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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78770-0.txt b/78770-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e369899 --- /dev/null +++ b/78770-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6326 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78770 *** + + + + +ON TRAIL AND RAPID BY DOG-SLED AND CANOE + +[Illustration: A HAZARDOUS VOYAGE. + +The river was full of floating ice, the water turbulent, and the craft a +crazy collection of logs and boards. For days the undaunted Bishop and +his one companion, an Indian, plied the poles, chilled to the bone but +never giving up, until at length an icy barrier formed across the river, +and they were compelled to abandon the raft.] + + + + + ON TRAIL AND RAPID + BY DOG-SLED & CANOE + + THE STORY OF + BISHOP BOMPAS’S LIFE AMONGST + THE RED INDIANS AND ESKIMO + + TOLD FOR BOYS AND GIRLS + + BY THE + REV. H. A. CODY, M.A. + AUTHOR OF “AN APOSTLE OF THE NORTH” + + WITH TWENTY-SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS + + _SECOND EDITION_ + + TORONTO + THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY + LIMITED + 1912 + + + + +PREFACE + + +I have been asked to write this narrative of the life of Bishop Bompas +for boys and girls. The scenes among which his strenuous course was +run—the lands of the Red Indians and Eskimo—have always appealed to +the imagination of the young; and the endurance which he showed in +his amazing journeys, and the dauntless courage with which he faced +innumerable perils for his Master’s sake, give to his labours a character +of heroism which they will be sure to recognize. + +I have been able to add some new matter to that which appeared in “An +Apostle of the North.” Part of the chapter on “How the Bishop got his +Mail” has been taken from an article of mine which appeared in the +_Pacific Monthly Magazine_ in 1908, and which the publishers have kindly +given permission to use. + +I am indebted to Miss Agnes C. Laut for extracts from her most +interesting book, “Pathfinders of the West.” + + * * * * * + +This work was begun at Whitehorse when the thermometer stood at 60° below +zero. It was continued a few weeks later among the roses and orange +groves of sunny California, and is now completed in far Eastern Canada, +at St. John, the grey old loyalist city by the sea. + +I hope and trust that it may kindle in the hearts of some of those who +read it a longing to follow in the footsteps of Bishop Bompas, and to +volunteer, like him, for service in these distant outposts of Christ’s +Church militant here in earth. + + H. A. C. + +_Easter, 1910._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. ROMANCE OF EXPLORATION 13 + + II. EARLY DAYS 23 + + III. FORWARD TO THE FRONT 31 + + IV. IN DANGER AMONG THE ESKIMO 39 + + V. ESKIMO LIFE 52 + + VI. OUT OF THE NORTH 62 + + VII. BACK TO THE WILDERNESS 70 + + VIII. A TERRIBLE JOURNEY IN WINTER 78 + + IX. THE LITTLE ONES OF THE FLOCK 89 + + X. A RACE WITH WINTER 97 + + XI. TIMES OF FAMINE 105 + + XII. MID DRIFTING ICE 114 + + XIII. INDIAN WAYS 121 + + XIV. STIRRING DAYS AT FORTY MILE 140 + + XV. FLOODED OUT 148 + + XVI. HOW THE BISHOP GOT HIS MAIL 153 + + XVII. THE GOLDEN KLONDYKE 163 + + XVIII. THE MOUNTED POLICE 174 + + XIX. “FAINT, YET PURSUING” 185 + + XX. LIGHT AT EVENTIDE 194 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + THE BISHOP AND AN INDIAN ON A RAFT _Frontispiece_ + + CANOE-TRAVELLING IN NORTH-WEST CANADA _page_ 20 + + A SNOW-HOUSE MADE ON THE MARCH ” 56 + + WINTER TRAVELLING. A MISSIONARY’S INDIAN HELPER ” 68 + + AN INDIAN ENCAMPMENT ” 74 + + DOG-SLED IN NORTH-WEST CANADA ” 80 + + FEEDING THE DOGS ” 84 + + THE MISSION SCHOOL AT CARCROSS ” 90 + + AN INDIAN BOY SLIDING DOWNHILL ” 94 + + THE DOGS RESTING AFTER A HARD DAY’S WORK ” 94 + + TROUT-SPEARERS BRINGING SUPPLIES FOR A MISSION STATION ” 108 + + AN INDIAN SUMMER CAMP AT PEEL RIVER ” 122 + + AN OLD INDIAN DESERTED BY HIS PEOPLE ” 126 + + TAKING THE MAIL INTO DAWSON IN SPRING ” 154 + + PACK-HORSE SUPPLIES IN 1898 ” 158 + + GOAT-TEAM WITH SLED ON THE TRAIL, 1896 ” 164 + + A MINER’S GOLD-PAN ” 168 + + PROSPECTORS AND MINERS ON THE TRAIL ” 170 + + THE RUSH TO THE KLONDYKE. ONE OF MANY STRANGE CRAFT ” 172 + + BREAKING TRAIL ” 174 + + THE ROYAL NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE ” 176 + + THE MOUNTED POLICE COOKING A MEAL ” 178 + + THE DAWSON—FORT MACPHERSON MAIL ROUTE ” 182 + + INDIAN BOYS AT WORK AND PLAY ” 190 + + ON THE TRAIL ” 194 + + THE BODY OF BISHOP BOMPAS TAKEN IN A BOAT FROM THE + CHURCH TO THE GRAVEYARD ” 198 + + + + +AN APOSTLE OF THE NORTH + +(_Written by the author of this book, when he first saw Bishop Bompas +arrive at Whitehorse, in June, 1904._) + + + We saw him come—there was no loud acclaim: + He stood among the crowd, so frail and spare; + His humble garb marked his still humbler mien, + Whilst gently waved his scanty, silvery hair. + He stood alone, as stands some ancient pine + Amidst a stirring land and busy mart, + And strove to grasp the new and unknown ways, + Which were so strange to his intrepid heart. + + But as I gazed upon that trembling form, + And marked the lisping words which slowly fell, + A vision rose before me, grand and clear, + Which thrilled my soul like some sweet vesper bell. + I saw a lonely region, cold and drear, + I saw the sad wild natives of the North + Pass slow before me, Christless, base, forlorn. + And as I thus beheld there passed straightforth + A lonely man—ay, more than common man— + ’Twas one of God’s great heroes, brave and strong, + Who gave up home and friends and comforts all, + And for Christ’s sake passed forth to conquer wrong; + In lonely wilds, in wigwams foul and drear, + Midst sickness, famine, plague, and sore distress, + He pressed straight on, true soldier of the Cross, + His only aim to comfort and to bless. + + And so he stands as stood his Master, Christ; + Brave leader he, no matter what the cost; + True teacher he, whose every word was love; + Good Shepherd of God’s children strayed and lost. + And this we know, when broken lies the bowl, + The after-glow of his devoted life + Will lead men on to do and dare for Christ, + And win for Him through darkness, pain, and strife. + + + + +ON TRAIL AND RAPID BY DOG-SLED AND CANOE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +ROMANCE OF EXPLORATION + + +The progress of civilization and Christianity in the Canadian North-West, +as in many other parts of the world, is due in a large measure to +great fur-trading companies. With a wonderful devotion to the cause +in hand, they pushed beyond the bounds of civilization and entered +regions never before trodden by white man. They built forts, gained the +respect of savage tribes, and ruled them with a firm hand. By their +boats missionaries travelled over the noble streams into the wilderness, +ministered to the natives who gathered round the forts, and received +supplies from the companies’ stores. + +As friction between bodies produces heat, fire, and light, so, by the +rivalry of fur-trading companies, the northland of Canada was opened up, +and a new era ushered in. Eager to outstrip one another, they were ever +pushing farther and farther into the country, and, as has been well said, +“the great explorers of the period (1763-1812) were all connected with +the fur trade.” + +Away to the north stretched a region, a land of wonder and strange +stories. Indians told of a “great river” in the far North-West, +and showed specimens of copper found along its banks. The Hudson’s +Bay Company, acting upon these reports, decided to make a thorough +investigation, with the object of solving the problem of the North-West +Passage by land, to ascertain what mines were near the mouth of the Great +River, “to smoke the calumet of peace with the Indians, and to take +accurate astronomical observations.” + +The man chosen for this work, Samuel Hearne, the “Mungo Park of Canada,” +was a trustworthy servant of the Company, who, on November 6, 1769, +started on his voyage of exploration from Prince of Wales Fort, on the +shore of Hudson’s Bay. Owing to the desertion of over half his men, the +attempt proved a failure, and he was forced to turn back. + +Two months later he started again, and followed a northwesterly course +over streams, lakes, and then inland across the “Barren Grounds.” Food +was very scarce, and they were reduced to great straits. “For a whole +week cranberries, scraps of leather, and burnt bones were their only +food.” To add to their troubles, when 500 miles had been made, their only +quadrant was blown over and broken. So again Hearne was forced to retrace +his weary steps to the Bay. + +Nothing daunted by these failures, this noble-hearted explorer once more +started on his northward quest. This time he was more successful. With a +strong band of Indians who were waging war against the Eskimo, he floated +down-stream, and ere long gained the sea, the first white man to reach +the Arctic Ocean from the interior. + +“The most unpleasant part of Mr. Hearne’s story,” wrote Bishop Bompas +in his book on the “Diocese of Mackenzie River,” “is that the party of +Indians with whom he travelled, entirely without his sanction, made an +unprovoked attack on a number of Eskimo encamped on the Coppermine River, +and in the night barbarously massacred the whole body of men, women, and +children, and spoiled their tents. The site of the massacre became known +afterwards as the ‘Bloody Falls.’” + +Miss Agnes C. Laut, in her most interesting book, “Pathfinders of the +West,” speaking about this incident, says: + +“The conduct of Hearne’s rascally companions could no longer be +misunderstood. Hunters came in with game; but when the hungry slaves +would have lighted a moss fire to cook the meat, the forbidding hand +of a chief went up. No fires were to be lighted. The Indians advanced +with whispers, dodging from stone to stone like raiders in ambush. Spies +went forward on tiptoe. Then far down-stream below the cataracts Hearne +descried the domed tent-tops of an Eskimo band sound asleep; for it was +midnight, though the sun was at high noon. When Hearne looked back to his +companions, he found himself deserted. The Indians were already wading +the river for the west bank, where the Eskimo had camped. Hearne overtook +his guides stripping themselves of everything that might impede flight or +give hand-hold to an enemy, and daubing their skin with war-paint. Hearne +begged Matonabbee to restrain the murderous warriors. The great chief +smiled with silent contempt. He was too true a disciple of a doctrine +which Indians practised hundreds of years before white men had avowed +it—the survival of the fit, the extermination of the weak—for any qualms +of pity towards a victim whose death would contribute profit. Wearing +only moccasins and bucklers of hardened hide, armed with muskets, lances, +and tomahawks, the Indians jostled Hearne out of their way, stole forward +from stone to stone to within a gun-length of the Eskimo, then, with a +wild war-shout, flung themselves on the unsuspecting sleepers. + +“The Eskimo were taken unprepared. They staggered from their tents, +still dazed in sleep, to be mowed down by a crashing of fire-arms which +they had never before heard. The poor creatures fled in frantic terror, +to be met only by lance-point and gun-butt. A young girl fell coiling +at Hearne’s feet like a wounded snake. A well-aimed lance had pinioned +the living form to earth. She caught Hearne round the knees, imploring +him with dumb entreaty; but the white man was pushed back with jeers. +Sobbing with horror, Hearne begged the Indians to put their victim out of +pain. The rocks rang with the mockery of the torturers. She was speared +to death before Hearne’s eyes. On that scene of indescribable horror +the white man could no longer bear to look. He turned toward the river, +and there was a spectacle like a nightmare. Some of the Eskimo were +escaping by leaping to their hide boats, and with lightning strokes of +the double-bladed paddles dashing down the current to the far bank of the +river; but sitting motionless as stone was an old, old woman—probably a +witch of the tribe—red-eyed as if she were blind, deaf to all the noise +about her, unconscious of all her danger, fishing for salmon below the +falls. There was a shout from the raiders; the old woman did not even +look up to face her fate; and she, too, fell a victim to that thirst for +blood which is as insatiable in the redskin as in the wolf-pack.” + +“It is remarkable,” says Bishop Bompas, “that there is a bird in those +parts which the Indians there call the ‘alarm bird,’ or ‘bird of +warning’—a sort of owl which hovers over the heads of strangers and +precedes them in the direction they go. If these birds see other moving +objects, they flit alternately from one party to the other with screaming +noise, so that the Indians place great confidence in the alarm bird to +apprise them of the approach of strangers, or to conduct them to herds of +deer or musk oxen. + +“Mr. Hearne remarks that all the time the Indians lay in ambush, +preparatory to the above-mentioned horrid massacre, a large flock of +these birds were continually flying about and hovering alternately over +the Indian and Eskimo tents, making a noise to awake any man out of the +soundest sleep. The Eskimo, unhappily, have a great objection to being +disturbed from sleep, and will not be awakened—an obstinacy which seems +to have cost that band their lives.” + +Hearne, like Columbus, was not to have the honour of giving his name to +the great river he discovered. This was reserved for another intrepid +explorer, Alexander Mackenzie, of the North-West Company. In 1789 he +started from Fort Chipewyan, on Lake Athabasca, in search of the “Western +Sea.” He, too, was confronted with great difficulties. Wild Indians told +“of demon-haunted caves and impassable falls.” Terrified by these tales, +his Indians refused to go farther. With infinite patience Mackenzie +induced them to continue seven days longer, and if in that time they did +not discover the sea, he promised to turn back. Before the end of the +week the mouth of the river was reached, and the explorer knew it was the +Arctic Ocean he had gained instead of the Western Sea. + +“It is hard,” says Bishop Bompas, “to overpraise the intrepid courage, +cool prudence, and inquiring intelligence of that noble traveller.... +Sir Alexander Mackenzie took the greatest pains to conciliate all +Indians whom he met by presents and promises of peaceful trade, and he +energetically restrained all attempts at murder or rapine made by the +Indians who accompanied him. He did not meet with Eskimo, and it is +little wonder that these and the Mackenzie River Indians were shy of him, +as it was then customary for the Athabasca Indians to make annual war +expeditions down the Mackenzie for purposes of plunder, massacre, and +rapine, as well as for the kidnapping of women and slaves.” + +In after-years many eminent explorers, such as Franklin, Richardson, +Simpson, and Rae, entered the country, the accounts of whose journeys and +thrilling adventures may be read elsewhere. + +Several years after the discovery of the Mackenzie River trading-posts +were established at various places along this stream and its tributaries. +To these the Indians brought their furs, and a thriving business was +carried on. For a time there was a keen rivalry between the Hudson’s Bay +Company and the North-West Company, but at length a union was effected +under the name of the former. + +Not satisfied with the great advance which had thus been made, these +“lords of the forest and lakes” turned their attention in another +direction. Ever before their vision rose the majestic peaks of the Rocky +Mountains; beyond these barriers were unknown regions. What possibilities +lay in that _terra incognita_ they could only conjecture. News reached +them of a great river flowing to the west, the estuary of which had been +explored by the Russians several years before, and named by them the +“Quickpak.” This stream they knew must drain a large territory, which +might prove valuable for fur-trading purposes. + +There was a man in the Company’s service especially fitted for the task +of pathfinder into the new region. This was Robert Campbell, a Scotchman +by birth, over six feet of upstanding flesh, bone, muscle, and iron +nerve, as dauntless a pioneer as ever shot a swirling rapid or faced a +howling blizzard. To him, therefore, the task was consigned in the spring +of 1840 by Sir George Simpson, Governor of the Company. + +At once he began the undertaking, and after a hard and dangerous voyage +up the Liard River, over lakes and portages, a stream was reached, +which Campbell named the Pelly, in honour of Sir H. Pelly. A raft was +hurriedly made, on which they floated several miles down the river to +view the country. Considering they had gone far enough from their base of +supplies, they abandoned the raft, but not before Campbell had cast into +the stream a sealed tin can with notice of his discovery, the date, and +other information. + +The discovery of the Pelly River only served to increase the interest +of the Company, and it was resolved to push forward the investigation. +In 1842 birch-bark in sufficient quantity for the building of a canoe +was sent up to the Pelly River, and the same year the construction of a +fur-trading post was begun, and named Fort Pelly Banks. Early in June, +1843, Mr. Campbell started down the stream in the canoe which had been +built, accompanied by two French Canadians and an Indian interpreter. + +Concerning this exciting journey Mr. Campbell has given us a vivid +description which should be of great interest to all. + +“As we advanced,” he says, “the river increased in size, and the scenery +formed a succession of picturesque landscapes. About twenty-five miles +from Pelly Banks we encountered a bad rapid—‘Hooles’—where we were +forced to disembark everything, but elsewhere we had a nice flowing +current. Ranges of mountains flanked us on both sides. On the right +hand the mountains were generally covered with wood; the left range +was more open, with patches of poplar running up the valleys and +_barnsides_, reminding one of the green brae-face of the Highland glens. +We frequently saw moose-deer and bears as we passed along; and at +points where the precipice rose abrupt from the water’s edge, the wild +sheep—‘big-horn’—were often seen on the shelving rocks. They were very +keen-sighted, and when once alarmed they file swiftly and gracefully over +the mountains. When we chanced to get one we found it splendid eating, +delicate enough for an epicure. + +“In this manner we travelled on for several days. We saw only one family +of Indians—‘Knife’ Indians—till we reached the junction of the Pelly +with a tributary, which I named the ‘Lewes.’ Here we found a large camp +of Indians—the ‘Wood’ Indians. We took them by no ordinary surprise, as +they had never seen a white man before, and they looked upon us with +some awe as well as curiosity. Two of their chiefs, father and son, were +very tall, stout, handsome men. We smoked the pipe of peace together, +and I distributed some presents. They spoke in loud tones, as do all the +Indians in their natural state, but they seemed kind and peaceable. When +we explained to them as best we could that we were going down-stream, +they all raised their voices against it. Among other dangers, they +indicated that inhabitating the lower river were many tribes of ‘bad’ +Indians—‘numerous as the sand’—who would not only kill us, but eat us; +we should never get back alive, and friends coming to look after us +would unjustly blame them for our death. All this frightened our men to +such a degree that I had reluctantly to consent to our return, which, +under the circumstances, was the only alternative. I learned afterwards +that it would have been madness in us to have made any further advance, +unprepared as we were for such an enterprise. + +“Much depressed, we that afternoon retraced our course up-stream; but +before doing so I launched on the river a sealed can containing memoranda +of our trip, etc. I was so dejected at the unexpected turn of affairs +that I was perfectly heedless of what was passing; but on the third day +of our upward progress I noticed, on both sides of the river, fires +burning on the hill-tops far and near. This awoke me to a sense of our +situation. I conjectured that, as in Scotland in the olden time, these +were _signal fires_, and that they summoned the Indians to surround +and intercept us. Thus aroused, we made the best use of paddles and +‘tracking-line’ to get up-stream and ahead of the Indian signals. On +the fourth morning we came to a party of Indians on the further bank +of the river. They made signs to us to cross over, which we did. They +were very hostile, watching us with bows bent and arrows in hand, and +would not come down from the top of the high bank to the water’s edge +to meet us. I sent up a man with some tobacco, the emblem of peace, to +reassure them, but at first they would hardly remove their hands from +their bows to receive it. We ascended the bank to them, and had a most +friendly interview, carried on by words and signs. It required, however, +some finesse and adroitness to get away from them. Once in the canoe, +we quickly pushed out and struck obliquely for the opposite bank, so as +to be out of range of their arrows, and I faced about, gun in hand, to +observe their actions. The river was there too broad either for ball +or arrow. We worked hard during the rest of the day, and until late; +the men were tired out, and I made them all sleep in my tent while I +kept watch. At that season the night is so clear that one can read or +write throughout. Our camp lay on the bank of the river, at the base of +a steep declivity, which had large trees here and there up its grassy +slope. In the branches of one of these trees I passed the greater part +of the anxious night, reading Hervey’s ‘Meditations’ and keeping a +vigilant lookout. Occasionally I descended and walked to the river-bank, +but all was still. Two years afterwards, when friendly relations had +been established with the Indians in the district, I learned, to my no +small astonishment, that the hostile tribe encountered down the river +had dogged us all day, and, when we halted for the night, had encamped +behind the crest of the hill, and from this retreat had watched my every +movement. With the exactitude of detail characteristic of Indians, they +described me sitting in the tree, holding ‘something white’ (the book) in +my hand, and often raising my eyes to make a survey of the neighbourhood; +then descending to the river-bank, taking my horn cup from my belt, and, +even while I drank, glancing up and down the river and towards the hill. +They confessed that, had I knelt down to drink, they would have rushed +upon me and drowned me in the swift current, and, after thus despatching +me, would have massacred the sleeping inmates of my tent. How often, +without knowing it, are we protected from danger by the merciful hand +of Providence! Next morning we were early in motion, and were glad to +observe that we had outwitted the Indians and outstripped their signal +fires.” + +[Illustration: CANOE-TRAVELLING IN NORTH-WEST CANADA + +The canoes are made of birch-bark over a light framework, and are +consequently very frail. They are, however, light and portable, a great +advantage when navigating rivers with falls or rapids. Those places where +the canoe must be carried from one navigable piece of water to another +are known as portages.] + +In the spring of 1848 Campbell once more returned, and erected a post +for trading purposes at the confluence of the Lewes and Pelly Rivers. +This place was called Fort Selkirk, and occupied a dangerous position, +owing to the animosity of a tribe of Indians, known as the Chilcats, +along the Pacific Coast. From time immemorial they had kept the natives +of the interior in abject submission, having defeated them in a great +battle. They refused to allow them to cross the mountains to trade with +the white men on the coast, as they themselves did a thriving business +as “middlemen.” When they beheld the hated white race establishing a +post in what they considered their rightful domain, and drawing away the +principal part of the trade, their anger knew no bounds. Crossing the +mountains, they floated down the river, and, without a word of warning, +attacked the fort and razed it to the ground. Campbell was not present at +the destruction of his trading-post, as, two years after its erection, he +had started down the river to see, at any cost, what lay beyond. + +In the meantime another entry had been made into the Yukon region away +to the north. In 1842, Mr. J. Bell, in the employ of the Hudson’s Bay +Company, crossed the Rocky Mountains, and descended the Porcupine River +for three days’ journey. In 1846 he returned, and moved down the river to +its mouth till he reached a great stream, which the Indians told him was +the Yukon. Believing this to be in British territory, Mr. A. H. Murray +established a trading-post at this spot the following year, and called +it Fort Yukon. It was here that the first missionary work was carried +on by the Church Missionary Society, the scene of Archdeacon McDonald’s +wonderful labours for the Master. + +In this brief outline of the discovery of the Mackenzie and the Yukon +Rivers we have seen the brave efforts of these noble pioneers. We shall +see now how they were followed by the great King’s messengers with the +glorious Gospel of salvation. