in vain did the pursuers search after the lost tony. finding it impossible to rediscover the trail, they made for the nearest post of the fur-traders, from whom they heard of an indian who had passed that way in the direction of the rocky mountains, but the traders had taken no special notice of the boy, and could tell nothing about him. they willingly, however, supplied the pursuers with provisions on credit, for they knew victor’s father well by repute, and allowed them to join a party who were about to ascend the saskatchewan river.
on being further questioned, one of the traders did remember that the hair of the boy seemed to him unusually brown and curly for that of a redskin, but his reminiscences were somewhat vague. still, on the strength of them, victor and ian resolved to continue the chase, and rollin agreed to follow. thus the summer and autumn passed away.
meanwhile a terrible disaster had befallen the buffalo-hunters of the red river.
we have said that after disposing of the proceeds of the spring hunt in the settlement, and thus securing additional supplies, it is the custom of the hunters to return to the plains for the fall or autumn hunt, which is usually expected to furnish the means of subsistence during the long and severe winter. but this hunt is not always a success, and when it is a partial failure the gay, improvident, harum-scarum half-breeds have a sad time of it. occasionally there is a total failure of the hunt, and then starvation stares them in the face. such was the case at the time of which we write, and the improvident habits of those people in times of superabundance began to tell.
many a time in spring had the slaughter of animals been so great that thousands of their carcasses were left where they fell, nothing but the tongues having been carried away by the hunters. it was calculated that nearly two-thirds of the entire spring hunt had been thus left to the wolves. nevertheless, the result of that hunt was so great that the quantity of fresh provisions—fat, pemmican, and dried meat—brought into red river, amounted to considerably over one million pounds weight, or about two hundred pounds weight for each individual, old and young, in the settlement. a large proportion of this was purchased by the hudson’s bay company, at the rate of twopence per pound, for the supply of their numerous outposts, and the half-breed hunters pocketed among them a sum of nearly 1200 pounds. this, however, was their only market, the sales to settlers being comparatively insignificant. in the same year the agriculturists did not make nearly so large a sum—but then the agriculturists were steady, and their gains were saved, while the jovial half-breed hunters were volatile, and their gains underwent the process of evaporation. indeed, it took the most of their gains to pay their debts. thus, with renewed supplies on credit, they took the field for the fall campaign in little more than a month after their return from the previous hunt.
it is not our purpose to follow the band step by step. it is sufficient to say that the season was a bad one; that the hunters broke up into small bands when winter set in, and some of these followed the fortunes of the indians, who of course followed the buffalo as their only means of subsistence.
in one of these scattered groups were herr winklemann and baptiste warder—the latter no longer a captain, his commission having lapsed with the breaking up of the spring hunt. the plains were covered with the first snows. the party were encamped on a small eminence whence a wide range of country could be seen.
“there is a small herd on the horizon,” said baptiste, descending from the highest part of the hillock towards the fire where the german was seated eating a scrap of dried meat.
“zat is vell. i vill go after dem.”
he raised his bulky frame with a sigh, for he was somewhat weak and dispirited—the band with which he hunted having been at the starving-point for some days. winklemann clothed himself in a wolf-skin, to which the ears and part of the head adhered. a small sledge, which may be described as a long thin plank with one end curled up, was brought to him by a hungry-looking squaw. four dogs were attached to it with miniature harness made to fit them. when all was ready the hunter flung himself flat on his face at full length on the sledge, cracked his whip, and away went the dogs at full speed. herr winklemann was armed only with bow and arrows, such weapons being most suitable for the work in hand.
directing his course to a small clump of trees near to which the buffalo were scraping away the yet shallow snow to reach their food, he soon gained the shelter of the bushes, fastened up the dogs, and advanced through the clump to the other side.
it was a fine sight to a hungry man. about a dozen animals were browsing there not far out of gunshot. winklemann at once went down on all-fours, and arranged the large wolf-skin so that the legs hung down over his own legs and arms, while the head was pulled over his eyes like a hood. thus disguised, he crept into the midst of the unsuspicious band.
