By Canoe And Dog-Train Part 16

As I looked at her and her large family of fatherless children, and then thought of her husband's triumphant death, and his glorious transfer to that blest abode, where "they shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more," and where "G.o.d shall wipe away all tears from their eyes," the contrast between the husband and father in his felicity, and the sorrow of the widow and children in their poverty, so affected me that, to hide my emotion and keep back my tears, I hurried out of the room, following my loving Brother Semmens, who was, if possible, more deeply moved than I was. We had gone into that house to pray, but we could not. There must be tangible sympathy given ere we could look to a higher source.

My brother had reached the cariole, which was a few yards away, and I was not far behind, when the word, "Ayumeaookemou," ("Praying master,") arrested my hurrying steps. I turned back, and there, just outside of the door, was Nancy. With a woman's quick intuition to read the feelings of the heart from the face and voice, she had followed me out, and her words, as nearly as I can recall them, were these:

"Missionary, I do not want you to feel so badly for me; it is true I am very poor; it is true, since Samuel died, we have often been hungry and have often suffered from the bitter cold; but, Missionary," and her face had no trace of sorrow upon it, "you have heard me say that as Samuel gave his heart to G.o.d, so have I given G.o.d my heart, and He Who comforted Samuel and helped him, so that he died so happily, is my Saviour; and where Samuel has gone, by-and-by I am going too; and that thought makes me happy all the day long."

There came a blessed exultation into my soul, but I could find no answer then. So I hurried on and joined my weeping brother, and shouting, "Marchez!" to our dogs, we were soon rapidly speeding over the icy trail to our Mission home.

That night our bed was a blanket thinner, and on our limited supplies there was a heavy drain. I told the Indians who were better off about her straitened condition, and she and hers were made more comfortable.

Many of them gave very generously indeed to help her. The grace of liberality abounds largely among these poor Christian Indians, and they will give to the necessities of those who are poorer than themselves until it seems at times as though they had about reached the same level.

The triumphant death of Samuel, and then Nancy's brave words, very much encouraged us in our work. We could not but more than rejoice at the Gospel's power, still so consciously manifested to save in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also to make a humble log-cabin a little heaven below. We pitied her in her poverty, and yet soon after, when we had thought it all over in the light of eternity, we could only rejoice with her, and in our spirits say, "Happy woman! Better live in a log hut without a chair or table or bedstead, without flour or tea or potatoes, entirely dependent upon the nets in the lake for food, if the Lord Jesus is a constant Guest, than in a mansion of a millionaire, surrounded by every luxury, but dest.i.tute of His presence."

It is a matter of great thankfulness that not only spiritually but temporally thousands of the Indians in different parts of Canada are improving grandly. The accompanying picture (page 209) is from a photograph taken at the Scugog Lake Indian Mission. The fine barn, well filled with wheat, as well as all the surrounding vehicles and agricultural implements, belong to one of the Christian Indians.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

A RACE FOR LIFE IN A BLIZZARD STORM--SAVED BY THE MARVELLOUS INTELLIGENCE OF JACK--"WHERE IS THE OLD MAN, WHOSE HEAD WAS LIKE THE SNOW-DRIFT?"

Blizzard storms sometimes a.s.sailed us, as on the long winter trails, with our gallant dogs and faithful companions, we wandered over those regions of magnificent distances.

To persons who have not actually made the acquaintance of the blizzard storms of the North-Western Territories, or Wild North Land, it is almost impossible to give a satisfactory description. One peculiarity about them, causing them to differ from other storms, is that the wind seems to be ever coming in little whirls or eddies, which keep the air full of snow, and make it almost impossible to tell the direction from which the wind really comes. With it apparently striking you in the face, you turn your back to it, and are amazed at finding that it still faces you. Once, when on Lake Winnipeg, we saw one coming down upon us.

Its appearance was that of a dense fog blowing in from the sea. Very few indeed are they who can steer their course correctly in a blizzard storm. Most people, when so unfortunate as to be caught in one, soon get bewildered, and almost blinded by the fine, dry, hard particles of snow which so pitilessly beat upon them, filling eyes, nose, and even ears and mouth, if at all exposed.