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +EARLY DAYS + + +We all like to read about heroes, whether on sea or land. How real they +become to us as we picture them in our minds, and eagerly follow their +adventures! We wonder what they did when boys, and if they performed +wonderful things then. Nothing is too small to be of importance when once +we have a real, noble hero. + +William Carpenter Bompas was a hero in the true sense of the word—not one +who gained his laurels by fighting on the sea, or rushing forward, even +to the bayonet’s point, in some great charge. His glory was gained in a +far different manner, when he enlisted in the service of the great King +of kings, and carried the banner of the Cross over great Arctic regions +and grim, snow-capped mountains, to rescue wandering Indians and Eskimo, +and lead them to the Master’s feet. + +There was very little in his early life to show that he contained the +stuff of which heroes are made. He was a shy boy, fond of retirement and +study. But there was good blood in his veins, and blood will tell. The +family, on his mother’s side, was partly Royalist and partly Puritan. One +member is known to have been private secretary to Henrietta Maria, and +was hung by the Parliamentarians for aiding Charles I.; while another at +one time was secretary to Hampden. We shall see how the characteristics +of these two great parties were in later years remarkably united in +William Bompas. + +The Bompas family is of French extraction, and there is an interesting +tradition which tells how the name was first given. + +It was on the field of Crecy that an ancestor performed a deed of great +valour in the fight, and was knighted by Edward the Black Prince. A +bystander remarked: “C’est un bon pas.” And the Knight replied that he +would take that for his motto. + +How often young William Bompas must have listened with intense eagerness +to that story of his valiant ancestor, and longed to do some great deed +himself! Little did he then think that he would be called upon to do more +than all before him, and the step that he was destined to take would be +the best of all. + +His father, Charles Carpenter Bompas, was a Serjeant-at-law, and one of +the most eminent advocates of his day. It is said that the famous Charles +Dickens had him in his mind when he wrote about Serjeant Buzfuz in the +“Pickwick Papers.” When William was only ten years old, his father died +very suddenly, leaving a widow and eight children—five sons and three +daughters. + +William, in early youth, showed most plainly those characteristics which +marked his whole life. He was a quiet boy, owing partly, no doubt, to +private tuition at home, which deprived him to a large extent of the +society of other boys. Cricket, football, and such games, he did not +play, his chief pleasure being walking, and sketching churches and other +buildings that he encountered in his rambles. Gardening he was fond of, +and the knowledge thus gained stood him in good stead years later when +planning for the mission-farms in his northern diocese. + +The influence of a religious home made a deep and lasting impression +upon him. His parents were earnest Christians, belonging to the Baptist +denomination. Sunday was strictly observed, the father making it a firm +rule never to read briefs or hold consultations on the Day of Rest. +Bible-reading, too, was carefully observed. Serjeant Bompas was a man of +liberal views, allowing his children to indulge in harmless amusements, +and occasionally permitting them to attend the theatre and to play cards, +if not for money. + +William from childhood was of a deeply religious turn of mind, and at the +age of sixteen was baptized by immersion, on a profession of his faith, +by the Hon. and Rev. Baptist Noel. This step caused his mother great joy, +and after her death the following was found among her many papers: + +“_July 7, 1850._—This day I would record the mercy which has rendered +it one of peculiar blessing and happiness. The favour and presence of +God has been manifested to us again during the past week, and I have +enjoyed the best earthly happiness in seeing my dear and dutiful son +W. devote himself unreservedly to the service of his Saviour. Having +conscientiously decided on baptism by immersion, he was publicly baptized +on the 5th by Mr. Baptist Noel, at his chapel in John Street, and was at +the same time admitted as member of Mr. Stratten’s church, and to-day I +have had the privilege of partaking with him of that ordinance which I +trust will be most profitable to us both.” + +At this time William was attending a small day-school, and the master, +Mr. Elliott, wrote of him: + +“I never had a pupil who made such acquisitions of knowledge in so short +a time; his attainments in mathematics and classics are far beyond the +majority of youths at his age, and would warrant anyone conversant with +the state of education in the Universities in predicting a brilliant +career for him, should he ever have that path open to him. I think, +however, that the development of his mind is still more remarkable than +the amount of his knowledge.” + +But a University career was not practicable, and William was therefore +articled in 1852 to the same firm of solicitors with whom his brother +George was working. At the expiration of his five years of service he +transferred himself to another city firm, Messrs. Ashurst, Morris and +Company, with whom he remained about two years. While here a catastrophe +occurred in the failure of a great company, involving ruin to unnumbered +families. The harrowing spectacle of the poorer shareholders who brought +their claims into court, having lost their all without remedy, was a +terrible strain upon the young man’s nervous system, which had been +weakened by a severe illness but a short time before. This, together with +strenuous labour, brought on a second breakdown, and early in 1858 he was +forced to give up work altogether. He declared that it took him three +months to learn to do nothing. During his year of inaction the Greek +Testament was his constant companion. Change of scene became necessary, +and he spent some time at his mother’s home, Broughton, Hants, and later +with his sister visited the Normandy coast. + +“The summer after his illness,” writes his brother, Judge Bompas, “we +went on a walking tour to Scotland; and one evening it got dark before +we had reached our destination, and we had to sleep out in the mountains +with no shelter, and amidst frequent showers of rain. William, though in +his weak health, was perfectly fearless and in great spirits, repeating +part of Macaulay’s ‘Lays’ and other poems for much of the night.” + +As his strength returned, his mind turned more and more to his early +desire of entering the ministry. Leaving the communion of his early +associations, he decided to seek ordination in the Church of England, and +in 1858 was confirmed by the Bishop of London at St. Mary’s, Bryanston +Square. His remarkable linguistic ability enabled him soon to add by +private study a good knowledge of Hebrew to that of Latin and Greek, +which he already possessed. + +In 1859 he was accepted by Dr. Jackson, the Bishop of Lincoln, as a +literate candidate for Holy Orders, and was ordained deacon by him at +the Advent ordination the same year, and appointed curate to the Rev. H. +Owen, Rector of Trusthorpe and Sutton-in-the-Marsh. + +The first charge was a trying experience. The parish of Sutton was a wild +district, with a rough and primitive population, and most of the men had +been smugglers in former times. No school was established, and there had +been no resident clergyman since the time of the Reformation. Mr. Bompas +at once began a great work among the children, gathering them into his +own house, and teaching them, at first by himself, and later with the +help of his sister and a girl from a neighbouring village. By his care +for the children, and by the unfailing sympathy shown in his visits to +his parishioners, he succeeded in winning their gratitude and confidence. +His plan for the erection of a school was at first strongly opposed by +some of the farmers, who were unwilling to give land for the purpose. But +Mr. Bompas, with that tact and gentleness which marked all his dealings, +at length overcame opposition, and when he left at the end of two years +the building was completed and opened. + +“I can well remember,” writes one, in reference to the young curate’s +work at Sutton, “as quite a little child, how he won my heart by carrying +my poor pet-cat, that had been hurt by a heavy piece of wood falling on +it, into a place of safety, and doing all he could to ease its pain. +Also, about the same time, in a heavy gale of wind, he was going out to +dinner at Mablethorpe, and, passing through Trusthorpe, found a little +girl blown into the thick black mud at the side of a big drain, and +unable to free herself. He not only went to the rescue, but carried her +to her home at the far end of Sutton, regardless of dinner! The _once_,” +continues the same writer, “that he revisited Sutton and preached there, +the people lined the path from church to gate, and stood waiting for him +to leave the church, that they might get a word as he passed—a very +unusual demonstration from our true but undemonstrative Lincolnshire folk +of those days.” + +While at Sutton, in the second year of his clerical life, a great sorrow +came to Mr. Bompas in the death of his mother, to whose bedside he was +summoned in January, 1861. He was devotedly attached to her, and was able +to take part, with the rest of his family, in ministering comfort to her +during her last days. + +In the midst of early discouragements, Mr. Bompas found a valuable friend +and helper in Mrs. Loft, of Trusthorpe Hall. He was always sure of a +hearty welcome at her house, and in after-years she followed his course +with the wannest interest, and corresponded with him to the end of her +life. + +In 1862 he accepted the curacy of New Radford, Nottingham, a poor and +crowded parish, populated largely by lace-workers. The number of souls, +about 10,000, within the small triangle of New Radford was about the same +as the population of the vast diocese of 900,000 square miles of which he +was later to have episcopal supervision. To this circumstance he referred +when preaching in the parish on his return to England for consecration in +1874. + +From Nottingham, Mr. Bompas went for a short time as curate to +Holy Trinity, South Lincolnshire, returning in 1864 to his former +neighbourhood as curate to the Rev. H. Oldrid at Alford, Lincolnshire. +As the earnest curate passed from house to house in his daily work, +his parishioners little thought what a bright fire of enthusiasm was +burning in his heart. He had been much stirred by the stories told by +missionaries of heathen dying without the knowledge of Christ in far-away +lands, and he longed to go abroad and bear the message of salvation. His +mind turned to China and India, with their seething millions; but as he +was a little over thirty years of age at that time, the Church Missionary +Society thought him rather old to grapple with the difficulties of the +Eastern languages. But when one door closes, another opens, and at the +right moment Bishop Anderson arrived from Rupert’s Land, and made his +great appeal for a volunteer to relieve the Rev. Robert McDonald at Fort +Yukon. + +It was on May 1, 1865, that this missionary Bishop was touching the +hearts of a large crowd at St. Bride’s, London, England. He had travelled +a long way to attend the anniversary of the Church Missionary Society, +and was preaching the sermon which was destined to bear so much fruit. +Bishop Anderson was the bearer of a great message to the Church in +England. He had much to tell of the vastness of Canada, and the great +regions where the children of the wild lived and died without the +knowledge of Christ. He told of a lonely mission-station on the mighty +Yukon River, where a soldier of the cross, the Rev. Robert McDonald, +with health fast failing, was standing bravely at his post of duty till +someone should relieve him. What thoughts must have surged through his +mind as he looked on the many upturned faces before him! Who was there +among those listeners willing to consecrate his life to the Master’s +work? Lifting up his voice, the Bishop uttered these words, which have +become so memorable: + +“Shall no one come forward to take up the standard of the Lord as it +falls from his hands, and to occupy the ground?” + +The service ended, the clergy retired, and the congregation began to +disperse. But there was one whose heart had been deeply touched by +the speaker’s words, and, walking at once into the vestry, William +Bompas, the Lincolnshire curate, offered to go to Canada to relieve the +missionary at Fort Yukon. + +He was at once accepted by the Church Missionary Society, and ordained to +the priesthood by Bishop, afterwards Archbishop, Machray, who had just +been consecrated as successor to Bishop Anderson. + +How little did those who attended that ordination service realize the +important part those two men would take in Christ’s great work, or that +among the heroes of the Church in Canada in years to come no names would +be held in greater reverence than those of Machray and Bompas! + +Only three weeks did Mr. Bompas have in which to prepare for his long +journey; but they were sufficient, as he was anxious to be on his way. So +complete was his consecration to the work before him that “he decided,” +so his brother tells us, “to take nothing with him that might lead back +his thoughts to home, and he gave away all his books and other tokens of +remembrance, even the paragraph Bible which he had always used.” + + + + +CHAPTER III + +FORWARD TO THE FRONT + + +Shortly after Mr. Bompas was accepted by the Church Missionary Society, +he went to Salisbury Square and inquired how far it was to his +mission-field, and the length of time required for the journey. When told +it was about 8,000 miles, and that he was hardly likely to reach it that +year, a smile passed over his face as he replied, “I see I must start +with a small bag.” + +After he learned more about the country, a longing entered into his +heart to start as soon as possible, and reach Fort Simpson, on the +Mackenzie River, by Christmas Day. Was such a thing possible? No one +before had ever done it in winter, and was it likely that the young, +ardent missionary would be the first to accomplish the task? With this +determination, Mr. Bompas was not long in making preparations for his +journey, and on June 30, 1865, he left London for Liverpool, where he +boarded the steamer _Persia_, bound for New York. + +Mr. Bompas was surprised that this steamer burnt 100 tons of coal daily; +but now the Cunard liner _Mauretania_ burns 1,000 tons each day in 192 +furnaces. + +He travelled in company with the Rev. J. P. and Mrs. Gardiner and family +and Miss M. M. Smith, who were going to the Red River. There were many +passengers, mostly Americans, and for these an effort was made to hold +service the first Sunday, but the captain refused to give his permission. +On the following Sunday, however, they were more successful, and service +was held in the saloon, attended by crew and passengers. Tracts were also +distributed among the sailors, “accompanied by religious conversation.” + +Reaching New York on July 12, two days were spent at the Astor House +Hotel, where they had the exciting experience of viewing a disastrous +fire right across the street, when a large block of buildings, including +Barnum’s Museum, was destroyed. From New York they proceeded to Niagara +by the Hudson River and New York Central Railway. On the way Mr. Bompas +spent one night at Rochester to see Captain Palmer, of the American +Telegraph Company. + +“He informed me,” wrote Mr. Bompas, “that a party of explorers were +already on their way to Fort Yukon from Sidkar,[1] on the Pacific coast, +with the view of carrying out the Company’s contract entered into with +the Russian Government for laying a telegraph-line through Siberia and +across Behring’s Strait, to join existing lines in America. Should +the Atlantic cable prove successful, the Yukon line would, I suppose, +complete the circuit of the globe.” + +Mr. Bompas considered the American railways rather noisy and jostling, +and the large saloon carriages, holding about sixty people, less pleasant +than the English style. At the same time, he thought the general +arrangements were “good and expeditious,” and admired the system of +communication throughout the train and the “booking through luggage by +duplicate ‘cheques’ or metal badges.” + +Leaving Niagara, they reached Chicago by way of Detroit. Here were seen +“many soldiers returning from the war, some of them wounded, and most +looking pale and sickly, reminding one too plainly of the many who never +returned.” From Chicago they went by rail to La Crosse, and thence +by steamer to St. Paul. Here Dr. Schultz, a Red River merchant, and +afterwards Sir John Schultz, Lieutenant-Governor of Manitoba, was met, +who conveyed their heavy luggage across the plains in his ox-train, and +proved in many ways of great assistance. + +At St. Cloud the first difficulty presented itself. Since the fearful +Sioux massacre of 1862, people were in great dread all over the country, +and they found it impossible to get anyone to convey them on towards +Red River. After much trouble and delay, they were forced to procure +a conveyance for themselves. Before leaving St. Cloud, they were told +time and time again to beware of the Indians, who were always prowling +around. “But,” said one informant, “they will respect the English flag, +and I advise you to take one along.” Such a thing the party did not +possess. But Mr. Bompas was equal to the occasion; so, procuring some red +and white cotton, he soon formed quite a respectable banner, which was +fastened to a small flagstaff erected on the cart. + +Dr. Schultz had been overtaken some distance out on the prairie, and +when they had gone some way farther mounted Indians appeared in sight, +and, like the wind, one warrior swept down to view the small cavalcade. +Beholding the flag of the clustered crosses, he gazed for a time upon the +little band, and, moving away, he left them unmolested. + +“On the whole, however,” said Mr. Bompas, “we travelled without special +discomfort, Dr. Schultz acting as guide. The charge of the horses, making +fires, cooking, encamping, driving, etc., of course threw much work upon +us, being without a servant.” + +Reaching the Red River in safety, Mr. Bompas was much pleased with the +whole general appearance of the place. + +“The houses,” he wrote, “are cleanly and cheerful, and new ones are being +built. The settlement extends altogether about twenty-five miles down +the banks of the river. In this distance there are five churches. The +three which I saw are well built and spacious. The schoolrooms, also, and +parsonages are of good size. Mr. Cowley was just removing into a new +house of a very substantial character.” + +Here Mr. Bompas had not long to wait, for the boats of the great Hudson’s +Bay Company were ready to start on their long northern journey, and he +was to go with them. There were four boats, called a “brigade,” each +rowed by seven or eight men, “mostly Salteaux Indians, heathen, and +unable to speak English—a tribe much averse to Christianity.” + +Then northward fled that fleet of boats, across great inland lakes, over +hard portages where the freight had to be carried, past the company’s +posts, mission stations, and Indian encampments, where services were held +when possible. + +But winter was rapidly closing in upon them and threatening the daring +voyagers. Sixty-three days had they been out from the Red River +Settlement when Portage la Roche was reached on October 12, and there +they found they were too late to meet any boat going farther north. +Here was a difficult situation, but Mr. Bompas was not to be defeated. +Engaging a canoe and two French half-breeds, he pushed bravely forward. +The journey was a hard one. In some places they had to battle with +drifting ice, and the water froze to their canoe and paddles. Still they +pressed on, all day long contending with running ice, and the bleak, cold +wind whistling around them and freezing the water upon their clothes. At +night there was the lonely shore, the camp-fire, the scanty meal, and +the cold ground covered with brush for a bed. The next day up and on +again—the same weary work, the same hard fight. Such was the struggle for +eight long days, till Fort Chipewyan, on Lake Athabasca, was reached. + +Here Mr. Christie, the officer in charge of the post, gave him a hearty +welcome; here the warm stove sent out its cheerful glow, and here, too, +were to be found many comforts for the winter months, if he would only +stay and rest. But no; it was ever up and on. Never before had such a +man stood within the fort. Who could conquer that northern stream at such +a season? But the missionary only smiled, and asked for canoe and men. He +was given a large craft and three Indian lads. + +And once more that dauntless herald of the Cross sped northward. For +several days the trim canoe cut the water, driven by determined arms. +Then winter swept down in all its fury; the river became full of floating +ice, jamming, tearing, and impeding their canoe. Axes were brought to +bear; they would cleave a passage. The missionary must not be stopped. +How they did work! The ice-chips flew; the spray dashed and drenched +them, and then encased their bodies with an icy armour. Colder and colder +it grew, and the river became a solid mass from bank to bank. The canoe +was dragged ashore, and placed _en cache_ on the bank with their baggage. +All around was the pitiless wild. It was a dreary sight to this intrepid +traveller, with winter upon him, the bleak wilderness surrounding him, +and very little food. The enthusiasm of a less ardent spirit would have +been completely damped; but Mr. Bompas was made of sterner stuff, and +without delay he and his companions pushed forward through the forest. +On and on they travelled by a circuitous route, through brushwood and +thickets, with clothes torn, hands and faces scratched and bleeding, and +uncertain where they were. Night shut down and wrapped them in its gloomy +mantle. All the next day they struggled forward, without food, and again +night overtook them. Still they staggered on, and just when they were +wearied to the point of exhaustion the lights of Fort Resolution, on +Great Slave Lake, gleamed their welcome through the darkness. + +It was necessary for the traveller to remain here until the ice in the +lake became firm enough to cross with dogs and snow-shoes. Mr. Lockhart, +the Company’s officer, offered his hospitality, and during the delay +Mr. Bompas continued busy “in the preparation,” as he tells us, “of +letters for the winter express, which is despatched hence to the south in +December, and also in practising walking with snow-shoes, in preparation +for my journey forward.” + +After he had remained at Fort Resolution about a month, “Mr. Lockhart +kindly despatched him across the lake on snow-shoes, with two men and a +sledge of dogs.” Ice was found drifting in the open lake, and they were +obliged to lengthen their course by following the shore very closely. +“However, by God’s help,” wrote Mr. Bompas, “we arrived safely at +the next post (Big Island) in five days, when I was again hospitably +entertained by the officer in charge, Mr. Bird.” + +Here again he waited anxiously for the men from Fort Simpson with the +winter packet of mail. They arrived on December 13, and four days later +they started for Fort Simpson, and the missionary with them. Could they +make the fort by Christmas Day? that was the question. Only a short time +remained in which to do it. Day after day they sped forward. Saturday +came, and still they were on the trail, and the next would be Christmas +Day. One hundred and seventy-seven days had passed since leaving London, +and was he to lose after all, and so very near his destination? But still +the dogs raced forward, nearer and nearer, till, oh joy! on Christmas +morning the fort hove into sight. There was the flag floating from its +tall staff; there were the men crowding around to give their welcome, +and among them stood that dauntless pioneer, the Rev. W. W. Kirkby, with +great surprise on his face, as Mr. Bompas rushed forward and seized him +by the hand. + +Great was Mr. Bompas’s delight in having accomplished the journey, and +reached the fort on that blessed day in time for the morning service, and +thankfully he wrote: + +“As I had especially wished to arrive by Christmas, I could not but +acknowledge a remarkable token that our lives are indeed in God’s hand. +It is hardly needful to say how warm a welcome I received from Mr. +Kirkby. When I heard what a trying time he had passed through last fall +in consequence of the epidemic sickness among the Indians, I felt very +glad to have persevered in my efforts to reach him this winter.” + +No less enthusiastically did Mr. Kirkby write to the Church Missionary +Society on June 3, 1886: + +“You will imagine, better than I can tell, what a delight and surprise +the unexpected arrival of Mr. Bompas was to us. He reached us in health +and safety on Christmas morning, making the day too doubly happy by +his presence and glad tidings that he brought. He was a Christmas-box +indeed, and one for which we thank God with a full heart. The entire +unexpectedness of his coming caused us to see in it more of the +loving-kindness of our God. Such a thing as an arrival here in winter +is never thought of, nor had it ever before occurred. After the boats +leave here in the fall we have no visitors from without the district +until now, when the waters are open again. Our dear brother deserves the +greatest credit for the way in which he persevered in getting to us, +and the accomplishment of his journey speaks much for his energy and +determination. A more auspicious day, too, he could not have had for his +arrival. He was just in time for morning service, so that we had at once +the happiness of partaking of the Holy Communion together. Then followed +the Indian service, in which he expressed much delight; and in the +evening, like good Samuel Marsden of old, he began his work by preaching +from St. Luke xi. 10. He remained with us until Easter, and then went +on with the packet-men to Great Bear Lake, where I trust God is doubly +blessing him. + +“Fancy, it is not yet a year since he left England, and in that short +time he has travelled so far, entered upon his work, and acquired enough +of the language to be able to tell to the Indians in their own tongue the +wonderful works of God. I admire that way of doing things exceedingly, +and would accord all honour to him who thus performs his Master’s work.