Winter comfort—Snowshoe-making—Snow and storm—The moose woods—A night camp—Memories—A midnight visitor—Maskeypeton the Iroquois—Danger—A moose hunt—Indian stalking—The red man’s happy hunting-grounds—Plans—Raft-building.

All was well in the hut; the Cree had kept watch and ward. No Indians had found the place. Everything promised a quiet, peaceful winter, with ample time to mature plans for the spring. The stage which had been built soon after our first arrival at the spot was now filled with prime buffalo meat; the flour, blankets, and other stores taken from the trader, were stored carefully away on shelves in the hut. The Cree and the scout dried and rough-tanned the wolf, carcajou, and buffalo skins; rude bedsteads were put up along the walls, and upon them dried grass, skins, and blankets made most comfortable beds. A large store of fuel was chopped, and piled outside the door; and harness, guns, skins, axes, &c., gave a furnished appearance to the interior, which, when lighted up by the pine-logs in the evening presented a look of comfort, in striking contrast with the savage desolation of the wilderness[192] without when the mid-winter rigour came full upon it.

As the end of the year drew nigh the storms increased in intensity. The snow deepened over all the land, but the meadow chosen for the horses held such an abundance of food that the animals stood the cold well. When the vetch and wild peas were exhausted, a swamp, which in summer grew a thick sedge-like grass, gave excellent sustenance to them. The snow was easily pawed away by the horses’ fore-feet, and the coarse grass, sweetened by the frost, was laid bare beneath. Day after day the Sioux, with myself, or the scout, or Donogh, set out on a hunt for venison, and many a buck fell to our rifles in the valleys and thickets of the surrounding hills.

Day after day the Sioux, with myself, or the scout, or Donogh, set out on a hunt for venison.

As the snow deepened over the land, the use of the snow-shoe became a necessity in walking. Before the want had arisen the Indians had taken measures to supply it. Birchwood had been cut and seasoned, the gut of the jumping moose dried and prepared, and the rough framework put together, afterwards to be strung, and turned into the required shape.

As I watched the clever manner with which the wood was pared down and shaped, and with what beautiful accuracy the cross-pieces, the toes and heels, were fitted, turned, and made ready for the sinew strings—all done too with only a small knife and an awl, and done with such apparent ease, I felt tempted to say, “I too will make a pair of snowshoes;”[193] but it was only to find how futile was the effort to imitate the handicraft of the wild man in the work of the wilderness.

Making snowshoes.

By the time the snowshoes were finished the snow was deep enough on the river and the plains to fully test their capabilities. I determined to accustom myself early to the use of the shoes, so that I might be able to keep pace with my friends, whose power of snowshoe-walking had grown from infancy. With this object I was out every morning as soon as breakfast was over, tramping along the frozen and snow-covered expanse of the rivers, or forcing my way through the thicket-lined shores, and up the hills and slopes of the surrounding country. At first I found it no easy matter to tread my way over soft and deep snow, or through places where the brambles and weeds lay half-buried in the drifts and dazzling banks; but in a few days my step grew more firm, my stride became longer and more rapid, and after a week I was not ashamed to join Red Cloud for a hunt after game.

Thus we four denizens of this wild and lonely spot ranged over the land surrounding our solitary dwelling; and ere the new year had come there was not a pine-bluff or a thicket of aspens—there was not a bend on the rivers, or a glade among the hills, which was not known and explored. It was a strange, wild life, this winter roving over the great[194] untamed wilderness of snow.

At times the days were bright and calm—the sun shone with dazzling lustre upon the unspotted surface of the earth. The branches of the trees glistened in the white rime of the morning, the dry powdery snow sounded hard as sand under the shoe.

Again the scene would change, and wild storms swept sky and earth; the bitter blast howled through the thickets, the pine-trees rocked and waved, and the short daylight closed into a night of wrack and tempest. Such days and nights would run their courses, and again the scene would change; the wild wind would sink away, the snow would cease to fall or to drift, a death-like stillness would ensue, and with a brilliancy of untold beauty the moon would be seen above the still and tapering pine-tops, and the white light of frosted silver, set with myriad sparkling gems, would overlay all the land.

