Forest, Lake, and Prairie. Twenty years of frontier life in Western Canada. 1842-62

Front matter

KA-KAKF. AND THE EDFFALO — (See page 1,','j). FOREST, LAKE, AND PRAIRIE. TWENTY YEARS OF FRONTIER LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA— 1842-62. BY JOHN McDOUGALL. TORONTO: WILLIAM BRIGGS. Montreal: C. W. COATES. Halifax: S. F. HUESTIS. 1 895- Entered according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five, by William Briggs, Toronto, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture, at Ottawa. TO flfep Bear /Ifeotber THIS BOOK is AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Page Ka-Kake and the buffalo' Frontispiece Isaiah and the bear 16 The Tree re Her in distress 32 How I cured my chum 47 My delight was to drive the four-in-hauid 64 I had a big time keeping them out of our boat . . . 73 My first winter trip 86 The upset Ill I lose uny balance — aud some conceit 121 Fort Carlton 137 An expert hunter 143 A new kind of boat 163 I kill my first bear 174 Buffalo aud hunters disappeared in the hills from our view 181 We were surprised by a troop of Indiaui cavalry . . 184 Maskepetoon's camp 189 The buffalo hunt 206 When the camp moved, parallel columns were formed 212 The horse-race 215 "Gun-shock" — "Goose-comfort" 231 The start to the fishery 237 A big haul 239 A close call 246 Straight out from the danger the strong train drew us Page 21 26 43 CONTENTS.

Chapter I. Childhood — Indians — Canoes — "Old Isaiah " — Father goes to college 11 Chapter II Guardians— School — Trip to Nottawasaga — Journey to Alderville — Elder Case — The wild colt, etc . . Chapter III. Move into the far north — Trip from 41derville to Garden River—Father's work — Wide range of big steamboat — My trip to Owen Sound — Peril in storm — In store at Penetanguishene — Isolation — First boat — Brother David knocked down Chapter IV. Move to Rama — I go to college — My chum — How I cure him — Work in store in Orillia — Again attend college — Father receives appointment to "Hudson's Bay" — Asks me to accompany him. Chapter V. From Rama to St. Paul — Mississippi steamera — Slaves— Pilot— Race CONTENTS. VI Chapter VI. Page Across the plains — Mississippi to the Red — Pemmican— Mosquitoes — Dogs — Hunting — Flat boat — Hostile Indians 61 Chapter VII.

From Georgetown on the Red to Norway House on the Nelson — Old Fort Garry — Governor Mac- Tavish — York boats — Indian gamblers — Welcome by H. B. Co. people 71 Chapter VIII. New mission — The people— School — Invest in pups — Dog-driving — Foot-ball — Beautiful aurora ... 79 Chapter IX. t First real winter trip — Start — Extreme fatigue — Conceit all gone — Cramps — Change — Will-power — Find myself — Am as capable as others — Oxford House — Jackson's Bay 85 Chapter X. Enlarging church — Winter camp — How evenings are spent — My boys — Spring — The first goose, etc. . 100 Chapter XI Opening of navigation —Sturgeon fishing — Rafting timber — Sawing lumber 104 Chapter XII. Summer transport — Voyageurs— Norway House — The meeting place of many brigades — Missionary work intensified CONTENTS.

Chapter I

Childhood — Indians — Canoes — " Old Isaiah" — Father goes to college. Mt parents were pioneers. I was born on the banks of the Sydenham River in a log-house, one of the first dwellings, a very few of which made up the frontier village of Owen Sound. This was in the year 1842. My earliest recollections are of stumps, log heaps, great forests, corduroy roads, Indians, log and birch-bark canoes, bateaux, Mackinaw boats, etc. I have also a very vivid recollection of deep snow in winter, and very hot weather and myriad mosquitoes in summer. My father was first settler, trapper, trader, sailor, and local preacher. He was one of the grand army of pioneers who took possession of the wilderness of Ontario, and in the name of God and country began the work of reclamation which has ever since gone gloriously on, until to-day Ontario is one of the most comfortable and prosperous parts of our great country.

God fitted those early settlers for their work, and they did it like heroes. Mother was a strong Christian woman, content, patient, plodding, full of quiet, restful assurance, pre-eminently quali fied to be the companion and helper of one who had to hew his way from the start out of the wildness of this new world. My mother says I spoke Indian before I spoke English. My first memories are of these original dwel lers in the land. I grew up amongst them, ate corn-soup out of their wooden bowls, roasted green ears at their camp-fires, feasted with them on deer and bear's meat, went with them to set their nets and to spear fish at nights by the light of birch-bark flambeaux, and, later on, fat pine light-jack torches. Bows and arrows, paddles and canoes were my playthings, and the dusky forest children were my playmates.

