Two months in the camp of Big Bear

T >> Theresa Gowanlock and Theresa Delaney >> Two months in the camp of Big Bear

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But it proved to be more than a mere scare. _Our_ friends were drawing
near--too near to be comfortable for the _noble_ "red man," the
murderers of defenceless settlers, the despoilers of happy homes, the
polluters of poor women and children. They did all that, and yet they
are called the noble "red man." It might sound musical in the ears of
the poet to write of the virtues of that race, but I consider it a
perversion of the real facts. During the time I was with them I could
not see anything noble in them, unless it was that they were _noble_
murderers, _noble_ cowards, _noble_ thieves. The facts, I think, also
go to show that the Indians are not treated properly. There is no
distinction made between the good (there are good Indians) and bad.
The character of the Indian is not studied sufficiently, or only so
far as self-interest and selfish motives are concerned. But the
majority of the present race can be designated anything but the noble
"red man."

They would in many instances, be better without the missionary. If all
denominations would only amalgamate their forces and agree upon an
unsectarian basis for missionary effort, the Indians would become
evangalized more quickly then they are at present. It would be better
for the Indians, and more honorable for the Christian Church. Give the
Indians the Gospel in its simplicity without the ritual of the
denominations.

CHAPTER XIII

ANOTHER BATTLE.

Was it the distant roar of heaven's artillery that caught my ear. I
listened and heard it again. The Indians heard it and were frightened.

A half-breed in a stage whisper cried, "a cannon! a cannon!"

An Indian answered, "a cannon is no good to fight."

I looked at them and it showed them to be a startled and fear-stricken
company, notwithstanding that they held the cannon with such disdain
as to say "cannon no good to fight." That night was full of excitement
for the Indians; they felt that the enemy was drawing near, too close
in fact to be safe. The prisoners were excited with the thought, that
perhaps there was liberty behind that cannon for them, and taking it
all round, there was little sleep within the tepees.

The next morning I awoke early with hopefulness rising within my
breast at the thought of again obtaining my liberty. The first sound I
heard was the firing of cannon near at hand; it sounded beautiful; it
was sweet music to my ears. Anticipating the prospect of seeing
friends once more, I listened and breathed in the echo after every
bomb.

The fighting commenced at seven o'clock by Gen. Strange's troops
forcing the Indians to make a stand. It was continued until ten with
indifferent success. The troops surely could not have known the
demoralized condition of the Indians, else they would have compelled
them to surrender. The fighting was very near, for the bullets were
whizzing around all the time. We thought surely that liberty was not
far away. The Indians were continually riding back and fro inspiring
their followers in the rear with hope, and we poor prisoners with
despair. At last they came back and said that they had killed twenty
policemen and not an Indian hurt. But there were two Indians killed,
one of whom was the Worm, he who killed my poor husband, and several
wounded. We were kept running and walking about all that morning with
their squaws, keeping out of the way of their enemies, and our
friends. We were taken through mud and water until my feet got so very
sore that I could hardly walk at all.

The Indians ordered us to dig pits for our protection. Pritchard and
Blondin dug a large one about five feet deep for us, and they piled
flour sacks around it as a further protection but they dug it too deep
and there was two or three inches of water at the bottom. They then
threw down some brush and we got into it, twenty persons in all, with
one blanket for Mrs. Delaney and me. McLean's family had another pit,
and his daughters cut down trees to place around it. Mr. Mann and
family dug a hole in the side of the hill and crawled into it. If I
had my way I would have kept out of the pit altogether and watched my
chance to escape.

We fully expected the troops to follow but they did not; and early in
the morning we were up and off again. Some of the Indians went back to
see how about the troops, and came back with the report that the
"police" (they call all soldiers police) had vanished, they were
afraid. When I heard it, I fairly sank, and the slight spark of hope I
had, had almost gone out. Just to think that succor was so near, yet
alas! so far. But for Mrs. Delaney I would have given way and allowed
myself to perish.

CHAPTER XIV.

INDIAN BOYS.

Just here a word about Indian boys would not be amiss. An Indian boy
is a live, wild, and untamed being. He is full of mischief and cruelty
to those he hates, and passably kind to those he likes. I never saw in
their character anything that could be called love. They have no idea
of such a tender tie. Thus by nature he is cruel without having a
sense of humor, much less gayety, and in all my experience I never saw
or heard one give a hearty laugh, except on the occasion of a mishap
or accident to any one, and then the little fragment of humor is
aroused.