The new year came; January drew to a close. Colder and colder the iron hand of winter seemed to grasp the forest and the ridge, the silent frozen rivers, and the lonely hills.

One day the Sioux set out with me to visit a large wood of pines and poplars, the tops of which could be discerned from a ridge lying a few miles away from the hut. It was a long tramp, and the dogs were taken to carry kettle, blankets, and food, in preparation for camping during the[195] night in the wood in order to continue the hunt on the following day.

As the morning was fine, the sun shone brightly on the snow, and the dogs followed closely in the footsteps of the Sioux, as with rapid strides he passed over the white ridges and intervening gullies drifted deep in snow. I walked behind the sled that carried the supplies for the camp.

The day passed away, varied by nothing save exercise, broken only by the mid-day halt for food. It was the middle of the afternoon when we drew near the broad belt of wood which was to be our home for the night.

For some miles we had followed a tract of low meadow-land along the river; but now the Sioux led across the frozen stream, and slipping his feet from the snowshoe-strings as he gained the farther shore, he began to ascend a very steep ridge that rose directly from the opposite bank.

The dogs worked might and main to follow their leader. I urged them with voice and whip from behind; and up the slippery ridge we scrambled until the top was gained. Here a halt was made, to recover breath and take a survey of the scene.

Beneath, spreading away for many a mile, lay a broken and wooded region, over which patches of dark green pine-trees stood in marked contrast to the snowy surface of level and ridge. Here and there the eye caught glimpses of unbroken sheets of snow, telling the presence of frozen lakelets beneath.[196] Indeed, the pine-trees were themselves sufficient to indicate the fact of water in abundance being there, for it was water alone that had protected them in the dry autumn days from the wild ravage of the prairie fire.

The Sioux scanned with careful sweep of vision all the wide scene from east to west. Then seemingly satisfied with his scrutiny, he resumed his snowshoes, and struck down a long gradual incline towards the belt of woodland.

It wanted but an hour of sunset when the first pine-trees were reached; and shortly after, the small grey owl’s hoot sounding through the vast solitude bade us select a thick clump of firs, in the midst of which a cosey camp was quickly made.

Few who have not experienced it can realize the full measure of comfort which the wilderness, even in the depth of winter, can hold forth to its denizens. It seems difficult to believe that a camp, made in the open snow, amid a clump of fir-trees, with nought save the branches between the traveller and the sky, with only the frozen earth swept clear of snow for his floor, and with blankets and a skin for bed and covering, could be anything save the most miserable of lodging-places. But it is marvellous how quickly the wild hunter will change these unpromising materials into a spot where genial warmth can be felt, where rest can come to weary limbs, where food can fill hungry stomachs, and the[197] pipe of peace can be smoked in pleasant repose.

At first the night was still and fine; but as the midnight hour drew on the wind arose, and the tree-tops began to bend their heads, and the melancholy cadence of the swaying branches fell upon our ears as we slept.

Long habit had given the Sioux the faculty of consciousness in sleep; the senses, all save that of sight, still carried to his brain their various messages.

The swaying of the branches soon roused him to wakefulness, and throwing aside his robe he looked out at the night. The fire had burned down to ashes, which the night-wind, when its gusts came strongly now and again, blew into dull red embers. The snow-light made visible the tree-trunks around. Overhead he could mark the clouds moving rapidly from the east; the storm was rising.

