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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How will I attempt to describe it! There is so much to tell and yet I
know not what is best to record and what is best to leave out.

Half a day's journey from Troy we crossed the Qu'Appelle river. The
scenery upon the banks of that most picturesque of streams would
demand the pencil of a Claude Lorraine, or the pen of a Washington
Irving to do it justice. Such hills I never before beheld. Not
altogether for size but for beauty. Clad in a garb of the deepest
green they towered aloft, like the battlement of two rival
fortresses--and while the sun lit up the hills to our right, the
shades of mid-day deepened upon the frowning buttresses to our left.
Every tree seemed to have a peculiar hue, a certain depth of color
completely its own. Indeed, one would imagine that Dame Nature had
been trying a gigantic crazy quilt and had flung it over the bed of
the Qu'Appelle valley, that all who went by might admire her
handiwork.

I might here remark that the days of the summer are longer, in the
north-west, than in the Ottawa district. In fact, we used to rise at
three o'clock in the morning and drive for three hours before our
breakfast. It would then be grey dawn and the flush of approaching
day-light could be seen over the eastern hills. At nine o'clock in the
evening it would be twilight The days of midwinter are proportionately
shorter.

The road we had to travel was a lovely one: at times it might be a
little rough, but indeed it could well compare with most of the roads
in our more civilized places. Nearly every night we managed to reach a
clump of bushes or shelter to camp. Except for two days, when on the
"Salt Plains," when like the caravans in the deserts of the east we
had to carry our own fuel and water.

We crossed the South Saskatchewan at Aroline--or the "Telegraph
Crossing," also known as Clark's Ferry--from the man who kept the
ferry, and who made the new trail running to the Touchwood Hills. We
again crossed the North Saskatchewan near Fort Pitt--which is
thirty-five miles from our destination.

We went by the river road, and after we crossed the salt plains, and
got into the woods at Eagle Creek, we had a splendid trip through a
rich fertile abundant farming country. The houses are not very
attractive, but the farms are really fine. I will dwell upon this
question at a greater length presently.

That less confusion may take place, I will sub-divide this chapter
into three sections. In the first I will speak of the farms and
farmers--their homes and how they live; in the second, I will describe
our own home and its surroundings; and in the third, I will speak of
the Indians under my husband's control, and tell how we got along
during the three years I was there.

THE FARMERS AND THEIR FARMS.

It would be out of place and even impossible for me, at present to
give you any figures relating to the crops and harvests of the
North-West. Suffice, to say that for two summers, at Frog Lake,
in my husband's district, we raised wheat that was pronounced by
competent judges to equal the best that ever grew in Ontario.

The land is fertile and essentially a grain-bearing soil. It is easy
to clear, and is comparatively very level. There is ample opportunity
to utilize miles upon miles of it, and the farms that exist, at
present, are evidences of what others might be. No one can tell the
number of people that there is room for in the country. Europe's
millions might emigrate and spread, themselves over that immense
territory, and still there would be land and ample place for those of
future generations. We were eight hundred miles from Winnipeg, and
even at that great distance we were, to use the words of Lord
Dufferin, "only in the anti-chamber of the great North-West."

The country has been well described by hundreds, it has also been
falsely reported upon by thousands. At first it was the "Great Lone
Land,"--the country of bleak winter, eternal snow and fearful
blizzards. Then it became a little better known, and, suddenly it
dawned upon the world that a great country lie sleeping in the arms of
nature, and awaiting the call of civilization to awaken it up and send
it forth on a mission of importance. The "boom" began. All thoughts
were directed to the land of the Rockies. Pictures of plenty and
abundance floated before the vision of many thousands. Homes in the
east were abandoned to rush into the wilds of the West. No gold fever
of the South was ever more exciting, and to add thereto, they found
that the government proposed building a line of railway from end to
end of the Dominion. Then the Frazer, Saskatchewan, Red River and
Assiniboine became household words.