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +IN DANGER AMONG THE ESKIMO + + +People get very much excited over the North Pole explorations. They +praise, too, the few men of the Royal North-West Mounted Police, who in +these days patrol the Arctic coast at the mouth of the Mackenzie River. +But how few know about the missionary heroes who have advanced into those +desolate regions, facing hardships and even death to bear the Gospel +message to the Eskimo living in those places. It was Mr. Bompas who first +went as a missionary to the Arctic coast at the mouth of the Mackenzie +River, and the story of his experiences and narrow escape from death is +one of the most thrilling in missionary annals. + +On a journey to Fort Yukon he had met a number of Eskimo at Fort +McPherson, who requested him to go with them down to the coast. He could +not get these poor creatures out of his mind, so in the spring he went +back over the mountains for the purpose of visiting them. These natives, +with their strange, uncouth manners, strongly appealed to his noble +nature, and he expressed his feelings for such in the following beautiful +words: + +“At the funeral of the great Duke of Wellington, it was considered to be +a mark of solemn respect that the obsequies should be attended by one +soldier from every part and regiment of the British army; and it is a +part of the Saviour’s glory that one jewel be gathered to His crown from +every tribe of the lost human race. It is an honour to seek to secure +for our Lord one such jewel from even the remotest tribe.” + +Leaving Fort McPherson on April 18, 1870, Mr. Bompas started down the +river in company with two Eskimo, hauling a small sled with blankets and +provisions. On the way he received a message from the Chief of the Eskimo +telling him to go back, as the natives “were starving and quarrelling, +and one had just been stabbed and killed in a dispute about some +tobacco.” But this message had no effect upon the missionary; he was busy +in his Master’s service, and he knew that same Master would take care of +His servant, and undaunted, he pressed bravely forward. + +For three days they continued to travel without any difficulty, camping +at night on the river-bank, and making a small fire of broken boughs. But +the glare of the spring sun was very severe, and Mr. Bompas was stricken +with snow-blindness. This affliction is one common in the North, and only +those who have themselves suffered on the trail can fully realize what it +means. + +“As the sun rises higher,” wrote Mr. Bompas, “and has more power in the +months of March and April, to walk long over the snow in the sunlight +becomes distressing to the eyes from the dazzling brightness. This is +especially the case in traversing a wide lake or in descending a broad +river, where there are no near forests of dark pines to relieve the gaze, +but an unbroken expanse of snow. + +“The effect of this is to produce, after a time, acute inflammation of +the eyes. These, in the end, may be so entirely closed as to involve a +temporary blindness, accompanied by much smarting pain.... The voyager +feels very helpless during the acute stage of snow-blindness, and, like +Elymas the sorcerer, or St. Paul himself, he ‘seeks some one to lead him +by the hand.’” + +For three days in awful darkness he was led by the hand of the native +boy, making about twenty-five miles a day, till the first Eskimo camp +was reached. It was only a snow-house, and to enter it with closed eyes, +stumbling at every step, was a most disagreeable introduction. + +A description of what a snow-house is like is given by the Rev. Mr. +Whittaker, who years afterwards lived among the Eskimo at Herschel Island. + +“I remained,” he says, “at the village [Kitligagzooit] just two weeks, +and a most uncomfortable time it was, principally on account of the cold. +They are all in snow-houses now, and the temperature required to preserve +a snow-house will not conduce to a white man’s comfort. I suffered +constantly and almost unremittingly with cold hands and feet, and no +amount of clothing would keep them warm. My blood appeared to stagnate +and afford me no heat. The intense cold made me ravenously hungry, and +although deer meat was plentiful, I craved fat, and at length was tempted +to try some of the white whale that had lain in the ground since summer. +It was strong, even burning my throat, but after a little I ate it with +relish. It is eaten about half-frozen—raw, of course. + +“In the house where I stayed were two Huskie families, seven of them and +myself all in one room about the size of an ordinary bedroom. There we +ate, drank, slept, and lived the daily round. The houses are just such as +you may see in any pictures of Arctic scenes. There is no fire in them +except the big seal-oil lamp, over which they do much of their cooking.” + +And yet such sufferings were little considered by Mr. Bompas. “They are +delights,” he once said. “The first footprint on earth made by our risen +Saviour was the nail-mark of suffering, and for the spread of the Gospel +I, too, am prepared to suffer.” + +After one day of rest in the snow-house, he recovered his sight, and +then, moving forward, reached another camp. His appearance at each place, +so he tells us, “excited a great deal of observation and curiosity, as +they had never had a European among them in the same way before.” + +In this camp he was disturbed “by yelling and dancing” on the very spot +where he was lying. This was caused by an old woman “making medicine—that +is, conjuring in order to cure a man who was, or was thought to be, +sick.” Mr. Bompas, unable to stand the terrible confusion, tried to stop +them by saying that medicine-making was all a wicked lie, whereupon the +old woman threw herself upon the missionary, and in no gentle manner +vented upon him her wrath. After this he left the place and betook +himself to another camp, where he lay down and “enjoyed a good night’s +rest.” Next morning, seeing the man who was the cause of all the trouble, +Mr. Bompas found he was suffering from a sore head, for which he gave him +a “small piece of soap and a few grains of alum to rub it with.” When +he saw the man some time later, he was told that his conjuring was very +strong. + +What a forlorn hope lay before this missionary in trying to uplift and +save such wild, uncouth creatures, who were ever around him! Yet there +were many things which appealed to him. He looked deeper than the mere +surface, and, studying them very carefully, saw there was much cause for +encouragement. He noticed how ingenious the Eskimo was in the formation +of implements “out of any old iron which he is able to obtain, such as +files, saws, etc., from which he will forge variously shaped knives, +gimlets, and other tools, with which he constructs his boats and canoes, +as well as arrows, bows, spears, fishing-hooks, nets and tackle, sledges, +and all other implements for the chase, as well as furniture for his +tent.” + +Then he watched his skill in building the snow-house, which he could +“compare to nothing but the skill of the bee in making its honeycomb.... +The snowy material is so beautiful that the work proceeds as if by magic. +The blocks of frozen snow are cut out of the mass with large knives, and +built into solid masonry, which freezes together as the work proceeds, +without the aid of mortar. Being arched over, a dome-shaped house is +formed, with a piece of clear ice for a window, and a hole, through which +you creep on all-fours, for a door or entrance. One-half of the interior +is raised about two feet, and strewn with deer-skins as beds and sofas, +on which the long nights are passed in sleep, for which an Eskimo seems +to have an insatiable capability and relish.” People who were so clever +and artistic, he well knew, must have a love for the beautiful, and were +capable of higher things. + +He studied their religious instincts, and found they were very low. They +were addicted to lying, stealing, and even stabbing. “They practised +heathen dances, songs, and conjuring, and placed much dependence upon +spells and charms.” And yet, sifting all this, he found they believed in +two spirits: one “an evil, named Atti, which seems to symbolize cold and +death, and which they seek to exorcise or appease by their charms and +spells; the other, a dim idea of a good spirit connected with the sun, as +the source of warmth and life.” Their faint idea of heaven was that of +a “perpetual spring, and the name they give to ministers who bring them +tidings of the world above is ‘Children of the Sun.’” He also learned +that they possessed a tradition of the Creation, and of the descent of +mankind from a single pair. + +Though he found them at times very treacherous, yet there was a spirit +of true hospitality still existing, which he felt could be fanned into +a flame, and which would work a great change. His own difficulty was +the language, and he maintained that the best hope would be to bring a +Christian Eskimo from Labrador, as the Moravian missionaries there and +in Greenland had mastered the language in the course of many years’ +labour. + +Though the language was a great obstacle, still Mr. Bompas determined +to do the best he could. He collected many Eskimo words, and, with his +remarkable linguistic ability, made fair progress in a short time. He +found they expressed great willingness to be taught, and he says: + +“They have received the little instruction I have been able to give +them with great thankfulness. At the same time, their ignorance and +carelessness are so great that they seem quite unable at present to +apprehend the solemnities of religion. The chief idea they have in seeing +my books is to wish that they could be metamorphosed into tobacco, and, +indeed, at present smoking seems to be the sole object of their lives.” + +He accompanied them on their various hunting and fishing journeys, and +lost no opportunity of studying them and winning their affection. He +stood by their side as they fished for hours through holes in the ice, +and, observing their great patience, he himself became strengthened in +the greater task of fishing for souls, and expresses the thought in the +following words: + +“We may admire the patience of an Eskimo fishing for hours over the +blow-hole for a seal; and such should be the perseverance of a watcher +for souls. ‘Lord, we have toiled all night, and have taken nothing; +nevertheless, at Thy word I will let down the net.’” + +During the cold weather Mr. Bompas slept with the Eskimo in their small, +crowded houses, and the inconvenience he suffered must have been great, +as the following words will show: + +“The Eskimo sleep in their tents between their deer-skins, all together +in a row extending the whole breadth of the tent; and if there are more +than enough for one row, they commence a second at the foot of the bed, +with the head turned the other way. For myself, I always took care to +commence the second row, keeping to the extremity of the tent, and thus +generally rested without inconvenience, except, perhaps, a foot thrust +occasionally into my side. At the same time, it must be confessed that +the Eskimo are rather noisy, often talking and singing a great part of +the night, especially the boys; and if any extra visitors arrive, so that +the tent is overfull, it is not exactly agreeable.” + +When the warmer weather arrived, Mr. Bompas began to camp by himself +outside, and found it much better. The days became so long that he +found it difficult to tell what time of the day or night it was, as he +“thought it most prudent” not to carry his watch with him. Seldom did the +missionary speak of his hardships; but, reading between the lines of the +few words he utters, one can see they were of no ordinary nature. + +In a letter to Mrs. Loft, in England, Mr. Bompas gave a vivid description +of these Eskimo. + +“It would be easy for you to realize,” he wrote, “and even experience, +the whole thing if so minded. First go and sleep a night in the first +gipsy camp you can find along some road-side, and that is precisely like +life with the Indians. From thence go to the nearest well-to-do farmer +and spend a night in his pig-sty (with the pigs, of course), and this +is exactly life with the Eskimo. As this comprises the whole thing in a +nutshell, I think I need give you no further description. The difficulty +you would have in crawling or wriggling into the sty through a hole only +large enough for a pig was exactly my case with the Eskimo houses. As +to the habits of your companions, the advantage would be probably on +the side of the pigs, and the safety of the position decidedly so. As +you will not believe in the truth of this little simile, how much less +would you believe if I gave you all particulars! So I prefer silence to +exposing myself to your incredulity; but if I had to visit them again, I +should liken it rather to taking lodgings in the den of a polar bear. The +first time, in God’s good providence, he did not show his claws. + +“Harness yourself to a wheelbarrow or a garden-roller, and then, having +blindfolded yourself, you will be able to fancy me arriving, snow-blind +and hauling my sledge, at the Eskimo camp, which is a white beehive +about six feet across, with the way a little larger than that for the +bees.... As to one’s costume, you cannot manage that, except that a +blanket is always a good cloak for us; but take a large butcher’s knife +in your hand, and that of itself will make you an Eskimo without further +additions. + +“If you will swallow a chimneyful of smoke, or take a few whiffs of +the fumes of charcoal, you will know something of the Eskimo’s mode of +intoxicating themselves with tobacco, and a tanyard will give you some +idea of the sweetness of their camps. Fat, raw bacon, you will find, +tastes much like whale blubber, and lamp oil, sweetened somewhat, might +pass for seal fat. Rats you will doubtless find equally good to eat at +home as here, though without the musk flavour; but you must get some raw +fish, a little rotten, to enjoy a good Eskimo dinner. + +“Fold a large black horse’s tail on the top of your head, and another +on each side of your face, and you will adopt exactly the Arctic lady’s +head-gear; then thrust a knife through the centre of each cheek, and +leave the end of the knife-handle permanently in the hole, and you will +experience the agreeable comfort of the Arctic cheek ornament. After +this, get a dozen railway trucks tackled together, and load them with +large and small tow-boats, scaffold-poles, a marquee, three or four dead +oxen, the contents of a fishmonger’s stall and of a small rag-shop, and +then harness all your family, and draw the trucks on the rails from +Alford to Boston, with a few dogs to help, and thus you will have a very +close resemblance to an Eskimo family travelling in winter with their +effects over the frozen ice. As I have formed one of the haulers on such +an expedition, I speak from personal experience.” + +Writing to his brother George, he says: + +“Do you know that the Eskimo took me for a son of Cain, probably +Mahujael, for they said on my visit that in the first family in the world +two brothers quarrelled, and the one killed the other, and the murderer +had to wander away, and they concluded that the white men who now came to +meet them were probably sons of the murderer.” + +Several years later, referring to these Eskimo, he wrote: + +“Both the Rev. Mr. Canham and myself often showed the Eskimo the +_Illustrated London News_, when, on meeting with an elephant, they +would recognize it, apparently by its trunk, exclaiming ‘Kaleh!’ as an +exclamation of surprise. The interpreter, an Eskimo, who speaks English +well, told me that they knew the animal, because, though not now alive in +their country, they thought it was not long since it was so from finding +its body or skeleton. As elephant bodies are known to have been found on +the Siberian coasts, it is still less strange that they should be found +near the Mackenzie, for the current sets eastward from Behring’s Strait. +The bodies might, however, lie embedded in the ice for thousands of years +without decomposition, and may have been floated hither at the time of +the flood.” + +Mr. Bompas gives an amusing account of the food he ate, but from the +description, how disagreeable it must have been! Bishop Reeve made a +visit in 1892 to a tribe of Eskimo, known as Huskies, eastward along the +shore of the Mackenzie River. + +“The men were all out hunting whales,” he wrote, “but the women and +children soon came around and gazed at the strange white man. In the +evening the men came in. They had had a successful day’s hunt, and +hauled home many whales. The whales they catch here are white whales, +averaging from eight to fifteen feet in length, and very stout. These +they cut up into about six pieces. Then they skin these pieces, and put +the fat or blubber into bags, and hang up the meat to dry, first cutting +it into slices. This is the work of the women. The fins and tails seem to +be considered delicacies, and are eaten raw. Some of the fat and meat is +stowed away in caches for winter use. These caches are small holes in the +ground, about five feet deep, sometimes lined with logs, but generally +without any lining except the frost. The whale meat becomes very strong +after being in these a while in the summer, and then it is ready to eat. +One day, sitting in one of the tents, while the Huskies were having one +of their many meals, I was given a delicious piece of fin—at least, by +the way the natives were devouring it, I thought it must be delicious. +I cut off a very small piece and put it into my mouth. The Huskies were +watching to see how I would like it. I slipped the rest into my pocket, +and after a while slyly got that piece out of my mouth. I suppose they +thought I had eaten some, but I had not, and I nearly lost my dinner in +the bargain. The thought of that delicious whale-fin haunted me for days; +but then it was raw, and had not been pickled in a cache for several +days.” + +For a time things went very well with Mr. Bompas, and he was allowed +to move from place to place and teach the simple truths of the Gospel +as far as he was able. But the cruel conjurers, or medicine-men, were +watching him with suspicious eyes. They did not like the man to be in +their midst with the new teaching, and they therefore determined to get +rid of him. Now the Eskimo have a great dread of evil spirits. So one day +the conjurers made the startling announcement that evil spirits were in +the camp, and that the white man was the cause of them. They determined, +therefore, to drive them out, and also to drive out the missionary from +their midst. Mr. Bompas was trying to sleep in one of the houses when the +medicine-men began to dance and conjure about him. Finding it impossible +to get any rest, Mr. Bompas went outside, and there rolled himself up in +his blanket. The conjurers followed him, and continued their diabolical +noise. “Only those,” says Bishop Stringer, “who have seen the Eskimo +conjuring dance can realize how wild and savage it is, and how desolate a +feeling it brings to one not accustomed to it.” + +For a while they continued the noise, and several times they jumped upon +the missionary in order to enforce their meaning, but the Heavenly Father +was watching, and delivered His faithful servant. After a while the +medicine-men said they had accomplished their purpose, and would let the +white man live. + +But Mr. Bompas did not put much dependence on these words, and knew that +at any time they might turn upon him and tear him to pieces. This they +attempted to do not long after. It happened, when the ice had gone out of +the Mackenzie River, the Eskimo began to move up-stream to trade with the +Hudson’s Bay Company at Fort McPherson, taking the missionary with them. +It was a voyage of 250 miles, and much ice was encountered. For days they +made slow progress, and laboured hard. Then they became angry with one +another, and, stirred by the jealous medicine-men, also cast threatening +glances upon the white man in their midst. They imagined that in some way +he was the cause of all their trouble, and angry glances were followed +by threatening gestures, and Mr. Bompas realized the situation was most +critical. One night, after a day of unusually hard work—when little +progress had been made—the natives became so hostile that Mr. Bompas +feared they would take his life ere morning. But, notwithstanding the +impending danger, the faithful servant committed himself to the Father’s +keeping, and, wearied out, soon fell asleep. + +His great friend among the Eskimo was the old chief, Shipataitook by +name, who had at the first invited him to visit them, offered the +missionary the use of his camp, and entertained and fed him with the +greatest kindness and cordiality. He had taken such a fancy to the brave +young white man that he could not see him murdered without making an +effort to save him. He had heard the threatening words, and when the +plotters were about to fall upon their victim, he told them to wait, +as he had something to tell them before they proceeded farther. Then +he began a strange story which, falling upon the ears of the naturally +superstitious natives, had a great effect. He told them he had a +remarkable dream the night before. They had moved up the river, and were +almost at Fort McPherson; and as they approached they saw the banks lined +with the Hudson’s Bay Company’s men and Indians, all armed ready to shoot +them down in the boats if they did not have the white man with them. When +this story was told, all plotting ceased; and in the morning, when Mr. +Bompas awoke, he found no longer angry glances cast upon him, but the +natives were attentive in their care. + +On June 14 the ice left them, and the river became clear, and without +more detention they continued on their way, “and arrived safely, by God’s +help,” says Mr. Bompas, “at Peel’s River Fort on June 18, about midnight.” + +Here a most hearty welcome was given him by Mr. Andrew Flett, the officer +in charge of the Fur Company’s post, and of him Mr. Bompas wrote in the +following words: + +“His influence over the Eskimo, as well as the Indians, has been very +beneficial, for the whole time of his residence among them—now nearly +ten years—and by consistent and honourable conduct, as well as by his +attention to the duties of religion, he has done much to assist the work +of the missionary. Of his personal kindness to myself I have had much +experience during the past twelve months.” + +In this beautiful heart-felt testimony to the work and kindness of one +man we see how the missionary was cheered in his great labour by earnest +words of sympathy and an ever-open door of hospitality, where he could +rest from his great journeys. To Mrs. Flett also Mr. Bompas was greatly +indebted, for in the study of the Louchieux language she gave him much +material aid. Upon the lay members of the Church of Christ devolves +a noble work in cheering the hearts and upholding the hands of their +leaders in their strenuous battle against the powers of darkness. + +Never again was Mr. Bompas able to visit that band of Eskimo along the +Mackenzie River, but he ever held them in mind, and often his heart went +out to them, and he declared that “there was nothing warmer than the +grasp of a Husky’s hand.” + +His visit had not been in vain. He had lived among them, shared their +humble camps, and, though they could not understand him, nor fully +comprehend his message, yet they could understand his love for them, and +long years after they spoke of him in the highest terms. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ESKIMO LIFE + + +“Squatted on a polar-bear skin, with a deer-skin for a desk,” was the +way in which Mr. Bompas wrote the following interesting description of +the Eskimo he visited. It was written by the camp-fire, under the open +sky, with the Eskimo all sitting around, working at their canoes, nets, +fishing-lines, bows and arrows. Often they would thrust their inquisitive +faces over his paper, asking over and over again what he was writing +about. + +“This race of Eskimo inhabit the coast of the Arctic Sea at the north of +the great River Mackenzie. In spring and fall they ascend the river in +their skin boats for about 200 miles, and trade fox and bear skins for +tobacco and iron kettles, etc., at the nearest post of the Hudson’s Bay +Company on Peel’s River. + +“In person and stature the race is a fine one. The men are, many of +them, tall and powerful, some more than six feet, the average stature +exceeding, I should say, that in England. The women are smaller, probably +of about the same average stature as English women. The complexion and +features are not unlike the English. Several of the Eskimo, both men and +women, had I met them at home in European costume, I should hardly have +taken for foreigners. Others, again, have a more distinguishing cast of +countenance. The men’s hair is cut short across the forehead. The face +is square, forehead prominent, eyebrows horizontal, nose straight, mouth +large. Some have a short beard, but most are without it. They have +a circular tonsure on the top of the head, similar to that of Romish +priests, and the men wear bones through their cheeks, intended for +ornament. A hole is bored through each cheek near the lower lip as soon +as a youth approaches manhood, and through this is thrust a large button +of ivory (walrus tusk), and the ambition of an Eskimo is to have fixed to +this white button half a blue bead of the size of a man’s finger-end. To +possess one of these glass beads, which I suppose could be had in England +for a penny, they are willing to give two black fox-skins, each of which +might sell in England for £50. To drive this advantageous bargain, +however, they are obliged to convey their furs many hundred miles along +the coast westward towards Behring’s Straits, where other tribes of +Eskimo are visited by American trading-vessels from the Pacific. This +cheek ornament (called _totuk_) is, of course, a great disfigurement. +It enlarges the mouth, and causes inconvenience to the wearer both in +speaking and eating. Such, however, are the demands of Eskimo fashion. + +“The women have also a peculiar custom of wearing large bundles of hair +on the top and sides of their head. It perhaps can hardly be properly +called false hair, as it probably once had connection with the head which +carries it. But the present want of continuity is manifest, as the large +bundles are often laid aside for a time at night. I presume that all the +hair which ever grew on the head is carefully preserved and added to the +stock, as it seems to increase with the age of the wearer. This is also +an inconvenient and disfiguring custom, but probably the Eskimo women +would consider some of our home fashions more absurd. + +“The dress of the Eskimo is handsome. It consists of shirt, coat, and +trousers, usually of deer-skin, and fringed with the long hair of +the wolf and wolverine. Their favourite head-dress is the skin of a +wolverine’s head, surrounded with blue beads, over which is worn the hood +of the coat, with a wide fringe of wolf or wolverine hair. Their boots +are of otter and seal skin. The sheep and musk-rat also occasionally +contribute their skins towards the clothing of an Eskimo. The clothes +are, of course, made by the women, and not without considerable taste, +ornamented with blue beads, of which they are very fond, and strips of +the white hair of the deer being sewn into the brown by way of braiding. +The coat is shaped like a shirt. Sometimes the hair is turned inside +towards the skin of the wearer, and this affords greater warmth. The +animal’s skin which is thus turned outside is then dressed so as to be +quite white, and, when well beaded, makes a showy appearance. + +“The dress of the women is very similar to that of the men, the coat and +trousers of the same material, the chief difference being in the shape +of the hood, which, in the case of the women, is made larger, to enclose +their extra store of hair, and thus better protect their face. The women +also wear no boots, but the trousers and shoes are all in one. + +“The Eskimo is seldom seen without a large butcher’s knife in his hand, +which, in case of a quarrel, he unhappily uses too often to stab his +neighbour. His weapon for hunting on land is the bow, as guns have not +yet come into much use among them. On the water fish-spears of various +construction are his constant companions. + +“The Eskimo bow is very strong, and its elasticity is increased by +being backed with lines of twisted sinew. The arrows are well made and +feathered, headed with bone or iron according to the game intended to be +shot. The fish-hooks are generally of bone, and sometimes baited as at +home. But for some fish no bait at all is used. The shank of the hook of +white bone is carved into the shape of a small fish, and is thus mistaken +for a bait. It is armed with a small iron barb which secures the prey. +The fish-spears are pointed with iron, and lie on the outside of their +canoes. One spear with three prongs, like a hay-fork or trident, is used +for hunting musk-rats in the river, and is thrown from the canoe out +of a wooden handle or rest. The fishing-lines, and even nets, are made +often of whalebone, as also are partridge-snares, etc. In fact, whalebone +is used chiefly for tying and fastening the canoe frames, spear-heads, +etc.; the only other kind of line they have, made of twisted sinew, +being not well fitted for use in the water. Whalebone seems a strange +material to form into fishing-nets, but it is split thin and cleverly +netted to the length of several yards, and about one yard in width. The +other lines, made of sinew, are very neatly plaited to the length of 100 +yards or more, forming a very strong fine cord, used for fishing-nets, +bow-springs, and various purposes. + +“The construction of boats or canoes is part of an Eskimo’s employment in +spring. The boat or canoe frame is first made out of a log of drift-wood, +split up by means of bone wedges into the required lengths. Each is +carefully shaped, smoothed, and finished by what are called in this +country crooked knives—that is, a knife with a blade slightly bent, and +used for shaving wood instead of a smoothing-plane. The canoe is then +covered with otter-skin and the boat with seal-skin. The shape of an +Eskimo canoe is well known. It is about twelve feet long, and is entirely +covered with otter-skin, except the small hole in the centre in which the +Eskimo sits with his double and single paddles, and spears laid carefully +in ivory fittings on the outside of the canoe. + +“The boat is from twenty to thirty feet long, and covered with seal-skin, +which is very strong, and forms a most serviceable vessel. The wooden +framework on which the skin is stretched appears slight, but is securely +fastened. This is an open boat propelled by two oars, and, when the wind +is favourable, by a sail. As the men travel generally in their canoes +for the sake of hunting, it is chiefly the women and children who remain +in the boat, which conveys the tents, furniture, utensils, etc. As the +women row but very leisurely, the progress made is rather slow; but the +men are employed in hunting, and time is not often of much importance to +an Eskimo. + +“The dwellings of the Eskimo consist in winter of snow-houses built on +the ice, in summer of deer-skin tents, and in the autumn, or fall, of +wooden huts, partly underground, and covered with earth. The chief home +of the Eskimo is on the ice. Here he passes at least half the year, +and it is to this that his habits are chiefly adapted. In building his +snow-house he shows a wonderful readiness, which I can compare to nothing +but the skill of a bee in making its honeycomb. In the Eskimo country +the fallen snow on the wide river-mouths, after being driven by the +wind, becomes caked or frozen so as to have considerable tenacity, and +at the same time to be readily cut with the knife. The