He got up, raked the ashes together, threw some wood upon the embers, and sat down to watch the flickering flames and to wait for the dawn. The noise awoke me, and I watched him from where I lay. Oftentimes it was his wont thus to sit watching in those hours of the late night. More than once I had, on other occasions, looked out from my robe, to see thus seated before a few embers the figure of my friend. Who can tell the thoughts that at such moments passed through the mind of this strange man? Memories of that great wilderness he loved so well—of these vast solitudes, which to him had nothing awful. Glimpses[198] of far-stretching prairies—of rivers flowing in wide curves through endless distances—of trees sinking beneath waves of meadow-land. Such were the scenes he saw in the pine-fire embers. Then too he would listen to the voice of the tempest in far-off forests; and as the sound swept through the lone hours of the night, there came to him many a thought of boyhood in the land lost to his tribe. But always, as he has often told me, his mind running along those grooves found the same resting-place—the spot where, in the island of the mountains, lay the bones of his murdered father. And then, with all the bitter wrath of his heart fanned into flame, he would rise to his feet, and stalk away into the dark forest or the silent prairie, and looking up at the cold stars he would cry, “Father, thy son does not sleep. He wanders over the earth only to revenge thy fate.”

As now he sat, with head sunken on his hands, and eyes fixed on the embers, there sounded close by a noise as of human steps upon the snow. The Sioux turned towards the side from whence the sound proceeded, and saw in the dim light of the snow the figure of a man. Calm as he habitually was—accustomed to regard the sudden indications of danger with the outward semblance of repose, he nevertheless on this occasion felt creep upon him the sensation of fear. Weird and ghostly, the figure seemed to have risen out of the white ground. Instinctively the Sioux grasped the rifle that lay near him. The strange figure[199] seemed to catch the movement: he spoke.

“As a friend I have sought your camp,” he said. “Had I come as an enemy, you would not have seen me.”

Red Cloud relinquished his half-grasped rifle, and rose to meet the stranger.

“Who are you?”

“I am Maskeypeton the Iroquois.”

The wind still rising, now blew a strong gust, which swept the camp, causing the flames to flare for a moment through the dry wood of the fire. The light fell full upon the face of the stranger, revealing features well known to the Sioux.

“Maskeypeton the Iroquois,” he said, “no matter what has brought your steps at this hour to my camp, you are welcome. Sit down and share my fire.”

The stranger answered, “There was a day, years ago, when you turned your horse’s head to take a wounded Iroquois from under the guns of the Long-knives by the banks of the Yellowstone. Maskeypeton is here to-night because of that day. Last evening,” he said, “I struck your trail on the ice of the Pascopee. I was then bound for where I had heard your hut lay. I followed your trail while daylight lasted, rested until the moon rose, and then kept the track that led me hither.”

The Sioux listened in silence.
 
“I have not come,” went on the Iroquois, “without a reason; that reason is a warning. Enemies watch for you. They have found the spot where you have built your winter hut; and when the snow leaves the prairies, and the ice breaks in the rivers, the Sircies will seek your life.”

“But I have no quarrel with the Sircies,” answered the Sioux. “No man of the tribe has ever known injury at my hand. Why should they now try to harm me?”

“Because there is another enemy hidden behind them,” said the Iroquois. “The white trader finds many weapons with which he strikes his blows.”

The eyes of the Sioux reflected with a strange wild glare, the fitful light of the fire, but he said nothing. After a while he asked,—

“Is the trader with the Sircies?”

“No, he is living at the white man’s fort by the river of the Gros Ventres.”

The Sioux thought in silence over the tidings the Iroquois had unfolded to him, and already his mind had formed its plan, but he did not even thank his informant for the timely warning.

Looking towards the northern sky, he saw by the position of the Great Bear that morning was drawing near, and that it was time to prepare for the work of the coming day. The conversation with the new comer had been carried on in a low tone. To me it was unintelligible[201] at the time, but later on I became aware of its meaning.

Of the purport of the stranger’s visit; Red Cloud now said nothing, he simply explained the presence of the Iroquois, by remarking that he had struck and followed our trail of the previous day, that he was an old friend, and would join them in hunting the moose during the next few days. The morning already gave every indication of being followed by a day well suited to the pursuit of the moose; the trees rocked and swung under the gusts of storm, and the moan of the wind through the stretch of pine forest promised the hunters the best guarantee of a noiseless approach to the resting-place of that most suspicious and far-hearing denizen of the waste. Breakfast over, we set out from the camp, leaving the sled and harness suspended in the ............