We have already spoken, in Chapter VIII, of the Algonquin branch of the red race. This vast family, comprising Ojibewas, Shawnees, Crees, Araphoes, Blackfeet, etc., once owned practically the whole of South Canada, as well as the eastern portion of the States as far down as Kentucky. The territory peculiar to the Ojibewas ran in a rough curve from Saratoga to Winnipeg, and round about the lake district; but as the construction of the railway from New York to Montreal seemed to establish the definite claim of the white men, the Indians retreated farther north, some taking service under the farmers, or settling down to farm for themselves; others wandering in what was left of the prairie and forest land, and turning an occasional dishonest penny by robbing unprotected travellers.

When Charles Richard Weld made his tour from Boston into and through Southern Canada in 1854, only a part of the railway was made, and the greater portion of the journey had to be accomplished by coach, by canoe, or on horseback. Mr. Weld (who must not be confused with Isaac Weld, the explorer, his half-brother) was a barrister and literary man, in 253 whom a close personal friendship with many great travellers, including Sir John Barrow and Sir John Franklin, had bred a strong ambition to see the world and make discoveries on his own account. But a busy man, who adds to his other duties the secretaryship of the Royal Society, must perforce stay at home, and it was not till 1850, when he was a man of thirty-seven, that he saw his way to travelling; and that only by devoting the long vacation of each year to visiting some special quarter of the globe.

It was while journeying northwards on this railway that he encountered his first real “sight,” which was a prairie-fire: a swiftly-moving mass of flame and smoke that rolled almost up to the very rails, making the occupants of the cars feel as though they were in an oven. The fire raged for a good many days, for long after Weld had left the railroad and transferred himself to the coach for Lake George, he could still see the smoke and flare in the distance.

The major part of the coach-route lay along a plank road, bounded on either side by miles of monotonous prairie, or by dark patches of pine-wood, where squirrels, deer, and red foxes abounded. The “coach” was an open arrangement—a char-À-bancs, in fact; and Mr. Weld’s travelling companions consisted of three farmers, a couple of French trappers, a wheezy old Irishwoman and her two granddaughters. On the last stage of the journey, when they were within a few miles of the lake-shore, the Englishman’s attention was attracted by the driver to a dark mass that was moving rapidly through the long grass, towards the road.

“Injuns; see em?”

About a score of Ojibewas in full war-dress were riding at the top of their speed, with the apparent intention of cutting off the vehicle.

“Well; I suppose they won’t hurt us?” said Weld.

The coachman whipped up his horses. “I reckon they hadn’t better.”

As nobody seemed in the least alarmed, the tourist watched the approach of the Indians rather with interest than with anxiety. Nevertheless, as the redskins, on coming within a hundred yards, suddenly set up an inharmonious howling, and brandished spears or tomahawks, he thought it time to produce and examine his revolver. Just then the horses were pulled up short, and the driver took from beneath his feet a very workmanlike double-barrelled gun; and, looking round him, Weld saw that the other men were doing the same; while even the old woman and the two girls, albeit without a sign of undue excitement, had each brought out a revolver from her reticule.

“That’s the way to let ’em have it,” said the driver, having fired off both barrels at the advancing mob. Before a second gun could be fired, the whole troop had wheeled about, and were riding away as quickly as they had come. The coachman reloaded as though nothing unusual had happened, put away his rifle, and started the horses again.

“Biggest cowards on the yearth,” he mumbled to Weld. “That was only a couple o’ charges o’ birdshot I give ’em. Bless ye, we know ’em by heart now. Years ago they’d put-up a mail, and tomahawk everybody; but nowadays they seem to run away as soon as they see a gun. If there’d only been you an’ me, 255 or nobody but women, they’d ha’ tried to bluff something out of us, if ’twas only a keg o’ spirits, or a bit of tobacker; but half a dozen men’ll frighten the lives out of ’em. One time o’ day they’d send a charge of arrows first; but they’re shy of that if they see any rifles waiting for ’em.”

This was Weld’s first and only experience of an Indian assault, for the few wild tribes with which he came in contact were quite disorganised, had lost confidence in their traditional weapons of war, and had as yet a wholesome horror of gunpowder. But this absence of hostilities enabled him to get a good insight into Ojibewa forest and river life, and afforded him plenty of interesting adventure where hunting was concerned. At the lake-side inn, where he stayed for a few days, the host invited him to attend an Ojibewa rattlesnake-hunt, a form of sport of which he had never before heard.

“What weapons must I take?” he asked before starting.

“Oh, nothing. Put a gun (revolver) in your pocket if you like,” was the careless reply.

A small party of redskins were squatting outside the inn, and seeing that the two white men were ready to accompany them, they led the way to a hilly and well-wooded spot, just on the eastern shore of the lake. Weld noticed that the only arms carried by them were a knife and a long, slender stick, and from all he had heard of the terrible rattlesnake, this appeared a poor equipment indeed wherewith to kill reptiles which might be any length up to eight or even ten feet. Being prepared for a very great deal of wariness and 256 of elaborate preliminary on the part of the Indians, he was, of course, not prepared for the entire absence of such preliminary. One of the hunters who walked beside him stooped unconcernedly, picked up a strip of something, gave it a shake, and put it in his game-bag.

