Sketches of Indian life

Front matter

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Contents

CHAP. . PAGE.

I. By the Camp-Fire

II. Among the Traps .

I

After thirty years’ experience of work among the Indians, with its many journeys by canoe and boat, and its many campings out with the red men of the forest by the shores of lakes or on the banks of rivers, or on islands standing by themselves in the wide waste of waters in lakes that are as big as seas, one should remember some interesting incidents, of stories told and adventures recounted by the camp-fire, which ought to be good reading for all classes of people.

Even in summer-time, when camp is pitched and all things made ready for the night, a fire is pleasant ; but the first duty, of course, is to cook supper. This is th.e principal meal of the day ; for, if you are on a journey, the morning repast is made before your appetite is very brisk, and then, at noon, though you are hungry, yet you are in too much of a hurry to cook an elaborate feast, or wait for its preparation. It is at night, after your camp is pitched, that the “ real good meal ” is prepared.

It is indeed glorious to sit by the camp-fire when there are all things richly to enjoy ; but it is not so good when you are out of everything and have to go supperless to bed. I remember on one occasion — an occasion, I might remark, that will be fixed indelibly in my memory as long as life shall last — something occurred that has woven itself, so to speak, in the very texture of my being.

We had been sailing, but the wind had died down to the faintest breeze, that scarcely moved our vessel along ; but just as night was falling over the sky and earth, or water rather, a black cloud, as black as ink, appeared in the sky near the horizon, and in that cloud was treasured up the concrete elements of the most fiendish storm that ever was. The cloud opened and spread itself to let out the storm, which burst forth upon us with all its fury.

We had shortened our sails to very small size, but there was more than enough, and we were driven along before the gale. The night closed in black darkness, the darker, of course, because of the storm. In a while I had lost my bearings and could not see which way to go. After a time I heard the keel of the boat grate on the coarse gravel, and I knew we were in the midst of shoals. We slipped over and were in deeper water again, and I said to my son, “ We are out of our course and we know not where we are ; so soon as we catch sight of any object that we recognize we will run ashore and stop — for a while, at any rate — until the weather improves.”

The faintest outline of a point looms up and I recognize the land we draw near, because through the blackness I just catch a glimpse of a house, an abandoned house which a man had built many years ago and had left. I knew there was a landing here which was sheltered somewhat by a stony point, and I just managed to make it without striking the boat on the stones. “ Here we are ! ” I said, “ and here we stay. We know where we are now, and if we go on we shall be lost again.”

Yes, we will stay here for a while and get supper ; but when we come to look over our grub we discover, to our dismay, that we have none. Our cook had served the last of our provisions at the place where we stayed for dinner, storm-bound then as now.

We had matches and an axe, and got some wood. We made a fire composed of slabs of wood which the man long before had left from his firewood. We soon had a good fire, and we sat around the camp-fire and talked as well as we could, but, ah ! we missed the supper. We made a cup of tea, I remember, but we missed the food that supports the body. It is not enjoyment at the camp-fire exactly, when you are supperless ; indeed, we did not retire to rest, but sat round the camp-fire until nearly daybreak, and then, the weather improving, we went on our way. It seems that a good supper is necessary to the enjoyment of a camp-fire.

But let us proceed. It appears that if you are camping out and the weather prevents your lighting a fire in the evening at your camp, it is a great drawback to enjoyment, because you cannot very well sit around your camp-fire if you have none.

I remember one dark and stormy night, when the rain was falling fast — a fearful storm it was, and the thunder rent the heavens, and the lightning flashed from pole to pole — the rain fell in huge drops and pierced through the covering of our tent. It was impossible to light a fire. How terrible was that night ! It flooded our tent. I had with me a young gentleman from England, a gently bred aristocrat, who had been shielded from the rough elements all his life. It was an experience for him.

I had a stretcher — not what in England is called a stretcher, for that is used to carry a sick or dead person upon, but a stretcher bed for the living to sleep on. My tenderly bred friend appropriated this, because it kept him out of the wet. He had a hat, a beautiful hat, which he had bought in England — indeed, it was too good for this country. My friend was very anxious concerning this hat, for fear it should get crumpled or crushed. My friend, as I was saying, had taken possession of my bed, and I had nothing to lie upon bat the wet ground. How I longed for a glorious camp-fire ! But there was none. I envied my friend his bed, I was going to say, but it was my bed. I envied my friend my bed, and I shook him slightly, and I said, “ Harry, you are lying on that nice hat of yours ! ” “ You don’t mean

it ? Well, it must go ; I can’t move now.”