He is skillful in drawing his bow and sling, and has a keenness of
sight and hearing. He takes to the life of a hunter as a duck takes to
water, and his delight is in shooting fowl and animals. He does it all
with an ease and grace that is most astonishing. In everything of that
nature he is very skillful. Pony riding is his great delight, when the
ponies were not otherwise engaged, but during my stay with them, there
was too much excitement and change all around for the boys to exercise
that animal.

While we were driving along after breaking up camp the little fellows
would run along and pick flowers for us, one vieing with the other as
to who would get the most and the prettiest. They were gifted with a
most remarkable memory and a slight was not very soon forgotten, while
a kindness held the same place in their memory.

The general behaviour of Indian boys was nevertheless most intolerable
to us white people. In the tepee there was no light and very often no
fuel, and owing to the forced marches there was not much time for
cutting wood, also it was hard to light as it was so green and sappy.
The boys would then wrap themselves up in a blanket, but not to sleep,
only to yell and sing as if to keep in the heat. They would keep this
up until they finally dozed off; very often that would be in the early
hours of the morning.

Like father, like son; the virtues of young Indians were extremely
few. They reach their tether when they fail to benefit self. Their
morality was in a very low state. I do not remember that I saw much of
it, if I did it was hardly noticible.

Where the charm of a savage life comes in I do not know, I failed to
observe it during my experience in the camp of the Crees. The charm is
a delusion, except perhaps when viewed from the deck of a steamer as
it glided along the large rivers and lakes of the Indian country, or
perhaps within the pages of a blood and thunder novel.

CHAPTER XV.

HOPE ALMOST DEFERRED.

Almost a week afterwards, on a Saturday night, the fighting Indians
gathered around a tepee near ours and began that never ending dancing
and singing. It was a most unusual thing for them to dance so close to
our tent. They had never done so before. It betokened no good on their
part and looked extremely suspicious. It seemed to me that they were
there to fulfil the threat they made some time previous, that they
would put an end to us soon. The hour was late and that made it all
the more certain that our doom had come. I became very nervous and
frightened at what was going on. When all at once there was a
scattering, and running, and yelling at the top of their voices,
looking for squaws and children, and tearing down tents, while we two
sat in ours in the depths of despair, waiting for further
developments. I clung to Mrs. Delaney like my own mother, not knowing
what to do. The cause of the stampede we were told was that they had
heard the report of a gun. That report was fortunate for us, as it was
the intention of the Indians to wrench us from our half-breed
protectors and kill us.

The tents were all down and in a very few minutes we were on the move
again. It was Sunday morning at an early hour, raining heavily, and
cold. We were compelled to travel all that day until eleven o'clock at
night. The halt was only given then, because the brutes were tired
themselves. Tents were pitched and comparative quietness reigned. Our
bedding consisted of one blanket which was soaked with water. Andre
Nault took pity on us and gave us his, and tried in every way to make
us comfortable. I had a great aversion to that fellow, I was afraid to
look at him I was so weak and tired that I could not sleep but for
only a few minutes. I had given up and despair had entered my mind. I
told Mrs. Delaney I wished I could never see morning, as I had nothing
to look forward to but certain death. In that frame of mind I passed
the night.

CHAPTER XVI.

OUT OF BIG BEAR'S CAMP.

Monday morning, May 31st, was ushered in dark and gloomy, foggy and
raining, but it proved to be the happiest day we had spent since the
31st of March. As the night was passing, I felt its oppressiveness, I
shuddered with the thought of what another day might bring forth; but
deliverance it seems was not far away; it was even now at hand. When
the light of day had swallowed up the blackness of darkness, the first
words that greeted my ears was Pritchard saying "I am going to watch
my chance and get out of the camp of Big Bear." Oh! what we suffered,
Oh! what we endured, during those two long months, as captives among a
horde of semi-barbarians. And to think that we would elude them, just
when I was giving up in despair. It is said that the darkest hour is
that which preceedes dawn; weeping may endure for a night, but joy
cometh in the morning. So with me, in my utter prostration, in the act
of giving way, God heard my prayer, and opened a way of deliverance,
and we made the best of the opportunity.