Eskimo then, with +his large butcher’s knife, cuts out square blocks of this frozen snow +as it lies on the face of the river, of the size of ordinary blocks of +stone masonry, and with these he builds the house perfectly circular, of +the shape of a beehive. With no tool but the knife, which is used as a +trowel, he works with surprising rapidity, and the whole is arched over +without any support from beneath, except perhaps a single pole during +the construction. Any architect or mason at home would, I suppose, be +astonished to witness the work, and might fail in imitating it, for +without line or plummet and square, or measurement, the circular span and +arch are exactly preserved, and the whole is finished in the space of a +single hour. The work proceeds as if by magic, the snow forming stone and +mortar both in one, for each block, when laid to its neighbour, adheres +and freezes to it so as to form one solid mass, while the least touch +of the knife shapes it and removes any superfluous juttings. The weight +of a single building block is just such as a man can readily lift. In +building the walls of the house the work is simple, but in arching over +the roof it would seem impossible to proceed without support or framework +below. In fact, however, a single staff only is placed under a block +added to the roof just until the next block is placed in juxtaposition. +The adherence of the two blocks is then sufficient to prevent any danger +of falling, the staff is removed, and the same thing repeated with the +ensuing block, until the whole is completed by working the tiers of snow +spirally. + +[Illustration: A SNOW-HOUSE MADE ON THE MARCH + +These houses have the advantage of costing nothing but time and labour +to make. The “bricks” are large slabs of frozen snow cut in such a shape +that they converge until they form a perfect dome. A hole large enough +for a man to crawl in on his stomach is left as a doorway. The dogs are +the draught animals of the frozen North; they are hard and untiring +workers, but of very irritable temper. Their usual fare is fish.] + +“An Eskimo in winter travelling builds a small snow-house every night +for his lodging, but when encamped for any length of time he makes one +of considerable dimensions. One in which I lodged was about twelve or +fourteen feet in diameter, and about nine feet high in the centre from +the level of the ice. Half of the interior is occupied by the bed, which +is raised about three feet from the ice on snow covered with boards, on +which are laid ample deer-skin rugs for bedding; over these are again +deer-skin blankets for covering. + +“Opposite the bed is the small, low entrance, shaped like that into a +dog-kennel, through which you have to creep on all-fours. This at night +is covered up with a block of snow. On each side of the entrance (inside) +is a shelf of snow, of the same height as the bed, on which is placed +a large black wooden dish or trough forming the lamp. A little moss +along the side of this dish forms the lamp-wick, fed by grease, which is +constantly replenished from small lumps of fat hung over the flame, and +which drop grease into the dish. + +“It seems a strange anomaly, that the coldest inhabited country should +be that in which fires are considered superfluous. The heat given out +by the lamps is certainly considerable, but still, the camps are cold. +The temperature must of course be constantly below freezing-point, or +the snow would melt. The Eskimo, however, do not feel the cold as we do. +Their hands and faces are of a more plump and fleshy form than ours, and +the circulation of their blood is warmer, for their hands felt quite +hot to the touch while sitting without exercise in their freezing camps. +An Eskimo’s chief resource against the cold is the amount of fuel he +consumes internally in the form of whale and seal fat used as food; and +the provision of these large animals in the polar sea for the use of +these few scattered savages is a remarkable proof of God’s providential +care over the meanest of His creatures.... + +“The Eskimo generally cooks meat or fish twice a day—once about noon, and +again the last thing before sleeping at night. If hungry at other times, +he will eat a fish or piece of meat raw—that is, frozen; and this is not +so disgusting as you might suppose, for the effect of freezing meat or +fish is something the same as cooking it—that is, to harden the fibre and +dry up the superfluous moisture. Even Europeans in this country sometimes +eat a piece of frozen fish uncooked, and find it good and wholesome. + +“When an Eskimo visits a neighbour’s house, before he has been sitting +long food is always offered him—generally a frozen fish, which he +evidently eats with much relish. Sometimes it is a small piece of frozen +deer’s meat, or, as a great delicacy, a lump of whale or seal fat. If he +happens to come in at the time of cooking, a portion of what is cooked is +set before him. This seems to be the rule of Eskimo hospitality. + +“As soon as the spring thaw sets in, about the middle of May, the Eskimo +exchanges his snow-house for a deer-skin tent or lodge, with which he +soon after removes to the river-bank, where he lives by fishing or +hunting deer before proceeding to the sea for the seal and whale fishery. +In the autumn, or fall of the year, the cold sets in early, and the +deer-skin tent becomes uncomfortable before the ice and snow are thick +and hard enough for building snow-houses. At this time the Eskimo build, +or rather excavate, huts in the river-bank, which they ceil and cover +with logs and earth. They close up at night the small entrance with +skins, and rely for light and warmth chiefly on their lamps. A small +window of thin skin or parchment is made in the roof; but as the short +days of December approach the sun hardly shows itself, and daylight is +but scanty. In the snow-house a block of clear ice inserted in the front +forms a beautiful window, and as spring approaches, and the daylight is +perpetual, a cheerful contrast is presented to the constant gloom and +darkness of an Arctic winter. + +“This is a country of contrast. In winter the gloom is such that daylight +seems a passing stranger. In spring the glare is so great that the eye is +sore and inflamed, if not blinded by it. In winter the thermometer will +stand about 100 degrees below freezing-point, and in summer, in the sun, +at least about 100 degrees above it. + +“An Eskimo travelling with his family and effects in winter affords +quite an exciting display. About a dozen sledges or trucks are harnessed +together, and on these are laid a very miscellaneous assortment of +property and provision. Boat-frame, canoes, tents, tent-poles, and +boards, deer-skin bedding and blankets, several whole deers’ carcasses, +some hundreds of frozen fish pressed into a solid mass, tent furniture, +utensils, clothes, fishing-nets and implements, with many other seemingly +needless stores, are all laden promiscuously on the train, which is +propelled by men, women, and dogs, all hauling by lines along the sides +of the sledges, and assisted, when the wind is favourable, by a sail. + +“The arrival of a large number of such sledge-trains at camp one after +another is like so many railway-trains coming in, for the runnels of the +sledges are covered first with bone, and this is again carefully coated +with ice, so that the sledges run on the frozen snows like trucks on a +railway. The sledge-train which I assisted in drawing myself consisted, +I believe, of fourteen trucks, hauled by four men and boys, three women, +and five dogs. More than a dozen such trains reached the camp at which I +was staying. In spring the sledges are all stowed away on the river-bank, +and the boat forms the means of conveying the Eskimo’s effects during the +summer months.... + +“Considering the smallness of the number of the Eskimo band we have been +describing, and that no others are to be found within about 100 miles, +a wonderful provision has indeed been made by God’s good providence for +their sustenance. This bounty seems intended on purpose to banish the +thought that these distant wanderers, condemned to such severity of +climate, are outcasts from the Divine care. + +“In fact, both the power and goodness of God are in some respect shown in +this country more especially than in others; for while sometimes we are +constrained to say, in seeing the vast expanse of snow and the thickness +of the ice, ‘Who can stand before His cold?’ yet the greater is the +marvel when ‘He sendeth forth His word and melteth them; He causeth His +wind to blow, and the waters flow.’ The Eskimo know not to thank their +Heavenly Father who gives them their daily supply of food, and though +they have heard with gladness and thankfulness the short story of Gospel +truth which alone I have been able as yet to communicate to them, yet it +requires the same mighty Power which melts their Arctic snows and thaws +their frozen ocean to turn them from darkness to light, and from the +power of Satan unto God. + +“With respect to the character and habits of the Eskimo, it is best to +speak reservedly. They are certainly kind and hospitable, civil and +obliging, skilful and clever in handicraft. I fear it must be added that +they are liable to fits of passion and sulkiness, that they are lazy and +sleepy, and addicted to lying, stealing, and even stabbing. Over their +other shortcomings it is best to draw a veil. + +“They practise heathen dances, songs, and conjuring, and this seems +to be the greater part of their religion. Their dance, however, is a +mere shuffling of the feet, their song is but a monotonous yell, and +their conjuring consists only in yelling and beating the tambourine, and +throwing the body into various distortions and attitudes. They possess +also, most of them, in a bag, a collection of small, miscellaneous +articles, which are intended, I suppose, beneficially to influence their +hunting by way of spells and charms. Beyond this I cannot find that they +have much religion remaining among them. They know of an evil spirit, +named Atti, which seems to symbolize cold and death, and which they seek +to exorcise or appease by their charms and spells. + +“Their only idea of a good spirit is connected with the sun, as the +source of warmth and life; and, considering the severity of their +climate, it is not wonderful that their natural religion should symbolize +the powers of good and evil by warmth and cold. If they have any idea of +heaven, it is that of a perpetual spring, and the name they give to the +ministers who bring them tidings of the world above is ‘Children of the +Sun.’ I have not found that they have knowledge of a future life. They +say the old Eskimo used to know these things, but the young ones have +forgotten them. They possess, however, a tradition of the Creation, and +of the descent of mankind from a single pair.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +OUT OF THE NORTH + + +One day when Mr. Bompas was walking along the Yukon River, he returned to +Fort Yukon, and found there a letter awaiting him. It was from England +from the Church Missionary Society, asking him to go all the way to +London to be made Bishop of the vast northern Diocese of Athabasca, which +was to be formed. Mr. Bompas did not want to be a Bishop. He preferred to +live the life of a humble missionary among the Indians whom he so dearly +loved. + +In July, 1873, he set his face homewards with the express purpose +of turning the Church Missionary Society from the idea. It was a +long journey that lay ahead of him, fraught with many dangers and +difficulties. The clerk at Fort Yukon, in charge of the American Fur +Company’s post, kindly supplied him with provisions and with two Indian +lads, who had volunteered for the trip. Soon all was ready, and then the +start was made up the Porcupine River; and after two weeks of hard and +persevering labour, he reached the Rocky Mountains. Here the Indians left +him to return to Fort Yukon, and alone and on foot the missionary began +his journey across the mountains. Three days was he in accomplishing the +task, and in a furious snowstorm, “which rendered the mountains almost as +white as in winter,” reached Fort McPherson, Peel River, on August 6. + + * * * * * + +What it means to cross these mountains may be learned from the terrible +experience of Bishop Stringer during the fall of 1909. It is best given +in the words of Rev. C. E. Whittaker, stationed at Fort McPherson: + +“After the Bishop’s return from his Eskimo visitation, he outfitted +for crossing the mountains by the well-known Rat River and McDougall’s +Pass route with Mr. Johnson, who is on his way to Chicago, after eleven +years’ service in the north. They had a sufficient crew, leaving here +September 1, and a good Peterborough canoe; but on the fifth day one +of their Indian men was taken dangerously ill, and he had to be sent +home and more help procured. By this nearly a week was lost, and the +weather becoming colder, the water got very low in the mountain streams. +However, on September 20 they crossed the Divide. The two men attacked +an unknown proposition alone. The battle with ice began the first day, +but, hoping to find more and clearer water in Bell River, they kept +on. The upper reaches of the Bell were easily navigated, but once +through the mountains, the current became very slack, and the ice again +hindered them. They cut heavy birch clubs to smash the ice, hoping to +reach the Porcupine about forty-five miles from the summit. They were +stalled, and had to cache their canoe and baggage. What was to be done +now? La Pierre’s house was close by, but abandoned. There was not a +known Indian camp within 100 miles. Old Crow or Rampart House might be +reached in time if they had supplies, but with only three days’ rations +it was unthinkable. Their starting-point, Fort McPherson, lay beyond +the mountains, and the snow was already deep, and neither of them knew +the trail. This last only seemed not impossible, and they decided to +undertake it. Continuing down the Bell on foot, through the rough willows +and deep snow, they struck the mouth of the La Chute River and followed +it up-stream for several days, killing here and there a few ducks and +spruce grouse to eke out their scanty fare. At Fool’s River, coming in +from the north, they missed the trail, and spent a whole week wallowing +through deep snow and deeper fog in this river and on the mountains near +it. Returning to the mouth, they spent three days making snow-shoes and +cutting up moccasins for webbing. Again ascending the La Chute, they +climbed the Height of Land, and, working by compass, they crossed three +distinct Divides before reaching an east-flowing stream. They saw one +sheep, and once some caribou, but at too great a distance, and going +fast. They were now living on one meal a day, and that meal was less +than one quarter of an average meal. For instance, at one time four red +squirrels and a spoonful each of flour and rice fed them three days; +another day they had a leg of ptarmigan each. They tried eating moccasin +leather, and ended on _messinke_ boots or _muckalucks_, which are made +of raw seal-skin. These are found very nourishing. Food being so scarce, +their strength failed and their progress was slow. At times the fog +was so dense that they could scarcely see a step ahead, and more than +once they trod on the verge of a precipice. Then they had to make long +detours, and so they continued day after day, some nights sleeping on +the mountains without fire, but generally in some creek-bed with a few +willows, sleeping from very weariness and exhaustion. Once the Bishop +said to Mr. Johnson: ‘It is curious, but there is ever rising up in my +mind the words, “Go, labour on, ’tis not for naught.”’ And Mr. Johnson +replied: ‘It is curious indeed, for in my mind there constantly repeats +itself that other hymn, “To the work, to the work! ye are servants of +God.”’ And so, though famished, and worn, and fog-bound, and never +knowing how far they had yet to go to safety, they were ever buoyed up +with a strong hope of ultimate escape. When they finally descended an +eastern slope, and knew that they were at least past the maze of fog, +a thrill of assurance gave them renewed energy, and they followed the +bed of a small river until they came into the Peel, twenty miles above +this post. Here they saw snow-shoe tracks, the first signs of any human +habitation, an Indian having lately passed by that way trapping. Early +next morning they reached an encampment, and they afterwards declared it +was worth coming back to see the kindness and hospitality with which they +were received.” + + * * * * * + +Starting again by canoe, Mr. Bompas, with two other Indian lads, reached +Fort Simpson, a distance of 800 miles, on September 2, “after three weeks +of fatiguing towing.” Pushing on his way, after a difficult journey, +contending with the cold and swift stream, he reached Portage la Loche +on October 8, having travelled 2,600 miles since July, “and all, except +about 300 to 400 miles, against a strong current.” + +Owing to the cold weather he was forced to remain at the Portage for +ten days, and when the swamps were sufficiently frozen, he “started on +foot through the woods to Buffalo Lake in company with two servants of +the Hudson’s Bay Company.” Reaching the lake, he travelled with some +difficulty on the fresh ice around the margin, and at the farther end +found a camp of Indians, who guided him to Isle à la Crosse. Here a +detention of ten days was made, and then he left with dogs and sledge for +Green Lake, with three employés of the Hudson’s Bay Company. The weather +becoming milder, they were forced “to cross one of the intervening rivers +on a raft.” + +From Green Lake they entered “on the plain country of Saskatchewan,” +and after a walk of five days reached Fort Carlton. While here Mr. +Bompas visited the Prince Albert Settlement on the banks of the North +Saskatchewan, and says: “This settlement is the first that has been +formed by the immigrants in that neighbourhood, and it bears every sign +of increasing prosperity and success.” + +From Carlton House, Touchwood Hills was reached with a horse and sledge. +Here, through the kindness of the postmaster, he was furnished with a +carriole and dogs, and, after a journey of 400 or 500 miles, reached the +Red River Settlement. + +“I enjoyed the kind hospitality of the Bishop of Rupert’s Land and +Archdeacon Cowley,” wrote Mr. Bompas, “and was much interested in seeing +the progress of the mission work in the colony. I reached, by God’s good +providence, the first houses of the settlement on the last evening of the +old year, and after nearly six months’ travel in the wilds, I awoke on +New Year’s morning to a new life of civilization and society.” + +It is said that when Mr. Bompas reached the episcopal residence and +inquired for Bishop Machray, the servant mistook him for a tramp (in +his rough travelling clothes), and told him his master was very busy, +and could not be disturbed. So insistent was the stranger that the +servant went to the Bishop’s study and told him a tramp was at the door +determined to see him. + +“He is hungry, no doubt,” replied the Bishop; “take him into the kitchen +and give him something to eat.” + +Accordingly Mr. Bompas was ushered in, and was soon calmly enjoying a +plateful of soup, at the same time urging that he might see the master +of the house. Hearing the talking, and wondering who the insistent +stranger could be, the Bishop appeared in the doorway, and great was his +astonishment to see before him the veteran missionary. + +“Bompas!” he cried, as he rushed forward, “is it you?” + +We can well realize how Mr. Bompas must have enjoyed this little scene, +and the surprise of the good and noble Bishop of Rupert’s Land. + +We will let Mr. Bompas describe the rest of the journey: + +“From Manitoba the dog-train was exchanged for the stage-coach for +Moorhead, the terminus of the American railway towards the north-west. +In this the cold was piercing and freezing, even though the travellers +were wrapped in buffalo-skins. The poor horses were utterly exhausted +in drawing the vehicle about fifteen miles through the snow, and though +they were changed thus often, yet at last the journey had to be suspended +during a storm, and in the end the horses, though changed every stage, +occupied a week in performing the same distance as that travelled by the +dogs in four days, more easily and pleasantly—that is, 160 miles. + +“The journey was next continued by railway, but from the fires not being +lighted in the cars the cold was intense, and the train was shortly +brought to a standstill in a snow-drift. Though two locomotives were +tugging at it, no progress could be made till the guards with shovels +disengaged the carriage-wheels from the snow which entangled them. + +“In Canada the journey by stage-coach was resumed. This was shortly after +overturned into a ditch by the wayside while scaling a snow-drift. The +outside passengers were deposited in an adjoining field, where, to be +sure, the snow provided them with a sufficiently soft bed to fall on. The +inside passengers had a more uncomfortable shaking. + +“The journey was next proceeded with by train to Montreal, before +approaching which the cars left the rails, causing some apprehension and +delay, which might have been increased had not the guard been provided +with a powerful winch for the purpose of replacing the carriages on the +track. + +“From Montreal, following the Grand Trunk Railway to Portland, I embarked +in the steamship _Scandinavian_, of the Allan line. At starting, the +masts, yards, and deck of the steamer presented a woeful appearance, from +being thickly coated and hung with ice, yet 200 miles were made the first +day. By the constantly increasing head-wind, however, the daily speed was +decreased down to 100 miles per day, at which rate the captain thought +it prudent to shut off half the steam, and diminish the speed to a +minimum, for fear that something should give way in the plunging vessel. +After thirteen days, under the careful seamanship of Captain Smith, +Liverpool was reached on February 13, in the safe-keeping of a protecting +Providence.” + +This account is given to show some of the difficulties the traveller +experienced in the early days in his trips to and from England. Mr. +Bompas, after this journey, decided in favour of the dog-team. + +“On the whole,” he said, “the dogs may be counted to hold their own in +competing with horse-flesh or steam, whether on land or water.” + +At last the soldier was home from the front, the hero among his friends, +and after the years of hardships he might have enjoyed a well-earned +rest. But his thoughts were far away across the ocean in his vast field +of labour, and the voice of the children of the wild was ever urging +him to make haste. The restraints, conventionalities, and luxuries of +civilized life worried him; the narrowness of the streets was unbearable, +and he longed for the smell of the camp-fire, the free, fresh air of the +North, the great untamed streams, the snow-capped mountains, and his +dusky flock. + +During his stay in England, Mr. Bompas had many commissions to fulfil, +which occupied much of his time. There were purchases to make for people +in North-West Canada, including six gold watches for as many female +residents, and a pair of corsets for another. Obtaining the latter caused +much worry to the missionary. But he was never known to back down, and +finally the purchase was made. Is it any wonder that he preferred the +life among the Indians, who worried so little concerning the wherewithal +they should be clothed? + +[Illustration: WINTER TRAVELLING. A MISSIONARY’S INDIAN HELPER + +This picture shows a sled loaded up, with the dogs harnessed, and the +Indian driver standing by them.] + +Mr. Bompas was unsuccessful in dissuading the Church Missionary Society +from carrying out their plan, and on May 3 he and John McLean were +elevated to the Episcopate. The consecration took place in the parish +church of St. Mary’s, Lambeth, Dr. Tait, Archbishop of Canterbury, being +assisted by Bishop Jackson of London, Bishop Hughes of St. Asaph, and +Bishop Anderson, late of Rupert’s Land. The sermon was preached by the +last-named prelate, who referred to the two new dioceses of Saskatchewan +and Athabasca: + +“To-day the noble plan will be consummated by the consecration of two +more Bishops. One will preside over the Church in the western portion +of the land, labouring among the Indians of the plains, and along the +valley of that river whose source is in the Rocky Mountains, the River +Saskatchewan. The other will have the northern diocese as his own, along +yet mightier lakes, and with rivers which roll down an immense volume and +discharge themselves into the Arctic Ocean.” + +After some words addressed to Bishop McLean, the charge which was given +to Bishop Bompas concluded thus: + +“You have been there for more than eight years, in labours abundant, and +your love has not lessened nor your zeal slackened. You have brought +home, as the fruit of your labour, portions of Scripture, prayers and +hymns, in seven different dialects or tongues. You are ready to take the +precious treasure out with you—the translations printed and prepared by +the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. You have also one complete +Gospel, that of St. Mark, which the British and Foreign Bible Society has +enabled you to carry through the press. + +“But you left good treasure behind, in souls warmed with the love of +Christ and softened by the spirit of grace. You have the hearts of the +Indians and the Eskimo.