I remember that I had noticed just before the thick darkness spread its canopy over the earth, that my Indian friend, who resided near where we were camped, and whose mother’s name used to be Mindemooyashahbwakummigooqua, had a heap of hay, which he had cut in his front garden, and I took a bag and filled it with the underneath part of the hay, where the rain had not penetrated, and I used this for a bed to keep me out of the wet ; but, oh ! for a good camp-fire that we might sit around it to dry ourselves.

But why do I write about this ? It is that every one may see and judge for themselves that, to enjoy a camp-fire, it is necessary to have one. In the first place, a good supper is a necessary adjunct to secure enjoyment, and, in the next place, the fire itself is necessary.

I went out next day to see the Indians at our encampment, and I found a family ; it was the chief’s family, and the chief himself was there. The name of this chief was quite significant ; it was Ahnishenahbanahwegahbowoogwissunsahgeewakeezhik. The rain had abated by morning and they had built a good camp-fire to dry themselves out after the wet night. They were wise in their generation, and the chief, whose name is written above — it is not necessary to repeat it — had chosen a spot that was sheltered by a clump of shrubbery from the wind, which had arisen, and so their fire was burning nicely and shedding its bright beams around them in their snug shelter. A glorious thing is a camp-fire, and I sat around it with the chief and his family while I read the good Book to them, and we prayed around the camp-fire.

I shall never forget an experience I had round a camp-fire. It is many years ago, yet I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. We had gone out to visit an Indian village far away in the wilds of the forest, through dense swamps, where the trees grow thick together — but this was after the camp fire experience.

We went a long distance in the boat beating against a head-wind, till, as the short autumn day was drawing to its close, we ran into a bay at the foot of an island of some size, to get something to eat, and push on or stay there according to circumstances. In consequence of a slight accident we met with we determined to stay where we were for the night, so we made our preparations. It was a cold evening, but we made a camp-fire and sat around it, and the Indian I was with, named Ogemahmanitoowahsing, was a great singer, so we spent the evening singing hymns round the camp-fire, after first enjoying a good supper, which, as I have already stated, is a necessary adjunct to a camp-fire. We found that a mouse, or something, had eaten part of our tent ; but we repaired the holes with the jib sail — but this is an incident merely — and we retired to rest.

Toward morning the wind changed and it rained and the wind blew the rain into our tent and wetted us where we were sleeping. We arose and fastened our tent, but the wind tore it open again, and the temperature falling, it began to snow. The wind blew in the drifting snow, which froze upon our already wetted garments and bed-clothes, which soon were as stiff as sheets of crumpled tin. Finding it difficult to keep warm in bed, we arose to secure a more sheltered position for our camp. It was quite dark yet, but the Indian chief, whose name is written above, and which I need not repeat, made a fire in a sequestered nook, at the roots of a pine tree which had been torn up by a storm.

The fire burnt up the spreading roots of the pine tree, which, being saturated with gum, were very inflammable, and it made a wall of fire, glowing and gleaming in the darkness. The heat from the glowing mass of fire seemed to warm the whole district, and as we secured shelter near, under the spreading boughs of a cedar, we were indeed blessed. How comforting was the fire ! What gladness and warmth it shed abroad in the heart ! It is grand to sit at a camp-fire, when the snow comes down and ceaseth not and the stormy wind doth blow. And what improved our circumstances was that we had materials for a good breakfast, and, by the aid of the fire, we put these materials into such a condition that we could assimilate them. It w~as good, indeed, to be there, and we praised the God of heaven, from whom all blessings flow.

We had other experiences before we penetrated the recesses of that dense forest, on the other side of which the Indians lived, but these things do not belong to this chapter. We are talking about the camp-fire.

Two Indians, named, respectively, Ahkewanzeoogemahoogwissun and Pahmegummenahgakesheoongai, were out fishing for whit.efish. When they were wet through with rain, the temperature falling, they were frozen, or, rather, their garments were, and by the aid of a large camp-fire they thawed them out again, and went fishing till they were frozen again, or rather, their garments were, and they built another fire and thawed themselves again, and so on.

