Robert Jefferson


Robert Jefferson
Interview: pp. 91-96 from The Riel Rebellion: A Biographical Approach by Charles and Cynthia Hou Robert Jefferson was the farm instructor at Poundmaker's reserve. His account of native activities was less biased than those of many white settlers. The story of his life, called "Fifty Years on the Saskatchewan", is very interesting. Below is an excerpt from that book which tells the story of a Thirst Dance on Poundmaker's reserve. During that ritual, a sacred spiritual time for the Cree, the dance was interrupted by a group of NWMP led by Leif Crozier. Violence was narrowly averted and the story of what happened is very interesting. Mr. Robert Jefferson of Battleford. A Portion of an Account of his Experiences http://library.usask.ca/northwest/db/html_docs/jeffer.html ______________ About 1882, buffalo began to get too scarce to be depended on for food, even by those who gave their time to hunting them, and, one by one, the tribes of Crees whose discontent with the Treaty terms had sent them out after buffalo in the South country, rather than accept life as they saw it on Reserves, found, with the disappearance of their natural prey, and the consequent temptation -- if not necessity -- of killing cattle, for food, that every man’s hand was against them, and the country got too hot to hold them. So they allowed themselves to be herded up North, and placed on the lands that had been severally allotted them. One of the first chiefs of importance to give in, was Poundmaker. He had, at the time of the signing of the Treaty, been what is called a Councillor, a head man under a chief, but, as a ‘discontent’, and the mouthpiece of those who held out for better terms, he had accumulated a large following of bold, truculent fellows. Up to this time, Poundmaker has never distinguished himself as a warrior, but had acquired what reputation he possessed from his ability as a negotiator. He had been adopted by the Blackfoot chief “Crowfoot” as a son, and with the standing accompanying this position, had many times performed the part of go-between, and patched up quarrels between Blackfoot and Cree. He called himself a Peacemaker. Little Pine, a warrior of great note, brought his band in at the same time, and chose for his Reserve, land adjoining Poundmaker’s. Poundmaker was, at this time, about forty years old, tall, and rather slight, good looking, and with an intelligent face, in which a large Roman nose was prominent; his bearing was so eminently dignified, and his speech so well adapted to the occasion, as to impress every hearer exactly as he intended to impress him. Indeed, I believe, that for the time being, he impressed himself. He convinced the officials of the Department of Indian Affairs that the Indian could not with insufficient food, nor become successful farmers, without tools and stock. More than this, he was quite prepared, indeed glad, to consent to the condition that those who would not work, should not eat. This started things moving in the Indian Department. A few more oxen were given the different bands, with plows, harrows, and various hand tools. Rationing on a more liberal scale was also begun, a pound of flour, and a quarter of a pound of Bacon per head per day was issued out to those who “worked”. At this stage of affairs, I had been on a Reserve for about six years, and was dissatisfied with things generally. I therefore wished to find some change of employment, and applied to the Indian Agent for a position as Instructor. On the strength of my eight years experience in the country, and my knowledge of the Indians and their language, I was appointed, and stationed on Poundmaker’s Reserve. This Reserve, with “Lucky Man’s” and that of “Little Pine” stretched contiguously along the Battle River, about forty miles above Battleford; another Reserve -- “Sweet -grass” -- was half way between the town and Poundmaker’s. Battle River is a small stream, winding about in a valley of varying width, nearly parallel with the lordly Saskatchewan, which it joins just below Battleford. The Battle can be forded at many points during normal stages of water, the other is a river a mile wide, often channeled by islands, difficult of navigation by reason of changing sandbars, and with a bottom of quicksand that precludes fording. Cutknife Creek runs through Poundmaker’s to join Battle River, and the historic “Cut-knife Hill” rears its head above the surrounding country from the middle of the reserve. The habitation allotted the instructor was a shack of two rooms; this, with a small storehouse of proportionate pretentions, constituted the homestead. Both buildings were roofed with poles, and an outer covering of dirt, as was common to all houses in the country at that time, and, although Saskatchewan is a very dry country from an agricultural point of view, yet it is still too wet for the oldtime roof. These roofs did not merely leak, all the rain came through. The Indian buildings straggled along the six miles of flat that bounded the river on the south side, and formed, with the Little Pine outfit, a continuous settlement. There was a Department dwelling and storehouse on this latter reserve, where an Americanized Scotchman acted as Instructor; also a Roman Catholic Mission with a priest and a School, to round off the community. On the reserve were about two hundred and fifty Indians, with large proportion of able-bodied men among them, good workers, but resenting all, even advisory interference, and with an undisguised truculence of manner; showing pretty plainly that it had been only the dire pressure of circumstances that brought them to accept the constraint of reserve life, and further, that they were prepared to resent and resist any thing that looked like an encroachment on their free will, as to what they should do, and how they should do it. So, I had to walk warily, and be always “on the job”, keeping in daily touch with what each was doing, without saying very much. Thus, we managed to get about a hundred and fifty acres under crop, when signs of trouble began to appear. “Big Bear” was one of the most noted chiefs of the Cree Indians, and, prior to the Treaty, had a very large following. His band thought very slightingly of the terms of that august agreement, and resisted alike, every inducement and every threat to get them to settle down. The pleasures of an Ishmael life on the prairie more than counterbalanced its perils. But, as time passed, and settlement encroached on the wild, the pleasures lessened, while the perils increased, and one by one Big Bear was deserted by those of a less hardy nature, who came up North, and joined the bands on different Reserves. In the fall of 1883, a crisis arrived. The roving Indians were committing such serious depredations -- though they could not be caught red-handed -- that the settlers united in demanding that all the predatory bands be brought under control. Law and Order, too, was