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Chapter Four
That was the turning-point; from that day Rob Nixon was an altered man. Of course, I do not mean that he at once found all his difficulties gone, his heart full of love, his prayers full of devotion; but from this time he felt, as he had never felt before, that he was “blind, and poor, and naked,” and far away from his home. His good and faithful friend, Peter, had given him wise and good advice, and had introduced him to the excellent minister of the settlement, Archdeacon Hunter, who soon became a daily visitor at Peter’s cottage.
Skilful in imparting religious knowledge, he was able, by slow degrees, to instruct the old hunter in the leading truths of Christianity. Once comprehended, the old man grasped them joyfully; and though long unaccustomed to the sight of a book, he set to work again to learn to read, that he might himself peruse the sacred volume. He, of course, learned in English, and it was curious to remark, how his countenance beamed with pleasure as he recognised once familiar, but long forgotten, letters and words, and how rapidly he recovered the knowledge he had possessed as a boy. His great delight was to attend the school-children’s service, and to hear them afterwards catechised by the minister; and the greyheaded, gaunt old man, might have been seen constantly sitting among them, truly as a little child, imbibing the truths of the Gospel. But, after a time, a change came over him. He appeared no longer content to remain, as hitherto, quietly in the cottage of his friend Peter, but spoke of wishing, once more, to be in the saddle, following his calling of a hunter. His rifle and accoutrements had carefully been brought home by Peter; but they would be of no use without a horse, powder and shot, and provisions. The autumn hunt, in which a large number of the natives of the Red River settlement engage every year, was about to commence; and, to Peter’s surprise and regret, Rob Nixon expressed his intention of accompanying them, should he be able to obtain the means of so doing. Peter trembled lest his old friend’s conversion should not have been real – lest the seed, which he had hoped would have borne good fruit, had, after all, been sown on stony ground. He delicately expressed his fears, describing the temptations to which a hunter is exposed. A tear appeared in the old man’s eye, as he called Peter’s eldest boy to him. “Friend, you love this boy?” he said. “I do, fondly,” was the natural answer. “And you love his soul?” he asked. “Far more surely. It is the most precious part of him,” said the Christian father. “I, too, have a son, and I love him; but I knew that he could take good care of himself, and so I left him with little regret,” said the hunter. “But now, friend, I know that he has a soul which is in danger of perishing, I long to seek him out, to tell him of his danger, to win him back to that Saviour from whom he has strayed so far. I have a daughter and a friend too, and that friend has children. To all I would show how they may be saved. I loved them once, thinking nothing of their souls. How much more do I love their souls now that I know their value!” Peter warmly grasped the old hunter’s hand, as he exclaimed, “Pardon me, father, that I had hard thoughts of you. I understand your object, and I doubt not that aid will be afforded you to carry it out, for it is surely one well pleasing in God’s sight. ‘He who converteth a sinner from the error of his way, shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins.’”
The whole matter being laid before the missionary minister the next day, he highly approved of the old hunter’s intention, and promised to aid him as far as he had the power. He was on the point of setting out to visit the settlements, as the Red River colony is called, and he invited Robert Nixon to accompany him, that he might there obtain the necessary aid for the accomplishment of his enterprise. It was agreed, in the first place, that the old man should not undertake the journey alone. The difficulty was to find a companion for him. Fortunately, two years before, a young Sioux had been taken prisoner by a party of Crees, a numerous, people, who inhabit the country round Lake Winnepeg, their lodges being found far in other directions. They, like the heathen Ojibways, are always at war with the Sioux, and no opportunity is lost of taking each others’ scalps. This young Sioux, to whom the name of Joseph had been given, was anxious to carry the glad tidings of salvation to his countrymen, and hearing of the old hunter’s wish, gladly volunteered to accompany him. Peter would willingly himself have been his companion, but that he had his duties as a teacher to attend to, and his family to care for; besides which, a Sioux would be able to enter the country of his people with less risk of being killed by them, than would one of the Cree, or Ojibway nation. Peter, however, insisted on Nixon taking his horse. “You can repay me for the hire some day, or your son can repay my children, should you bring him back. If it is not God’s will that you should succeed in your mission, yet I fear not that He will repay me, as the loan is for an object well pleasing in His sight.”