But one goes through many and varied experiences during one’s journey through this wilderness world ; or, to take another simile, as one sails over the sea of life he meets with many troubles before he comes to anchor, or ties up, as the case may be, in the haven where he would be.

We were sailing along on a return journey from some place where we had been doing the Lord’s work among the red men of the forest, when rain came on, accompanied by a heavy gale of wind, which affected us in such a way that we nearly lost our lives ; but we pulled through, or rather sailed through, for we never took an oar.

We were wet to the skin, above and beneath ; for a boat is a bad thing when it rains, as you sit in the wet. But these things have an end, and at nightfall we made shelter in a cove between two rocky islands, and made a camp-fire on the bare, flat rock.

It was a good place for firewood and there was no stint. We made a huge camp-fire, and it burned up brightly and warmed the atmosphere around, and we, not having any change of garments, took off what we had and stood and sat around the camp-fire, in a state of nature, while our clothes dried. We were a long way from any human being beside ourselves, and it did not matter. The heat from the glowing logs of our camp-fire soon dried our garments, and we re-dressed and afterward refreshed ourselves with hot tea and good food, and then felt ready for prayer before retiring to rest. Prayer and praise around the camp-fire. But this chapter would not be perfect without relating the experiences of the late Bishop Sullivan, of Algoma, around the camp-fire.

It was on the occasion of a visit to several stations in my mission, which we were trying to reach by sailboat. At the first of these series of visits we anchored at an Indian village where the Bishop was to preach and administer the rite of confirmation to some Indian lads.

That night we slept in a tent, and during the night it rained very heavily, and the Bishop, who was a very learned man, lay too near the canvas, and the rain ran down upon his head. Now it is not good for a learned man to get his head wet, and his lordship was very uncomfortable in consequence.

The rain came down in torrents the next morning, but we managed to make a camp-fire, and cook

some breakfast. We did not eat it sitting around 2 the camp-fire, because of the rain, but carried it into the tent. The Bishop was very miserable because of the wet. It is very cheerless in a tent while it rains, especially for a learned man like Bishop Sullivan.

In order to improve the situation it occurred to me to build a large camp-fire in front of the tent, and then remove the canvas entirely in front, so that the tent would be quite open to the flames. We gathered together a large quantity of wood and pine roots, and other substances, so as to make a good fire for the learned Bishop, and when we had gathered what we thought was sufficient to make a good fire, we put a match to it, and in spite of the rain it burned up bravely and shed its beams around us. We opened the front of the tent so that the learned Bishop could see the flames, and he was glad and rejoiced greatly, and said, “ Ha ! Ha ! I am warm ! I have seen the fire!” It is truly wonderful what a difference it makes with a camp-fire.

I arrived at the same place late one night, too late to go up to the church, which was some distance inland, and as all the Indians had congregated there on the shore to greet me, I said I would like to pray with them and speak to them before they retired to their homes.

We made a large camp-fire, and around it we said our prayers and sang the praise of the Most High. I exhorted them to love and good works, and some stayed with me and talked while we sat around the camp-fire.

GROUP OF INDIANS AND WIGWAM.

Sometimes the camp-fire is made the scene of other festivities. I remember one night, camping on the Nepigon River, the Indians all gathered round the camp-fire and talked, and one of them brought out a fiddle. It was a poor instrument, to be sure; it was minus a string, and the others that were there were of a very poor character, but the chief feature was that the Indian who played it could bring music out of it. We sat and talked and sang till it was time to retire to rest.

While staying on Lake Nepigon I invited each family in turn to stay with me to supper, and after supper we sat around the camp-fire and talked. I told my friends and visitors about the work of God in other places, and they, in their turn, related to me such things as they thought would interest me.

I remember once round the camp-fire at Mashkoodawang we vrere in great straits. Striving to make our way across the big water we were beaten back by the wind, which was so strong that it literally blew the water into the boat. We were compelled to put back for shelter. We let the boat back in the wind till we came to a little sandy beach and bay that went by the name of Ozahwahbikoogunkuhbashewin. Here we determined to stay for the night. There was little shelter at the place except for the boat, because the plains were flat rock, where trees did not grow. This was why it is called Mashkoodawang. However, we made a shelter with our sails and used the poles of a deserted wigwam as fuel for a fire.