In this story of a fancied land of plenty, there was much truth, but
as in every case in life, there was much falsehood as well. It suited
the purpose of monied speculators to laud to the skies the North-west
in general. But rich and extensive as the land may be, no man can
expect to make a fortune there, unless through hard labor, never
ceasing exertion and great watchfulness. There, as in all other lands,
you must "earn your bread by the sweat of your brow." That sentence
passed on man, when the, first sin darkened his soul, shall exist and
be carried into execution unto the end of time. And no man is exempt,
and no land is free from it. Many have failed in finding riches in the
North-West; gold did not glitter along the highway, nor were precious
stones to be picked up in every foot path. The reason is, because they
went there expecting to have no work to do, merely to sit down, to go
to bed, to sleep and wake up some morning millionaires. But those who
put their shoulder to the wheel and their hands to the plough, turned
up as rich a soil as England's flag floats over, and sowed seeds that
gave returns as plentiful as the most abundant harvests on the
continent. It would do one good to drive along the river road by the
Saskatchewan, and observe those elegant, level, fertile, well tilled
farms that dot the country. It is a great distance to procure
materials for building, and as yet the most of the houses are rough
and small, but comfortable and warm, and sufficient for the needs of
the farmers.

Much of the labor is done in the old style, as in my own native place,
before the days of machinery. But soon we will see the mower and
reaper finding their way into the very furthest settlements--and if
ever there was a country laid out for the use of machinery it is
certainly the north-west.

Before many years, there will be good markets for the produce, as the
towns are growing up pretty rapidly and the railroad is lending a
great encouragement to the farmers near the line.

Half a century ago the country was unheard of, save through the Hudson
Bay Company's agents and factors: quarter of a century ago it was
considered a _probably_ future portion of our Dominion. Behold it
to-day! Its cities, its roads, its villages, its farms, its
inhabitants! What then may the immense territory not become before
fifty years more shall have rolled into eternity? I do not feel myself
competent to judge-but I have no doubt but it will become the grainery
of the continent and the supplier of half Europe.

The farmer in the Provinces who has a good farm and who can make a
fair living would be foolish to leave it for the hazard of an attempt
in the new country. But should a person be commencing life and have
the intention of depending upon themselves, their own exertion and
energy, then the sun shines not on a finer land, holding out a broader
prospect than in that great country that lies towards the Pacific.

I have only spoken hurriedly and from a general standpoint of the
farmers, and when I say farmers, I mean white people. The Indian
fanning is of a different nature altogether. That will demand my
attention before I close this chapter.

FROG LAKE AND SURROUNDINGS.

Although the name of the place would indicate that the lake abounded
in frogs, still I have no recollection of seeing any extra number of
them around the place. I think the name comes from a tradition--
perhaps in some age, long lost in the twilight of Indian story, the
frogs may have been more plentiful in that special locality than
elsewhere. Twenty miles for our farm and twelve miles from Fort Pitt
is "Onion Lake", farm, where my husband spent his first winter. I
cannot tell how that place got its name no more than how our district
was called _Aieekesegahagan_. When I first arrived at Frog Lake
there were no buildings excepting my husband's house and warehouse--a
shed and garden, added thereto, formed the whole establishment. These
were built by my husband. Since then, in the course of three years
that I was there, several buildings were put up, until, in fine, our
little settlement became quite a village.

Mr. Quinn's, (the agent) house, and his storehouse, were erected since
I arrived there. Mr. Quinn was the gentleman whose name has appeared
so much in the public prints since the sad events of the second of
April last. When I come to my experience during the last three months
of my North-West life, I will give more fully the story of Mr. Quinn's
fate. There were three reserves near us, the Indians upon which were
under my husband's control--In the next section of this chapter I will
refer to these bands and give what I know about them.

The scenery around Frog Lake is surpassingly beautiful. We lived on
Frog Creek, which runs from the Lake into the North Saskatchewan. In
October last, Mr. Gowanlock, who shared the same fate as my husband,
and whose kind and gentle wife was my companion through all the
troubles and exposures of our captivity and escape, began to build a
mill two miles from our place, on the waters of Frog Creek. He put up
a saw mill and had all the timber ready to complete a grist mill, when
he was cut short in his early life, and his wife was cast upon the
mercy of Providence. They lived two miles from us. Many of those whom
I knew were mill hands. Gilchrist who was killed, was an employee of
Mr. Gowanlock.