Father, very early in my childhood, taught me how to swim, and, later on, to shoot and skate and sail. Many a trip I had with my father on his trading voyages to the Manitoulin and other islands of Lake Huron and Georgian Bay, where he would obtain his loads of fish, furs and maple sugar, and sail with these to Detroit and other eastern and southern ports. Father had for cook and general servant a colored man, Isaiah by name. Isaiah was my special friend ; I was his particular charge. His bigness and blackness and great kindness made him a hero in my boyish mind. My contact with Isaiah, and my association with the Indians, very early made a real democrat of me. I never could bear to hear a black man called a " nigger," nor yet an Indian a " buck." Isaiah was an expert sailor, as also a good cook, but it was his great bio; heart that won me to him, and which to-day, though nearly fifty years have passed since then, brings a dampness to my eye as I remember my " big black friend."

On some of his voyages father had a tame bear with him. This bear was a source of great annoy ance to Isaiah, for Bruin would be constantly smelling around the caboose in which the stove and cooking apparatus were placed, and where Isaiah would fain reign supreme. One evening Isaiah was cooking pancakes, and was, while doing so, absent-minded — perhaps thinking of those old slavery days when he had undergone terrible hardships and great cruelty from his ignorant and selfish brothers, who claimed to own him, " soul and body." Whatever it was, he forgot to watch his cakes sufficiently, for Mr. Bear was whipping them off the plate as fast as Isaiah was putting them on. Father and a fellow-passenger were looking on and enjoying the fun. By and by Isaiah was heard to say, " Guess he had enough for the gentlemans to begin with ; " but, lo ! to his wonderment when he went to take the cakes, they were gone ; and in his surprise he looked around, but there was no one near but the bear, and he looked very innocent.

So Isaiah seemed to conclude that he had not made any cakes, and according!}7 went to work in earnest, but, at the same time, determined that there should be no mistake in the matter. Presently he caught the thief in the act of taking the cake from the plate, and then he went for the bear with the big spoon in his hand, with which he was dipping and beating the batter. The chase became exciting. Around the caboose, across the deck, up the rico-inoflew the bear. Isaiah was close after him, but finally found that the bear was too agile for him, for presently he came back, a wiser and, for the time, a more watchful man. When I was six years of age I had two little brothers, one between three and four, and the other a baby boy, about a year old — the older one named David, who is still living, and is now my nearest neighbor.

The other we called Moses ; he was a beautiful little fellow, and father almost idolized him. Once we lost him. What excitement we had, and also great alarm ! By and by I found him in a sort of store-room behind the door, digging into a " mo-kuk," or bark vessel of maple sugar, face and hands smeared with it. What joy there was over the little innocent ! But one summer, while father was away on one of his fishing and trading trips, our baby boy " sickened and died." This was my first contact with death ; it was terrible to witness baby's pain and mother's grief. We buried our loved one in the Indian burying-ground at Newash (now Brook). ISAIAH AND THE BEAR — (See page lo). Two years ago I looked in vain for the grave ; it is lost to view, but I never will forget those sad, sad days and nights during little brother's sickness.

Our Indian neighbors did all they could to help and comfort. Neither will I forget the hard time of meeting father at the beach, when he came ashore and found that his darling boy was dead and buried. Often since then have I come into contact with death in many shapes, but this first experience stamped itself on my brain. Sometimes I went with father to his appoint ments to preach in the homes of the new settlers. What deep snow, what narrow roads, what great, dark, sombre woods we drove through. How solemn the meetings in those humble homes ! How poor some of the people were — little clearings in great forests ; rough, unhewn logs, with trough roofs. How those people did sing ! What loud amens ! I almost seem to hear them now. I had an uncle settled in the bush not far from Owen Sound. I remember distinctly going with him and his family to meeting one winter's day.

We had a yoke of oxen and a big sleigh. " Whoa ! Haw ! Gee ! " and the old woods rang as we drove slowly to that " Gospel meeting " through the deep, deep snow in those early days. Then, as now, the cursed liquor traffic was to the front, and many a white man went by the board and ruined himself and family under its baneful influence. Many a poor Indian was either burned, or drowned, or killed in some other way, because of the trade which was carried on through this death-dealing stuff. The white man's cupidity, and selfishness, and gross bru tality too often found a victim in his weaker red brother. Very early in my childhood I was made to witness scenes and listen to sounds which were more of "hell than earth," and which made me, even then, a profound hater of the vile stuff, as also of the viler traffic.