now strong enough to enforce what had hitherto been attempted by negotiation. So, Big Bear, with his band of desperadoes, picked by natural selection, was escorted North, and deposited on a Reserve. They refused to stay. Conditions were anything but suitable. They stayed on their Reserve all Winter, and, when Spring came, hitched up their ponies, and came down to Poundmaker’s -- on his invitation, they said. This was in pursuance of Poundmaker’s policy of agitation for better terms; his plan was to get as many people as possible settled close together, so that they might act in concert. Divided into significant units, scattered through the country, he said he could see nothing in the future but to be the slaves of the white-man. With their collected strength, he hoped he could constrain the Authorities to make terms, when the Indians would have a chance of driving a better bargain for their lands. Had the Indians known the word, they might have called this “Patriotism”. In due course, Big Bear arrived, and, shortly after him, the Indian Agent, with a detachment of Mounted Police. The Agent assumed the high hand, and “ordered” Big Bear home. This was within his province, since the Indian Act forbids the continued presence of strangers on an Indian Reserve without the consent of the Agent. The Police tried to smooth the difficulty over by negotiation. But Big Bear refused to budge. He told the Agent that he came by invitation, and would leave when he had finished the business that required his presence. To the Police, he said that he intended no harm, and, that to leave the relatives and friends that had called on him for counsel and support, was a discourtesy that he was incapable of. The Poundmaker Indians had just finished up their Spring work, so the Agent ordered that no more rations be given out, hoping to starve the visitors into leaving. The Indians straightway built two weirs across the river, and got an ample supply of fish from the baskets; also, they sent messengers with “wapaykinekun” to all the Indians in the district, calling to a Sun Dance and a conference. The north end of the Reserve was chosen as the rendezvous, and, in a few days two thousand Indians were encamped there. There was, apparently nothing to be done on the part of the Authorities but to wait and avoid complications, till the movement should wear itself out, and the obnoxious strangers take themselves off home. A few Police were stationed at Little Pine’s, where they would be nearer the scene of action, and in a better strategical position; quiet seemed to promise quiet, when a metaphorical bomb fell, and burst in the midst. Craig, the Instructor, was assaulted by two of Big Bear’s “young men”. According to Craig’s story, they had come while he was in the store house and demanded food, this demand he had refused with appropriate gestures. Craig seems to have lost his head, since the controversy culminated in one of the Indians catching up an axe handle which stood near the door, and rapping Craig on the arm with it. This was an unpleasantness, which, at such a juncture, could and should have been avoided. Craig’s arm was not injured, but his feelings were and he took his case to the Police. These were a mere handful and could do nothing but send a messenger in to headquarters with news of what had happened. That evening the Sun Dance was started, and the next evening Major Crozier, with the Indian Agent, and a few troopers in attendance came along. I went with them to the camp. Craig had heard that his assailants were among the dancers, so with him to identify the men, Crozier, the Agent, and I pushed through a throng of armed Indians into the dancing tent. The drum beat, and the dancers bobbed up and down, during our inspection of them, but paint and dress have so much to do with an Indian’s appearance, that Craig failed to find his man. Evening came upon us while thus occupied, so the Agent and Craig procured several ox teams which were loaded up with the flour and bacon from the Little Pine storehouse for transportation down at Poundmaker’s, in accordance with a plan of campaign formed by Crozier. The procession was led by the Police, the ox teams followed, with Craig and I, driving with the Agent in the rear. The road led straight through the camp, and as we wished to make our movements as unobtrusive as possible, we made a wide circle around the tents. This journey made a lasting impression on me. We started in the dusk of a long June day, and had serious doubts as to whether we should be allowed to finish our trip without molestation, and these doubts showed themselves in hurry and disorder. They received confirmation in the war whoops and yelling and shooting that reached us till we were out of hearing of the camp. The Indians were only trying to frighten us, I think, as the bullets all whistled far overhead, when they might just as easily have fallen in our midst. By the way, the war-whoop has quite a blood-curdling effect, given certain circumstances; it is produced by yelling in falsetto, and at the same time slapping the open mouth with the palm of the hand. Our journey led us through Cutknife Creek, which had a bad bottom, and was lined with scrub for some distance on both sides -- an ideal place for an ambush; and where we expected to be attacked. We got stuck in the quicksand there, and had to unload and carry the flour and bacon to the further bank before we could get the wagons out, but the unexpected happened, and we got to the Poundmaker house about daybreak Two of the Policemen were at once despatched to town with order to bring without delay every available man, Police and Volunteers; the rest of us set to work to build bastions on the east and west corners of the building. Perhaps this was the best scheme that presented itself to Major Crozier, but I have often thought since that they would not have been of much practical value, because that on the East abutted on a wooded declivity, whence approach was easy, and both were overlooked by a hill close at hand. However, we finished the bastions before the arrival of the forces from town, early in the morning, working to the accompaniment of the Indian drums, and the strange sounds that reached us from the camp. The sun was fairly high when Crozier, confident now of superior force went up to the dancing tent, to make one more effort to procure the delivery up to him of Craig’s assailants, as before, the Agent, Craig and I, with a few mounted men, went in his train. Dancing was now at its height, and, inside the tent, the drum beat, and male and female singers, appeared as unconcerned as could be, but, outside, a large number of Indians on horseback were galloping to and fro and yelling in their most terrifying manner. Friendly Indians told us that they anticipated trouble, if arrest were attempted, since the delinquents had positively affirmed their intention of resisting to extremity, in which