"No foe, no dangerous path we lead,
Brook no delay, but onward speed."

Some of the Indians it seems had come across General Strange's scouts
the night before, and in consequence, all kinds of rumors were afloat
among the band. They were all very much frightened, for it looked as
if they were about to be surrounded. So a move, and a quick one, was
made by them, at an early hour, leaving the half-breeds to follow on.
This was now the golden opportunity, and Pritchard grasped it, and
with him, five other half-breed families fled in an opposite
direction, thereby severing our connection with the band nominally led
by Big Bear.

We cut through the woods, making a road, dividing the thick brush,
driving across creeks and over logs. On we sped. At one time hanging
on by a corner of the bedding in order to keep from falling off the
waggon. Another time I fell off the waggon while fording a stream; my
back got so sore that I could not walk much. On we went roaming
through the forest, not knowing where we were going, until the night
of June 3rd the cry was made by Mrs. Pritchard with unfeigned disgust,
"that the police were coming." Mrs. Delaney was making bannock for the
next morning's meal, while I with cotton and crochet needle was making
trimming for the dresses of Mrs. Pritchards nine half-breed babies.

I threw the trimming work to the other end of the tent, and Mrs.
Delaney called upon Mrs. Pritchard to finish making the bannocks
herself, and we both rushed out just as the scouts galloped in.

CHAPTER XVII.

RESCUED.

Rescued! at last, and from a life worse than death. I was so overjoyed
that I sat down and cried. The rescuing party were members of General
Strange's scouts, led by two friends of my late husband, William
McKay, and Peter Ballentyne of Battleford. We were so glad to see
them. They had provisions with them, and they asked us if we wanted
anything to eat. We told them we had bannock and bacon, but partook of
their canned beef and hard tack. It was clean and good; and was the
first meal we enjoyed for two months.

I could not realize that I was safe until I reached Fort Pitt. The
soldiers came out to welcome us back to life. The stories they heard
about us were so terrible, that they could scarcely believe we were
the same.

The steamer was in waiting to take us to Battleford. Rev. Mr. Gordon
took my arm and led me on board. The same gentleman gave us hats, we
had no covering for our heads for the entire two months we were
captives We were very scant for clothing. Mrs. Delaney had a ragged
print dress, while I managed to save one an Indian boy brought me
while in camp. Upon reaching Battleford we were taken to the residence
of Mr. Laurie.

Coming down on the steamer, on nearing a little island, we saw a
number of squaws fishing and waving white flags. All along wherever we
passed the Indians, they were carrying white flags as a token that
they had washed off their war paint and desired rest.

CHAPTER XVIII.

WE LEAVE FOR HOME.

We leave Battleford for Swift Current, and our journey takes us across
the prairie; that same stretch that I travelled a few months before,
but under different circumstances and associations. Then I went up as
a happy bride, Now I go down _alone_ and bowed with grief. Everything
around is full of life, the prairie is a sea of green interspersed
with beautiful flowers and plants. It is a pretty scene to feast upon,
yet my soul cannot drink it in. I am on the way to friends, a feeling
of desolation takes hold of me; but I must control myself, and by
God's help I will, for his goodness is forever sure.

Rev. John McDougall, Dr. Hooper, Captain Dillon, Capt. Nash and
Messrs. Fox and Bayley, of Toronto, and Mrs. Laurie accompanied us on
the journey, and did everything they could to make us comfortable. The
trip over the prairie was a pleasant one. When we got to the South
Saskatchewan, a thunder storm came on which roughened the water so, we
could not cross for about an hour. After it quieted down a scow came
and carried us over. Friends there took care of us for the night, and
on the 1st of July we boarded a train for Moose Jaw. Capt. Dillon on
going to the post office met several young ladies in a carriage who
asked where we were as they wished to take us to their homes for tea,
he informed them that the train had only a few minutes to stop and
that it would be impossible. Those same young ladies were back to the
train before it started with a bottle of milk and a box full of
eatables. At eleven o'clock p.m., we arrived at Regina, and remained
with Mr. and Mrs. Fowler, going next morning to a hotel. We were there
four days. At Moose Jaw we received the following kind letter from
Mrs. C. F. Bennett, of Winnipeg:--

NEW DOUGLASS HOUSE, WINNIPEG, JUNE 8TH, 1885.