A horse for the young Sioux, as well as provisions and articles as gifts to propitiate any chiefs of tribes who might not know him, were still considered necessary, and these could only be procured at the Red River. The distance between the little colony of Prairie Portage and Red River is about sixty-five miles, but this neither the old hunter nor his companions thought in any way a long journey. The astonishment of Robert Nixon was very great on finding a well-beaten road the whole distance, over which wheeled carriages could pass with perfect ease; still more when he passed several farms, even to the west of Lane’s Post, which formed the termination of their first day’s journey. Their course was in the same direction as that of the Assiniboine, which very winding river they occasionally sighted. The banks were generally well clothed with fine wood, and the soil everywhere appeared to be of the richest quality. Considerably greater than before was the old man’s astonishment when, on the second day about noon, the party arrived at a comfortable farm, where the owner hospitably invited them to rest, and placed before them the usual luxuries to be found in a well-ordered farm-house in the old country, such as good wheat and maize bread, cheese, butter, bacon and eggs, with capital beer, and in addition, preserves and fruit, several vegetables, and fresh maize boiled, answering the purpose of green peas. A joint of mutton was roasting at the fire, and potatoes were boiling. After this repast, the farmer brought out a supply of tobacco which, he told his guests, grew on the farm. “Indeed, gentlemen, I may say we here live in plenty,” he observed; “and all we want are people to settle down about us, and make our lives more sociable than they now are. We have drawbacks, I’ll allow; and what farmer, even in the old country, can say that he has not? Ours are – early and late frosts, though chiefly the latter; grasshoppers, which will clear a field of every green thing in a night; and, occasionally, wolves and bears; but those gentry don’t like the smell of our gunpowder, and have mostly taken their departure. On the Red River farms they seldom or never hear of one, and the injury they can do us is but slight.”
This was the commencement of a long line of farms which extends, with few breaks, the whole distance to the Red River, into which the Assiniboine falls. Often the old hunter was silent, considering the unexpected scenes which met his sight, though he occasionally indulged in quiet remarks on them; but when, at length, the lofty and glittering spire of a large cathedral, (note) appearing, as the rays of the evening sun shone on it, as if formed of burnished silver – numerous edifices, some of considerable dimensions, scattered about – public buildings and dwelling houses – other churches in the distance – several windmills, with their white arms moving in the breeze, high above the richly tinted foliage of the trees, which formed an irregular fringe to the banks of the river flowing beneath them, while near at hand, at the point where the Assiniboine flows into the larger stream, rose the walls and battlements of a strong fort, whose frowning guns commanded the surrounding plains, – when he saw all this, the scene appeared to his bewildered eyes as if it had sprung up by the touch of the enchanter’s wand, in the midst of the desert. “Well! well!” he exclaimed, “and I have been living all this time, but a few weeks’ journey from this place, and never should have thought of it.” The sight of the large sails of the freighters’ boats made him somewhat uncomfortable, lest he should be carried off to sea, and he could scarcely be persuaded that he was still not far short of two thousand miles from the Atlantic ocean, and that there was no chance of his being kidnapped. He was even more frightened than his steed when a steamer came puffing up to a wharf below Fort Garry. “What creature is that they have aboard there?” he exclaimed, “Where does the strange craft come from? What is she going to do?” He sprang from his horse, and stood looking over the cliff at the steamer. He at once recognised her as a vessel, though of a construction wonderfully strange to his eyes, as no steamers had been built when he left England, and he had never heard of their invention. The stream of steam puffed off, and the loud screams accompanying it made him somewhat incredulous as to the nature of the vessel. When, however, all was quiet, and he saw a stream of people issuing from her side, he was satisfied that she was of mortal build, and he was at length persuaded to go down and examine her himself. It almost took away his breath, as he said, to find that vessels of far greater size now ploughed the ocean in every direction, and that continents were traversed by long lines of carriages, dragged by single locomotives, at the rate of forty miles an hour. After hearing of this, he was scarcely surprised at any of the wonders which were told him, and of the numerous discoveries and inventions which have been brought into practical use during half-a-century. At the close of the day the travellers reached a well-built rectory, on the banks of the river, where they were hospitably received and entertained. While seated in the evening before the fire with his host, the old man, as he looked round the room and observed the various comforts which it contained, heaved a deep sigh. “Ah! I feel now how sadly I have thrown my life away,” he exclaimed. “I might, but for my early folly, have enjoyed all the comforts of civilisation, and played my part as a civilised man, instead of living the life of a savage among savages.”