Frog Lake is pretty large. I know that in one direction it is twelve
miles long. In the centre of the lake is a large island, that is
clothed in a garb of evergreen. The pine and spruce upon it are extra
large, sound and plentiful. In fact it would be difficult to find a
place where better timber for building and other purposes, could be
cut. The place is gradually becoming developed, and when I consider
all that has been done, in the way of improvement, since I first went
there, I would not be surprised to learn, that in the near future, the
principal parts of the country shall be under cultivation, that the
clang of the mill shall be heard upon every stream, and that down the
Saskatchewan may float the produce of a fresh, a virgin, a teeming
soil, to supply the markets of the Old World, and to supplant the
over-worked fields of the eastern countries.

Also since my arrival at the Frog Lake Reserve, the priest's house,
the school house and church were built. Even there in the far west,
away so to speak, from the atmosphere of civilization, beyond the
confines of society, we have what Sir Alexander Selkirk mourned for so
much, when alone on Juan Fernandez--_Religion_. Even there, the
ministers of the Gospel, faithful to their duties, and mindful of the
great command to "go forth and teach all nations,"--leaving their
homes and friends in the land of the east, seek out the children of
those Indian tribes, and bring to them the lights of faith and
instruction. Untiring in their exertions, indefatigable in their
labors, they set a glorious example, and perform prodigies of good.
The church was small, but neat, although its ornaments are few, still
I am sure that as fervent and as acceptable prayers went up, like
incense, towards heaven, and blessings as choice, like dew, fell upon
the humble worshippers, as ever the peal of the cathedral organ
announced, or as ever descended upon the faithful beneath the gorgeous
domes of the most splendid Basilicas. Memory still often summons up
before me the scenes of silent, dusky, faithful children of the
forest, kneeling in prayer, and with mingled feelings of awe, wonder,
admiration and confidence, listening to the divine truths as explained
in their own language, by the missionaries. But the picture becomes
dark, when I reflect upon the fate of the two good men whose sad story
I have yet to tell. Most assuredly theirs was a _confession of
blood_--and dying at their posts, faithful to their mission,
relieving the soul of an expiring Christian when the hand of death
fell upon them. Theirs must have been a triumphal entry into heaven,
to the kingdom of God! The great cross that the 90th Battalion placed
over the united graves of the victims of the Frog Lake massacre, is a
fitting emblem and a worthy monument; its base rests upon the soil
that covers their union in the grave, but its summits points to where
their souls are united above.

I will now take up the question of the Indians under my husband's
control, and I will tell how they got along, improved, and were
contented and happy. That will bring me to my last and all important
chapter--the one which will contain the story so tragically mournful.

THE INDIANS AS THEY ARE

It would not become me, perhaps, to comment upon the manner in which
the country is governed, and the Indians instructed, for I am no
politician. In fact I don't know one party from another except by
name. But I cannot permit this occasion, the last I may ever have, to
go past without saying plainly what I think and what I know about the
north-west and its troubles.

The half-breeds, or whites or others may have real or imaginary
grievances that they desire to see redressed. If they have, I know
nothing about them; I never had anything to do with them and maybe I
could not understand the nature of their claims, even if explained to
me. But be that as it may--even if I did know aught I would not feel
myself justified in writing down that which I could only have learned
by hear say. But there is one thing I do know and most emphatically
desire to express and have thoroughly understood and that is the fact,
_the Indians have no grievances and no complaints to make_. Their
treatment is of the best and most generous kind. The government spares
no pains to attempt to make them adopt an agricultural life, to teach
them to rely upon their own strength, to become independent people and
good citizens. Of the Indians I can speak openly for I know them
thoroughly. There may be, here and there, a bad man amongst them; but
as a people they are submissive, kind, and, if only from curiosity,
they are anxious to learn. My husband remarked that according as they
advanced in their agricultural knowledge that they commenced to have a
liking for it. And I noticed the same in the young squaws whom I
undertook to instruct in household duties.