case, reprisals, and a general row must ensue, in which all would be involved. Crozier’s plan was to get the Chiefs to deliver the men up, and with this idea, sought out Poundmaker. This chief came out of his tent, and listened very quietly and carefully to the proposal, and to all the arguments advanced in support. Meanwhile, the armed rabble were pressing most uncomfortably close around us, venting their feelings in vituperation of the white man, and incitement to each other to murder us as we stood, without wasting any more words. Poundmaker rebuked them, and warned specially against any Indian being the first to start a fight. They must allow the white man to be the assailant. When he had heard Crozier’s proposition, he lost no time in saying that it was none of his business to take criminals, and that he was sure that the men would not permit themselves to be taken without desperate resistance. There would be bloodshed and war. Crozier, of course, responded that the delinquents must be taken and made an example of, throwing the onus of any trouble that might ensue on the Chiefs, who should be able both to keep their young men in order, and help to bring to punishment any law breaker. Poundmaker listened, and turned into his tent. Crozier next tried Big Bear. Big Bear was an oldish man, rather short, and very strongly built, with a square face, a prominent nose, and the glazed-black eyes so common to the real Indian. He acted in quite a friendly way, chiding us for disturbing the peace and warning us of the trouble we were wilfully about to precipitate. Crozier told him that a Chief of his standing ought to be able to deliver a criminal up to justice. Big Bear replied that this was out of the question during the dance, but as a compromise, and to show how willingly he was to help as far as he could, the dance would end that night, and to-morrow he would bring all the men down to where the Police were encamped, and, if the culprits could be identified, why, Crozier might take them, as far as he (Big Bear) was concerned. There seemed nothing better to do, so this plan was agreed on, and we went back to our camp to make preparations for the night, and tomorrow. This is a good sample of Indian diplomacy. The Chiefs recognised that if the arrest of the men should begin a general battle, and it took place in the camp, the women and children were likely to be injured as well as the men, while, by moving the scene of hostilities down to our camp, not only would that danger be obviated, but the initiative would be transferred to the Indians. The next afternoon, Sweet Grass Indians came to the house and told Crozier that they were afraid of trouble, and were going home. They passed the house, went up the hill, and “stayed there to watch” they said, but it looked uncomfortably like taking up a position from which they might enfilade our bastions, and block the road by which we might try to escape. The rest of the Indians followed up too quickly for us to attend to Sweet Grass, and Crozier, leaving only enough men to man the bastions, marched out with the remainder to find and arrest the criminals. Craig went as guide. Luck was on our side. With the paint washed off their faces the men were at once recognized by Craig. The Police advanced to arrest him, and he fled. It would be impossible to describe the excitement that prevailed during all this time -- it was only about half an hour, but seemed ages -- the tension, the shouts of incitement of the young bloods, to finish us off without further delay, the cautioning of the older heads, to let the white men begin the fight, the racing to and for, and the war-whoops; events were on a hair trigger for a space, and yet nothing happened. The summer before this, the Indians at File Hills -- I think -- successfully stood off the Mounted Police, when they tried to make an arrest, and had given in technically only and by negotiation rather than by force, and the story of this encounter had spread all over the West. The men who assaulted Craig were loud and in their asseverations of not allowing themselves to be taken. They said they would resist with force of arms any attempt to arrest them. Had their spirits been equal to their will, a fight was inavoidable. During half an hour at that time, any little thing would have started a row, a gun going off accidentally, a chance encounter, any roughness, and everything was prepared for our extermination. None would have escaped. It just was not to be. Much less likely circumstances precipitated the Rebellion. In that case, a decrepit old man, in derision more than anything else -- for he was unarmed and too old to do any harm -- thrusting aside the Interpreter’s rifle, so upset the latter’s equilibrium, that he shot the old man dead; the rest followed as a matter of course. Here, several people were deprived of one arm or another by bold Indians, but attention was all directed to the taking of the two culprits, and these accidents passed as minor and unimportant events. Two men took part in the Craig assault -- brothers, it seems -- and one, the principal, was captured after inglorious flight. The Police and Volunteers who, to search effectually for their men, had operated necessarily in extended order, now closed their ranks and marched with their prisoner in the centre down to our camp, perhaps a couple of hundred yards off. All around was pandemonium. Indians galloping to and fro, yelling and encouraging each other to set on, and doing, in fact, everything they could think of as calculated to inspire us with fear, or throw us into disorder. It was our lucky day, however, for not only was the prisoner brought safely through it all, but his brother, in trying to provide an opportunity for the prisoner’s escape, made himself so conspicuous that he was himself recognized and taken. The crown of Indians followed us to the camp, and after the prisoners had been ironed and placed inside the building, Crozier and the Agent came out to try and persuade the crowd to go quietly back to their tents. He chose the easiest and most effective way to encompass this end. He threw open the Storehouse, and dealt out provisions to all the most important men, or rather to those who had come prominently before his notice during the three last eventful days. This meant those with the most cheek, as there was little time for discrimination. While the distribution was proceeding, Crozier called me to one side, and asked if I thought I could safely stay on the ground, and pursue the accustomed routine, as though nothing had happened. He did not wish the Indians to regard the affair as anything greater than an incident, and, to keep up this fiction, while he did not wish me to take any desperate chances, he wanted me to stay, if it were at all possible. His attitude took me by surprise, since I had never contemplated such action, and I replied that I would sound some of the principal Indians on the subject, and