Mrs. Delaney and Mrs. Gowanlock:

DEAR MADAMS,--Although an entire stranger to both of you, I cannot
resist the impulse to write you a few lines to say how thankful and
delightful I am to hear of your rescue.

Before I was dressed this morning; my husband came up to tell me that
you were both safe. And I cannot express to you, neither can you
comprehend the joy that intelligence brought to everyone. The terrible
stories of your being tortured and finally murdered, outraged the
feelings of the whole civilized world, and while men swore to avenge
your wrongs, women mourned you, as sisters.

I am very thankful to see by the papers that you were not so inhumanly
treated as reported, although your experience has been a terrible
one--and one which you can never forget.

I presume that as soon as you are a little rested, you will go east to
your friends; should you do so, I will be most happy to entertain you
while you are in Winnipeg.

After your captivity, you must be destitute of everything, and if you
will come down here, we will be delighted to supply you with what you
require. I do not know if you have personal friends here, or not, but
your sufferings have given you a sister's place in every heart, and
_every one_ in Winnipeg would be deeply disappointed if you did
not give them an opportunity of expressing their deep sympathy and
regards.

Mr. Bennett unites with me in best wishes, and in hopes that you will
accept our hospitality on your way east.

I am in deepest sympathy,
Sincerely yours,
MRS. C. F. BENNETT.

I shall never forget the words of sympathy that are expressed in this
epistle, or the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. McCaul and the people of
Winnipeg generally. On our way from Winnipeg to Parkdale we received
every attention and assistance, which I can assure the reader went a
long way in making sorrow lighter and more able to bear. I thank God
for the sympathy that was extended to me by his people. Mr. J. K.
Macdonald of Toronto, was most assiduous in his attention to us from
Winnipeg until we left the train at Parkdale on the 12th of July. I
must not forget the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong also of
Toronto, or the other ladies and gentlemen who were our fellow
passengers on the journey.

CHAPTER XIX

AT HOME.

Home--torn from mine--back to the parental. I will now look back over
the scene, taking a panoramic view of the whole, as it occurred from
the day I left my father's house full of happiness and joy, until I
entered it full of sorrow and suffering.

It is well for mankind that they are forbidden the knowledge of what
will be their destiny. It was well-conceived by a loving father that
it was for our interest to be kept in ignorance of what was in store,
for we, his creatures. And thus it was that I entered upon the duties
of the household, with a lightness of heart equal to that of any
matron. In the humble home (I commence from there) in that beautiful
north-west land of quietness and peace, there was not a ruffle heard,
or a rumor sounded, of what was in store for that industrious little
community. We were living in the bonds of fellowship with all mankind,
and we had no fear. But in all that stillness there was an
undercurrent at work that would soon make itself felt. Dissatisfaction
on account of grievances, real or fancied, was blowing. It had broken
out in one place, why should it not in another. This disaffected
spirit was prevalent in all parts of that country. Who was to blame?
who was the cause? direct or indirect, it is not my intention or
desire to say; suffice it is to note, that there was discontent; and
therefore there must have, been grievances, and an attempt should have
been made or an understanding arrived at, whereby this state of
discontent should have been replaced by that of content, without
disturbance. Where there is discontent there must be badness and
suffering, with evils and excesses lying in its wake.

To have removed those grievances was the imperative duty of the
dispensers of law and order and thus avoid those excesses, but it was
not done in time and the inevitable did come swift and sure; the
innocent were made to feel its fury. For that little hamlet by the
creek was entered, and its domestic quietness destroyed and future
prospects blighted. There was a degree of uneasiness felt after we
were informed of the horror of Duck Lake. Two half-breeds, Blondin and
Donaire, who were employed by my husband, were observed in frequent
and earnest conversation with the Indians. Those two had but arrived
from the scene at Duck Lake. For what were they there? Was it to
incite the Indians? Their actions were, to say the least, suspicious.