Once, when crossing Lake Winnipeg, to visit some wild Indians, whom we found on our arrival in the midst of the hideous ceremonies of a dog feast, I got caught in a terrible storm. My men had gone on ahead with all the dogs, to have dinner ready in the camp on the distant sh.o.r.e, leaving me miles behind, tramping along on snow-shoes. Down from the north, with terrific fury, came the gale. I tramped on as rapidly as possible, until I got bewildered. Then I took off one of my snow-shoes, and, fastening it in a hole cut in the ice, I got ready to tramp in a small circle around it to keep from freezing to death, when fortunately I heard the welcome whooping of my Indians, who, seeing my danger, had quickly turned round, and risking their own lives for mine, for they could have reached the woods and shelter, aided by the dogs, had fortunately reached me. There we stopped for hours, until the blizzard had spent its fury, and then on we went.

I had a remarkable experience in a blizzard, which I will more fully describe, as our escape was under Providence so much indebted to my wonderful dog Jack.

I had started on one of my long winter trips to visit the few little bands of Indians who were struggling for an existence on the Eastern coast of Lake Winnipeg, and who were always glad to welcome the Missionary, and to hear from him of the love of the Great Spirit, and of His Son Jesus Christ. Their country is very wild and rough, very different from the beautiful prairie regions of the North-West. To keep down expenses, which in those Northern Missions are very heavy, I had started out on this long trip with only this young Indian lad as my companion. But as he was good and true, I thought we could succeed, since I had been several years in the country, and had faced many a wintry storm, and slept many nights in the snow.

We had with us two splendid trains of dogs. My leader was a lively, cunning Esquimaux dog, as white as snow. His name was Koona, which is the Indian word for "snow"; and he was well named. The other three dogs of my train were my favourites from Ontario. Two of them were gifts from Senator Sanford, of Hamilton; the other was kindly sent to me by Dr Mark, of Ottawa. The other train, driven by Alec, was composed of some sagacious St. Bernards obtained for me by the kindness of Mr Ferrier, of Montreal. The largest and most enduring of the eight was Jack from Hamilton, whose place was second in my train, and who is to be the hero of this adventure.

We had left our camp-fire in the woods early in the morning, and, turning our faces towards the north, had hoped that ere the shadows of night had fallen around us, at least sixty miles of the frozen surface of Lake Winnipeg would have been travelled over. For a time we were able to push on very rapidly, keeping the distant points of headlands well in view for our guidance. Lake Winnipeg is very much indented with bays, and in travelling we do not follow the coast line, but strike directly across these bays from point to point. Some of them run back for many miles into the land, and several of them are from ten to thirty miles wide. The dogs get so accustomed to these long trips and to their work, that they require no guide to run on ahead, but will, with wonderful intelligence, push on from point to point with great exactness.

On and on we had travelled for hours; the cold was very great, but we could easily jump off from our dog-sleds and run until we felt the glow and warmth of such vigorous exercise. After a while, we noticed that the strong wind which had arisen was filling the air with fine dry snow, and making travelling very difficult and unpleasant. Soon it increased to a gale, and we found ourselves in a real North-West blizzard on stormy Lake Winnipeg, many miles from sh.o.r.e.

Perhaps our wisest plan would have been, at the commencement of the storm, to have turned sharply to the east, and got into the shelter of the forest as quickly as possible. But the bay we were crossing was a very deep one, and the headland before us seemed as near as the other end of the bay; and so we thought it best to run the risk and push on.

That we might not get separated from each other, I fastened what we call the tail rope of my sled to the collar of the head dog of Alec's train.

After Alec and I had travelled on for several hours, no sign of any land appearing, we began to think that the fickle blizzard was playing us one of its tricks, and that we had wandered far out into the lake. We stopped our dogs out there in the blinding, bewildering storm.

"Alec!" I shouted, "I am afraid we are lost."

"Yes, Missionary," he replied, "we are surely lost."

We talked about our position, and both had to confess that we did not really know where we were or which way we ought to go.

The result of our deliberation was that we could do no better than trust in the good Providence above us, and in our dogs before us.