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BACK TO THE WILDERNESS + + +Bishop Bompas was not to return alone to his great work, for a few +days after his consecration, May 7, he was united in marriage to Miss +Charlotte Selina Cox by Bishop Anderson, assisted by the Rev. John +Robins, Vicar of St. Peter’s, Netting Hill, and the Rev. Henry Gordon, +Rector of Harting. + +Mrs. Bompas was a woman of much refinement and devotion to the mission +cause. Her father, Joseph Cox, M.D., of Montague Square, London, was +ordered to Naples for his health. During this trip, in which he was +accompanied by his family, his daughter, afterwards Mrs. Bompas, acquired +that love for the Italian language which ever after continued to be a +great source of pleasure to her. No matter where she went in the northern +wilds of Canada, she carried her Dante with her, which she studied, with +much delight, in the original. + +During her stay at Naples she attended her first ball, given by the +British Ambassador, and met the King of Naples (the notorious King +“Bomba”), and always afterwards remembered his remark in Italian, “What +have you done to amuse yourself at the carnival?” + +When quite young, Mrs. Bompas had little interest in missions, and says: +“My brother, who was Vicar of Bishop’s Tawton, Devonshire, used to hold +missionary meetings at the Vicarage, and I remember thinking them the +dullest affairs, and the clergymen who addressed us, and whom my brother, +perhaps, would introduce as the distinguished missionary from Japan +or Honolulu, I looked upon as the most dismal old slow coaches it was +anyone’s unhappy fate to attend to.” + +Her interest at length became aroused, and later, when the martyrdom of +Bishop Patteson startled the Christian world, she became much excited, +and reached, as she tells us, “the enthusiastic stage when we resolve +to become missionaries ourselves, and are all impatient to be off +anywhere—to China, Japan, or to the Indians of the Mackenzie River.” + +It was at this period she cast in her lot with the Bishop of Athabasca, +and became “consecrated to mission work.” + +The Bishop and Mrs. Bompas, on May 12, 1874, set their faces towards +their great field of labour. Friends and loved ones came to bid them +farewell, among whom was Bishop Anderson, late of Rupert’s Land, who +presented the Bishop with a beautiful paten for his cathedral in the new +Diocese of Athabasca. The good steamship _China_, of the Cunard Line, +received them, and soon she was cutting her way through the water bound +for New York. Consecrated, married, and sailed all in one week! Such was +the record of the Bishop, who declared it was the hardest week he ever +experienced. Never again was he to look upon the shores of his native +land, or visit the scenes of childhood; the northern wilds of Canada +needed him, and there he remained till the last. + +Ahead of them lay the long journey of two months by open boat to Fort +Simpson. At Winnipeg they missed the boats of the Hudson’s Bay Company, +and after some difficulty another was obtained, in the hope of overtaking +the former. It was a “brilliant, cloudless” June morning when they +crossed the prairie towards St. John’s Cathedral, and sighted the “river, +looking still and silvery in the morning light,” and found the boat, +their home for weeks to come, “moored just below St. John’s College.” +Farewells were said, the boat pushed off, and they moved on their way, +leaving the Bishop of Rupert’s Land waving his hand from the bank of the +stream. + +It was a tedious journey, as day after day they glided forward. Not +only was the heat intense, but the swarms of mosquitoes proved a great +annoyance. + +“I had come prepared for intense cold,” wrote Mrs. Bompas, “and we were +destined to endure tropical heat. All up the Saskatchewan, Stanley, and +English Rivers the banks slope down like a funnel, and the July and +August sun scorches with vertical rays the heads of the travellers. We +were seated in open boats, each with a crew of ten or twelve men, who +spread our sails when the wind was fair, and took them in when the wind +failed us. Eighty-six was, some of those days, our average temperature, +and I had come provided with the thickest of serge dresses, as none of +my friends had realized the possibility of anything but frost and cold +in these northern regions. Besides this, we had to encounter swarms +of mosquitoes, crowding thick around us, penetrating our boots and +stockings, and invading our Robabou soup and pemmican, etc. I remember +the bliss it was in those days in camping-time to escape from the rest +of the party, and, getting rid of boots and stockings, to sit with my +feet and legs in the cool water of the river, to soothe the intolerable +irritation of the mosquito-bites.” + +But in the midst of all this there were times of refreshing, and at +various places hearty were the greetings that awaited them. One morning +they reached St. Andrews, on Red River, and there before them appeared a +pretty stone church, with wide, square tower, and a comfortable-looking +parsonage-house, with a nice veranda, and a few scattered cottages +around. It was a pleasant home scene, and there they found the Vicar, the +Rev. John Grisdale (afterwards Bishop of Qu’Appelle), and about sixty +others, who had been waiting all the morning to receive them. After +luncheon had been served a little service was held on the veranda, and +as they left, the bell of the church rang out a peal of farewell, and all +on shore gave a hearty cheer. + +All along the way Indians were encountered camped on the bank, and at +times a halt was made while the Bishop spoke a few words to them. One +night they stopped near a number of natives, and service was held. Among +the party was a poor woman totally blind. The Bishop knelt by her side +and told her of the blind man in the Gospel story, and repeated to her +several passages of Scripture, to which the woman listened with much +eagerness, and seemed greatly pleased. + +The many long, hard portages formed a great impediment to their progress, +and through the scorching heat, fighting myriads of mosquitoes, the +provisions had to be carried overland and the boat dragged up the rapids. +The Bishop willingly took his share of the labour, and though of great +strength, overtaxed himself in lifting a heavy box, and sprained his +back, or, rather, re-sprained it, as he had been injured some weeks +before in hauling at the boat. He suffered much agony from the sprain, +which troubled him somewhat during the rest of his life. + +An incident happened on this trip which serves to show the Bishop’s +forgetfulness of self when others were to be considered. A young Indian +lost his hat overboard, and, being unable to obtain it, suffered much +from the heat as he toiled at the oar. The Bishop, seeing his discomfort, +at once placed his own hat upon the Indian’s head, and insisted that he +should wear it. The sight of the native with the flat, broad-brimmed +episcopal head-gear caused great amusement to the entire company. + +There were times of excitement, too, as they moved on their way. We shall +let Mrs. Bompas tell of one in her own graphic style: + +“It was about 6 o’clock p.m., the sun still high, but a fresh breeze had +set in, and was filling the sail of our boat, and giving us comfort and +refreshment after a sultry day. We were beginning to discuss our landing, +wondering where our steersman intended us to encamp that night, as all +the details are left to his control and management. + +“Suddenly, as we were quietly sailing on, an exclamation was made by one +of our sailors, and as suddenly all eyes were directed towards a line of +thick wood which encircled a bay on our right. It would be impossible to +give any idea of the intense eagerness which marked the gaze of our ten +men. You must know something of the Indian’s intensity of character, and +his love of sport, to be able to understand and appreciate it. + +“Our fore-oar man, ‘Charley,’ especially attracted my attention. Such a +strange, tawny, heavy face as his was when passive, with long black hair +hanging on each side his face, and a disordered attempt at whiskers and +moustache; one hand clutching nervously at his oar, and the other shading +his eyes; every sinew, almost every nerve, in a state of tension. We +longed to ask what object they saw, but scarcely ventured to do so, for +silence had overspread our crew, and though apparently much was being +discussed, and important matters decided upon, yet it was all done by +signs, or in low-whispered accents. At last some conclusion was evidently +arrived at. The sail was lowered, and our course altered in the direction +of the wood in question. At the same time the Bishop ascertained from one +of the men, and whispered to me, the cause of all this excitement—namely, +‘a black bear’! + +[Illustration: AN INDIAN ENCAMPMENT + +_From a photograph by Mr. J. M. Lowndes, Calgary_] + +“It needed the quick eye and ear of a Red Indian to detect the bear, if +such it was, at the distance we then found ourselves from the wood, and +amid the countless shadows of those great Norway pines, or the grotesque +forms of aged stumps and stones which edged the wood. For some moments I +felt convinced that it was all a mistake, and that our bear would turn +out no more than a ‘bare idea’! However, the men had full faith in their +hero, though I had none, and so, still in dead silence, we moved steadily +on, making for the wood at the exact point where the dark object had at +first been visible. + +“It was really very striking, the way in which we drew up to shore, +and lowered our sail, all with no more sound than would have awakened +a sleeping infant. And now two of the men slipped ashore, having first +possessed themselves of loaded guns. Others followed, with soft, stealthy +footsteps, and all soon disappeared in the mazes of the thick forest. + +“One thing I could observe for myself, which laid to rest my doubts +as to the fact of the bear having actually been seen—great, spreading +paw-prints on the sand. Yes, he had an existence then, poor old Bruin! +and had been quietly disporting himself upon the sand that evening, +perhaps in pursuit of a little fish for his supper, little thinking, poor +beast, of the sumptuous repast for ten hungry men which he was destined +to form that very night. + +“The part left for us to play at this time was certainly less exciting +and less interesting than that of our men. Close into the shore at that +time of the evening mosquitoes invariably abound. This evening they +positively swarmed, and in addition to them were a number of sand-flies, +so small that no veil could keep them out, and almost as vicious as their +great-aunts, the mosquitoes. So there we sat, poor, helpless beings! +tapping our foreheads and hands to get quit of our buzzing enemies, and +thinking longingly of our tents and supper. + +“Suddenly there was the sound of a gun fired, which roused our interest, +and made us feel as if the game were in earnest. First one, then another +report was heard, and after a few moments’ interval there arose shouts of +triumph, and cries or screams, such as only those Indians can give. + +“Our party in the meantime, being weary of the mosquitoes, and naturally +by this time somewhat excited by the matter in hand, had left the boat +and gone ashore. Sticks and faggots were collected, and in a few moments +a splendid fire was kindled. Around it we closely gathered, thankful for +the temporary relief from the buzzing enemies, for no mosquitoes dare +invade the region of smoke or fire. + +“Soon was heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Tramp, tramp, tramp, +as of men marching under some heavy burden, accompanied by the sound +of many voices, and soon the party appeared in sight. The two foremost +carried a stout pole, to which, with his legs tied together, hung the +body of poor Bruin! The men brought up their trophy and laid him down +among the ferns, and bluebells, and pretty golden tansy for us to +examine. A splendid bear he was, about two years old, very fat, and with +hair as sleek and glossy as if—forgive me, Bruin!—he had been accustomed +to the use of ‘bear’s grease.’ + +“Our young French-Canadian, who had shot him, said he had tracked the +beast for some distance, and then stood still. In a few moments he heard +the rustle of leaves and breaking twigs, and the slow tread of the four +paws. Soon he came in sight, when one shot made him fall, and a second +bullet despatched him wholly. + +“That night—that very night, over our camp-fire, a huge cauldron +was suspended, and joints of bear were cooked, eaten, and I presume +enjoyed, by our men. We ourselves were, I was thankful to feel, excused +from sharing in the repast that evening. But a dish of delicate bear +steaks was presented to us next morning for breakfast; and having with +difficulty conquered a certain feeling of great repugnance in tasting +them, we could not but pronounce them excellent. + +“I do not think it is at all fair to name a person who is uncouth +and ill-mannered ‘bearish.’ My experience of Bruin shows that he is +remarkable for a sedate yet good-tempered expression, and his tastes +are certainly not ungentlemanly, as he seems to live entirely on fish +and the wild berries of these noble Canadian forests. I understand that +a bear once was heard to tell his cub, who ate voraciously, and showed +temper to his brothers and sisters, that he was most ‘mannish’ in his +behaviour. I thought the epithet not wholly inappropriate.” + +Fort Simpson was reached on September 24, and much excitement took place. +The red flag of welcome was soon hoisted, and Mr. Hardisty, the chief +officer, and the whole settlement came to the shore to meet them. So +hearty was the reception that they did not perceive the shadow—the grim +shadow of starvation—that was hanging over the fort and land. There was +only one week’s provisions in the Company’s store, and game was very +scarce. At this point the new party arrived, bringing six extra mouths to +be fed, besides the boat’s crew, and yet the Company’s officers received +them with the utmost courtesy and good temper, and did their best to +look and speak cheerfully. Most of the men around the fort had to be +sent away, and there was difficulty in collecting dried scraps of meat +for the wives and children. At length there came a time when there was +not another meal left. The poor dogs hung around the houses, “day by day +growing thinner and thinner, their poor bones almost through their skins; +their sad, wistful look when anyone appeared. Even a dry biscuit could +not be thrown to them.” But just when matters reached the worst, two +Indians arrived, bringing fresh meat, and the great tension slackened. + +“From that moment,” says Mrs. Bompas, “the supplies have never failed. +As surely as the provisions got low, so surely, too, would two or three +sledges appear unexpectedly, bringing fresh supplies.” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A TERRIBLE JOURNEY IN WINTER + + +The Bishop had to be ever on the move to cover even a small portion +of his huge diocese. He had no comfortable railway cars in which to +travel, and no horses to draw him speedily along; only dogs, faithful +little animals, to carry his food and camping outfit, while he and his +companions walked. + +Fort Simpson was chosen by the Bishop as his abode at first. It is +situated at the confluence of the Mackenzie and Liard Rivers, and formed +the most central and convenient point for managing the vast diocese. This +position had been occupied years before by the Hudson’s Bay Company, and +here, in 1859, Mr. Kirkby built the church and mission-house. + +All around stretched the huge diocese of one million square miles—and +such a diocese! It has been well described by the Bishop himself in the +following words: + + “No shepherd there his flock to fold, + No harvest waves its tresses gold; + No city with its thronging crowd, + No market with its clamour loud; + No magistrates dispense the laws, + No advocate to plead the cause; + No sounding bugle calls to arms, + No bandits rouse to dread alarms; + No courser scours the grassy plain, + No lion shakes his tawny mane; + No carriages for weary feet, + No waggons jostle in the street; + No well-tilled farms, no fencèd field, + No orchard with its welcome yield; + No luscious fruit to engage the taste, + No dainties to prolong the feast; + No steaming car its weighty load + Drags with swift wheel o’er iron road; + No distant messages of fire + Flash, lightning-like, through endless wire; + No church with tower or tapering spire, + No organ note, no chanting choir.” + +Writing of the extent of his diocese, the Bishop says: + +“To represent the length and tediousness of travel in this diocese, it +may be compared to a voyage in a row-boat from the Gulf of St. Lawrence +to Fort William, on Lake Superior, or a European may compare it to a +voyage in a canal barge from England to Turkey. Both the length and +breadth of this diocese equal the distance from London to Constantinople. + +“If all the populations between London and Constantinople were to +disappear, except a few bands of Indians or gipsies, and all the cities +and towns were obliterated, except a few log-huts on the sites of the +capital cities—such is the solitary desolation of this land. Again, if +all the diversity of landscape and variety of harvest-field and meadow +were exchanged for an unbroken line of willow and pine trees—such is this +country.” + +In this region the Bishop and his devoted wife began their great work +together. At once an Indian school was started, carried on at first +principally by the Bishop himself. Mrs. Bompas says: + +“My ears often grew weary of the perpetual ‘ba, be, bo, bu; cha, che, +cho, chu.’ These, with a few hymns translated into their own language, +and a little counting, were the first studies mastered by our Simpson +scholars.” + +Three hundred miles from Fort Simpson was another post of the Hudson’s +Bay Company, Fort Rae. Here was a band of Indians who needed the +message of the Gospel, and the Bishop decided to go to them. Together +with several men from Fort Rae he set out, having with his sled Allen +Hardisty, an Indian who was being trained as a catechist. + +“It was a clear, beautiful morning,” says Mrs. Bompas, “November 27, +1874. The great frozen river glittered in the sunshine. Not a smooth, +glassy surface, but all covered with huge boulders of ice, and these +again all thickly strewn with snow.... Here are our ‘trippers,’ as they +are called, and all ready to start, and my Bishop in his fur cap and warm +wraps which I have made for him. His large mittens, formed of deer-skin +and fur, are suspended from the neck, as is the custom here. Allen, the +catechist, packed the sledges last evening with their bags of clothing +and provisions for the way—blankets, cooking implements, etc. There are +three sledges, and the dogs ready harnessed. I am rather proud of my +‘tapis,’ which, amid sundry difficulties, I contrived to get finished, +with some help, in time. Now comes the word, ‘Off! all ready!’ Our +farewells are said, the drivers smack their whips, the dogs cry out and +start in full scamper, the trippers running by the side of their sledges +at such a pace that they are soon out of sight.” + +It is certainly an interesting thing to watch a dog-team start on a long +journey. The harness is decorated in gay trappings with ribbons, beads, +coloured cloth, and many jingling bells. The dogs enter into the spirit +of the undertaking, and lift up their voices in wild yelps and barks. + +A good dog-team in the North costs from $100 to $200, averaging about $25 +a dog. Some of the best in the country are bred by the natives, nearly +every grown-up Indian having his own dog-team and sledge or toboggan. +The Indians make their own sledges and harness, the former being made of +birch-wood, and the latter of moose-skin. + +[Illustration: DOG-SLED IN NORTH-WEST CANADA + +A couple married at Whitehorse by Bishop Stringer started in November +with this team of dogs, and, after a journey of 1,200 miles, arrived at +Fairbanks in the spring.] + +Though the Bishop and his companions started off bravely and in high +spirits, they little realized what difficulties were ahead. The snow was +deep and the cold intense. The dogs suffered much. The sharp crust and +ice cut their feet and blood-marked every foot of the trail. This is by +no means uncommon in Northern travel. The snow gathers in lumps between +the dogs’ toes, and often the poor brutes will stop and tear savagely at +the pieces with their teeth. Often the driver does this work of mercy, +and the dog will lie on his side or back, looking up piteously into +his master’s face. Sometimes little moose-skin moccasins are made, in +shape like a miner’s gold-poke, with a drawing-string at the top. These, +fastened securely upon the dogs’ feet, give them much relief, though it +is hard for them to draw heavy loads, as the moccasins prevent their toes +from gripping the trail. The lash, too, adds to the dogs’ suffering. To +a person who has never been on the trail, or in common parlance “mushed +dogs,” it may seem an unnecessary cruelty; but the truth is, they will +not work at all unless the whip is used to a certain extent. There is a +great difference, of course, between urging on the animals now and then +with a sharp cut of the whip and ill-treating them as some drivers do. It +is no uncommon thing for a brutal master to pound his dogs with a heavy +stick, beating them until they are almost insensible. The curses of some +men are terrible to listen to, and many contend that dogs will not travel +without a string of oaths being hurled at them. + +A missionary some years ago in the Yukon held a service, at which only +miners and prospectors were present. His subject was swearing, and he +spoke about dog-driving. He appealed to them, and asked if it were not +possible to drive dogs without cursing at them. At this a hardy, husky +miner rose to his feet, and looking calmly at the missionary, replied: +“Your Reverence, it can’t be done.” Now this is all nonsense. It can be +done, and dogs which are properly trained will travel just as well to the +words, “Mush on,” and “Hike on, there,” as to all the choicest oaths in +the English language. + +The Bishop would never allow the dogs to be ill-treated in his presence; +neither would he permit his men to swear at them. It was his usual custom +to go ahead, on his long, springing snow-shoes, which sometimes are +called “Northern slippers,” and break down the trail. He was a man of +great endurance, and day after day he kept the lead, sometimes till long +after dark. “The ground is generally rough, and to walk in some places +may be compared to what it would be to walk over the heads and shoulders +of a crowd.” + +“Snow-shoe walking,” says the Bishop, “requires care to avoid trouble. +If the snow-shoe lashings, or any other bands, are too tight on the +limbs, or if the feet are held too stiffly, a very painful affliction of +the muscles supervenes, known as the snow-shoe sickness. This sickness +sometimes causes the legs to swell like those of an elephant, and renders +them so powerless that the feet may have to be lifted with the hand by +lines attached to the front of the snow-shoes.” + +Day by day the dark forms moved on. All around was the pitiless waste. +The terrible cold chilled to the bone. No sound broke the silence but +the crunch, crunch of the snow-shoes, or the shouts of the drivers, +the cracks of the whips, and the yelps of the dogs. At times they had +to contend with driving storms, and only those who have been on the +Northern trails can fully realize what they mean. Bishop Stringer, who +spent many hard years within the Arctic Circle, vividly describes such an +experience. He was travelling over a desolate region, away to the east, +where the foot of white men had never before trod. + +“It may appear,” he says, “quite novel to travel over lands where no +white man has ever been. The novelty wears off quickly, though, when one +has to face the storms and isolation of those desolate wilds. I had as a +guide a boy (the only one I could obtain from one of the villages) who +was both deaf and stupid, and somewhat lazy. We had, of course, to carry +our wood from the sea-coast, or do without any. We had a cotton tent +that had seen many winters’ rough usage, and a small stove made out of an +old stove-pipe. By means of this we were able to keep warm while the wood +lasted. When on the return trip our wood gave out, and we had to travel +in the face of a blinding snowstorm, or freeze in the tent, and for part +of the night we were hopelessly lost, and without any means of camping or +getting ourselves warm, except by running. The boy gave out early, and +while he sat on the sled, I had to run before the dogs, in the face of +the storm, without track or guide of any kind. By keeping right into the +wind I judged we were not far astray. I was quite glad, when the daybreak +came, to find ourselves not far from the village.” + +It was always a great joy when Bishop Bompas and the men dragged their +weary bodies into camp. Sometimes they had to travel over a barren +stretch of country, and how eagerly they would watch ahead for a clump of +trees in which to spend the night! But when camping-time arrived, there +was no warm house or steaming supper awaiting them—nothing but the silent +trees, grim and desolate, surrounding them. + +Having chosen a suitable spot with plenty of dry wood near, the snow was +scraped away with a snow-shoe for a shovel. This place was then thickly +covered with fir, spruce, or pine branches, and a fire started from the +shavings of dry wood or a piece of birch bark. + +“If there are no pine,” wrote the Bishop, “a fire can be made with dry +willows. If these are lacking, evergreen willows are supposed to burn, +when once ignited. Should there be none of these, there may probably be +no fire, unless, as a last resort, a sledge can be chopped up for the +purpose. There may be inconvenience also in the lack of materials for +starting a fire. In the absence of sulphur matches, fire is commonly made +with flint and steel and a piece of country touch-wood, which consists +of a fungoid growth or excrescence on the bark of the birch or poplar. +A small particle of this touch-wood is kindled to a spark with flint and +steel, the touch-wood is then placed on a handful of shavings cut from +dry wood, and the whole is waved together in the air until it bursts into +a flame. When a steel is missing, a knife may be at hand, or fire may be +obtained by snapping a gun. An Indian chief has told of his life being +saved at a last emergency by obtaining fire from a piece of greenstone, +carried for a whetstone, and an iron buckle from his dog-harness.” + +After the fire was started, snow was melted in the kettles, for it is +almost impossible to obtain water in any other way on the trail. The dogs +are not fed until the end of the day. This may seem cruel; but if fed +before, they are lazy, and will do very little work. + +Once I was travelling in the Yukon, and in the morning, seeing the dogs +looking wistfully at us as we ate our breakfast, I urged my Indian guide +to feed them. He did so under strong protest. Then I found my mistake. +We made very little progress that day, and were forced to camp unusually +early. The dogs would go a short distance, stop, squat down upon the +trail, and look back at us. The whip had little or no effect. The food in +the morning had spoiled them, and they were not anxious to reach the camp +at night. + +After supper was over, and the dogs fed, the moccasins and socks were +hung up to dry, for they are always wet after a day’s travel. Then the +Bishop, sitting there, would bring out his little Bible, read a word of +comfort, and offer up a few prayers to the great Father; then, rolling +themselves up in their blankets on the yielding boughs, close to the +fire, they would take their well-earned rest. Sometimes they would awake +to find the fire out and themselves covered with a soft white mantle of +snow. Shortly after midnight they would arise, and prepare for another +long day’s march. Such was their daily experience, and all the time the +trail was getting more difficult. + +[Illustration: FEEDING THE DOGS + +The usual fare of these useful animals is fish.] + +The worst was yet to come. Much snow had fallen, and their progress was +slower, and food running low. They were still a long distance from Fort +Rae, and had therefore to place themselves on short allowance. Steadily +their small supply of provisions diminished, until only a little was +left; then a mouthful apiece for hungry men and ravenous dogs. The latter +did some hunting on their own account when the day’s work was over, and +fortunate were they to find a timid rabbit lurking near. Their keenness +of scent is marvellous, especially when starving. I remember once, when +our dog-food was all gone, that Yukon, my noble leader, dug through the +snow on the shore of Lake Laberge and found a sack containing several +dried fish, which had been left there the previous fall by some lone +fisherman. + +At length the food was all gone, and the tired, starving men looked at +one another. What were they to do? The Bishop straightened himself up, +drew the girdle tighter about his waist, and pointed forward. He even +smiled, for he could ever do that, even when his face was drawn and +haggard. It was not the smile of scorn, but of trust. He well knew that, +as the Lord stood with the great veteran St. Paul, he would stand by him +there in the great northland. He must have experienced a certain joy that +he was suffering for the Master’s sake. Ah! he was being trained in a +stern school for the great work which still lay before him. It was but +one of the thousands of sufferings he endured, of which he would seldom +speak. It was the Venerable Archdeacon Canham who once found the Bishop +in a lonely place with nothing to eat but a few tallow candles. Upon +these he subsisted until he obtained proper food. + +There was now nothing to do but drag on their weary steps. It was +necessary, too, to assist the dogs, for the poor creatures were so weak +that they could do but little. So on they pressed, and crunch, swish, +sounded the snow-shoes. What a pitiful little procession wound its way +through that white, cruel desolation! The keen frost whitened their +beards and eyebrows, singeing their faces, and chilling their hearts. And +then the desolate camp at night, with nothing to eat! + +But there was hope, and what will not men endure when they have even +a spark of hope in their hearts? They