I will not dwell on the terrible slaughter which followed, it is too
painful a subject, simply stating that I had not believed that
anything so awful would have been perpetrated by either half-breeds or
Indians, until we were taken out of Mrs. Delaney's the second time,
and then I felt that there would be trouble, but not in such a manner
as that. When I was dragged from the death-bed of my husband, who had
the ground for a couch and the canopy of heaven for a coverlet, I was
in a bewildered condition. Half-unconsciously I allowed the Indian to
drag me on to his tepee, and once in, the circumstances which led to
my position, flitted through my brain in quick succession. I then
realized that it was most critical; in a few hours I would be forced
to undergo ill-treatment that would very soon kill me. With those
thoughts within my mind, the tepee opened and a little girl entered,
an angel sent by God to be my deliverer. Although not aware, she was
his instrument in taking me out of danger and placing me in a purer
atmosphere. That child was Pritchard's little girl and I asked her to
send her father. He came and by his influence I was transferred to his
care for a while. And when I entered his tent and there saw Mrs.
Delaney, I was overjoyed for a minute, and then all was a blank; the
excitement proved too much for me and I swooned away. When I returned
to consciousness they were all doing their best for me.

In a short time Blondin came in, (at the commencement of the massacre
he left for our house) he brought with him our waggon, and oxen, and
all the furniture and provisions he could take. Immediately thereafter
the Indians appeared and it was then that he offered them $30 and a
horse for our release. The offer was accepted and I was transferred to
Blondin. The wretch was there with evil intent in his heart. I fully
believe that he felt exultant over the doings of the day. Why did he
go down to our house when that dreadful affair was going on? Why did
he help himself to our goods? _Only_ for a bad purpose. Oh! God I
saw it all. He had everything arranged for me to live with him. All my
husband's things; all my things; and a tent. But I refused to accept
him or his conditions. I resented the infamous proposals as strongly
as I was able, and appealed to John Pritchard for protection and he
generously granted my request. I will never forget his kindness to me
as long as I live: "Yes, Mrs. Gowanlock, you can share my tent, with
myself and family, and I will protect you."

That dated the commencement of the shameful treatment I received at
the hands of Blondin, and whenever Pritchard was absent, it was meted
out to me to the full. Blondin purchased my liberty, that would have
been a good action if prompted by honorable motives, but in the
absence of that it has no weight with me. He was amply repaid, he got
our oxen, our waggon, our provisions, our clothes, we had money there,
perhaps he got that. I have wondered since was it not my money with
which he purchased me. By the help of God I was saved from him; and a
life worse than death. If the worst had come I would have drowned or
killed myself; but it did not. "God moves in a mysterious way."

During the next two months I was called upon to witness heart-rending
scenes; first the brutal treatment of the dead bodies of our
husbands', as well as cruelty to ourselves; for even under Pritchard's
care we were not safe and did not know what minute would be our last.
Not content with murdering them in cold blood, they must needs perform
diabolical deeds which causes me to shudder when I think of it. They
danced around them with demoniac glee, kicking and pulling them in
every direction, and we were the unwilling witnesses of such
behaviour. And when we had them buried under the church they burned it
down, with dancing and yelling, accompanied with hysterical laughter.
The sight was sickening to me and I was glad they moved in the
direction of Fort Pitt, leaving that place with all its associations
of suffering and death. But when I heard that they intended to take
the Fort, and destroy more life, I felt that I would rather remain
where we were than witness any more scenes of so sad a nature. I have
no happy tale to tell for this period was filled with woe and pain.

I will not enumerate further the trials I had to undergo day after
day, but will pass rapidly on until the gladsome note was sounded by
our hostess Mrs. Pritchard the "police are here." God delivered us
again.

It is unnecessary to itemize in detail what passed from that time
until I reached Ontario. I have told my tale, simple and truthful, and
what remains for me now is my old home, my old associations, and my
old life--the lines are hard to bear--"Thy will not mine be done."

Once I thought my cross to heavy,
And my heart was sore afraid,
Summoned forth to stand a witness
For the cause of truth betrayed.

"Send, O Lord," I prayed, "some Simon,
As of old was sent to Thee."
"Be a Simon," said the Master,
"For this cross belongs to me."

Still is crucified my Saviour,
I myself must a Simon be;
Take my cross and walk humbly
Up the slopes of Calvary.

TO ONE OF THE ABSENT.

You bade me good-bye with a smile, love,
And away to the west wild and drear;
At the sound of war's bugle shrill calling
You went without shadow of fear.
But when I complained of your going,
To face dangers untold in the west;
You chided me gently by singing:
"Encourage me dear 'twill be best."

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