As it was now after midday, and the vigorous exercise of the last few hours had made us very hungry, we opened our provision bag, and, taking out some frozen food, made a fairly good attempt to satisfy the keen demands of appet.i.te. We missed very much the good cup of hot black tea we should have had if we had been fortunate enough to reach the sh.o.r.e, and find some wood with which to make a fire.

After our hasty meal we held a short consultation, in which the fact became more and more evident to us, that our position was a very perilous one, as we were becoming blinded by the driving particles of fine snow that stung our eyeb.a.l.l.s and added much to our bewilderment.

We found that we did not know east from west, or north from south, and would have to leave the dogs to decide on their own course, and let them go in any direction they pleased.

I had a good deal of confidence in my dogs, as I had proved their sagacity. To Jack, the n.o.blest of them all, I looked to lead us out of our difficulty; and he did not disappoint our expectations. I suppose I acted and talked to my dog in a way that some folks would have considered very foolish. When travelling regularly, the dogs are only fed once a day, and that when the day's work is done. However, it was different that day, as in the blinding gale Alec and I tried to eat our dinner. As Jack and the others crowded around us, they were not neglected, and with them we shared the food we had, as there was a great uncertainty whether another meal would ever be required by any one of us.

As usual in such emergencies, Jack had come up close to me, and so, while he and Alec and I, and the rest of us, men and dogs, were eating our dinners, I had a talk with him.

"Jack, my n.o.ble fellow," I said, "do you know that we are lost, and that it is very doubtful whether we shall ever see the Mission House again?

The prospect is that the snow will soon be our winding sheet, and that loving eyes will look in vain for our return. The chances are against your ever having the opportunity of stretching yourself out on the wolf rug before the study fire. Rouse up yourself, old dog, for in your intelligence we are going to trust to lead us to a place of safety."

The few arrangements necessary for the race were soon made. Alec wrapped himself up as comfortably as possible in his rabbit-skin robe, and I helped him to ensconce himself securely on his dog-sled. I tied a rope from the end of my sled to the collar of his leader dog, so that our trains might not get separated. Then I straightened out the trains, and, wrapping myself up as well as I could on my sled, I shouted "Marchez!" to the dogs.

I had as leader dog the intelligent white Esquimaux, "Koona." As I shouted the word for "Go," Koona turned his head and looked at me, as though bewildered, and seemed to be waiting for "Chaw" or "Yee," the words for "right" and "left." As I did not know myself, I shouted to Jack, who was second in the train, "Go on, Jack, whichever way you like, and do the best you can, for I do not know anything about it." As Koona still hesitated, Jack, with all the confidence imaginable, dashed off in a certain direction, and Koona with slackened traces ran beside him, very willing in such an emergency to give him all the honour of leaders.h.i.+p.

For hours the dogs kept bravely to their work. The storm raged and howled around us, but not for one moment did Jack hesitate or seem to be at fault. Koona had nothing to do but run beside him; but the other two splendid dogs in the traces behind Jack seemed to catch his spirit, and n.o.bly aided him by their untiring efforts and courage. The cold was so intense that I had grave fears that we should freeze to death. We were obliged so to wrap ourselves up that it was impossible with so much on us to run with any comfort, or to keep up with the dogs whilst going at such a rapid rate. Frequently would I shout back to my comrade, "Alec!

don't go to sleep. Alec, if you do, you may never wake up until the Judgment morning." Back would come his response, "All right, sir; then I'll try to keep awake."

Thus on we travelled through that wintry storm. How cold, how relentless, how bitter were the continuous blasts of the north wind!

After a while the shadows of night fell upon us, and we were enshrouded in the darkness. Not a pleasant position was that in which we were situated; but there was no help for it, nor any use in giving way to despondency or despair. A sweet peace filled my soul, and in a blessed restfulness of spirit my heart was kept stayed upon G.o.d. While there is life there is hope; and so, with an occasional shout of warning to Alec to keep awake, and a cheering call to the dogs, who required no special urging, so gallantly were they doing their work, we patiently hung on to our sleds and awaited the result. We were now in the gloom of night, das.h.i.+ng along I knew not where, and not even able at times to see the dogs before us.