give him an answer at once. Had I been given time to reflect, I would have decided to say “No”. I, first saw Poundmaker, who was too non-committal to be followed. He did not know, I had better ask Oo-pin-o-way-win; I did so, but he also declined responsibility, and referred me to Ta-twos-sin. He also would not touch the proposition, but sent me to Little Pine. All these chiefs evidently considered it to be a dangerous undertaking on my part, but Little Pine, without the least hesitation declared that it was the proper thing to do, and that he would stand by me if I should decide to make the experiment. It is one of the unwritten laws of the Indians, that there is safety in the protection of a chief, and I knew that, if I stepped carefully, I ran the risk of the unforeseen only. My brother, and a young English companion, who had come up with the volunteers, said they also would stay, and give me their moral support. Circumstances seemed to combine to make me remain, so I told Crozier just how the idea had been received by the Indians, and, that though I did not relish the position in which he was placing me, I had decided to stay. The army of occupation departed for Town with their prisoners, the crowd of Indians dissolved into the gathering dusk, and we three were left to go over the events of the last few days, and to speculate on what the coming time would bring forth. Thinking it over thus, we could realize what a narrow margin had stood between us and death. The attitude of the Indians who were undoubtedly friendly, showed that they did not believe it possible that the arrest of the two men could be accomplished without ending in a fight. They regretted that it should be so, but that did not prevent their siding with their own people, and seeking some vantage point for the coming fight. The two culprits were known as “bad men”, and when they said, and repeated, and asseverated that they would not be taken without resistance, everybody believed them, and foresaw what must follow. As it was, even in the tension of excitement during the hunt and arrest, the smallest thing would have turned the balance of Peace or War. And to do the Chiefs justice, they were powerless, and were forced into the position of Red men against White. We did not sleep long that night. Events were treading on each others heels. In the early dawn of the Summer’s morning, we were wakened by thundering on the door. Indians -- armed in all kinds of ways -- wanting their share of the grub that was being distributed. These had been overlooked the evening before, or they had gone home early to avoid trouble, or something. Perhaps they were the friendly kind, but in any case, they thought it behoved me, as one in charge, to repair such accidental omissions, and not run any risk of further trouble, after such a wonderful escape. Of course all this sounds tame and commonplace enough, and it is only when connected with the wild character of the speakers, and with every menace of voice, and action, of appearance and demeanor, reinforced by untiring pertinacity, that an estimate can be formed of the contract I found on my hands. I was alarmed at this ravening attitude, but, fortunately, not so badly as to fall before their demonstrations, or comply with their requests, I was very, very careful in what I said, and avoided all controversy, replying to all that I had no authority to give away anything; that if they really considered they were entitled to flour and bacon, they could easily take it, since I had no more power to stop them than I had to give them. They had no intention of breaking into the store, however, as I soon found out. One lot would go off and be replaced by another, who would repeat the general performance, with such variations as suggested themselves. I will always remember this as the greatest strain on my nerves that I ever experienced. My brother and his companion had enough of it by evening, and made up their minds to get out as quickly as possible, and earnestly entreated me to accompany them. It was a great temptation, but I could never have faced Major Crozier had I allowed myself to be frightened away, after having successfully stood off the main attack. I resolved to stay, and see the thing through. At worst, the Indians could only take the store. So they left for Town, and I got on horseback, and rode off to interview Little Pine. I explained the developments of the situation to him, telling him it appeared likely that the storehouse would be rifled, unless he could interpose his authority to stay the ravening. He said the goods were too distant from his camp for his protection to be effective, and proposed that the contents of the store be moved up to his reserve, where he thought things would be quite free from molestation, and would be under someone’s eye continually. To keep them down on Poundmaker’s Reserve, was to invite marauding. He procured several ox teams, and before night we had the provisions stowed safely in the new storehouse, with the key in Little Pine’s charge. I had no further trouble. The Indians -- Poundmaker’s, Big Bear’s and Lucky Man’s -- were still camped around the site of the SunDance, and, though many fish were obtained from the baskets on the River, yet the camp soon began to feel the pinch of hunger. The Chiefs could find no way of accomplishing their project of concentration; they had all been told that when they dispersed to their several Reserves they would receive rations, and there seemed but one thing for the Indians to do. About a week elapsed before the Agent ventured to send enquiries as to how things had eventuated since the departure of the police with their prisoners; but this was not because of absence of anxiety, rather on account of there being too much of it. Wild rumors were in circulation in the town concerning the doings of the Indians. They were killing cattle. They were prowling round the adjacent country, annoying the few settlers, and so on. He was sure it was safe to trust a messenger among the Indians. But the messenger reported all quiet. The excitement was over; the seething had subsided. Within a fortnight, Big Bear was on his way to Onion Lake, where land had been allotted his band, while Poundmaker’s and Lucky Man’s had settled down to work on their several Reserves. Reviewing mentally this episode, I feel satisfied that I have failed to do justice to the points that emphasize the bare margin by which about three hundred of escaped death, and the country a catastrophe that would, at the least, have deluged the land with blood. The Indians expected trouble, though many of them were not anxious for it, because there was a considerable element that desired nothing better, and who could be relied on to help it along. Everything hund on two points, -- the resistance of the man who was to be arrested, or the unguarded action of the first law of Nature in some fearful soul during that arrest. Both points failed.