“Friend,” observed the minister, “this is not the only life. There is another and a better – to last for ever.
“Then you have no desire to return to your former friends, the Sioux?” the minister continued, after a pause. “Ah! yes; but not for the pleasure such a life as they lead could give me. There is the friend of my youth, and there are his children, and my children. My great desire is to return to them to tell them that they have souls, and what the Lord, in His loving kindness, has done for their souls.” The object of the old hunter was no sooner known in the settlement than he obtained all the assistance he could require. Few persons who had for so long led a savage life could have appreciated more fully than he now seemed to do the advantages of civilisation, and yet none of them could turn him from his purpose. Within five days he and his young Sioux companion, Joseph, were ready to set out. They had a led-horse to carry their provisions and presents, and they had arms, though rather to enable them to kill game for their support than for the purpose of fighting. “I pray that our hands may be lifted up against no man’s life, even though we may be attacked by those who are what we ourselves were but a short time back, and should still be, but for God’s grace,” said the old man, as he slung his rifle to his saddle-bow. Once more Robert Nixon turned his back on the abodes of civilised men. Had it not been for the object in view it would have been with a heavy heart. “If Tom and I had remained at school, and laboured on steadily, we might have been like one of those ministers of the Gospel, or settlers, and our children the same, instead of the young savages they now are, ignorant of God and His holy laws.” Thus he mused as he rode along. He and his young companion did not neglect the usual precautions, when they camped at night, to avoid discovery by any wandering natives who might be disposed to molest them.
The young Indian, though possessing much less religious knowledge than Peter, yet showed a sincere anxiety to fulfil his religious duties, and, without fail, a hymn was sung and prayer was offered up before starting on their day’s journey, and when they lay down on their beds of spruce, fir-twigs, or leaves, or dry grass, at night.
The travellers rode on day after day without encountering any material impediments to their progress. There were no rugged mountains to ascend, no dense forests to penetrate, or wild defiles amid which they had to find their way. There were rivers and streams; but some were easily forded, across others they swam their horses, and passed their provisions and goods on small rafts, which they towed behind them.
Leaving British territory, and moving west, the country had a barren and arid appearance. In many districts sand predominated, with sand-hills of more or less elevation; in others grass, growing in tufts out of the parched-up, stony ground, was the only herbage. Indeed, from north to south and east to west, for many hundred miles, there exists an extent of country, known as the Dakotah territory, unfitted, from the absence of water, to become the permanent abode of civilised man. Here, however, at certain seasons, herds of buffalo find pasturage on their way to and from the more fertile regions of the north; and thus, with the aid of fish, and other wild animals, and roots and berries, considerable tribes of the Dakotah nation find a precarious existence.
Note. This cathedral belongs to the Roman Catholics, who have also a large convent near at hand. They maintain a considerable number of Missionary Stations in different parts of the country.