About three hours after dark the dogs quickened their pace into a gallop, and showed by their excitement that they had detected evidences of nearness to the sh.o.r.e and safety, of which as yet I knew nothing.

Soon after they dragged us over a large pile of broken ice and snow, the acc.u.mulations of ice cut out of the holes in the lake, where the Indian families had for months obtained their supply of water for cooking and other purposes. Turning sharply on the trail towards the sh.o.r.e, our dogs dashed along for a couple of hundred yards more; then they dragged us up a steep bank into the forest, and, after a few minutes more of rapid travelling, we found ourselves in the midst of a little collection of wigwams, and among a band of friendly Indians, who gave us a cordial welcome, and rejoiced with us at our escape from the storm, which was the severest of the year.

We had three days of religious services with them, and then went on our way from encampment to encampment. Very glad were the poor people to see us, and with avidity did they receive the word preached.

I felt that it was very slow work. My Circuit or Mission-field was larger than all England. I was the only Missionary of any Church in this large field. By canoe or dog-train I could only get around to all my appointments or out-stations twice a year. Six months the poor souls had to wait for the messenger and the message.

At one of these Indian encampments on one of these visits I had the following sad experience. Before I closed the first service I asked, "Where is the old man whose head was like the snow-drift?" for I had missed a white-haired old man, who had ever been at all the services, and had from the time of his conversion manifested the greatest anxiety to hear and learn all he could about this great salvation. At first he had opposed me, and was annoyed at my coming among his people.

Ultimately, however, he became convinced of the error of his ways, and was an earnest, decided Christian. When I arrived at his village, whether by canoe in summer, or dog-train in winter, I was always received by this venerable old man with great delight. Not satisfied with attending all the services held, and being at hand whenever I taught the Syllabic Characters, that the Indians might be able to read the blessed Word, he used to follow me like my shadow, and listen very attentively to all I had to say. It was rather startling, indeed, when one night, after a hard day of preaching and teaching and counselling, I kneeled down to pray, ere I wrapped myself up in my camp-bed to get a little rest, to hear whispered in quiet tones beside me, "Missionary, pray in Indian, and so loud that I can hear you." In the morning he was there again, and as I bowed to say my quiet morning prayers there came into my ears from this old man the pleading words again, "Missionary, please pray in Indian, and pray out loud, so that I may hear what you say."

Is it any wonder that I became very much attached to my old friend with the snow-white hair, who was so hungering and thirsting for the teachings of the Word? Only twice a year could I then visit him and his people. I used to remain a few days at each of these visits, and very busy ones indeed they were. For six months these poor sheep in the wilderness had been without the Gospel, and as soon as I left they would have to get along as well as they could on what they had heard. Now that they had, under the good Spirit's influence, a longing desire to receive the truth, can any one wonder at their anxiety to learn all they could from the Missionary during his short stay among them? This intense desire on their part filled my heart with thankfulness, and amply compensated for all the sufferings and hards.h.i.+ps of the long, cold, dangerous journeys.

On my arrival at this place, as usual, the Indians had crowded around to welcome me. I was disappointed at not seeing my old friend. So it was that at our first meeting, held as soon as possible after my arrival, I asked the question, "Where is the old man whose head was like the snow- drift?"

To my question there was no response, but every head was bowed as in grief and sorrow.

Again I asked: "Tell me, what have you done with the old man with the snow-white hair?"

Then there was a little whispering among them, and one of them, speaking out softly, said in the Cree language, "Non pimmatissit;" the English of which is, "He is not among the living."

The poor Indians, who have not as yet come to understand that death is a conquered foe, never like to use the word; and so, when speaking of those who have gone, they say they are "not among the living."

When in this expressive way I learned that my old friend was dead, my heart was filled with sorrow, as I saw also were theirs. After a little pause I said, "Tell me how he died."

At first there was a great deal of reluctance to answer this question; but when they saw I was not only anxious but resolved to know all about it, they took me into a wigwam where most of his relatives were, and there a young man, a grandson, got up and told me this pathetic story.

He said: "Missionary, you had not been long gone with your canoe last summer before Mismis," (the Indian word for "grandfather"), "got very sick, and after some weeks he seemed to know that he was going to leave us. So he called us all around him, and said a great many things to us.