the buffalo is not afraid of wolves. he treats them with contempt. it is only when he is wounded, or enfeebled by sickness or old age, that his sneaking enemy comes and sits down before him, licking his chops in the hope of a meal.
a fat young cow cast a questioning glance at winklemann as he approached her. he stopped. she turned aside and resumed her feeding. then she leaped suddenly into the air and fell quivering on the snow, with an arrow up to the feathers in her side. the hunter did not rise. the animals near to the cow looked at her a moment, as if in surprise at her eccentric behaviour, and then went on feeding. again the hunter bent his bow, and another animal lay dying on the plain. the guardian bull observed this, lifted his shaggy head, and moved that subtle index of temper, his tail. an ill-directed arrow immediately quivered in his flank. with a roar of rage he bounded into the air, tossed up his heels, and seeing no enemy on whom to wreak his vengeance—for the wolf was crouching humbly on the snow—he dashed wildly away, followed by the rest of the astonished herd.
the whole camp had turned out by that time to resume their journey, and advanced joyfully to meet the returning hunter. as they passed one of the numerous clumps of wood with which the plains were studded, another herd of buffalo started suddenly into view. among other objects of interest in the band of hunters, there happened to be a small child, which was strapped with some luggage on a little sled and drawn by two dogs. these dogs were lively. they went after the buffalo full swing, to the consternation of the parents of the child. it was their only child. if it had only been a fragment of their only child, the two dogs could not have whisked it off more swiftly. pursuit was useless, yet the whole band ran yelling after it. soon the dogs reached the heels of the herd, and all were mixed pell-mell together,—the dogs barking, the sled swinging to and fro, and the buffalo kicking. at length a bull gored one of the dogs; his head got entangled in the harness, and he went off at a gallop, carrying the dog on his horns, the other suspended by the traces, and the sled and child whirling behind him. the enraged creature ran thus for full half a mile before ridding himself of the encumbrance, and many shots were fired at him without effect. both dogs were killed, but, strange to say, the child was unhurt.
the supply of meat procured at this time, although very acceptable, did not last long, and the group with which winklemann was connected was soon again reduced to sore straits. it was much the same with the scattered parties elsewhere, though they succeeded by hard work in securing enough of meat to keep themselves alive.
in these winter wanderings after the buffalo, the half-breeds and their families had travelled from 150 to 200 miles from the colony, but in the midst of their privations they kept up heart, always hoping that the sudden discovery of larger herds would ere long convert the present scarcity into the more usual superabundance. but it was otherwise ordained. on the 20th of december there was a fearful snowstorm, such as had not been witnessed for years. it lasted several days, drove the buffalo hopelessly beyond the reach of the hunters, and killed most of their horses. what greatly aggravated the evil was the suddenness of the disaster. according to the account of one who was in red river at the time, and an eye-witness, the animals disappeared almost instantaneously, and no one was prepared for the inevitable famine that followed. the hunters were at the same time so scattered that they could render each other no assistance. indeed, the various groups did not know whereabouts the others were. some were never found. here and there whole families, despairing of life, weakened by want, and perishing with cold, huddled themselves together for warmth. at first the heat of their bodies melted the snow and soaked their garments. these soon froze and completed the work of destruction. they died where they lay. some groups were afterwards discovered thus frozen together in a mass of solid ice.
while the very young and the feeble succumbed at once, the more robust made a brave struggle for life, and, as always happens in cases of extreme suffering, the good or evil qualities of men and women came out prominently to view. the selfish, caring only for themselves, forsook their suffering comrades, seized what they could or dared, and thus prolonged awhile their wretched lives. the unselfish and noble-hearted cared for others, sacrificed themselves, and in many cases were the means of saving life.
among these last were baptiste warder and winklemann.
“i vill valk to de settlement,” said the latter, one morning towards the middle of january, as he rose from his lair and began to prepare breakfast.
“i’ll go with you,” said warder. “it’s madness to stop here. death will be at our elbow anyhow, but he’ll be sure to strike us all if we remain where we are. the meat we were lucky enough to get yesterday will keep our party on short allowance for some time, and the men will surely find something or other to eke it out while we push on and bring relief.”