“He always seems to find the first one,” remarked the innkeeper.

“The first what?” queried Weld. “And what on earth is this awful stench?”

“Rattlesnake,” chuckled the Yankee. “See’d him pick it up, didn’t ye? Come on; here’s a chance for you, now.—Bah! What in the ’nation did ye want to do that for?”

For, without any hesitation, Weld had pulled out his revolver and sent two bullets into the body of a snake which, coiled up like a wire spring, had placed itself across a narrow path, and was rearing its head in an uncomfortably suggestive manner.

“What did you expect me to do?” asked Weld with some impatience.

“Why, this.—Stand clear!”

But the Yankee was too “cocksure,” as the boys say; and was only too glad to spring back again to the side of his guest. What he had tried to do was to seize another snake by the tail and “snap” it, as a carter cracks a whip; but the creature’s mouth and poison-fangs happened to be very much in the way just then, and the innkeeper left the task to the more expert Ojibewas.

Now that he knew what to expect, Weld retired to a safe distance and began to note all that took place. 257 The overpowering smell of which he had complained arose from the snakes themselves. The rats, rabbits, squirrels, etc., on which they feed begin to putrefy as soon as they are swallowed, owing to the action of the poison, and one snake is often enough to make a whole neighbourhood intolerable.

The majority of those captured were small, averaging about three and a half feet long, and the activity of the Indians in detecting, seizing, and killing them was almost incredible. In most cases the snake was lying, straight or coiled as the case might be, in the tracks usually followed by small animals in their periodical path to the water, for rattlesnakes are singularly slow in their movement, and so are forced to rely more on their proverbial “wisdom.” The moment one of them was discovered it was whisked off the ground so rapidly that it seemed to fly up; one deft jerk, or whip-like flick, dislocated its backbone and it was dead. To an Englishman the process sounds about as sane and as safe as lifting a bull-terrier by the tail; but the Indians did their work unmovedly, not a man was bitten, and Weld learned later that not once in ten years was such hunting attended with fatal results to anyone; for should a man be bitten a rough sort of cautery, or the sucking of the wound, together with drugs taken internally, generally gave the lie to the popular belief that a rattlesnake’s bite is incurable.

Where a captive was inconveniently large or long, or where he refused to uncoil himself, the savages used their sticks, either to rap him on the head, or to “straighten-out” his coils. The object in killing was to obtain the oil and gall, which were highly valued 258 for medicinal and other virtues; therefore, any blow that might wound the body was avoided if possible. In Weld’s opinion the “rattle” of the animal has been much exaggerated by travellers; “creaking” or “rustling” would be a better term, for the noise resembles that made by stiff paper, or parchment, when crumpled in the hand. A few days later, when travelling up-country by canoe, he realised that these snakes can swim with perfect ease, for the Ojibewa guides whom he had engaged more than once drew his attention to one of them gliding down the bank and into the water in determined pursuit of a rat that had refused to become a victim to its supposed (and very doubtful) powers of fascination.

For the first time in his life, Mr. Weld now found himself completely cut off from association with white men, for he had before him a lonely journey by river and lake to a backwoods settlement, where an old friend, Major Strickland, had set up a model farm. Fortunately, one of the Ojibewas spoke English fluently, and the other three had at least a smattering of French. Perhaps they were not remarkable for their intelligence, save where canoeing and hunting were concerned, but at least they were amiable, obliging, and contented.

His first acquaintance with rapids was worthy of remark, for it came without a moment’s warning or preparation. He and two Indians travelled in one canoe, while the other two followed, in a second, with his baggage. Weld was lying back, idly smoking, and probably lost in admiration of the solemn, rugged beauty of the steep banks, fringed with pine and cedar 259 trees, when all in a moment the world seemed to turn over and slip from under him; his head struck the gunwale smartly, and he gradually got a dim notion that he was standing with his back against something hard and his body at right angles to that of the Indian in the bows, who nevertheless continued to ply his paddle stolidly, and without a smile or a word. For a few seconds the boat trebled her speed in some unaccountable manner, then followed another jerk, another knock on the head, and once more he was lounging in his former position, and the canoe moving along as before.

He now threw a glance behind him, and shuddered, for what he saw was a sheer fall of water, apparently about sixteen feet high, studded everywhere with ugly-looking rocks. He began an angry remonstrance with the Indians for not having warned him, but just then a weird cry, something between the bray of a jackass and the wail of a peacock, echoed through the forest. One second a large white body was seen flapping over their heads; the next, the same body lay fluttering on the water near the boat. One of the Ojibewas had dropped his paddle and, like lightning, sent an arrow through the noisy creature, which turned out to be a pelican that they had disturbed from its evening fishing.

On the following morning, as Weld was finishing his breakfast over his camp fire, he was aroused from his meditations by one of the Indians pointing significantly towards the thicket behind him.

“’Morning! Have you got a drop of tea left; we’re thirsty,” cried a voice as he turned his head, 260 and a second added, “Well, Peter; what are you doing round our neighbourhood?”