Chapter Five
It was in the western portion of the Dakotah territory, described in the last chapter, that a numerous band of the lords of the soil had pitched their skin tents by the side of a stream, whose grassy banks, fringed with trees, contrasted strongly with the dry and hilly ground before mentioned, which, as far as the eye could reach, extended on either side of them. Yet the scene was animated in the extreme. In the centre of a wide basin, into which a valley opened from the distant prairie, was erected a high, circular enclosure of stakes, and boughs, and skins. There was but one entrance towards the valley, and on either side of this entrance commenced a row of young trees, or branches of trees, the distance between each line becoming greater and greater the further off they were from the enclosure. The figure formed by the lines was exactly that of a straight road drawn in perspective on paper: being very wide at one end, and narrowing gradually till it became only the width of the entrance to the enclosure at the other. Between each of the trees or bushes was stationed an Indian armed with bow or spear, and having a cloak, or a thick mass of branches in his hand. Outside the enclosure were numerous persons, chiefly women and old men and boys, the latter armed with bows and arrows, and the former having cloaks or boughs. They were flitting to and fro, apparently waiting some event of interest. As the travellers reached the top of a hill overlooking the enclosure, a cloud of dust was seen approaching the further end. “There they come, there they come!” exclaimed the old hunter, with difficulty refraining from dashing down the hill, as, at the instant, a herd of some three or four hundred buffaloes burst, at headlong speed, from out of the dust – tossing their heads and tails, tearing up the earth with their horns, trampling, in their terror, over each other – followed closely by a band of red-skinned huntsmen, with bow or spear in hand, most of them free of clothing, and uttering the wildest cries and shouts, now galloping here, now there, as some fierce bull turned and stood at bay, sending an arrow into the front of one, dashing a spear into the side of another, while they hung on the flanks of the herd, keeping the animals, as nearly as possible, in the centre of the road. Whenever any of the herd approached the line of bushes on either side, the Indians stationed there shook the cloaks or the boughs they held in their hands, and shouted and shrieked, thus effectually turning the bewildered animals into the main stream. Sometimes the whole herd attempted to break through, but were turned with equal facility. If they attempted to stop, the hunters behind, closing in on them, urged them on until, still more and more compressed, those in the interior of the herd being utterly unable to see where they were going, they were forced, by redoubled shouts and shrieks in their rear, through the narrow gateway into the enclosure. Through it they dashed, a dark stream of wild, fierce heads and manes surging up and down, till the whole were driven in, and the hunters themselves, leaping the bar across the entrance, followed close in their rear. Now, round and round the confined pound, the affrighted creatures rushed, not discovering a single opening which might afford them a chance of escape, bellowing and roaring, the strong trampling on the young and weak, the calves soon falling and being crushed to death; showers of arrows from the hunters’ bows bringing many low, while others, wounded by the darts and spears of the people outside, or gored by their fellows, sunk down exhausted from loss of blood.
It was truly a spectacle of wanton and barbarous slaughter, which none but those accustomed to it could have watched unmoved. Even Robert Nixon, though he had often joined in similar scenes, regarded it with feelings very different to what he would formerly have done. “Alas! alas! is it thus God’s creatures are destroyed to no purpose by these poor savages?” he exclaimed to his companion. “Not one-twentieth part of the meat can be consumed by them; and the lay will come when they will seek for food and there will be none for them, and they themselves must vanish away out of the land.” The two travellers had been moving along the height above the valley, but so entirely engaged were the Indians in the work of entrapping the buffalo, that they were observed by no one. They now descended towards the tents. In front of one of them sat a somewhat portly man, his countenance, and the hue of his complexion, rather than his costume, showing that he was of the white race. The tents were pitched on a spot sufficiently elevated above the valley to enable him to watch all that was taking place within the pound. His attention also was so completely absorbed by the proceedings of his companions, that he did not perceive, for some time, the approach of the horsemen. When he did, starting to his feet, and upsetting the three-legged stool on which he was sitting, he exclaimed, “What, old chum! is it you – you, indeed? I made sure that what they told me was true, and that you were long, long ago food for the wolves. Let me look at you. I cannot yet believe my senses.” Rob Nixon having dismounted, the two old men stood for some moments grasping each other’s hands.
It was some time before old Tom could persuade himself that his friend was really alive; not, indeed, till the latter had given a brief account of the way he had been found and rescued by the Indian, Peter, and the chief events which had occurred to him. “Well, well! I’m right glad to get you back; and now you must give up hunting, as I have done, and just take your ease for the rest of your days,” said old Tom. “Hunting I have done with; but I have yet much work to do before I die,” answered the old hunter. “You and I are great sinners; we were brought up in a Christian land, and still we have been living the lives of heathens. But, Tom, since I have been away I have read the Bible; I have there learned about Christ; and I see that we have been living lives as different from His as black is from white, as light is from darkness. Tom, would you like to learn about Him?” Tom signified his readiness with a nod. It was all Robert Nixon required, and he at once opened on the subject of God’s love, and man’s sin, and Christ the Saviour from sin. The young Indian stood by holding the horses, and watching the countenances of the speakers. It must have been a great trial for him to remain thus inactive while his countrymen were engaged in their exciting occupation; but a new rule of life had become his, and duty had taken the place of inclination. “There, Tom; I’ve just said a little about the chiefest thing I’ve got to say to you,” were the words with which Rob wound up his address. Tom looked puzzled, but not displeased, as some men might have been.
