late in the fall I became sick again, not having yet recovered from the hurt I had received in falling from the tree, and at about the same time some kind of sickness became frequent among the Indians. I was one day lying in my lodge, unable to sit up or walk about, and the women were at work in the field, when my mother-in-law unexpectedly came in with a hoe in her hands, and began to beat me on the head with it. I was unable to make much resistance, and as I did not attempt it, I endeavoured to reconcile myself to die, as I believed she would certainly kill me. While at work in the field, she had begun to cry for her children, and probably thinking that the man who had caused their death was now in her power, she ran in with the determination of killing me, but for some reason unknown to me, she desisted after she had beaten me for some time, and as I covered my head with my blanket, and with my hands and arms warded off the blows after the first, I was less severely injured than I had cause to apprehend. So entire was the confidence my mother-in-law reposed upon the representations of Ais-kaw-ba-wis that she did not doubt but I was in reality guilty of the death of her children, and as I well knew that this was the case, I blamed her less for her conduct than I should otherwise have done. But notwithstanding she forbore to take my life, the unfriendly feeling on her part, and that of my wife, was becoming every day more and more manifest. This might have been in some measure owing to those misfortunes which had now impaired my health, and disqualified me for making so comfortable provision for my family as I formerly had done. But notwithstanding all the discouraging and distressing circumstances attendant on my present situation, I gradually recovered health and strength, and late in the fall, when the Indians were about to move to visit a trader, I was able to accompany them.
I had a small canoe of my own in which I embarked myself and my children, but my wife and my mother-in-law were in the large canoe with the provisions and the baggage. During the first day of our journey, I went forward with others of the Indians, leaving the women to come up to the encamping place after we had stopped. I cut and put up the poles for my lodge, but no pukkwi, no provisions, and no women came. Next day I was ashamed to tell the Indians I had nothing to eat, though my children began to cry of hunger, and for the same reason, I would not encamp with them. I knew that my wife had deserted, and I had no reason to suppose she would immediately rejoin me. I therefore kept ahead of the Indians, and went, before I stopped, beyond the place where I knew they would encamp. Here I killed a fat swan, and was able to give my children some food. The weather was now becoming very cold, and I had about this time a wide traverse to cross. The weather was somewhat rough, but as I did not wish to remain to be overtaken by the Indians, I made my children lie down in the canoe, and covered the whole as well as I could with a buffalo skin. The wind blew more and more violently, and the waves broke over my little canoe. The water froze upon the sides, and the children getting wet, suffered severely. I, also, was so much overpowered by the cold, that I could not manage the canoe properly, and it struck and was dashed in pieces on a rocky shoal, not far from the shore where I wished to land. Fortunately the water was not deep about the rock, nor between it and the land, and though a thin ice had formed, I was able to break it, and carry my children on shore. But here we had nearly perished from cold, as my spunk wood was wet, and I had no means of kindling a fire, until I thought to split open my powder horn, when I found in the middle of the mass of powder, a little which the water had not reached. This enabled me to kindle a fire, and was the means of saving all our lives. Next day Mr. Sayre, at the trading house near by, heard of my situation or at least the Indians having come up, and reported that I was lost, he sent out some men who found me, and assisted me to reach the house. Here I took a credit for my whole family, not knowing but my wife would join me at some future time.
The chief of that country, from whom I had previously obtained permission to hunt in a little piece of ground which I had selected, and a promise that none of his people should interfere with me there, now endeavoured to dissuade me from going to spend the winter by myself. I ought, he said, either to remain near the Indians, or to take some other woman for a wife. As my children were young and unable to assist me, and my own health somewhat uncertain, he thought it would be very imprudent for me to attempt wintering alone. But I would not listen to his advice. At present, I had no inclination either to remain with the Indians, or to take another wife. I therefore began to make a road immediately to
my wintering ground. First I took the goods I had purchased and carried them forward, then returned and brought up my children. My daughter Martha was then three years old, and the other children were yet small. In two or three days I reached my hunting ground, but was soon after reduced to great distress, from which I was relieved by a medicine hunt.
I had no pukkwi, or mats, for a lodge, and therefore had to build one of poles and long grass. I dressed moose skins, made my own moccasins and leggins, and those for my children; cut wood and cooked for myself and my family, made my snow shoes, etc. etc. All the attention and labour I had to bestow about home, sometimes kept me from hunting, and I was occasionally distressed for want of provisions. I busied myself about my lodge in the night time. When it was sufficiently light, I would bring wood, and attend to other things without; at other times I was repairing my snow shoes, or my own or my children’s clothes. For nearly all the winter, I slept but a very small part of each night.
I was still living in this way in the spring, when a young man called Se-bis-kuk-gu-un-na, (tough legs,) a son of Wau-zhe-gaw-maish-koon, who was now dead, came to me. He was in a starving condition, as were his friends, who were encamped at no great distance from me. My dogs were now so well trained, that they could draw half a moose. I put on a full load of meat, and told him to go with the team, meet his people, and bring them to live with me. In three days they arrived, but though their hunger had been relieved by the supply I sent them, their appearance was extremely miserable, and it is probable they must have perished if they had not found me.
As the spring was approaching, we returned to the Lake of the Woods. Ice was still in the lake when we arrived on the shore of it, and as I, with my companions, was standing on the shore, I saw an otter coming on the ice at a distance. I had often heard the Indians say that the strongest man, without arms of some kind, cannot kill an otter. Pe-shau-ba, and other strong men and good hunters, had told me this, but I still doubted it. I now, therefore, proposed to test the truth of this common opinion. I caught the otter, and for the space of an hour or more, exerted myself, to the extent of my power, to kill him. I beat him, and kicked him, and jumped upon him, but all to no purpose. I tried to strangle him with my hands, but after lying still for a time, he would shorten his neck, and draw his head down between my hands, so that the breath would pass through, and I was at last compelled to acknowledge that I was not able to kill him without arms. There are other small, and apparently not very strong animals which an unarmed man cannot kill. Once while on a war party, in a sort of bravado, I had tried to kill a pole cat with my naked hands, but I had nearly lost my eyes by the means. The liquid which he threw upon my face caused a painful inflammation, and the skin came off. The white crane, also, is dangerous if approached too near; they can, and sometimes do, inflict mortal wounds with their sharp beaks.