The Indian who spoke English jumped up delightedly, and greeted with much respect three strapping young fellows who suddenly stepped out from among the bushes.

“I don’t know who you are, gentlemen,” said Weld as he rose to welcome them, “but it’s good to hear one’s own language spoken again.”

The lads introduced themselves as farm pupils of Major Strickland’s, and, leaving the Indians to bring Weld’s luggage by water, they showed him a short cut to his friend’s house, which, in a straight line, was but seven miles away.

At the farm he was surprised to find Indians performing all the domestic offices of a civilised household, and dressed more or less in European garb; for, tired of the ingrained laziness of negro servants, the Major had long had all the menial work of his house and estate done by redskins, and these, as far as Weld could see, worked diligently and honestly. One small body of them were kept constantly employed as hunters, and instructors in woodcraft to the pupils, and, judging from their abilities as deer-trackers, the lads could have had no better tutors.

An animal much coveted for the sake both of its skin and its flesh was the cabrit, prong-buck, or prong-horned antelope, as it is variously called; and the stalking of this creature was Weld’s principal amusement during his stay. In spite of frequent slaughter among them, large herds were often to be seen in the neighbourhood, and one day no less than a hundred 261 carcases were brought home, to be dried for winter food.

The hunting party on this occasion consisted of Weld, Strickland, and six other Englishmen, together with about thirty Ojibewas, a dozen of whom were given a start of five hours. These, leaving the farm at daybreak, moved swiftly through the sparse forest to the hills beyond, and started a herd of over two hundred. Taking up positions at wide intervals from each other, the Indians succeeded in frightening and mystifying the bucks, and gradually driving them towards the spot for which the main body of the hunt was now making. This was some ten miles from the farm, and so rapidly did all his companions cover the distance, that Weld had great difficulty in keeping up with them, though himself a strong and athletic man.

One old Ojibewa was always a few yards ahead of the party, and Weld was instructed to watch and obey every signal made by him. Sometimes he came to a dead halt, and the whole troop followed his example, not so much as a whisper being uttered; then again, he would lead the way at a good swinging pace, often talking freely and even loudly with those behind. All of a sudden, however, he broke off his conversation; a gun-shot had sounded from some three miles away. He held up his hand, and everyone stood breathless. Presently he moved on again, but more slowly, for several hundred yards, the rest gliding along in his wake, and at last he stopped dead again. This was the most irksome, or the most disciplinary, period of the hunt, for the tyrannical leader kept everyone standing motionless for quite ten minutes; and when 262 Weld merely took out his handkerchief to mop his brow, the Indians nearest him eyed him as reproachfully as though this were a penal offence.

The next thing the guide did was to fall flat on his face, and each man mechanically imitated him—except Weld, who had visions of a dislocated shoulder, if not of a self-discharging gun, and who consequently performed the manoeuvre by degrees.

Now that his ear was so close to the ground, he could plainly detect the uniform tread of a large body of light-stepping animals, but he dared not risk spoiling sport by raising his head to peer among the tree-trunks in front of him. In a few minutes a gun went off, half a mile to their left front, and was immediately echoed by one to the right, and another well ahead, whereat the trampling increased in speed and volume. Immediately the leader raised his hand to a perpendicular, and the redskins began to crawl on, worm-fashion, in two diverging lines. Weld started awkwardly to imitate them, but a strong hand caught him by the ankle and held him still. Screwing his head round, he saw that Strickland was his captor.

“Hold on,” whispered the Major. “We get our fun from this side.”

Another three minutes’ silence followed, only broken by the tramp of the approaching herd, slower now, and more hesitating.

“Now then; roll away or crawl away to your right, as far as you can, and as sharp as you can; and jump up when I open fire,” whispered the old soldier, and Weld could see that, at a wave of his friend’s arm, all the Englishmen were swiftly separating. He 263 obeyed; but by the time he had covered a dozen yards, he became convinced that the Indians had all gone suddenly demented, for from every direction there arose a succession of demoniacal yells that almost drowned the crack-crack of the rifles that now sounded on his left.

He leapt to his feet; not an Indian was in sight. The white men, all standing up, were blazing away as hard as they could, into an immense herd of bucks, which were falling in numbers out of all reasonable proportion to the shots fired. Then he discovered that, from the other three sides, the Ojibewas, lying in the long grass or crouching behind trees, were pouring volley after volley of arrows at the bewildered beasts, which, butting each other, were starting hither and thither, completely panic-stricken.

“’Ware horns!” shouted the Major’s son as, hurriedly butting his rifle, he felled an antelope that had charged despairingly at him; and very soon Weld was glad enough to follow the example, as a stout young buck rushed, head down, in his direction.

More terrified now by the noise of the guns and the sight of the white men than by the arrows and shouts that proceeded from the other three points of the compass, the herd turned to flee back towards the hills. But this was only the signal for every Indian to spring erect and brandish his long spear. That effectually broke up the herd; the distracted creatures squeezed a passage for themselves wherever they could, and fled out of sight, leaving a good half of their number to be carried back to the farm in the waggons which were now on their way to the scene of the battue.