My father, who was a strong temperance man, had many a " close call " in his endeavors to stop this trade, and to save the Indians from its influence he incurred the hatred of both white and red men of the vilest class. Once when I was walking with him through the Indian village of Newash, I saw an Indian under the influence of liquor come at us with his gun pointed. I was greatly startled, and wondered what father would do ; but he merely stood to face him, and, unbuttoning his coat, dared the Indian to shoot him ; and this bold conduct on father's part made the drunken fellow slink away, muttering as he went. Ah ! thought I, what a brave man father is ; and this early learned object-lesson was not lost on the little boy who saw it all. Whiskey, wickedness and cowardice were on one side, and on the other, manliness, pluck and righteousness.

About this time, when I was between six and seven years of age, my father arranged to go to college. He left my brother David with our uncle, who lived up in the bush, and myself with a Mr. Cathey, who taught the Mission School at Newash. I well remember the stormy winter's morn, when father and mother started for the long journey, as it seemed to me, through the forests of Ontario, from Owen Sound to Cobourg. I thought my little heart would break, and mother was quite broken up with grief with the parting from her boys, and, no doubt, father felt itkeenly ; but his strong will was master, and believing in Providence, he took this step, as he thought, in the path of duty and in the interest of each one of us.

Chapter II

Guardians — School — Trip to Nottawasaga — Journey to Alderville — Elder Case — The wild colt, etc. My guardians were good and kind people, and I never can forget the interest they took in me, but they believed in industry and thrift, and indeed had sore need to, for the salary of a teacher on an Indian mission in those days was very small. My time was spent in going to school, in carrying wood and water, and running errands. During this time my guardians made a trip to the Nottawasaga country, and I went along. Our mode of transport was an open boat, and we coasted around Cape Rich and down the bay past Meaford and Thornbury, and I remember one night we camped on the beach where the town of Collingwood now stands. There was nothing then but a " cedar swamp," as near as I can recollect. Finally we came to the mouth of ■)0 FOREST, LAKE AND PRAIRIE. the Nottawasaga River, where we left our boat, and made a walking trip across country to Sunnidale, and while to-day the whole journey is really very short " by rail " or " steamboat," then to my boyish mind, the distance was great and the enterprise something heroic.

Those deep bays, those long points, those great sand-hills, how big then, and long, this all seemed to me ; and yet, how all this has dwindled down with the larger " experience of life." While at Sunnidale, I spent some of my time fishing for "chubb" in a small mill-pond, and, one day to my great surprise, caught a most wonder ful fish or animal, I could not tell which. It finally turned out tobea "mud-turtle." How to carry it home puzzled me. However, eventually I succeeded in bringing the strange thing to the house. Somebody told me to put it down and stand on its back, and it was so strong and I so little that it could move with my weight. Often since then I have seen a big Indian, with a big saddle, and load of buffalo meat all on the back of a small pony, and I have thought of my " mud-turtle " and my ride on its back.

Father did not remain very long at " college." An opening came to him to go to Alderville and become the assistant of " Elder Case," in the management of an industrial school situated at that place. Father in turn opened the way for my guardian, Mr. Cathey, who became teacher at this institution, and accordingly we moved to Alderville. This was a great trip for me — by steamboat from Owen Sound to Coldwater, by stage to Orillia, by steamboat to Holland Landing, by stage to Toronto, and by steamboat from Toronto to Cobourg. All this was an eye and mind opener — those wonderful steamboats, the stage coach, the multitude of people, the great city of Toronto, for even in 1850 this was to me a wonderful place. To be with mother and father once more, what joy ! New scenes, a new world had opened to my boyish imagination.

I felt pity for the people away there in Owen Sound, shut in by forests and rocks. I commiserated my little brother in thought, left as he was on the bush farm, under the limestone crags. What did he know ? What could he see ? Why, I was away up in experience and knowledge. In vain, folks might call me " Little Johnnie." I was not little in my own conceit, for I had travelled ; I was somebody. Here I saw the venerable Elder Case ; I think I may safely call him the Apostle of Indian Missions in Canada. He took me on his knee, and placing his hand on my head, gave me his blessing. Then there was his sweet womanly daughter. She was as an " Angel of Grace " to my boyish heart. She lifted me into the realm of chivalry. I would have done all in my power at her bidding. How these memories have been as a benediction all through life and kept me from going astray, many a time in my youth !