It was a cold night and the wind tempestuous, with no immediate prospect of improvement. Our provisions were not abundant, and we had brought a boy back with us who wanted to visit his friends in the village whither we were bound. However, we got some supper and sat around the fire. It was here that our Indians told me about the war with the Iroquois in days gone by. The site of the war was not far from the place where we were camped.

It seems, according to their story, that there was a cave about half way up the steep cliff* of rock, and it was here that the Ojibways placed a woman and child in the cave as a decoy to the Iroquois, who were passing that way in their war canoes. The enemy came along in due course, saw the woman and child, and tried to climb the rock to reach them and take them prisoners. The Ojibways had placed already in position large boulders of rock on the cliff* above the cave, which they now hurled down upon the canoes, and most of the enemy were slain or drowned.

It was not far from this spot where we were camped that a large and populous Indian village was situated about two hundred years ago. It was around the camp-fire that I was told about it. A chief named Kahgooqua was living there then and ruling over the colony. It was a unique place for an Indian village, because it was a shelter for canoes and commanded a position both on Lake Huron and the smaller inland waters. It was close to a good hunting ground and for fishing could not be excelled. However, smallpox, that fiendish disease which has carried off so many of the native race, made its appearance and depopulated the place. Old Chief Ogemahnahgahbow told me that when he was a young man some of the skeletons of Indians were lying around. The last that died had no one to bury them. This was sad.

We sat around our camp-fire until away on in the night. We took care of the fire in turns, and once in the night I had to take an axe and get more wood. As the day was approaching, I went to look around, and noticed that the wind had moderated and changed to the north. So we packed up and set sail for fear the wind would change again or become too boisterous for our small boat.

II Among The Traps

When I was quite a young man and fresh from the Old Land, the very first winter I spent with the Indians of North America I was asked by an IndiaT chief if I would like to go with him on the morro to look at some traps he had set for wild animals different kinds, to secure them for their fur and foi their flesh. Some animals are good to eat and some are only good for their skin ; you kill them for their hide and fur.

As I was saying, the Indian chief asked me to accompany him, thinking the experience would be interesting to me. So, early in the morning, we started off. It was in the very beginning of winter, when the snow was not as yet very deep, and yet deep enough for snowshoes, and the ice on the lake was not very strong as yet and it was covered with snow.

The first part of our snowshoe tramp was over the ice of the lake, and it was thin. I could feel it bending under my feet when we were very far indeed from the shore. The old chief knew I was afraid. I could see him shaking with laughter, while I was shaking with fear. He motioned to me to keep away

Among the Traps from him a moderate distance, because, I suppose, the ice was only strong enough to bear one person in one spot ; and as a further precaution, he called to me and warned me on no account to take off my snowshoes, because they spread the weight of one’s body over a larger space and so relieve the ice to some extent. I went on in fear and trembling, the ice cracking and bending. It seemed almost as if the whole stretch of ice was moving up and down, as if we were treading o n floating boards, or more like a floating skin. It is a singular experience, but all is well that ends 11, and it is gratifying to be able to state that we .ached land at last.

After we had crossed this wide stretch of thin ice we entered the forest — the greenwood forest — the forest of fir. It has been said by a wise writer that a kind Providence has in these northern regions clothed the country with firs in view of the intense cold. It is clad with firs at any rate, whether it is on account of the cold or for some other reason.

After we had safely crossed the stretch of forest we had “ one more river to cross.” I am not sure that people will believe what I am about to relate. I only write my own impression of what actually took place ; but we crossed that river, as it seemed to me, just on the snow that was floating on the top of the water. I really do not think there was any ice at all. The wide snowshoes kept us up. I asked the chief if my surmise was correct, and he said I was nearly right. But let us get on to the traps. We came to a piece of tamarack bush, where everything was clean and nice, and the sweet, resinous smell from the trees was very pleasant. Then the chief stopped and addressed me, making the following announcement :

“ The time has now arrived when we need to refresh ourselves with food. This is a dining-room that the great Manitou has provided. The floor is strewed with clean material. The air is sweet and pleasant. There are no bad smells to annoy us or cause us discomfort. Let us eat.”