“goot,” returned the german; “ve vill start after breakfast. my lecks are yet pretty strong.”
accordingly, putting on their snow-shoes, the two friends set out on a journey such as few men would venture to undertake, and fewer could accomplish, in the circumstances.
on the way they had terrible demonstration of the extent of suffering that prevailed among their friends.
they had not walked twenty miles when they came on tracks which led them to a group—a father, mother, and two sons—who were sitting on the snow frozen to death. in solemn silence the hunters stood for a few minutes and looked at the sad sight, then turned and passed on. the case was too urgent to permit of delay. many lives hung on their speedy conveyance of news to the settlement. they bent forward, and with long swinging strides sped over the dreary plains until darkness—not exhaustion—compelled them to halt. they carried with them a small amount of pemmican, about half rations, trusting to meet with something to shoot on the way. before daylight the moon rose. they rose with it and pushed on. suddenly they were arrested by an appalling yell. next moment a man rushed from a clump of trees brandishing a gun. he stopped when within fifty yards, uttered another demoniacal yell, and took aim at warder.
quick as thought the ex-captain brought his own piece to his shoulder. he would have been too late if the gun of his opponent had not missed fire.
“stop! ’tis pierre vincent!” cried winklemann, just in time to arrest warder’s hand.
vincent was a well-known comrade, but his face was so disfigured by dirt and blood that they barely recognised him. he flung away his gun when it snapped, and ran wildly towards them.
“come! come! i have food, food! ha! ha! much food yonder in the bush! my wife and child eat it! they are eating eating now! ha! ha!”
with another fierce yell the poor maniac—for such he had become—turned off at a tangent, and ran far away over the plains.
they made no attempt to follow him; it would have been useless. in the bush they found his wife and child stone-dead. frequently during that terrible walk they came on single tracks, which invariably showed that the traveller had fallen several times, and at length taken to creeping. then they looked ahead, for they knew that the corpse of a man or woman was not far in advance of them.
one such track led them to a woman with an infant on her back. she was still pretty strong, and trudged bravely over the snow on her snow-shoes, while the little one on her back appeared to be quite content with its lot, although pinched-looking in the face.
the men could not afford to help her on. it would have delayed themselves. the words “life and death” seemed to be ringing constantly in their ears. but they spoke kindly to the poor woman, and gave her nearly all their remaining stock of provisions, reserving just enough for two days.
“i’ve travelled before now on short allowance,” said warder, with a pitiful smile. “we’re sure to come across something before long. if not, we can travel empty for a bit.”
“goot; it vill make us lighter,” said winklemann, with a grave nod.
they parted from the woman, and soon left her out of sight behind. she never reached the settlement. she and the child were afterwards found dead within a quarter of a mile of pembina. from the report of the party she had left, this poor creature must have travelled upwards of a hundred miles in three days and nights before sinking in that terrible struggle for life.
warder and his companion did not require to diverge in order to follow these tracks. they all ran one way, straight for red river—for home! but there were many, very many, who never saw that home again.
one exception they overtook on their fourth day. she was a middle-aged woman, but her visage was so wrinkled by wigwam smoke, and she had such a stoop, that she seemed very old indeed.
“why, i know that figure,” exclaimed warder, on sighting her; “it’s old liz, michel rollin’s scotch mother!”
so it turned out. she was an eccentric creature, full of life, fire, and fun, excessively short and plain, but remarkably strong. she had been forsaken by her nephew, she said. michel, dear michel, would not have left her in the lurch if he had been there. but she would be at home to receive michel on his return. that she would! and she was right. she reached the settlement alive, though terribly exhausted.
warder and winklemann did not “come across” anything except one raven, but they shot that and devoured it, bones and all. then they travelled a day without food and without halt. next day they might reach the settlement if strength did not fail, but when they lay down that night warder said he felt like going to die, and winklemann said that his “lecks” were now useless, and his “lunks” were entirely gone!