In the meantime a little sister was born. We named her Eliza, after Miss Case. The Indians called her No No-Cassa, or humming-bird, for she was a great crier ; nevertheless, she grew to womanhood, became the wife of a Hudson's Bay Company's officer, who later on was made an Honorable Senator. To-day my sister is a widow, and is living near the historic city of Edinburgh, overseeing the education of her youngest son, who is attending one of the famous schools of " Old Scotland." Father's life at Alderville was a busy one : the boys to manage, and some of those grown into young men were very unruly ; the farm to run, coupled with circuit and mission work. Many a ride I had with him to meetings in that vicinity. Elder Case had a fine mare ; no one else could handle her like father. She had a colt, now grown to be a great big horse, black as coal and wild also.

He had broken all his halters heretofore, but father made one of strong rope which held him, and then proceeded to break him in. One day as father was leading this colt, he called me to him, and lifted me on his back. Fear and pride alternated in my mind, but finally the latter ruled, for I was the first one to ride him. Many a broncho have I broken since then, but I never forget the ride on Elder Case's black colt.

Chapter III

Move into the far north — Trip from Alderville to Garden River — Father's work — Wide range of big steamboat — My trip to Owen Sound — Peril in storm — In store at Penetanguishene — Isolation — First boat — Brother David knocked down. Our stay at Alderville was not a long one. Within a year my father was commissioned by the Church to open a mission somewhere in the north country, among the needy tribes who frequented the shores of lakes Huron and Superior. After prospecting, he determined to locate near the confluence of the " Soo " and Garden rivers. Behold us, then, moving out by wagon, on to Cobourg, and taking steamboat from there to Toronto ; from thence staging across to Hol land Landing. Then going aboard the steamer Beaver, we landed one evening at Orillia, took stage at once, and pounded across many corduroy bridges to Coldwater, where, in the early morning, we went aboard the little side-wheeler Gore, and then out to Owen Sound, where my brother David joined us, and we sailed across Georgian Bay, up through the islands into the majestic river which connects these great lakes, and landed at the Indian village of Garden River.

I am now in my ninth year, and, as father says, quite a help. We rented a small one-roomed house from an Indian, and into this we moved from the steamboat. Whiskey was king here. Nearly all the Indians were drunk the first night of our arrival. Such noise and din ! We children were frightened, and very glad when morning dawned. Things became more quiet, and now we went to work to build a mission house, a church, and a school-house. Father was everywhere — in the bush chop ping logs, among the Indians preaching the Gospel, and fighting the whiskey traffic. I drove the oxen and hauled the timber to its place. I interpreted for father in the home and by the wayside. My brother and myself fished, picked berries, did anything to supple ment our scanty fare, for father's salary was only $320, and prices were very high.

In our wanderings after berries I had to be responsible for my brother. The Indian boys would go with us. Every little while I would shout, " David, come on ! " They would take it up, " Dape-tic-o-mon ! " This was how the sounds came to their ears. This they would shout ; and this they named my brother, and the name still sticks to him in that country. My Indian name was " Pa-ke-noh-ka " (" the Winner"). I earned this by leaving all boys of my age in foot-races. After some months of hard work we got the home up, and moved into it. Then the school-house was erected. A wonderful change was going on in the meantime. The people became sober. To see any drunk became the exception. A strong temperance feeling took hold of the Indians. Many of them were converted. Though but a boy, I could not help but see and note all the changes.

What meetings I attended with father in the houses, and camps, and sugar-bushes of the people ! Our means of transport were, in summer, by boat and canoe, and in winter, by sleigh and snow-shoes. Many a long trip I had with father in sail or Mackinaw boat, away up into Lake Supeiior, then down to the Bruce Mines, calling en route and preaching to a few Indians who lived at Punkin Point. We sailed where the wind would let us. Then father would pull and I would steer, on into the night, across long stretches and along what seemed to me inter minable shores. How sleepy I used to be ! How often I wondered if father ever became tired. He would preach, and pray, and sing, and then pull, as if he was fresh all the time. Then, in winter, with our little white pony and jumper, which my father had made, we would take the same trips.

Sometimes the ice would be very dangerous, and father would take the reins out of the rings and give them to me straight from the horse's mouth, saying, " If she breaks through, John, keep her head above water if you can." And then father would take the axe he carried and run ahead, trying the ice as he ran. And thus we would reach those early settlements and Indian camps, where father was always welcome. In summer, in coming to or from Lake Superior, we always portaged at the " Soo," on the American side. Coming down father would put me ashore at the head of the rapids, and he would run them. While we were in that country the Ameri cans built their canal. Father was chaplain for the Canal Company for a time. I saw a big " side-wheeler " being portaged across for service on Lake Superior. It took months to do this.