Interview: pp. 91-96 from The Riel Rebellion: A Biographical Approach by Charles and Cynthia Hou

Robert Jefferson was the farm instructor at Poundmaker's reserve. His account of native activities was less biased than those of many white settlers. The story of his life, called "Fifty Years on the Saskatchewan", is very interesting. Below is an excerpt from that book which tells the story of a Thirst Dance on Poundmaker's reserve. During that ritual, a sacred spiritual time for the Cree, the dance was interrupted by a group of NWMP led by Leif Crozier. Violence was narrowly averted and the story of what happened is very interesting.

Mr. Robert Jefferson of Battleford.
A Portion of an Account of his Experiences

http://library.usask.ca/northwest/db/html_docs/jeffer.html
______________
About 1882, buffalo began to get too scarce to be depended on for food, even by those who gave their time to hunting them, and, one by one, the tribes of Crees whose discontent with the Treaty terms had sent them out after buffalo in the South country, rather than accept life as they saw it on Reserves, found, with the disappearance of their natural prey, and the consequent temptation -- if not necessity -- of killing cattle, for food, that every man’s hand was against them, and the country got too hot to hold them. So they allowed themselves to be herded up North, and placed on the lands that had been severally allotted them. One of the first chiefs of importance to give in, was Poundmaker. He had, at the time of the signing of the Treaty, been what is called a Councillor, a head man under a chief, but, as a ‘discontent’, and the mouthpiece of those who held out for better terms, he had accumulated a large following of bold, truculent fellows. Up to this time, Poundmaker has never distinguished himself as a warrior, but had acquired what reputation he possessed from his ability as a negotiator. He had been adopted by the Blackfoot chief “Crowfoot” as a son, and with the standing accompanying this position, had many times performed the part of go-between, and patched up quarrels between Blackfoot and Cree. He called himself a Peacemaker. Little Pine, a warrior of great note, brought his band in at the same time, and chose for his Reserve, land adjoining Poundmaker’s. Poundmaker was, at this time, about forty years old, tall, and rather slight, good looking, and with an intelligent face, in which a large Roman nose was prominent; his bearing was so eminently dignified, and his speech so well adapted to the occasion, as to impress every hearer exactly as he intended to impress him. Indeed, I believe, that for the time being, he impressed himself.

He convinced the officials of the Department of Indian Affairs that the Indian could not with insufficient food, nor become successful farmers, without tools and stock. More than this, he was quite prepared, indeed glad, to consent to the condition that those who would not work, should not eat.

This started things moving in the Indian Department. A few more oxen were given the different bands, with plows, harrows, and various hand tools. Rationing on a more liberal scale was also begun, a pound of flour, and a quarter of a pound of Bacon per head per day was issued out to those who “worked”.

At this stage of affairs, I had been on a Reserve for about six years, and was dissatisfied with things generally. I therefore wished to find some change of employment, and applied to the Indian Agent for a position as Instructor. On the strength of my eight years experience in the country, and my knowledge of the Indians and their language, I was appointed, and stationed on Poundmaker’s Reserve.

This Reserve, with “Lucky Man’s” and that of “Little Pine” stretched contiguously along the Battle River, about forty miles above Battleford; another Reserve -- “Sweet -grass” -- was half way between the town and Poundmaker’s. Battle River is a small stream, winding about in a valley of varying width, nearly parallel with the lordly Saskatchewan, which it joins just below Battleford. The Battle can be forded at many points during normal stages of water, the other is a river a mile wide, often channeled by islands, difficult of navigation by reason of changing sandbars, and with a bottom of quicksand that precludes fording. Cutknife Creek runs through Poundmaker’s to join Battle River, and the historic “Cut-knife Hill” rears its head above the surrounding country from the middle of the reserve.

The habitation allotted the instructor was a shack of two rooms; this, with a small storehouse of proportionate pretentions, constituted the homestead. Both buildings were roofed with poles, and an outer covering of dirt, as was common to all houses in the country at that time, and, although Saskatchewan is a very dry country from an agricultural point of view, yet it is still too wet for the oldtime roof. These roofs did not merely leak, all the rain came through. The Indian buildings straggled along the six miles of flat that bounded the river on the south side, and formed, with the Little Pine outfit, a continuous settlement. There was a Department dwelling and storehouse on this latter reserve, where an Americanized Scotchman acted as Instructor; also a Roman Catholic Mission with a priest and a School, to round off the community.

On the reserve were about two hundred and fifty Indians, with large proportion of able-bodied men among them, good workers, but resenting all, even advisory interference, and with an undisguised truculence of manner; showing pretty plainly that it had been only the dire pressure of circumstances that brought them to accept the constraint of reserve life, and further, that they were prepared to resent and resist any thing that looked like an encroachment on their free will, as to what they should do, and how they should do it. So, I had to walk warily, and be always “on the job”, keeping in daily touch with what each was doing, without saying very much. Thus, we managed to get about a hundred and fifty acres under crop, when signs of trouble began to appear.

“Big Bear” was one of the most noted chiefs of the Cree Indians, and, prior to the Treaty, had a very large following. His band thought very slightingly of the terms of that august agreement, and resisted alike, every inducement and every threat to get them to settle down. The pleasures of an Ishmael life on the prairie more than counterbalanced its perils. But, as time passed, and settlement encroached on the wild, the pleasures lessened, while the perils increased, and one by one Big Bear was deserted by those of a less hardy nature, who came up North, and joined the bands on different Reserves. In the fall of 1883, a crisis arrived. The roving Indians were committing such serious depredations -- though they could not be caught red-handed -- that the settlers united in demanding that all the predatory bands be brought under control. Law and Order, too, was now strong enough to enforce what had hitherto been attempted by negotiation. So, Big Bear, with his band of desperadoes, picked by natural selection, was escorted North, and deposited on a Reserve. They refused to stay. Conditions were anything but suitable.