Many an English, Scotch or Irish farmer, when he comes poor to Canada
and strives to take up a little farm for himself, if he had only one
half the advantages that the government affords to the Indians, he
would consider his fortune forever made. They need never want for
food. Their rations are most regularly dealt out to them and they are
paid to clear and cultivate their own land. They work for themselves
and are, moreover, paid to do so--and should a crop fail they are
certain of their food, anyway. I ask if a man could reasonably expect
more? Is it not then unjust to lead these poor people into a trouble
which--can but injure them deeply! If half-breeds have grievances let
them get them redressed if they chose, but let them not mix up the
Indians in their troubles. The Indians, have nothing to complain of
and as a race they are happy their quite home of the wilderness and I
consider it a great shame for evil-minded people, whether whites or
half-breeds, to instill into their excitable heads the false idea that
they are presecuted by the government. In speaking thus I refer to
_our_ Indians that is to say those under my late husband's control.
But if all government agencies and reserves are like that at Frog
Lake, I hesitate not to say, that the government is over good to
the restless bands of the west.

I have no intention in my sketch to use any names--for if I mention
one of my friends I should mention them all and that would be almost
impossible. No more will I mention the names of any persons who might
be implicated in the strange and dishonest acts that have taken place
previous to, during and since the outbreak. Yet I feel it a duty to
present a true picture of the situation of the Indian bands and of the
two great powers that govern in the country and whose interests are
the very opposite of each other.

These two governing parties are the Hudson Bay Company and the
Dominion Government. There is not the slightest doubt, but their
interests are directly opposed. The company has made its millions out
of the fur trade and its present support is the same trade. The more
the Indians hunt the more the Company can make. Now the Government
desires to civilize them and to teach them to cultivate the soil. The
more the Indian works on his farm the less the Company gets in the way
of fur. Again, the more the Government supplies the Indians with
rations the less the Company can sell to them.

Two buffalos are not given for a glass of whiskey--one-third highwines
and two-thirds water--as when the Company had full sway. The fire-
water is not permitted to be brought to them now. No longer have the
Indians to pay the exorbitant prices for pork, flour, tea, &c., that
the Company charged them. The Government has rendered it unnecessary
for them to thus sacrifice their time and means. Did the Company ever
try to civilize or christianize the Indians! Most certainly not. The
more they became enlightened the less hold the Company would have upon
them. Again, if it were not for the Government, the lights of the
gospel would scarcely ever reach them. The more the Government
civilizes them and developes the country, the less plentiful the game
becomes, and the less profit the Company can make. Therefore it is
that I say, the interests of the Company and those of the Government
are contradictory. The former wants no civilization, plenty of game,
and Indians that will hunt all the year around. The latter require
agriculture, the soil to be taken from the wild state, the rays of
faith and instruction to penetrate the furthest recess of the land,
and to have a race that can become worthy of the dignity of citizens
in a civilized country. So much the worse for the Government if the
Indians rebel and so much the worse for the Indians themselves; but so
much the better for the Company's interests.

I have my own private opinions upon the causes of the rebellion but do
not deem it well or proper to express them. There are others besides
the half-breeds and Big Bear and his men connected with the affair.
There are many objects to be gamed by such means and there is a "wheel
within a wheel" in the North-West troubles.

As far as I can judge of the Indian character, they are not, at all,
an agricultural people--nor for a few generations are they likely to
become such. Their habits are formed, their lives are directed in a
certain line--like a sapling you can bend at will and when grown into
a tree you can no longer change its shape-so with them. From time
immemorial they have ranged the woods and it is not in the present nor
even the next generation that you can uproot that inclination. Take
the negro from the south and place him amongst the ice-bergs of the
arctic circle and strive to make him accustomed to the hunting of the
seal or harpooning of the walrus;--or else bring down an Esquimaux and
put him into a sugar-cane plantation of the topics. In fact, take a
thorough going farmer from the old-country and attempt to accustom him
to hunt moose and trap beaver. He may get expert at it; but give him a
chance and he will soon fling away the traps and pick up the spade,
lay down the rifle and take hold of the plough. So it is with the
Indians--they may get a taste for farming, but they prefer to hunt.
Even the best amongst them had to have a month every spring and
another month every fall to hunt. And they would count the weeks and
look as anxiously forward to those few days of freedom, of unbridled
liberty, as a school-boy looks forward to his mid-summer holidays.