So we sat on some brush, and after the chief had said an elaborate grace in his own tongue, ate with infinite relish the food we had brought with us.

He entertained me while we were eating with cheerful conversation, making pleasing remarks on the beauties of nature, the grandeur of the woods, the purity of the snow, the crisp clearness of the air, and the brilliancy of the sky. He also related to me some anecdotes, but I do not remember them now, and asked me about the people in England, especially the poor. I did not give him a very cheering account of the poor. I told him that the poor people in England were not allowed to roam the woods when and where they pleased and trap hares and other animals for their food. The chief, on hearing this, expressed the opinion that he should not care to live there.

After we had eaten we went on toward the traps. We came to the first one in due time. It was a trap set for hare. “ He has arrived,” said the Indian, “but he did not get in the trap.”

Among the Traps

We went on to the next trap and found a hare dead in the trap, a pole across his neck, and frozen stiff and stark. The chief took him out, put him in his bag and reset the dead-fall, and we went on to the next. At the next trap the chief uttered an exclamation of annoyance. Indians never swear or use bad language of any kind, unless they can speak English, which for bad language is the worst language on the face of the earth ; but the Indian, though he does not swear, can express himself very strongly, using very forcible language, though not bad.

The reason why the strong language was wrung from our friend was because a weasel had come and very nearly consumed the hare that was caught in the trap. It was most provoking, I do not wonder that the Indian was vexed. He threw away the partly eaten beast and then delivered a lecture on the infernal propensities of the whole weasel tribe since the earliest days of the world, and the difficulties of obtaining redress for their depredations. It seems that it is difficult to trap a weasel.

A friend of mine some years later was very much annoyed by a long-eared owl, which was all the time robbing his traps. He trapped the owl one day in a very ingenious fashion. I forget how it was done, but the depredations ceased after the owl was dead.

But let us get on. A large proportion of the traps had nothing in them, but still they yielded a fair crop of hares. The old man had a good many traps. It must have been a great labor to set them in the first instance.

The making of the dead-fall, when the poles a, down, and the little house around the bait, so th animal can only come at it through the doo, fastening the trigger with the salted wegoob, wb so enticing to the creature, and then cutting of birch to attract the beast near, to lead him up speak, to the wegoob, — all this takes time and pa the Indian possessing a fair share of both.

We encountered the weasel in several instances, he had only been very gluttonous in some c, Some of the hares were very little injured. . Indian had quite a load when he had been a]l arour the traps.

He hung up his bag for a while, till we shou come that way again. He was showing me his gr when his attention was riveted on some curio tracks in the snow, and he said “ Pena ” (partridgy and up in the trees were two penas ; but before i Indian could raise his gun they had dived into t thickets and were lost to view.

u We will follow them up,” said he. “Come o We went on and on, and scoured the bush for a 1 time, but did not see the birds again. It is ol thus. An opportunity occurs and you let it slip, * it never returns again. But it is the trap we h to do with, not the shooting. Farther on into t depths of the forest, where a stream meander, through the dark glade, a young beaver was secur in a trap. He was a fine young beaver, weighir, about ten pounds, or probably more. Here was mr

Among the Traps jf the very finest quality, and a pelt of no alue. I had the pleasure of eating some of /er meat at a later date,

other fur-bearing animals were secured, and a long tramp to where we left our hares, and were some miles away from our home, we were travelling along the chief gave me ery valuable information about the habits of oat animals, and their cunning ways in avoiding especially in the case of the otter, who can only -ught in a trap that is under water, set in a spot 3re he comes ashore, where the water is just deep ugh for him to touch bottom; and then, on the 3r hand, the lynx is so stupid that he will walk > a trap right before his eyes, plainly exposed to v. The mink and marten yield very good fur, but v are getting scarcer and scarcer every year, he old chief proposed that we should try and get to a road of some kind, where we could remove snowshoes; he feared I should find their con- ,1 use for so long a time very trying, e came out at length on an Indian wood road, able to take off our snowshoes and walk on the .v. The Indian had a very heavy load to carry, not know if he was tired. I know that I was, was carrying no load at all except my snowes ; but we were going home, and my companion , very kind to talk to me all the time, and so the v did not appear so tedious as it otherwise would 3 done.