They stayed on their Reserve all Winter, and, when Spring came, hitched up their ponies, and came down to Poundmaker’s -- on his invitation, they said. This was in pursuance of Poundmaker’s policy of agitation for better terms; his plan was to get as many people as possible settled close together, so that they might act in concert. Divided into significant units, scattered through the country, he said he could see nothing in the future but to be the slaves of the white-man. With their collected strength, he hoped he could constrain the Authorities to make terms, when the Indians would have a chance of driving a better bargain for their lands. Had the Indians known the word, they might have called this “Patriotism”.

In due course, Big Bear arrived, and, shortly after him, the Indian Agent, with a detachment of Mounted Police. The Agent assumed the high hand, and “ordered” Big Bear home. This was within his province, since the Indian Act forbids the continued presence of strangers on an Indian Reserve without the consent of the Agent. The Police tried to smooth the difficulty over by negotiation. But Big Bear refused to budge. He told the Agent that he came by invitation, and would leave when he had finished the business that required his presence. To the Police, he said that he intended no harm, and, that to leave the relatives and friends that had called on him for counsel and support, was a discourtesy that he was incapable of.

The Poundmaker Indians had just finished up their Spring work, so the Agent ordered that no more rations be given out, hoping to starve the visitors into leaving. The Indians straightway built two weirs across the river, and got an ample supply of fish from the baskets; also, they sent messengers with “wapaykinekun” to all the Indians in the district, calling to a Sun Dance and a conference. The north end of the Reserve was chosen as the rendezvous, and, in a few days two thousand Indians were encamped there. There was, apparently nothing to be done on the part of the Authorities but to wait and avoid complications, till the movement should wear itself out, and the obnoxious strangers take themselves off home. A few Police were stationed at Little Pine’s, where they would be nearer the scene of action, and in a better strategical position; quiet seemed to promise quiet, when a metaphorical bomb fell, and burst in the midst. Craig, the Instructor, was assaulted by two of Big Bear’s “young men”.

According to Craig’s story, they had come while he was in the store house and demanded food, this demand he had refused with appropriate gestures. Craig seems to have lost his head, since the controversy culminated in one of the Indians catching up an axe handle which stood near the door, and rapping Craig on the arm with it. This was an unpleasantness, which, at such a juncture, could and should have been avoided. Craig’s arm was not injured, but his feelings were and he took his case to the Police. These were a mere handful and could do nothing but send a messenger in to headquarters with news of what had happened. That evening the Sun Dance was started, and the next evening Major Crozier, with the Indian Agent, and a few troopers in attendance came along. I went with them to the camp.

Craig had heard that his assailants were among the dancers, so with him to identify the men, Crozier, the Agent, and I pushed through a throng of armed Indians into the dancing tent. The drum beat, and the dancers bobbed up and down, during our inspection of them, but paint and dress have so much to do with an Indian’s appearance, that Craig failed to find his man. Evening came upon us while thus occupied, so the Agent and Craig procured several ox teams which were loaded up with the flour and bacon from the Little Pine storehouse for transportation down at Poundmaker’s, in accordance with a plan of campaign formed by Crozier. The procession was led by the Police, the ox teams followed, with Craig and I, driving with the Agent in the rear. The road led straight through the camp, and as we wished to make our movements as unobtrusive as possible, we made a wide circle around the tents. This journey made a lasting impression on me. We started in the dusk of a long June day, and had serious doubts as to whether we should be allowed to finish our trip without molestation, and these doubts showed themselves in hurry and disorder. They received confirmation in the war whoops and yelling and shooting that reached us till we were out of hearing of the camp. The Indians were only trying to frighten us, I think, as the bullets all whistled far overhead, when they might just as easily have fallen in our midst. By the way, the war-whoop has quite a blood-curdling effect, given certain circumstances; it is produced by yelling in falsetto, and at the same time slapping the open mouth with the palm of the hand. Our journey led us through Cutknife Creek, which had a bad bottom, and was lined with scrub for some distance on both sides -- an ideal place for an ambush; and where we expected to be attacked. We got stuck in the quicksand there, and had to unload and carry the flour and bacon to the further bank before we could get the wagons out, but the unexpected happened, and we got to the Poundmaker house about daybreak

Two of the Policemen were at once despatched to town with order to bring without delay every available man, Police and Volunteers; the rest of us set to work to build bastions on the east and west corners of the building. Perhaps this was the best scheme that presented itself to Major Crozier, but I have often thought since that they would not have been of much practical value, because that on the East abutted on a wooded declivity, whence approach was easy, and both were overlooked by a hill close at hand. However, we finished the bastions before the arrival of the forces from town, early in the morning, working to the accompaniment of the Indian drums, and the strange sounds that reached us from the camp.