His friend was prevented from saying more by the loud shouts of the Indians as the last bull of a herd of nearly three hundred animals sunk, overcome by loss of blood from numberless arrows and darts, to the saturated ground. There lay the shaggy monsters in every conceivable attitude into which a violent death could throw them, some on their backs as they had rolled over, others with the young calves, which they had run against in their mad career round the pound, impaled on their horns; many had fallen over each other, and, dying from their wounds, had formed large heaps in every direction. It was truly a sickening spectacle. (Note.) The old hunter after a pause pointed towards it; – “There Tom, that’s just a picture of what has been going on in the world time without mind,” he remarked; “the Indians are doing what the spirits of evil do, and the poor buffaloes are like the people in the world, all driven madly together, destroying one another till none remain alive; but Christ delivers men from the spirits of evil, and leads them into safety and rest.” Hitherto the new comers had escaped observation, but now numerous Indians crowded round, some to welcome the old white hunter, others to inquire the cause which brought the young man with him. The first to approach the old man was a young girl; her complexion was fairer than that of several other girls who accompanied her, and her dress was more ornamented with beads and feathers than theirs. She stopped timidly at a short distance – Indian etiquette would not allow her to approach nearer. She was very beautiful, but her beauty was that of the wild gazelle, it had not yet been destroyed by the hard toil and often cruel usage to which the older women of her people were exposed. “Come daughter, come,” said the old man in the Dakotah tongue, holding out his arms, “I have good tidings for thee.” The young girl bounded forward, and Rob Nixon, taking her in his arms, imprinted a kiss on her brow. “Father, father, that you have come back when we thought you lost, is good news enough; you cannot bring me better,” looking up into the old man’s face, not without some surprise, however, at the affectionate manner in which she was treated, contrasted with the stern way in which the Indians treat the females of their people. “I will tell thee of the good news anon. You might not value it as it deserves,” said Robert Nixon. “Thy brother, where is he?”
“He left the camp with a score more of our young braves nearly ten moons ago, to make war on the Crees of the plain, and he has not yet returned. Scouts have been sent out, but no tidings have been received of the party.” The father did not conceal his disappointment. “I have a rich gift to offer him,” he thought; “would that he had been here to have accepted it. Alas! alas! how great is my sin, who was born a Christian, to have allowed my children to grow up ignorant heathens.” It is sad to think that many white men in many parts of the vast territory known as Rupert’s land, may have cause to feel as did Robert Nixon. Two of old Tom’s sons were also away on the same hazardous expedition, but though anxious about them, for he was a kind-hearted man, he could not enter into Rob Nixon’s feelings in the matter. Now as the evening came on the people crowded into the encampment, all eager to hear how their white friend and one of their chief, as well as the oldest, of their leaders had escaped death. He used no bitter expressions, but he could not help asking, ironically, how it was that – among so many who professed regard for him – no one had thought of turning back to look for him when he was missed? Numerous were the excuses offered, and all were glad when he dropped the subject, and held up a book out of which he proposed to read to them in their own language. Not knowing the nature of a book, they naturally supposed it to be some powerful charm, and declared that he had become a great medicine man. “If it is a charm, and I do not say that it is not, it is one that, if you will listen, may do you good, and will make you wiser than you have ever before been,” he answered. “Do you, or do you not wish to hear me?” There were no dissentient voices, and he then read to them how God, the Great Spirit, so loved the world, that He sent His Son into the world that all who believe in Him should not perish but have eternal life, – “men, women, and children, old and young alike,” he added. “I will tell you more about the matter by-and-by, friends. Talk over now what I have said. This book, though small, contains a great deal; many a day must pass before you know its contents. Those who wish to know more may come to my lodge when they will, and I will read to them.”