Yet, in spite of this hankering after the woods and the freedom of the
chase, they are a people easily instructed, quick to learn, (when they
like to do so), and very submissive and grateful. But they are very,
very improvident. So long as they have enough for to-day, let to-
morrow look out for itself. Even upon great festivals such as
Christmas, when my husband would give them a double allowance of
rations, they would come before our house, fire off their guns as a
token of joy and thanks, and then proceed with their feast and never
stop until they had the double allowance all eaten up and not a scrap
left for the next day.

In my own sphere I was often quite amused with the young squaws. They
used to do my house-work for me. I would do each special thing for
them--from cleaning, scrubbing, washing, cooking to sewing, fancy
work, &c. and they would rival each other in learning to follow me.
They would feel as proud when they could perform some simple little
work, as a child feels when he has learned his A. B. Cs. With time and
care, good house-keepers could be made of many of them, and it is too
bad to see so many clever, naturally gifted, bright creatures left in
ignorance and misery. I think it was in Gray's Elegy that I read the
line: "How many a flower is born to blush unseen, and waste its
fragrance on the desert air."

When I look back over these three years, I feel a pang of more than
sorrow. Ours was a happy home; I grew to like my surroundings, I
became fond of my Indian protegees, and to crown all, in December
last, Mrs. Gowanlock came to live near us. I felt that even though a
letter from home should be delayed, that I would not feel as lonesome
as before. My husband was generous to a fault. He was liked by all the
bands;--our white neighbours were few, but they were splendid people,
fast and true friends, and I might say since Mrs. Gowanlock arrived, I
felt at home; I looked upon the place as my own, and the Indian
children as my children; the same as my husband looked upon the men as
his care, and they regarded him as a father. It was no longer to be a
lonely life. It was to become a life of usefulness, joy, labor, peace
and contentment. Such was the vision I had of the future, about the
middle of last winter! But who knows what is in store for us! "There
is a Providence that shapes our ends, rough-hew them as we will!"

I will here quote a few lines from deposition given at Regina: "When
he, (my husband) first came up here, he had five bands to look after
until a year ago, when the Chippewans were taken from his supervision
and given to Mr. John Fitzpatrick. A little later, Mr. Fitzpatrick was
transferred to another jurisdiction, and the Chippewans came again
under my husband's care. He then had to look after the Chippewans,
Oneepewhayaws, Mistoo-Kooceawsis and Puskeakeewins, and last year he
had Big Bear's tribe. He was so engaged when the outbreak took place.
All the Indians were very peacably inclined and most friendly to us
all. My husband was much respected, and really beloved by all under
his care, and they seemed to be most attached to him. We were,
therefore, greatly astonished at their action towards us, but after
all it was only Big Bear's followers that showed their enmity towards
us. These too, pretended to be most friendly, and have often told us,
'that but for my husband they would have starved.'"

With this, I close my second chapter, and will now, in the third offer
my readers a picture of the scenes from the first of April last until
the close of the struggle.

CHAPTER III.

THE NORTH-WEST TROUBLE.

There are scenes that are hard to properly describe. There are parts
of our lives that can never be reproduced or transmitted to others
upon paper. As Father Abram J. Ryan, the Poet Priest of the South so
beautifully tells us:

"But far on the deep there are billows,
That never shall break on the beach;
And I have heard Songs in the Silence,
That never shall float into speech;
And I have had dreams in the Valley,
_Too lofty for language to reach."_

So with me and my story. However I may have succeeded so far in
expressing what I desired to convey to the public, I feel confident
that I am far from able to do justice to this last chapter. The events
crowd upon my mind in a sort of kaliedescope confusion and scarcely
have the intention of giving expression to an idea, than a hundred
others crop up to usurp its place in my mind. Although I will tell the
story of the tragic events as clearly and as truthfully as is
possible, still I know that years after this little sketch is printed,
I will remember incidents that now escape my memory. One has not time,
or inclination, when situated as I was, to take a cool survey of all
that passes and commit to memory every word that might be said or
remark that might be made. Notwithstanding the fear I have of leaving
out any points of interest or importance, I still imagine that my
simple narrative will prove sufficient to give an idea, imperfect
though it may be, of all the dangers we passed through, the sufferings
we underwent, and the hair-breadth escapes we had.

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