The sun was fairly high when Crozier, confident now of superior force went up to the dancing tent, to make one more effort to procure the delivery up to him of Craig’s assailants, as before, the Agent, Craig and I, with a few mounted men, went in his train. Dancing was now at its height, and, inside the tent, the drum beat, and male and female singers, appeared as unconcerned as could be, but, outside, a large number of Indians on horseback were galloping to and fro and yelling in their most terrifying manner. Friendly Indians told us that they anticipated trouble, if arrest were attempted, since the delinquents had positively affirmed their intention of resisting to extremity, in which case, reprisals, and a general row must ensue, in which all would be involved. Crozier’s plan was to get the Chiefs to deliver the men up, and with this idea, sought out Poundmaker. This chief came out of his tent, and listened very quietly and carefully to the proposal, and to all the arguments advanced in support. Meanwhile, the armed rabble were pressing most uncomfortably close around us, venting their feelings in vituperation of the white man, and incitement to each other to murder us as we stood, without wasting any more words. Poundmaker rebuked them, and warned specially against any Indian being the first to start a fight. They must allow the white man to be the assailant. When he had heard Crozier’s proposition, he lost no time in saying that it was none of his business to take criminals, and that he was sure that the men would not permit themselves to be taken without desperate resistance. There would be bloodshed and war. Crozier, of course, responded that the delinquents must be taken and made an example of, throwing the onus of any trouble that might ensue on the Chiefs, who should be able both to keep their young men in order, and help to bring to punishment any law breaker. Poundmaker listened, and turned into his tent. Crozier next tried Big Bear. Big Bear was an oldish man, rather short, and very strongly built, with a square face, a prominent nose, and the glazed-black eyes so common to the real Indian. He acted in quite a friendly way, chiding us for disturbing the peace and warning us of the trouble we were wilfully about to precipitate. Crozier told him that a Chief of his standing ought to be able to deliver a criminal up to justice. Big Bear replied that this was out of the question during the dance, but as a compromise, and to show how willingly he was to help as far as he could, the dance would end that night, and to-morrow he would bring all the men down to where the Police were encamped, and, if the culprits could be identified, why, Crozier might take them, as far as he (Big Bear) was concerned. There seemed nothing better to do, so this plan was agreed on, and we went back to our camp to make preparations for the night, and tomorrow. This is a good sample of Indian diplomacy. The Chiefs recognised that if the arrest of the men should begin a general battle, and it took place in the camp, the women and children were likely to be injured as well as the men, while, by moving the scene of hostilities down to our camp, not only would that danger be obviated, but the initiative would be transferred to the Indians.

The next afternoon, Sweet Grass Indians came to the house and told Crozier that they were afraid of trouble, and were going home. They passed the house, went up the hill, and “stayed there to watch” they said, but it looked uncomfortably like taking up a position from which they might enfilade our bastions, and block the road by which we might try to escape. The rest of the Indians followed up too quickly for us to attend to Sweet Grass, and Crozier, leaving only enough men to man the bastions, marched out with the remainder to find and arrest the criminals. Craig went as guide. Luck was on our side. With the paint washed off their faces the men were at once recognized by Craig. The Police advanced to arrest him, and he fled. It would be impossible to describe the excitement that prevailed during all this time -- it was only about half an hour, but seemed ages -- the tension, the shouts of incitement of the young bloods, to finish us off without further delay, the cautioning of the older heads, to let the white men begin the fight, the racing to and for, and the war-whoops; events were on a hair trigger for a space, and yet nothing happened.

The summer before this, the Indians at File Hills -- I think -- successfully stood off the Mounted Police, when they tried to make an arrest, and had given in technically only and by negotiation rather than by force, and the story of this encounter had spread all over the West. The men who assaulted Craig were loud and in their asseverations of not allowing themselves to be taken. They said they would resist with force of arms any attempt to arrest them. Had their spirits been equal to their will, a fight was inavoidable. During half an hour at that time, any little thing would have started a row, a gun going off accidentally, a chance encounter, any roughness, and everything was prepared for our extermination. None would have escaped. It just was not to be. Much less likely circumstances precipitated the Rebellion. In that case, a decrepit old man, in derision more than anything else -- for he was unarmed and too old to do any harm -- thrusting aside the Interpreter’s rifle, so upset the latter’s equilibrium, that he shot the old man dead; the rest followed as a matter of course. Here, several people were deprived of one arm or another by bold Indians, but attention was all directed to the taking of the two culprits, and these accidents passed as minor and unimportant events.

Two men took part in the Craig assault -- brothers, it seems -- and one, the principal, was captured after inglorious flight. The Police and Volunteers who, to search effectually for their men, had operated necessarily in extended order, now closed their ranks and marched with their prisoner in the centre down to our camp, perhaps a couple of hundred yards off. All around was pandemonium. Indians galloping to and fro, yelling and encouraging each other to set on, and doing, in fact, everything they could think of as calculated to inspire us with fear, or throw us into disorder. It was our lucky day, however, for not only was the prisoner brought safely through it all, but his brother, in trying to provide an opportunity for the prisoner’s escape, made himself so conspicuous that he was himself recognized and taken.

The crown of Indians followed us to the camp, and after the prisoners had been ironed and placed inside the building, Crozier and the Agent came out to try and persuade the crowd to go quietly back to their tents. He chose the easiest and most effective way to encompass this end. He threw open the Storehouse, and dealt out provisions to all the most important men, or rather to those who had come prominently before his notice during the three last eventful days. This meant those with the most cheek, as there was little time for discrimination.