By and by I saw great vessels locking through the canal. Our Indians got out timber for the canal. Some of my first earnings I made in taking out timber to floor the canal. Father became well acquainted with the Canal Company. Once a number of the direc tors with the superintendent came to Garden River in one of their tugs, and prevailed on father to join the party. He took me along. Away we flew down the river, and when near the mouth on the American side, we met a yawl pulling up stream. Who should this be but the Governor of the Hudson's Bay Company, Sir George Simpson. He stood up in his boat and hailed us, and told us that a big steamer named the Traveller, was aground over between the islands. She had started to cross over to the Bruce Mines and come up the other channel. He said you will confer a great favor if you go over and give her all the help you can.

She is loaded with passengers, and they are running great risks should a storm come on before she is got off. Accordingly we went to the rescue, and as a messenger from Providence were we welcomed by the great ship. We launched a nice little log canoe that father had taken along, and he got into it and felt and sounded a way for us, for our small vessel drew almost as much water as the big one ; but father piloted our tug close to the great vessel. Soon we had a big hawser hitched to the stern of the steamer. I well remember the time, for I was in the cabin at supper when our tug, with all steam on and with a jump, gathered in all the slack. THUS "TRAVELLER" IN DISTRESS — (See page 31). What a jerk ! and then snap went the big rope as though it had been so much thread, and away I went to the other end of the small cabin Crockery, cutlery, and boy brought up in a pro miscuous heap.

Then we broke another big rope in vain, and it was concluded that the most of our passengers should go on to the steamer, and father should plot the tug over to the Canadian side, where there was a big scow or lighter, and brine the latter, and thus lighten the ship. Darkness was now on the scene, and the big ship, all lit up, presented a weird sight stuck on a bar and in great danger if the wind should come off the lake, which fortunately it did not. Father started with the tug at first peep of day, and about two o'clock in the afternoon came back to us with the big barge in tow. This was placed alongside the steamer, and all hands went to work to lighten her. In the meantime two anchors were got out astern. One of these was to be pulled upon by the windlass, and the other by the passengers — for there were some three hundred on board.

Every body worked with a will, and soon all was ready. Steam up on the steamer, our tug hitched to her ready to pull, the passengers ranged along the rope fi-om one anchor away astern, the other rope from another anchor on the windlass. Some of the crew rolled the ballast barrels to and fro, to cause the ship to roll, if possible. When all was ready the whistle blew, and all steam was put on both big and little ships, the passengers pulled as for life, the capstan turned, the big vessel seemed to quiver and straighten, and after moments of great suspense began to move backwards off the shoal. What shouting, what cheering, once more the huge ship was afloat ! As it was now late we started for the Bruce Mines, our tug taking the lead and the steamer following. About dark we reached the docks at the Bruce Mines, where we lay all night.

Our watchman slept at his post, and allowed the big ship to get away ahead of us in the morning, but when we did start, we flew. Our superintendent was determined to overhaul her before she could reach the "Soo," and so he did, overtaking and passing her in Big Lake George, while she was scratching her way over the shoal, which at that time was not dredged out as now. Then, when the last boat went east in the fall, all that western and upper country was left without communication until spring opened again. Under these circumstances you can imagine with what eagerness we looked for the first boat of the season. I well remember I was hauling timber to the river bank with a yoke of oxen, some little ways down from the Mission, when the boat came along. All I could do was to wave my gad and shout her welcome.

Looking up the river, I saw my brother Dave, with father's double barrelled gun, standing to salute the first steamer. Dave either did not know or had forgotten that father had put in an unusual big charge for long shooting, and when the boat came opposite to him he fired the first barrel, and the gun knocked him over. The passengers and crew of the steamer cheered him, and, nothing daunted, he got up, fired the second barrel, and a^ain was knocked over. This was great fun for the steamboat people, and they cheered David, and threw him some apples and oranges, which he, dropping the gun, and running to the canoe, was soon out in the river gathering. Some of this time mother was very sick, and David and I had all the work to do about the house — wash, scrub, bake, cook, inside and out side.

We found plenty to do. When not wanted at home we went fishing and hunting. Then I found employment in teaming. I worked one winter for an Indian, hauling saw-logs out of the woods to the river bank. He gave me fifty cents per day and my board. In the summer. I sometimes sold cordwood on com mission for Mr. Church, the trader, and when he put up a saw-mill, a couple of miles down the river, I several times got out a lot of saw-logs and rafted them down to the mill. I also hauled cordwood on to the dock with our pony and a sleigh, for there were no carts or wagons in the country at that time, nor yet had we the means to buy them. I think I made a good investment with my first earnings, a part of which I expended in the purchase of a shawl for my mother, and a part I saved for the next missionary meeting as my subscription thereto.