While the distribution was proceeding, Crozier called me to one side, and asked if I thought I could safely stay on the ground, and pursue the accustomed routine, as though nothing had happened. He did not wish the Indians to regard the affair as anything greater than an incident, and, to keep up this fiction, while he did not wish me to take any desperate chances, he wanted me to stay, if it were at all possible. His attitude took me by surprise, since I had never contemplated such action, and I replied that I would sound some of the principal Indians on the subject, and give him an answer at once. Had I been given time to reflect, I would have decided to say “No”. I, first saw Poundmaker, who was too non-committal to be followed. He did not know, I had better ask Oo-pin-o-way-win; I did so, but he also declined responsibility, and referred me to Ta-twos-sin. He also would not touch the proposition, but sent me to Little Pine. All these chiefs evidently considered it to be a dangerous undertaking on my part, but Little Pine, without the least hesitation declared that it was the proper thing to do, and that he would stand by me if I should decide to make the experiment. It is one of the unwritten laws of the Indians, that there is safety in the protection of a chief, and I knew that, if I stepped carefully, I ran the risk of the unforeseen only. My brother, and a young English companion, who had come up with the volunteers, said they also would stay, and give me their moral support. Circumstances seemed to combine to make me remain, so I told Crozier just how the idea had been received by the Indians, and, that though I did not relish the position in which he was placing me, I had decided to stay.

The army of occupation departed for Town with their prisoners, the crowd of Indians dissolved into the gathering dusk, and we three were left to go over the events of the last few days, and to speculate on what the coming time would bring forth. Thinking it over thus, we could realize what a narrow margin had stood between us and death. The attitude of the Indians who were undoubtedly friendly, showed that they did not believe it possible that the arrest of the two men could be accomplished without ending in a fight. They regretted that it should be so, but that did not prevent their siding with their own people, and seeking some vantage point for the coming fight. The two culprits were known as “bad men”, and when they said, and repeated, and asseverated that they would not be taken without resistance, everybody believed them, and foresaw what must follow. As it was, even in the tension of excitement during the hunt and arrest, the smallest thing would have turned the balance of Peace or War. And to do the Chiefs justice, they were powerless, and were forced into the position of Red men against White.

We did not sleep long that night. Events were treading on each others heels. In the early dawn of the Summer’s morning, we were wakened by thundering on the door. Indians -- armed in all kinds of ways -- wanting their share of the grub that was being distributed. These had been overlooked the evening before, or they had gone home early to avoid trouble, or something. Perhaps they were the friendly kind, but in any case, they thought it behoved me, as one in charge, to repair such accidental omissions, and not run any risk of further trouble, after such a wonderful escape. Of course all this sounds tame and commonplace enough, and it is only when connected with the wild character of the speakers, and with every menace of voice, and action, of appearance and demeanor, reinforced by untiring pertinacity, that an estimate can be formed of the contract I found on my hands. I was alarmed at this ravening attitude, but, fortunately, not so badly as to fall before their demonstrations, or comply with their requests, I was very, very careful in what I said, and avoided all controversy, replying to all that I had no authority to give away anything; that if they really considered they were entitled to flour and bacon, they could easily take it, since I had no more power to stop them than I had to give them. They had no intention of breaking into the store, however, as I soon found out. One lot would go off and be replaced by another, who would repeat the general performance, with such variations as suggested themselves. I will always remember this as the greatest strain on my nerves that I ever experienced.

My brother and his companion had enough of it by evening, and made up their minds to get out as quickly as possible, and earnestly entreated me to accompany them. It was a great temptation, but I could never have faced Major Crozier had I allowed myself to be frightened away, after having successfully stood off the main attack. I resolved to stay, and see the thing through. At worst, the Indians could only take the store. So they left for Town, and I got on horseback, and rode off to interview Little Pine. I explained the developments of the situation to him, telling him it appeared likely that the storehouse would be rifled, unless he could interpose his authority to stay the ravening. He said the goods were too distant from his camp for his protection to be effective, and proposed that the contents of the store be moved up to his reserve, where he thought things would be quite free from molestation, and would be under someone’s eye continually. To keep them down on Poundmaker’s Reserve, was to invite marauding. He procured several ox teams, and before night we had the provisions stowed safely in the new storehouse, with the key in Little Pine’s charge.

I had no further trouble. The Indians -- Poundmaker’s, Big Bear’s and Lucky Man’s -- were still camped around the site of the SunDance, and, though many fish were obtained from the baskets on the River, yet the camp soon began to feel the pinch of hunger. The Chiefs could find no way of accomplishing their project of concentration; they had all been told that when they dispersed to their several Reserves they would receive rations, and there seemed but one thing for the Indians to do. About a week elapsed before the Agent ventured to send enquiries as to how things had eventuated since the departure of the police with their prisoners; but this was not because of absence of anxiety, rather on account of there being too much of it. Wild rumors were in circulation in the town concerning the doings of the Indians. They were killing cattle. They were prowling round the adjacent country, annoying the few settlers, and so on. He was sure it was safe to trust a messenger among the Indians. But the messenger reported all quiet. The excitement was over; the seething had subsided. Within a fortnight, Big Bear was on his way to Onion Lake, where land had been allotted his band, while Poundmaker’s and Lucky Man’s had settled down to work on their several Reserves.

Reviewing mentally this episode, I feel satisfied that I have failed to do justice to the points that emphasize the bare margin by which about three hundred of escaped death, and the country a catastrophe that would, at the least, have deluged the land with blood. The Indians expected trouble, though many of them were not anxious for it, because there was a considerable element that desired nothing better, and who could be relied on to help it along. Everything hund on two points, -- the resistance of the man who was to be arrested, or the unguarded action of the first law of Nature in some fearful soul during that arrest. Both points failed.