were drawing near to Fort Rae. +At last the buildings hove into sight, and slowly and painfully they +struggled in, faint and weary to the point of collapse. The dogs must +have scented the settlement long before the men saw the place. They would +smell the smoke in the air and take courage. + +I was travelling to Dalton Post during the spring of 1905 with three +dogs and an Indian. One day we had a terrible march, and were forced to +abandon tent and supplies owing to a flooded stream. From three o’clock +in the morning until eight at night we plodded on, in some places wading +to our knees in water, and again facing a furious snowstorm on a large +lake. On the little Klukshu Lake the dogs stopped. They were tired out, +and refused to advance. The shore was desolate, and we had very little to +camp with. What were we to do? Suddenly Yukon, the leader, pricked up his +ears and started on a run, and it was all we could do to keep pace with +him. Not for an instant did he stop until we swung into an Indian lodge +about a mile away. He had scented the camp the whole of that distance. +When I related this incident afterwards to one well accustomed to Indians +and their ways of living, astonishment was expressed that the dog had +not scented the camp long before. And it certainly was a wonder, for the +place was most foul. But how welcome for all that to weary travellers! + +Great was the Bishop’s pleasure at reaching Fort Rae. It was joy after +the battle. He had suffered, but what did it matter? Sitting around the +camp-fire, all difficulties of the way were forgotten, as he explained to +the Indians the message he had come to bring of the loving Saviour. + +Meanwhile, at the Fort, Mrs. Bompas was anxiously awaiting the Bishop’s +return. Mr. Reeve took charge of the settlement, while Mr. Hodgson +conducted the Indian school. It was a weary time—a time of darkness, for +grease had given out, and there were few candles, as the deer were very +thin. Never before had there been such a scarcity. Every particle was +saved with jealous care, and doled out with the greatest caution. + +But, notwithstanding the darkness, a cheerful time was spent at +Christmas, when Mrs. Bompas brought in twelve old Indian wives and gave +them a Christmas dinner. They tried their best to use the knives and +forks, but at last gave up in despair, and had to “take to Nature’s +implements.” + +Then a Christmas-tree—a grand affair—was given for the Indian and the +white children of the officers of the fort. The presents were made by +hand, and Mrs. Bompas wrote: + +“Years ago, in my childhood, when my busy fingers accomplished things of +this kind, my dear mother used to tell me I should one day be the head of +a toy-shop. How little did she then dream in what way her words would be +fulfilled! I actually made a lamb—‘Mackenzie River breed’—all horned and +woolly, with sparkling black eyes.” + +Many were the wonderful things made for that tree, and great was the +delight of those little dark-skinned Indians as they looked upon their +first Christmas-tree. + +After the excitement had subsided dreary days of waiting followed, +when, one Sunday morning, bells were heard, and a dog-team swung into +the fort, and there, to the astonishment of all, appeared the Bishop +“with white, snowy beard fringed with icicles, in a deer-skin coat and +beaver hat and mittens—a present from Fort Rae.” What rejoicing there +was! and more rejoicing still when he poured into Mrs. Bompas’s lap the +long-looked-for home letters, which had been eight months reaching her. +“Dear, precious letters,” says the faithful recorder of these early days, +“for which I had so longed and prayed and wept for eight months past! The +long silence was broken, the electric chain laid down between England, +Darmstadt, and Fort Simpson.” + +The Bishop’s experience on this trip by no means prevented him from +taking others. Shortly after his return from Fort Rae an incident +happened which almost deprived the Church of its heroic missionary. He +wished to visit Fort Norman, some 200 miles north of Fort Simpson, and +made ready to travel in the dead of winter with several of the Hudson’s +Bay Company’s men, who were going that way. On the morning of the +departure, Mrs. Bompas went to the Indian camp and asked the natives, who +were to accompany the travellers, to look after the Bishop. “Are we not +men?” said one of them, Natsatt by name. “Is he not our Bishop? Koka” +(_i.e._, That’s enough.) + +And so they started. But on this occasion the Bishop did not go ahead, +as was his custom. He lagged behind the sled, travelling slower and +slower all the time. Natsatt kept looking back, and when at length the +Bishop disappeared from sight, he became alarmed. “Me no feel easy,” he +presently remarked; “me not comfortable.” Leaving the rest of the party, +who swung on their way, he went back to look for the Bishop. Soon he +found him, helpless, in the middle of the trail, bent double, with hands +on his knees, trying to walk. He had been seized with fearful cramps, +which were rendering him powerless. Natsatt made a fire as quickly as +possible, and rubbed the Bishop thoroughly, and after the suffering man +was well warmed, with a great effort succeeded in getting him back to the +fort. The day was extremely cold—40 degrees below zero. A few minutes +more, and the Bishop would have perished on the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LITTLE ONES OF THE FLOCK + + +The Bishop loved the little ones of his dusky flock, and never was he so +happy as when they were gathered around him. For long years he was their +patient teacher, and gladly did he give up some of his time each day for +their sake. Indian children are full of fun and mischief, and many were +the pranks they would play upon their venerable teacher. Shrewd, too, +were they to watch the effect of their capers. They knew they could go so +far and no farther. When they saw the Bishop running his fingers through +his hair they knew a storm was brewing, and silence would ensue. + +As he looked upon their little faces a deep love would come into his +heart, for he knew the life-history of each. That bright-faced little lad +had been rescued from a cruel father, or that little girl had been saved +from a life of degradation. During his long years in the North, over such +a vast sweep of country, he had relieved and saved many a little waif. He +could not bear to see them suffer, and sometimes his eyes were blinded +to their imperfections. Once, hearing the sobs of a child who was being +chastised, he marched to the schoolroom door and sought admittance. This +not being complied with immediately, with a mighty push he drove open the +door, seized the child from the teacher’s grasp, and, placing it upon his +knee, soothed it with parental affection. + +The story of poor old Martha is a touching one. Her daughter’s child, +little Tommy, a miserable, misshapen creature, was very sick. They sent +for the Bishop, who did all in his power, but in vain. The child soon +passed away. Through his tender care he won their hearts, and not long +after the child’s death Martha came to him one cold, dark night, and +begged the Bishop “to give her some medicine to do her heart good; she +had pain there ever since Tommy died.” And there, in the quietness of +the mission-house, the noble teacher talked with her, telling her of the +great Physician of souls, and sending her away comforted. + +The story of Jennie de Nord is one of much beauty and pathos, in which we +see the Bishop risking his own life to save a little child. Old De Nord +was a chief among the Fort Simpson Indians. He was a noted hunter and +trapper, strong and stalwart, and a loving father to his four motherless +children. Jennie was the only girl of the family, a regular little vixen, +with sparkling black eyes and a merry, roguish laugh. She was utterly +fearless, and her power of will and body were often the cause of wonder +even to her own people. She would face the wild, husky dogs of her +tribe, or launch a small canoe and paddle herself to visit her father’s +fish-nets. She admired her father’s gun very much, but it was too big for +her to handle. One day a white man came to the camp, and as he showed his +fine pistol, Jennie became much excited. She watched him closely, and +stood in breathless wonder when he fired it off for the entertainment of +the Indians. The next morning, when the white man awoke, his pistol was +gone. Somebody had stolen it! All became alert to find the thief. Then +Jennie, with her face all flushed, came forward with the weapon. She had +taken it from beneath the white man’s blanket while he slept, and hugged +it fondly throughout the night. + +[Illustration: THE MISSION SCHOOL AT CARCROSS + +At the Bishop’s left stands Miss Mary Ellis, who for years worked among +the Indians in the Yukon, and who was really the first teacher at +Carcross.] + +For the first few years of her life Jennie was tended by an aunt, who +lavished much affection upon the child. Jennie was then given to the +care of another aunt, Takatse-mo by name, who was rather a stern woman, +and had several children of her own to care for. She did not act kindly +towards her new charge, and made her do very hard work, such as hauling +water from the river, chopping wood for the camp-fire, and many other +chores about the place. Besides this, Jennie was poorly fed. The little +round cheeks grew thin, and a forlorn look appeared upon her usually +merry face. While her relatives and neighbours were talking about this, +and wondering what to do, Jennie took the matter into her own hands, +and one day suddenly disappeared from the camp. Her aunt did not worry +herself at all about the girl’s departure. She said she would come back +when she felt hungry; but Jennie did not come back. She had taken no +food with her except a piece of hard, dried deer’s meat; neither did she +have any outer covering beyond her small blanket, which had served her +in early years, and was rather threadbare. The day after Jennie’s flight +the neighbours, and even the aunt, became much alarmed about her. The +snow was deep around Fort Simpson, and starving wolves prowled about the +woods. Their howls were often heard at night, and were responded to by +the camp dogs. At last it was resolved to consult the Bishop. “We must go +after the child at once,” was the reply, as soon as he heard the story; +and he immediately prepared to head the expedition. Snow-shoes and cloth +leggings were made ready; stout moccasins, and blankets, socks, fur cap, +and other things necessary for the journey. Just a little more than half +an hour after the news of Jennie’s departure reached the mission-house, +the Bishop and two Indians started off after the strayed waif. They +found it difficult to trace her, as the previous night had been windy, +and Jennie’s tiny footprints were covered up. They imagined she had gone +in search of her father, who was camped some distance away. Travelling +in this direction, they had much difficulty in making their way through +the tangled brushwood, and often they had to follow the river in order +to make any progress at all. Here they met the piercing north-east wind, +which cut their faces, and formed icicles on beard and eyelashes. For +ten miles they continued on their way without discovering any sign of +Jennie. The Bishop felt much discouraged, and was thinking of returning +to the Fort to try some other route. Suddenly one of the Indians uttered +an exclamation, and pointed upwards to a faint column of smoke slowly +rising among the dark fir-trees. New hope filled their hearts, and +quickly climbing the banks of the stream, they made straight for the +fire. Presently they caught sight of the clustered poles, which had been +a wigwam, and there they found a little huddled form lying in one corner, +clutching closely about her body the one poor frayed blanket. Opening her +eyes, and seeing the Bishop bending over her, she uttered the pitiful +word, “Ti-tin-tie” (I am hungry). Jennie had walked more than ten miles, +and reaching at last De Nord’s halting-place, her strength had given +out. Here she found her father’s gun, which had been left in a cache +loaded. This the girl had eagerly seized, and by firing it off obtained +a spark which started the fire. By this she had crouched, trying to keep +life in her body, when found by the rescuers. At once a roaring fire was +blazing up. Water was brought, a cup of tea made for Jennie, and after a +few hours’ rest the party set out on their return trip to Fort Simpson. +Jennie had to be carried most of the way, for she was not only much +exhausted, but her shoes were almost worn out. In his strong arms the +Bishop carried her part of the way, and how his heart must have rejoiced +at finding the lost lamb! But the trip cost him much. His clothes were +wet, for in places he had been forced to wade through overflowing water. +He could hardly reach Fort Simpson, so great were the cramps which seized +him, and for days he endured great suffering. But what did it matter? +Jennie was safe, and none the worse for her experience. + +Four years later the Bishop was called upon to lay poor Jennie to rest. +Her father made her work harder than she was able to do. One day she +started with the dogs and sleds for the woods to bring in a deer her +father had killed. The journey was a long one, and when she returned to +the camp tired out, she complained of not feeling well, and lying down on +her bed of brushwood, died the next day. + +Such a scene as this wrung the Bishop’s heart, and he did all in his +power to bring the little ones into the mission-schools, where they could +receive proper care. An interesting sight it was to see this shepherd +returning from some long trip, bringing with him several wild, dirty +little natives for his school. + +Not only did the Bishop bring the children into the mission-school, but +time and time again he and Mrs. Bompas received some poor little waif +as their own. A few years after his consecration, little Jennie, a mere +babe, was thus taken to their hearts. She came to them, so Mrs. Bompas +tells us, + + “At holy Christmas-tide, + When winter o’er our Northern home + Its lusty arms spread wide; + When snow-drifts gathered thick and deep, + Winds moaned in sad unrest, + My little Indian baby sought + A shelter at my breast.” + +Upon this child they bestowed their affection; but alas! notwithstanding +the greatest care, it gradually wasted away, and passed to the great +Father above. + +Some time later another was received into their home and hearts. This was +Owindia (The Weeping One), who was baptized Lucy May. A terrible tragedy +had been enacted at one of the Indian camps, from which the babe had +been marvellously rescued. Her mother had been cruelly murdered by an +angry husband, and as there was no one to care for her, the Bishop and +Mrs. Bompas took the motherless child. Great was the joy they received +from the little one, and with much pride she was taken to England several +years later, where, after some time, she died. Mrs. Bompas beautifully +tells the story of this waif in her little book, “Owindia.” + +The Indian boys are great little hunters and trappers. The forest is +their home, and they read the world of Nature like an open book. They +have their numerous sports, too, paddling along the shore of some lake in +the summer-time, or coasting down a steep hill in the winter. The bank in +front of the Indian village, just across the river from Whitehorse, at +times is worn smooth from numerous little moccasined feet. Approaching +the place, one has to be careful not to be suddenly upset by a crouching +figure, sweeping down the hill, balancing himself with much skill upon +one foot. This little fellow in the picture was caught one bright day +enjoying his favourite sport. + +Dogs are their constant companions, and they love them dearly. It is +interesting to watch Indian boys playing with these faithful animals. +Though savage and vicious to strangers, they obey the slightest command +of their little dusky masters. In the winter-time it is no uncommon +thing to see a lad speeding along the trail drawn by two or three lank +huskies. In the summer-time a rude waggon is often made, and seated upon +a soap-box, the boy will drive his patient dog with much pride. + +These are the bright, active lads who are brought into the +mission-school, taught to read and write, and to receive the knowledge of +the loving Saviour. To see the little fellows in the wild, rude state in +the forest, and then behold them several months after they have entered +the school, you would hardly know they were the same children. They are +not naturally quick at learning from the printed page, and the Bishop at +times became much discouraged at their slowness, and said it was “like +writing in the sand instead of graving in the rock.” + +[Illustration: AN INDIAN BOY SLIDING DOWNHILL AT WHITEHORSE] + +[Illustration: THE DOGS RESTING AFTER A HARD DAY’S WORK + +Brush of fir-trees is laid upon the snow, and upon this the dogs huddle +through the long cold nights.] + +Several years ago I had a class of bright-eyed, dusky children at +Whitehorse. Day after day they were instructed in the mysteries of A, B, +and C. Then a list of simple words was carefully studied, such as “cat,” +“dog,” “pig,” “cow” and “boy.” At last, thinking they all knew the words +well, I asked the brightest boy in the room to repeat them once more for +the benefit of the whole class. Bravely and proudly he started, “C—a—t, +cat; d—o—g, dog.” Thus far he had no trouble. The next word was puzzling. +Slowly and carefully he spelled it out, “p—i—g.” He tried hard to +remember its meaning, and a breathless silence ensued. Suddenly his face +cleared, and proudly he spelt it again, “p—i—g, boy.” There was a roar of +laughter from his companions, and I do not think the young speller knows +to this day what they laughed at. + +Indian children are fond of music, and they have very sweet voices. At +the Carcross Mission it is an interesting sight to see several rows of +well-dressed boys and girls, with books in their hands, singing lustily +some favourite hymn. Two of these little lads were recently brought to +the Whitehorse Hospital for a painful treatment. Visiting them the next +day, I saw a hymn-book lying by Johnny Black’s side. “Have you been +reading in this?” I inquired. “We have been singing, sir,” was the reply. +“And will you sing some to me?” I asked. Immediately the book was opened, +and in a quavering voice the little fellow sang the hymn beginning with +the following verse: + + “Great God, and wilt Thou condescend + To be my Father and my Friend; + I a poor child, and Thou so high, + The Lord of earth, and air, and sky!” + +Occasionally Tony, in the adjoining bed, would join in; but he was rather +weak, so he could not sing much. Listening to these two little lads, I +thought what a good work was being done—a work started in this diocese by +Bishop Bompas—in bringing such as these to the Saviour’s feet in love and +faith. These were the two little boys who at the Carcross Church took up +the collection regularly every Sunday. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A RACE WITH WINTER + + +If you wish to cross the Rocky Mountains to-day westward to the Pacific +coast, there are the cars of the Canadian-Pacific Railway, in which you +can travel in luxurious comfort and ease. As the train winds its way up +to the summit, and crosses the Great Divide, and then creeps down, down +the western slope, wonders without number are presented to view. Majestic +snow-capped mountains surround you on every side; streams rush, leaping +and foaming, like white threads far below, as the train hangs from some +dizzy height, crawling around a jagged precipice. As you look down, and +then shrink back, at the wild scene below, you marvel at the skill of +the engineers who could build a railroad in such a place. Then your mind +turns to the men who first penetrated these wilds, and who were forced to +cross the mountains before the railroad was built. What hardships they +endured, what perils, and how many lives were lost in the undertaking! +Hundreds of miles farther north Bishop Bompas performed this task +years before the railroad was built, and at a season of the year when +travelling over the mountains was very difficult. + +While Bishop Bompas was carrying on his steady work along the great +inland streams, a storm was brewing in an active mission centre on the +Pacific coast. Mr. Duncan, who had been sent out by the Church Missionary +Society, was working among the Indians at Metlakahtla with good results. +Bishop Hills, of Columbia Diocese, several times visited the settlement +and baptized a large number of converts. But Mr. Duncan objected to the +Indian Christians being prepared for Confirmation, thinking they would +make a fetish of it. Time and time again the Church Missionary Society +sent out ordained men to Metlakahtla, but Mr. Duncan would not listen to +them, and remained most headstrong in his views. Matters thus reached a +climax. Bishop Hills well knew if he visited Metlakahtla it would only +add fuel to the flames, as Mr. Duncan, for certain reasons, had taken +a dislike to him. He therefore acted a wise part, and wrote to Bishop +Bompas asking him to go to Metlakahtla as arbitrator. + +It was late in the season ere the letter reached the Bishop, but without +delay he prepared for the trip. At any season it was a great undertaking, +but at that time of the year the difficulty was very much increased. +In a direct line the journey was a long one, but to reach the coast +the distance was lengthened by a circuitous route over rivers, lakes, +portages, and mountain summits. + +Then winter was upon them. + +“All the latter part of September,” wrote the Bishop, “the frost and snow +had been more severe than I had ever known it before at the same season, +so the winter had decidedly the first start in our race.” + +It was a cold, frosty day, that 8th of October, 1877, when the Bishop +left Dunvegan in a stout canoe, with several Indians, on his long +race to the coast against stern Winter. For five days they moved up +the river, contending with drifting ice, which met them coming out of +“tributary streams,” and on the 13th Fort St. John’s was reached, where +they “were kindly entertained for the Sunday by the officer in charge” +of the Hudson’s Bay post. From this point they left winter “behind for +a fortnight, and were fairly ahead in the race.” But every day they +expected to be overtaken by their competitor, and arose from their +“couches anxiously every morning, foreboding signs of ice or snow.” + +Rocky Mountain House was reached on the 17th, where a large band of +Indians was found assembled. The Bishop lost no opportunity of speaking +a word to the natives wherever he met them, and the seed thus sown bore +much fruit in after years. For the first time he found no sickness in the +camps, which fact he attributed “to their unusually liberal use of soap +and water, as compared with the tribes farther north.” + +Ahead of them was the Peace River Canyon, and, after making a land +portage of twelve miles to overcome this dangerous spot, they again +proceeded by canoe. But the work was becoming harder all the time. The +current was very swift, and the canoe had to be poled all the way. In +trying to ascend the Parle Pas Rapids, the current was so “strong that +their canoe turned on them, and was swept down the stream, but, being a +large one, descended safely.” + +“Most of the time that we were passing through the gorge of the Rocky +Mountains the weather was foggy, but when the mist cleared we saw the +bold crags and hilly heights closely overhanging the river in snowy +grandeur. The mountain terraces and picturesque scenery on this route +have been described by Canadian explorers.” + +“On the very morning that we left Parsnip River,” wrote the Bishop, “the +ice began again to drift thickly to meet us, and had we been only a few +hours later, we might have been inconvenienced by it, showing us that +stern Winter was still on our track.” + +For eleven days the Bishop and his men poled their craft against the +stream, and, with many dangers passed, reached McLeod’s Lake Fort on +October 29. Here they were hospitably received by Mr. McKenzie, the +officer in charge, and an opportunity was given to see the Indians who +were at the fort. A rest of two days was made here, and then they +started across the lake. This was a difficult task, as the ice was +beginning to stretch from shore to shore, and they had to force their way +as best they could around the corner of the solid mass. + +From Lake McLeod a long portage of eighty miles was made over frozen +ground to the beautiful sheet of water known as Stuart Lake, on the +shore of which the officer at Fort St. James gave them a hearty welcome. +Here the Bishop was on historic ground. Seventy-one years before those +famous explorers, Simon Fraser and John Stuart, discovered the lake +which took the name of the latter. Fort St. James, which was erected +on its banks “long before Victoria and New Westminster had been called +into existence,” was the regular capital of British Columbia, “where a +representative of our own race ruled over reds and whites.” + +A stay of four days was made at this place, during which time heavy +snowstorms raged over the land, and ice began to form in the lake, +which threatened to bar further progress. This body of water, which +is about fifty miles in length, had to be traversed, and the Indians +refused to make the long journey at that season and in such weather. +During the delay the Bishop was invited to hold Divine service at the +fort on Sunday. Never before had the place “been visited by a Protestant +missionary, the Roman Catholics only having laboured in the region, and +Mr. Hamilton, the Hudson’s Bay Company’s chief officer there, brought up +a family of ten children without having, for more than twenty years, any +opportunity of seeing a Protestant minister.” + +After much difficulty the Indians were persuaded to go forward, and, +leaving Fort St. James on November 7, started out upon their perilous +journey. Safely crossing Lake Stuart, they made a portage of seven miles +and a half to Lake Babine. This is a body of water eighty-seven miles +long and from one-half to five or six miles wide. The canoes here were +poor affairs, owing to the lack of large cedar-trees, from which such +crafts are made on the Pacific coast. They were common dug-outs, formed +from the cotton-wood trees—small, narrow, slab-sided, and as a rule much +warped and out of shape. + +This was all the Bishop could obtain to make the voyage, but he was used +to anything, even a raft, so, launching the frail craft, they again +started forward. When they had gone part of the way a furious snowstorm +swept down upon them, blotting out the landscape, while the white-capped +waves threatened every instant to engulf them. Creeping along the +lee-side of the lake, they pressed steadily on, for the Bishop must reach +the coast before the winter locked everything tight. After days of hard +paddling and battling with wind and waves, their hearts were gladdened by +the sight of Fort Babine. The Indians here, who, by the way, were Roman +Catholics, were naturally suspicious of a Church of England missionary. +“However,” remarked the Bishop, “they treated us well.” + +These Indians were called “Babines” from the custom they had of wearing +a wooden lip-piece on the lower lip. In 1812, when Harmon, the explorer, +first pushed his way into this region, they were wild and war-like, +brandishing their weapons in a threatening manner as the explorer drew +near. Then they numbered about 2,000. Now they have dwindled to 250 since +the arrival of the whites—a sad comment upon the influence of so-called +civilized people. Their principal business was salmon-fishing in the fine +lake which stretched away to the south-east. + +From Fort Babine they started on the land-trail over the mountains to +Skeena Forks. This was a difficult undertaking, and winter overtook them +once again. Beginning the portage, the snow was several inches deep, and +as they ascended the mountain it deepened continually, till they were +forced to dig out their camps, “to sleep in a foot and a half of snow, +and without snow-shoes the walking was heavy. We were invading Winter’s +own domain,” continued the Bishop, “and it was little wonder if he was +severe with us.” + +As they descended the western slope the next morning, the snow diminished +rapidly, and they “camped at night in the grass without a vestige of +snow remaining, and only saw stern Winter frowning down from the heights +behind.” + +On reaching the Skeena Forks they were given a hearty welcome by Mr. +Hankin, a trader who lived here, who informed the Bishop that, till the +previous year, the Skeena River had never been known to continue open +so late, being generally frozen the first week in November, and now it +was the 17th. The next day the descent of the Skeena was begun by canoe +in fear and trembling, lest the ice might “drift down from behind.” And +the race began in earnest, for a heavy snowstorm swept over the land, +and Winter once more made a last effort to block them. But through the +tempest sped the determined missionary, through rapids and canyons, over +bars, whirling eddies, and dangers without number. At last, to his joy, +he found that, on nearing the coast, the mild breezes of the Pacific were +too much for grim Winter, and he steadily retreated, leaving the little +party unscathed. + +At Port Essington, the little town at the mouth of the Skeena, Mr. +Morrison, the missionary in charge, one day, November 23, saw a stranger +approaching in a canoe. His clothes were torn and ragged, his face +bronzed from wind and sun, while his long, uncombed beard swept his +breast. So travel-worn was the man that Mr. Morrison mistook him for +a miner as he disembarked. “Well,” said he, “what success have you +had?” The Bishop replied that he had been fairly successful, evidently +relishing the joke. Just then Mr. Morrison saw the remains of the +episcopal apron, and, remembering that he had heard that a Bishop was +expected at Metlakahtla from inland, exclaimed: “Perhaps you are the +Bishop who I heard was expected?” “Yes,” was the reply, “I am all that is +left of him.” + +After spending one night with Mr. Morrison, the Bishop proceeded +twenty-five miles by canoe along the coast northward to Metlakahtla, +which he reached on the 24th, “this being the tenth canoe,” he remarks, +“that we sat in since leaving Dunvegan.” + +The venerable Archdeacon Collison, of the Diocese of Caledonia, wrote +from Kincolith Naas Mission of the visit of Bishop Bompas to the Pacific +coast: + +“He remained at Metlakahtla that winter, where he succeeded in confirming +a large number of candidates. By the first steamer in spring he came over +to me on Queen Charlotte’s Island, at Massett. I had a little bedroom +specially prepared for him in the new mission-house, but he preferred +lying down on the floor, as he said he was not accustomed to sleeping +in rooms. He was about to lie down just across the doorway, when I +begged him to take another position, as he might be disturbed by someone +entering late or early. + +“I returned with him to the mainland on the steamer. We went together +to the Naas River by canoe—a voyage of some fifty miles—to Kincolith. +The owner of the canoe, who was a chief, was steering, and I was seated +near him towards the stern, whilst the Bishop was seated forward. As the +Bishop raised his arms in paddling, in which we were all engaged, it +revealed a long tear in the side of his shirt. Suddenly the chief asked +me in a low tone, in Tsimshean: ‘Why is the chief’s shirt so torn?’ I +replied: ‘He has been a long time travelling through the forest.’ He +was dressed very roughly, and wore a pair of moccasins. When we reached +Kincolith, he purchased a coarse pair of brogans in the little Indian +store there. He was in the habit of sitting, after the others had +finished their meal, eating a small piece of dry yeast-powder bread, +baked by Mrs. Tomlinson or one of her Indian girl boarders, and he would +exclaim: ‘How sweet this bread is to my taste after roughing it so long +on the trails!’ He informed us of the privations both missionaries and +Indians had endured owing to scarcity of food during certain seasons, +on more than one occasion having had to boil and eat the skins of the +animals that had been caught in the hunt for their furs. I ventured +to suggest to him that this might be avoided if they could only grow +potatoes and pit them securely. We had taught our Indians to do this. +The Bishop feared they would not mature in his diocese, but promised to +remember it. Afterwards I was informed he had introduced the potato with +success. + +“The Rev. R. Tomlinson and I accompanied the Bishop when he started +to return to the head of canoe navigation on the Naas River, and some +distance on the trail. We had a prayer-meeting at the point where we +separated in the forest, in which we joined in prayer for needful +blessings—the Bishop for us and God’s work in our hands, and we for him +in his journey and labours for the Lord. He gave away his great-coat +and a pot to the Indians, and started on the second stage of his return +journey accompanied by one young Indian.” + +While on the coast it was but natural that the Bishop’s thoughts should +wander to his native land. + +“From the Pacific coast,” he wrote, “a few weeks would have taken me to +England or any part of the civilized world; but I preferred to return +north without even visiting the haunts of civilization (except so far as +the Indians are cultivated at our missions), on the ground that such a +visit renders the mind unsettled or disinclined for a life in the wilds.” + +Brave soldier of the Cross, how willing he was to sacrifice anything for +the Master’s cause! Leaving the coast, he started in the spring up the +Skeena River, and once again plunged into the wilderness among his dusky +flock. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +TIMES OF FAMINE + + +Life in the northland is hard and lonely enough at the best; but when +food gives out, and starvation stares people in the face, it is too +horrible even to imagine. And yet it is a common thing during the long +winters, when game is scarce, when no fish are to be caught, and even the +little rabbits die, for famine to stalk through the land, bringing misery +and death to hundreds of men, women, and children. + +“In India and elsewhere,” says Mrs. Bompas, “as soon as such a calamity +is made known, subscriptions are raised, and supplies are sent off as +soon as possible. But it must be months and months before the tidings +of the misery here could even reach our friends in England, and in the +meantime to what terrible straits might we not be reduced. One shudders +to think of what men are driven to by the pangs of hunger.” + +Both whites and Indians suffer at such times. How hard it must be for +parents to see their little children crying out for food, and to be +unable to give them any! In 1878, the Bishop returned from his visit to +the Pacific coast. When he reached his diocese, sad stories were told him +of the fearful famine which had ravaged his flock the previous winter. +Food was scarce, owing to the extreme mildness of the season, interfering +with the chase, and the mission supplies having failed to reach them in +the fall. He gives a graphic picture of the sufferings endured in the +diocese: + +“Horses were killed for food, and furs eaten at several of the posts. +The Indians had to eat a good many of their beaver-skins. Imagine an +English lady taking her supper off her muff! The gentleman now here with +me supported his family for a while on bear-skins—those you see at home +mostly in the form of Grenadier caps. Can you fancy giving a little girl, +a year or two old, a piece of Grenadier’s cap, carefully singed, boiled +and toasted, to eat? Mr. McAulay’s little girl has not yet recovered +from the almost fatal sickness that resulted. The scarcity brings out +the strange contrast between this country and others. Elsewhere money +‘answereth all things,’ and among India’s millions half a million +sterling will relieve a famine; but send it here, and though a great sum +among our scattered individuals, who can be counted by tens, yet it would +do us no good, as for digestion we must find it ‘hard cash’ indeed!” + +It was not only at one place or one season that the famine came. It was +a common occurrence. Once, in 1886, the Bishop held his Synod at Fort +Simpson. There was a scarcity of food, the beginning of the great famine +which ensued, and all were placed on short allowance. One day the dinner +consisted of barley and a few potatoes, but it is said that the Bishop +was equal to the occasion, commending the scanty fare by repeating Prov. +xv. 17: “Better is a dinner of herbs where love is than a stalled ox and +hatred therewith.” + +The winter that followed the meeting of the clergy was a terrible one. +The famine increased. Game was scarce, few moose were to be obtained, the +rabbits all died, and the fish nearly all left the river. The Indians +asserted that the scarcity of the finny prey was caused by the propeller +of the new steamer _Wrigley_, which first churned the head-waters of the +great river the preceding fall, but was unable to reach the northern +posts owing to the ice; hence the lack of supplies. But any excuse would +serve the Indians, as, on a previous occasion when fish were scarce (so +Mrs. Bompas tells us), the natives said it was due to the white women +bathing in the river. Such a radical change as cleanliness was evidently +as much disliked by the fish as by the Indians. + +Through the weary days of famine sad reports reached the Bishop of +Indians dying for lack of food. + +“Forty starving Indians,” so he wrote, “are said to have been eating each +other on Peace River, and 200 dead there of measles, and a like number at +Isle à la Crosse.” + +“We have been living for some days,” says Mrs. Bompas, “on barley soup +and potatoes twice a day. We are four in family, and William gives us +all the giant’s share, and takes so little himself. One hopes and prays +for help. One hears terrible accounts of the Indians, all about, all +starving; no rabbits or anything for them to fall back upon. Here many +of them hunt for rotten potatoes thrown away last fall. Oh, it is truly +heart-rending!” + +Well has Longfellow in his “Hiawatha” described the desolation of such a +scene as is only too common in the North: + + “O the long and dreary winter! + O the cold and cruel winter! + Ever thicker, thicker, thicker + Froze the ice on lake and river. + Ever deeper, deeper, deeper + Fell the snow o’er all the landscape; + Fell the covering snow and drifted + Through the forest round the village.... + + “O the wasting of the famine! + O the wailing of the children! + O the anguish of the women! + All the earth was sick and famished; + Hungry was the air around them; + Hungry was the sky above them; + And the hungry stars above them + Like the eyes of wolves glared at them.” + +The mission party were placed on half rations, and earnest prayers were +offered up to the great Father above for deliverance. Starving wolves +were seen prowling around, ready to snatch up anything, carrying off +little children if they ventured near. “We are just hanging on by our +eyelashes,” quaintly wrote Mrs. Bompas. + +The Bishop starved himself to feed his household, and daily he became +thinner and more haggard. At last the provisions were so reduced that +the Bishop, to lessen the number at the Fort, left for another place. He +seldom thought of himself, but only of those dependent upon him. He could +live anywhere, even in a snow-bank, with a few scraps for food. Truly his +wants were few. + +“An iron cup, plate, or knife,” writes Mr. Spendlove, “with one or two +kettles, form his culinary equipment. A hole in the snow, a corner of +a boat, wigwam, or log-hut, provided space, six feet by two feet, for +sleeping accommodation. Imagine him seated on a box in a twelve-foot +room, without furniture, and there cooking, teaching, studying, early and +late, always at work, never at ease, never known to take a holiday.” + +Mrs. Bompas tells us that the Bishop was a very self-contained man. +During the years when he was itinerating among the Indians and Eskimo +he had lived so much alone in tent or cabin that he had learnt to be +wholly independent of external aid. Moreover, he had trained himself to +endure hardness as a good soldier of the Cross. His diet was at all times +abstemious, almost severely so. To the last he never allowed himself milk +or cream in tea or coffee. He was a fairly good cook and bread-maker, +and loved to produce a good and savoury dish for his friends, although +eschewing all such dainties himself. + +[Illustration: TROUT-SPEARERS BRINGING SUPPLIES FOR A MISSION STATION + +From a photograph taken during a heavy fall of snow.] + +One day, when they knew not where to-morrow’s food would come from, Mr. +Spendlove and several Indians came, bringing moose-meat. They told a +terrible story of suffering below. All at Fort Wrigley were starving, +absolutely no food was to be obtained, and a number of Indians died. Mr. +Spendlove and his fellow-travellers were pitifully thin. Several of the +poor dogs had died off, and those which survived were too weak to draw +the sled, and had to be hauled themselves. By a special mercy they came +upon two moose, which had just been killed by wolves. This meat helped +them out, and probably saved their lives. + +“All the Indians were just on the verge of starvation,” wrote Mr. Garten +of Fort Rae. “All kinds of shifts were made to preserve life; they were +obliged to eat some of the parchment of the fur which they caught; and +even old leather dresses which had been worn by the Indian women were +eaten up. The children fared very badly, not being able to eat the +leather. Of course, there were the usual miseries accompanying such a +state of things: such as men falling down from exhaustion, stealing what +little they could from each other, etc., but happily no crimes were +committed, as far as I know; only two Indians died from starvation. +Things would not have been so bad had there been rabbits and partridges, +but unhappily these also were wanting.” + +At such times terrible stories were related of what happened away from +the Fort. Husbands driven mad from the pangs of hunger were said to have +eaten their wives and little ones. + +“There is an old Indian,” says Mrs. Bompas, “even now pointed out here, +who is said to have eaten his wife and children.” + +“Such a dreadful thing occurred on Friday,” she wrote at another time, +“which has saddened us all. The poor Indian Cachie was seen crossing the +river, wading through the water and over the ice at the peril of his +life. He got to the shore at last in a most distressing state. His wife +and three children all died from starvation. There are rumours more ugly +still concerning him, though we hope they are but rumours. Even at the +best it is a sad, ghastly story. The poor man has been living on berries +and squirrels.” + +Not only did the wives and little children suffer most at such seasons, +but the aged, especially the old women. Bishop Stringer, much farther +north, several years later, gives an instance of what it means to these +people in times of want: + +“In March a man came staggering in, and it required only a glance to tell +that he was starving—he looked more like a skeleton than a man of flesh +and blood. We gave him some food, little by little at first, and then he +told his story. He and his aged mother spent the winter about fifty miles +to the westward. Game became scarce, and their supply of food became +exhausted. Being camped beside an old decayed whale carcass, they lived +on this for a time; but they soon became so weak, and the snow so deep, +that they were not able to procure it any longer. The man caught some +foxes, and they ate them; then even foxes failed. Their only two dogs +were sacrificed to appease their appetites. When almost on the point of +starvation, they started for here without blanket or tent. The mother was +nearly blind, and when about thirty miles from this place the son had +to leave her in a snow-house. He himself was so weak that it took three +days to come a distance that is considered one day’s fair travelling. He +told us he thought his mother would be dead, and all the other natives +seemed to think the same, and so they did not think it important to start +out at once to bury her. After some little trouble, I got one native to +go with me, and, taking my dog-team, reached there early the next day. +My companion expected to find her a corpse, but when we reached her +snow-house she called from within: ‘Inooaloon kaivet?’ (My son, have you +come back?). We found her crouched in the middle of a snow-house about +three feet high, the door of which was partly open, with snow drifting +in. Here she had been for three days without blanket or any covering but +her clothing, and without fire, drink, or food. She was very thirsty, and +we soon made a fire, melted snow, and gave her some water. I asked her +if she were hungry, and she said only a little, but someone had come to +her each night and had given her some fresh deer-meat. (This, no doubt, +was a dream or a vision; but it had the effect of keeping her courage up, +which is a great deal with an Eskimo.) I asked her if she had slept, and +she said she had slept every night. She was not the least bit frozen, +although the temperature was down below zero. She said also that she had +asked the Good Spirit to help her, and that He had heard her, and she +had not been afraid. Poor body! she had very little knowledge of higher +things, but her faith seemed to be great. We put her on the sled, and +came back to Herschel Island without camping—a continuous trip of about +fifty or sixty miles. My dogs were good, or we could not have done it. +The old woman’s eyesight was after a time restored, and of course they +were both very thankful for the help they received. The man was in our +house to-day, and he says that his mother is quite hearty and strong.” + +Though many of these people, in the midst of such trouble, sank lower +than brutes, yet it is pleasing to know that the knowledge of Christ +filled some hearts, lifted them to a higher level, and kept them from +doing horrible things. Listen to the words of two Indian Christians, +which were told to the Rev. W. Spendlove: + +“I have had a hard life,” said one; “seen many deaths from +starvation—thirty one winter. I have seen much wickedness, too: have +known men to eat human flesh; kill the old folks by a blow with an axe; +pitch the new-born child in the snow to die. Yes, greedy men go to other +men’s wives; blows to women instead of words; children beaten like +pounding the drum. I heard the Good News; I took it in my heart, and kept +it there. I kept from all this evil, but I am an old sinner. My heart +has been black as your ink; God has made it feel like raw flesh. He took +away lots of my children. I rebelled; I called the Great Spirit hard +names. I said: ‘God is not wise; He must be unpitiful to want my children +when I need them so badly.’ Stop! I am a foolish Indian; my black heart +makes me talk that way. Those evil things are not done now. Who stopped +them? What shamed us Redmen of our black, dirty ways? I see it clear now. +God’s Spirit pricked holes in our hearts and minds. His Word has entered +and stopped the fire of sin. It cannot burn now. + +“I have drunk animals’ blood, eaten raw flesh, and the bad, dirty insides +of all wild animals. Nothing can change that heart. But I tell you there +is another heart grown out of the old one; now I have two. The new one is +made by faith in the blood of Jesus. I take the holy bread and wine. I am +happy; my soul is free and clean. Now I cook my food, keep myself clean, +wear white men’s clothes, and pray daily to my Saviour. With these words +I shake hands with you big praying-men.” + +And another is: + +“I am a poor Red Indian wife, not supposed to speak first to white +people. I speak with my back turned, my head down, and a shawl over my +face. Why do this now? My heart is full—running over. I know who is my +Master; His name is sweet and strong in my ears. He now keeps my heart +steady with His words. I travel about the woods, and over mountains; I +carry heavy burdens, but my step is light, my heart is strong, the light +is white in my eyes now, because my sin-burden is laid on Jesus.” + +To add to the misery of famine, there was always the horror of darkness; +for candles became very scarce, owing to lack or thinness of deer, from +which grease is obtained. Over and over again Mrs. Bompas laments the +want. And what a joy it was even to obtain a “bladder of grease”! + +“How you would smile,” she once wrote, “to see my jealous care of every +particle of grease; how I save every small piece from my own candlestick +and keep it in a little box, so at the end of several days I have just +enough to place in a saucer, and with a piece of wick form my ‘wax +candle’ for dressing!” + +These, then, are some of the hardships the missionaries have to undergo +in that far-off land, in order to carry the Gospel message to the natives +of the North. Much do they need our prayers and sympathy in their great +loneliness, that they may not faint, but carry forward the banner of the +Master. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +MID DRIFTING ICE + + +We have seen the Bishop travelling over the great Northern waterways in +trim canoes in the summer, and on snow-shoes over the white trails in the +winter. We will now watch him battling and struggling forward on a rude +raft mid surging, drifting ice. + +In May, 1881, he began those marvellous trips which only a giant +constitution could have endured. From the Peace River district he made a +voyage far north to visit the Tukudh Indians. Here he was given a hearty +welcome, and rejoiced to find that the natives had begun to teach one +another to read from the books which had been printed for their benefit. +An Indian from the far-off Yukon came all the way to see him at this +place, and urged him to go again and visit his tribe. The Bishop was +standing by a smouldering camp-fire listening to the native pleading for +his people. Suddenly the Indian pointed downwards to the dying coals at +their feet. “That,” he said, “is how you have left us. You kindled the +fire of the Gospel among us, and left it untended to die out again. Why +have you done this?” + +The Bishop was much moved. He longed to go to them, or to send someone +in his place, but his men were very few, and he himself was needed +farther south. So, after spending the summer among these noble Tukudhs, +travelling from May to August 2,500 miles, he returned to Great Slave +Lake to meet an incoming mission party from England. After that he +went up the turbulent Liard River from Fort Simpson to visit two forts +there—Liard and Nelson. + +Winter was close upon him when he once again got back to Fort Simpson. +Mrs. Bompas was at Fort Norman, 200 miles away, and he must reach that +place as soon as possible, to relieve her of the responsibility of the +mission-work. + +Arriving at Fort Simpson, he found the river full of floating ice, and +no canoe could navigate that cruel stream in such a condition. He was +urged to remain there where it was comfortable; it would be madness to go +forward. But no, that was not the Bishop’s way; he would go, no matter +how great the difficulties. + +A raft was therefore hurriedly built. This was a poor affair—only a few +logs placed side by side, and several poles or boards across the top to +hold them together. Even the sturdy Vikings of olden days would have +shrunk from venturing forth on such a craft; but the Bishop was greater +than they. He had not only the courage of the Vikings, but the holy +enthusiasm of St. Paul, and these two virtues formed a combination which +could accomplish almost any undertaking. + +With one Indian he started from Fort Simpson upon his shaky craft. With +long poles in their hands they steered their way down the stream. The +floating ice jammed around them, threatening to crush their tiny craft +and engulf them in a watery grave. At times they were standing in water +half-way to the knees, owing to the pressure of some heavy blocks of ice. +Then, as they handled their long poles, the water ran down their sleeves +and drenched their bodies. The cold wind whistled about them, and froze +the water upon their clothes till they were covered with an icy armour. +The mittens on their hands became wet, then stiff and frozen, while ice +formed on the poles, making them heavy and slippery. At night there was +the camp-fire upon the shore, the brief rest, and then up and on again, +for they must rush through before the river became solid from bank to +bank. + +Thus every day they battled on, chilled to the bone, and ever in danger, +yet never giving up. But stern Winter knew no mercy. Colder and colder +it grew, until at last the icy bridge was formed, to remain during long, +dreary months. Then they were forced to abandon the raft, and fortunate +were they to find shelter at a place on the side of the stream, known as +La Violdete’s House. Here the Bishop remained for ten days, until the ice +in the river was strong enough to travel upon. At the end of that time +he and four Indians started on foot for Fort Norman. They hoped to reach +it in six days, and took just enough food to last them for that period. +One of the Indians, seeing the tracks of a bear, went off in pursuit, and +lost sight of the others entirely. + +The Bishop and his three remaining companions pushed steadily forward. +But, alas! they missed the right trail, and by the time they should have +reached Fort Norman it was still six days’ journey off. When they at +length found out their mistake their food was very low, and they were +forced to place themselves on short allowance. Wearily they plodded +onward, beating their way through tangled bushes and tramping through the +snow. Their feet, too, became sore, for the rough ground, covered with +sharp stones and snags, tore their moccasins, and caused them to stumble +and sometimes to fall. + +At length they ate their last scrap of food—a fish and one small +barley-cake between four starving men. Fort Norman was still two days’ +hard travelling ahead, and they must make it, or perish there in the +wilderness. The Bishop was becoming very weak and footsore. His continual +travelling and hardships since May were telling upon him. How he longed +to stop, to just lie down under some tree, and rest, rest! But no, that +would be fatal! His flock needed him, and he must not give up. So with +firmly-compressed lips, and face drawn and haggard, he stumbled on, +trying to keep pace with his more sturdy companions. + +But even the Bishop’s splendid will could not conquer his worn body. His +feet refused to move, and he sank exhausted upon the snow. “Leave me +here,” he said to the Indians; “I can go no farther. You push on and send +me back some food.” There was nothing else to do, for men in desperate +circumstances cannot stand upon ceremony. So, building a fire under one +of the trees, and spreading some fir boughs on the ground, the Indians +once again started forward. + +And there in the lone wilderness the faithful Bishop was left, perhaps to +die. Suppose the Indians, too, should give out ere they reached the Fort! +What then? Or suppose prowling, hungry wolves should find him. Then, in +either case, another name would be added to the long list of noble men +and women who had given their lives for the Master’s sake. + +Meanwhile, at Fort Norman, Mrs. Bompas was enduring an agony of suspense. +Where was the Bishop? Why was he so delayed? Had something terrible +happened to him? Besides this, there was the responsibility of the +mission-work, with the many demands of the ever imperative Indians. A +white woman of high culture, away in the great North, living in a rude +log-house, shut off from all communication with the outside world, and +her husband lost somewhere in the wilds! + +The loneliness and dreariness of this place has been vividly described by +that earnest missionary, the Rev. W. Spendlove. + +“We reside,” he said, “in the northern confines of British territory, on +the Arctic slopes of this continent, not far from the Arctic Circle and +Great Bear Lake, amid wild, mountainous scenery. Either the wild fury of +the storm rages or dead calm with intense cold prevails, interchanged +with bright sun, and cheerless ice and snow landscape for eight months +of the year. Ice-blocked and snow-bound, dark forest covers the banks +of the Mackenzie River, and beyond, a trackless desert of beautiful, +perfectly dry snow. Distance, 8,000 miles from England, upwards of 1,500 +miles beyond the out-limit of Canadian frontier border of civilization, +and our nearest missionary brother fifteen days’ journey. Cut off from +white people, shut up among Red Indian savages! Oh, what vast solitudes! +What extreme loneliness! The effort to obtain sufficient food and fuel +for these regions is no easy task. Other conditions of life are most +disadvantageous. Nothing in nature to smile upon us for eight months. No +sight or sound of civilization. No European Christian to mingle with, or +fellow-worker to shake the hand, join in mutual sympathetic intercourse, +and say, ‘Go on, brother, I believe in you and your work.’” + +If such conditions were so trying and terrible to a man, what must they +have been to a woman with a body by no means of the strongest, accustomed +for years to a life of comfort and the refined atmosphere of London +drawing-rooms? To make matters worse, “these Indians,” so Mrs. Bompas +tells us, “like all savage tribes, despise women. They call them among +themselves ‘the creatures,’ and will not submit to a woman’s sway.” + +One night towards the middle of November, Mrs. Bompas was aroused from +sleep and much startled by loud knockings upon the door. Trembling, and +fearing for the Bishop, she demanded who was there. “We bring you tidings +of the Bishop,” came the reply. “He is starving.” + +It did not take Mrs. Bompas long to spring from her bed, and examine +the two Indians as to the truth of their report. When she heard of her +husband’s pitiable condition her heart sank very low. At the same time +there came the thought and firm belief that the Arms which had shielded +him through so many dangers would befriend him still. + +She well knew there was no time to lose, and her first effort was to +induce one of the men, Whu-tale by name, to take relief to the Bishop. +Though this Indian was not one of the starving party, he had learned the +story from the three who had straggled, half-starved, into the Fort, and +had hurried off with another to carry the tale to the mission-house. Mrs. +Bompas knew he could be trusted to go in search of the Bishop, and with +Indian sagacity would find the place. + +“Whu-tale,” she said, “Bishop is starving in the woods. I send him meat. +Chiddi, chiddi!” (Quick, quick!). “You take it to him, eh?” But Whu-tale +did not like the idea of starting out at that time of the night on such +a long errand, and doubtfully he shook his head. “Maybe to-morrow,” he +replied, with true Indian passiveness. + +“No, Whu-tale,” urged the anxious woman. “To-morrow the Bishop must be +here. He cannot stand until he has eaten meat. I want you to take it now, +and go to him like the wind. If you go directly and bring Bishop safe, I +will give you a fine flannel shirt.” + +At this Whu-tale grew interested. Though the Bishop’s sufferings did not +appeal to him, the offer of the flannel shirt moved him, and a little +more briskly he remarked: “Then, it would not be hard for me to go, and +perhaps like the wind.” + +Having accomplished this much, Mrs. Bompas had still stern work ahead. +Wrapped in a deer-skin robe, she emerged from the house, and climbed the +hill to the Fort, and aroused the Hudson’s Bay Company’s officer from a +sound sleep to obtain a supply of moose-meat. The thermometer was nearly +80 degrees below zero, and starving wolves had been recently seen lurking +near the fort. She thought of neither one nor the other, but only of her +husband, out alone in the night. + +At last Whu-tale was ready, and much rejoiced was she to see him start +off on his errand of mercy. All the next day Mrs. Bompas waited and +watched in great suspense. The hours dragged slowly by. Daylight came and +went. Whu-tale had not returned. Darkness came, and just when Mrs. Bompas +was about to give up in despair, the travellers returned, the Bishop +hardly able to stand, and his beard fringed with icicles. The Lord had +indeed preserved him from the many and great dangers, and thankful hearts +offered up fervent prayers to Him that night in the little mission-house. + +Here the Bishop stayed all the winter, and, notwithstanding his last +fearful experience, left again in the spring, among the drift-ice, for +the purpose of visiting Archdeacon McDonald at Peel River, whose health +was not good. Of the risk the Bishop ran in this journey down-stream with +the drifting ice the following description in his own words will give +some idea: + +“The breaking-up of the ice in spring in the large rivers, like the +Mackenzie, is sometimes a fine sight. The ice may pile in masses along +the banks to the height of forty feet, or be carried far into the woods. +When any check occurs to this drifting of the broken ice, so as to back +the stream, the ice may suddenly rise to the height of fifty feet or more +and flood the country. + +“The rivers and lakes freeze in winter to a depth of from six to ten +feet, and the force and impetus of large masses of ice of this thickness, +when hurled along the rapid current of a mighty river, are enormous. Few +exhibitions of the power of the great Creator are more imposing than when +‘He causeth His wind to blow and the waters flow.’” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +INDIAN WAYS + + +I tried once to take a snapshot of a group of friendly Indians gathered +around a camp-fire. It was a picturesque scene—the rude brush lodge, the +dusky-faced Indians squatted on boughs and robes, the lean dogs lying +around, and the bright fire blazing up in the centre. What a fine picture +it would make! But, alas! when the negative was developed, how great the +disappointment! Instead of the bright blaze, there was a hideous blur, +almost blotting out the figures grouped around. The beauty of the scene +was gone; it could not be captured. + +This is something like an attempt to describe the Indians of the +North. To visit them in their camps, watch their quaint ways, and talk +with them, is one thing; to paint them in words which will be real, +picturesque, and living is quite another matter. There is as much +difference as between the bright, sparkling blaze and the blur upon the +negative. + +A few men have succeeded in a wonderful manner in describing the life of +the Indians, such as Longfellow in his “Hiawatha,” and Fenimore Cooper +in his “Leatherstocking Tales.” If Bishop Bompas had so wished, what +marvellous stories he could have told of his forty-one years among this +interesting people! He did describe some of their manners and customs in +two little books, “Northern Lights on the Bible,” and a “History of the +Diocese of Mackenzie River.” But he has told us all too little. In this +chapter it is, of course, impossible to tell all about the ways of the +Indians in the vast field over which he travelled, for that field of +work comprised 1,000,000 square miles; but we will suppose ourselves in a +very fast and successful flying-machine, which will take us from place to +place, and give us brief glimpses of these dusky children, scattered away +up North over countless leagues of forest, mountain, and plain. + +Indians are ever on the move, and well have they been called “People of +the Wandering Foot.” They do not stay long in one place, and for this +reason their houses are made of skins of the deer or moose, stretched +over slender poles in the shape of beehives or haystacks. When they +wish to break up camp, they take the skins and leave the poles. In some +places, especially in the Yukon, to-day they live in log-houses, and have +regular villages in the fashion of white people. + +To see a band of Indians breaking up camp is an interesting sight. +Everything is bustle and confusion. The women do most of the work, and +great is the chattering and scolding which goes on. The dogs lie around, +and even the smallest dog has its pack to carry of the household effects, +according to its strength. They have no furniture to move, for the ground +is bed, chair, and table combined. The women do not have to trouble about +their dishes and silverware, as a few tin cups and kettles are all they +have, and fingers take the place of forks. + +“When the Indians shift camp, which they often do every week or two, +the men-folk start first, unencumbered but with their guns; and after +making a track for ten or twelve miles, they mark out a spot for the next +encampment, and then proceed on the chase till evening. The women, with +their families and dog-sleds, loaded with tent, bedding, and utensils, +trudge slowly after, and on arriving at the intended camp, after clearing +the snow, they strew the space with pine-branches and erect the tent. +After arranging this by disburdening the sleds of their loads, they +proceed to collect fuel for firing, and have all ready for a repast by +evening, when the husbands return, bearing the produce of their hunt. If +a large animal has been killed, the wives walk to the spot the next day +to carry home the meat and hide. The men, however, now more than formerly +take a share in the camp duties.” + +[Illustration: AN INDIAN SUMMER CAMP AT PEEL RIVER. + +_From a photograph by the Rev. C. E. Whittaker_] + +The writer once, seeing a strange band of Indians thus getting ready to +depart, brought his camera to bear upon the interesting scene, but so +great was the indignation displayed by the Indians that he was glad to +beat a hasty retreat. They have a superstitious dread of the little black +box with the mysterious click, which accounted for their anger. + +As white men go among the Indians, the old-time dress gradually +disappears, and instead the men wear fine, factory-made clothes, and +the women are gaily adorned in gaudy dress material and many-coloured +ribbons, of which they are very proud. They are exceedingly fond, +too, of perfume, and some will spend almost their last cent upon the +sweet-scented stuff. But, get the Indian away in the wild, his real home, +and there you will find him the most picturesque of beings. Clothed in a +suit made of fur, deer-skin, or dressed leather, with a skin blanket, and +with moccasins on his feet, you have the typical Indian of whom we love +to read. + +“The women’s dress,” so Bishop Bompas tells us, “mostly consists of a +long leather coat trimmed with cloth or beads, and sometimes a cloth +hood for the head. The women’s faces were, till recently, often slightly +tattooed with dark lines on the chin, formed by drawing a thread loaded +with gunpowder or colouring-matter under the skin. The men were formerly +much addicted to painting their faces with vermilion, but this has fallen +into disuse among the tribes in contact with Europeans. The Eskimo young +men stripe their faces with vermilion as a distinguishing mark when they +have killed an enemy.” + +In olden days the Indians wove baskets of roots close enough together to +hold water. This water was heated for cooking purposes by plunging into +it several hot stones. Meat was baked by being buried in the earth and a +fire made over it. Now the boiling is done in iron or copper kettles, and +the roasting on wooden spits or skewers before the fire. + +Their food generally consists of meat and fish, but they are coming more +and more to use the delicacies of the white man. Tea and tobacco they +love, and the effects are often none too good. In times of famine they +will drink a large amount of tea, and then complain of “sore heart.” + +“An idle Indian,” says Bishop Bompas, “may be more inclined to allay +the pangs of hunger with his pipe than to brave the cold of winter in +hastening to the chase. Many of the Indians complain of pains in the +chest, which may arise from their incautiously imbibing the caustic ashes +with which they often load their empty pipes in lighting these at their +fire embers.” + +Before the arrival of Christianity the lot of the Indian woman was very +hard. A man multiplied his wives as one would his cattle. They were only +useful for hauling and chopping wood; they were slaves in the hardest +sense of the term. Often mothers, knowing what their little girl-babies +would have to suffer when they were grown up, destroyed them. One +woman confessed to the first missionary among them that she had killed +thirteen. But since the Gospel has reached them changes have taken place. +Although women yet have much of the work to do, they are treated far +better, and regarded with more affection. + +“In Indian marriages it seems to be a part of the etiquette that the +bride should show great reluctance to be wedded, till she has at times to +be forcibly dragged from her camp. Her friends also may exhibit great +opposition to the intended match; and yet this is, in fact, only a part +of the ceremony. Among some Indians it is understood to be absolutely +forbidden to a mother-in-law to look her son-in-law in the face at least +until the birth of his first child. This does not seem to be enforced +among the more northern Indians, but a son-in-law is looked upon as a +sort of hunter for his wife’s parents. Their daughter does not leave her +parents’ camp, and even after marriage appears to be more under their +control than that of her husband. + +“As soon as a child is born, its parents usually drop their own name and +assume that of the child; and this is continued a good deal even in the +case of baptized Indians; so that you may hear John’s father or Jane’s +mother so spoken of in preference to their own name. A wife, instead +of speaking of her husband, will prefer to speak of her boy’s father. +Polygamy was practised among the non-Christian Indians chiefly by the +chiefs and leading men, and with the excuse that more than one wife was +required by them to dress their furs and skins, and carry their meat and +effects, and do other camp duties. + +“The infant Indians are, as is well known, enveloped in bags of moss, +which, in this severe climate, are admirable preservatives against cold +and exposure. In these bags the infant is tightly laced up, confining the +limbs, and leaving only the head exposed. This process of mummification +does not seem to weaken the limbs, nor to give discomfort to the patient. +The swing is the usual accompaniment of the moss-bag, where the swaddled +infant is lulled to rest. Slung over her shoulder, this moss-bag is the +constant burden of the mother’s travels. + +“In sickness the Indians are very pitiful. They soon lose heart, and +seem to die more from despondency than disease. Their need is often not +so much medicine as good nourishment and nursing; but this is hard to +obtain. Food is often scarce even for those in health to seek it, and +for a sick Indian it may be hard to find a friend in need. The constant +removals are trying to the weak and infirm, and in times of distress +those who cannot follow the band are left behind to perish. Indians have +been known to devour their own children in cases of absolute starvation; +but such instances are rare, and may, perhaps, be attributed to a +temporary mania. Those who are believed to have perpetrated such an act +are feared and shunned. + +“The dying are often hastily wrapped up and laid aside, even before the +last sigh has escaped, for there is a reluctance to handle the dead. +There is no fear of the resuscitation of the corpse, which is, for +the most part, stiffly frozen as soon as removed from the camp-fire. +Chocolate is a favourite beverage with the sick where it can be obtained, +and it is looked upon as a medicine. The Indians universally give it the +name of ‘ox-blood,’ because it was mistaken by them for the blood of the +musk-ox when first they saw it used by the whites. Rice, which is called +‘white barley,’ is another luxury coveted by the sick. Flour is known by +the Tukudh Indians as ‘ashes from the end of heaven.’ Tobacco is ‘warmth’ +or ‘comfort,’ and the pipe the ‘comforting stone.’” + +The aged are at times left on the trail to die. When they are too feeble +to keep up with the others, they are given some food, and generally a +rifle and cartridges. For a while they struggle on, but after a time +they give up the attempt and are heard of no more, unless a prospecter, +missionary, or mounted policeman happens along. + +[Illustration: AN OLD INDIAN DESERTED BY HIS PEOPLE + +This native was brought into Whitehorse by the Mounted Police. He had +been left by his people alone on the trail. This is not uncommon among +some of the natives in certain places.] + +This has long been the custom among these Northern Indians, but only now +prevails where the influence of the Gospel has not been felt. During the +fall of 1771, when Samuel Hearne, the great explorer, was retreating +from the Arctic coast with a band of Indians, one of the wives of the +native men, in the last stages of consumption, could go no farther. +“For a band short of food to halt on the march meant death to all. The +Northern wilderness has its grim, unwritten law, inexorable and merciless +as death. For those who fall by the way there is no pity. A whole tribe +may not be exposed to death for the sake of one person. Giving the squaw +food and a tent, the Indians left her to meet her last enemy, whether +death came by starvation, or cold, or the wolf-pack. Again and again the +abandoned squaw came up with the marchers, weeping and begging their +pity, only to fall from weakness. But the wilderness has no pity; and so +they left her.”[2] + +“The Indians were formerly accustomed, instead of burying their dead, to +place them on high scaffolds above ground; but this habit was probably +owing to the ground being for many months in the year frozen too hard +to dig it. The raising on scaffolds was also a safer preservative than +burying under ground from the ravages of animals of prey. Since mingling +with the whites, however, the Indians conform to European habits of +burial. It was also formerly a superstitious custom to place with the +deceased his bow, arrows, and other necessaries; and even in later times +a gun, ammunition, tobacco, fire-bag, and other articles, have been +buried in the grave of a dead Indian. Such a superstition it is hard to +eradicate; and perhaps it needs some care not to quench too roughly the +idea of a life continued after death, until the knowledge of a spiritual +immortality and a final resurrection can be instilled to supplant the +instinctive notion of a continued mundane life. + +“The Indians had formerly much superstitious dread of using any clothing +or other articles belonging to a person deceased. In case of a death, all +the clothing and effects of the departed were thrown away or destroyed; +and even the relatives would destroy their tents, guns, and other +property, either out of grief, or from dread of using again anything +that the deceased had come in contact with. These inconvenient customs +are being gradually relinquished.” + +Little white tents are placed over graves on high hills. In some places +the spots are well tended, and adorned with neat palings and quaint +coverings. Often flags are erected on long poles. In olden days, in +Southern Yukon, the Indians burned their dead, and placed the ashes in +boxes, over which they built rude structures. During the Klondyke rush, +in some places, these boxes were disturbed by the gold-seekers, which +angered the Indians exceedingly. + +The natives live by the chase, and for this reason, if for no other, they +must be ever on the move to obtain a living. When game is plentiful the +Indians live well, and, having enough for to-day, seldom take thought +for the morrow. All kinds of game abound, from the lordly moose and the +savage grizzly bear to the timid rabbit and the jaunty ptarmigan. + +To visit a fur-trader’s store and watch the various skins brought in +for barter is an interesting sight. You will see the skin of the lynx, +beaver, wolverine, bear, martin, ermine, wolf, and the different kinds of +fox, from the common red fox to the costly cross or black fox. For this +latter the Indians are ever on the watch, as it is worth very much. One +black fox is a fortune. The animal is quite rare, and when one is sighted +weeks and months are often spent in obtaining the prize. A few years ago +an Indian started after one which he had seen the day before. It was +drawing towards spring, when the tops of the foothills were losing their +covering of snow, owing to the hot rays of the sun. Noticing Mr. Reynard +on one of these bare places anxiously searching for mice, the Indian +dressed himself in a suit of white cotton, made for the occasion, and +crept cautiously to the edge of a bunch of trees near by. Then he began +to squeak like a mouse. Soon the fox pricked up his ears and trotted off +towards the woods, hoping for a nice morsel. As he drew near the Indian +levelled his rifle, and shot the poor brute right through the head. This +fox-skin was an excellent one, and the fur-trader who purchased it valued +it at from 2,000 to 3,000 dollars. + +Many are the risks the native runs in his various wanderings after the +daily food. At times an angry moose threatens to impale him with his +great antlers, or a wounded bear hurls himself upon the hunter. A few +years ago an Indian, standing by his lodge, saw a huge bear coming +towards him. Slipping back, he seized a small rifle and fired a shot at +the brute. It was enough to anger the monster, and with a terrific roar +he rushed upon the man. The Indian fought hard, but he was as a child in +the fearful grip. His clothes and flesh were ripped and torn in a most +frightful manner, and but for the timely arrival of several Indians the +man would have been torn to pieces. As it was his life was despaired of, +and it was all the police doctor from Whitehorse could do to cure him. +When the bear had been killed the Indians cut him all to pieces, and +threw the portions to the four winds of heaven. This is an old custom, +and unless this be done it is believed the injured man cannot get well. +As he did recover, however, the credit was given to their prompt action +in scattering the bear’s body, and not to the skilful attention of the +“white man’s doctor.” + +A sad incident happened about 100 miles back of Whitehorse. An Indian was +out hunting with his little boy, about twelve years old. One day, seeing +the fresh tracks of a moose, which circled around the camp, he told the +lad to remain in the lodge while he started in pursuit. As the hunter +crept stealthily along on his noiseless snow-shoes, he saw the bushes +move in front of him. Thinking it was the moose quietly browsing, he +fired right at the spot, and then rushed forward. What were his feelings +to find, instead of the lordly animal, his own little son lying bleeding +on the snow, dead. The poor boy, disobeying his father’s command, had +started off to do some hunting on his own account, and was thus struck by +the fatal bullet. + +In many places the power of the wily medicine-man is still strong among +the Indians. This is especially so where the Gospel message has not taken +firm root. The natives still believe that the conjurer has influence over +things in the heavens above and the earth beneath, and to gain his favour +various are the gifts which are slipped into his hands. One of the most +interesting superstitions is called “fox medicine.” The Indian, wishing +to have success with his season’s hunting, before he departs will give +the medicine-man money or furs; he then thinks the foxes will be urged +to come to his traps. At Little Salmon, on the Yukon River, a fur-trader +suggested to the Indians that they should pay the conjurer after the +season’s hunt, according to the animals they had caught. This they did, +though the medicine-man did not like it at all, for he received very few +gifts from some of his people. + +The same trader was once travelling with an Indian on a long trail. When +pitching camp for the night, a branch fell and struck the native a heavy +blow on the head. He imagined he was seriously injured, and sat for some +time over the fire in a most despondent attitude. At length he looked +intently into the trader’s face. + +“You got ’um paper?” he remarked. + +“Yes,” was the reply; and a leaf torn from a small note-book was handed +to him. + +“You got ’um pencil?” was the next request. This, too, was given; and +then the Indian slowly and laboriously traced the figure of a cross upon +the leaf. When this had been accomplished to his satisfaction, he threw +it into the fire, at the same time blowing vigorously with his breath. +Watching the flames catch the paper and carry it aloft, he gave a sigh of +contentment, while a new expression came into his face. + +“What did you do that for?” asked the trader, much interested in the +proceeding. + +“Oh, medicine-man say when me leave on dis trip, if anything matter, me +make all same cross on paper, and put ’um in fire; him get word dat way, +and make me all same well Injun. Me better now;” and, suiting the action +to the word, he leaped to his feet as if nothing had happened. What +the cross had to do with it is hard to say. Perhaps it was some faint +glimmering of the power of the Cross of Christ which had come to the +medicine-man, and this he used to further his own plans. + +In some places the conjurer is of a very jealous nature, and it is +dangerous for anyone to interfere with him. Mrs. Bompas, years ago, at +Fort Simpson, on the Mackenzie River, had a thrilling experience, which +might have proved quite fatal. + +“On going down to the camp one evening,” so she tells us, “we were +attracted to one of the leather tents or lodges, where a low, droning +sound announced the medicine-man’s presence. ‘Do let us go and see it!’ +exclaimed Maggie; and I, hardly reflecting on the prudence of the step, +turned toward the spot whence the sounds proceeded. It was in Mineha’s +tent, and here I discovered my little pet widow. Her hand had been +poisoned in some way, and she was suffering great pain. She was lying +down, with her hand extended, and beside her crouched a young Trout Lake +Indian, lately come in, a deserter from one of the portage boats. Fancy +the scene! The woman moaning, with closed eyes; the Indian bending over +her and singing a low, monotonous song, which is a kind of conjuring the +Indians call ‘making medicine.’ Beside her lay a small bark vessel with a +few spoonfuls of blood, which the young man drank from time to time, and +then proceeded with his operations. There was a deep silence in the camp, +except for these two sounds, when suddenly I appeared before them, and +exclaimed, partly in Indian, at the absurdity of their doings. I knelt +down by Mineha, and, taking her hand out of that of the man’s, began to +examine it. Then I pushed back my conjurer, which made his hat fall off, +and evidently distressed his sense of dignity. + +“By this time all the women of the other camps came gathering round the +door. My hero persisted in his droning song, and I in my remonstrances +and assurance that it was all rubbish, and displeasing to God. When +at last the man gave over, he retired to the back of the tent, where +I suddenly became aware of his gun, which the Indians usually kept +loaded. For a moment I thought it was all up with me, and Maggie says +I exclaimed: ‘Do it, then!’ However, he contented himself with bending +towards me three times, with eyes almost on fire with passion, and +uttering each time a word which was anything but a blessing! Well, the +game was stopped, and so he quitted the tent. The man seemed fallen +back in a state of exhaustion, and was trembling all over. The fact is, +this medicine-making seems to be a kind of possession, which they give +themselves up to. His condition then was pitiable to behold. However, +there was nothing more to be done, as the feeling was so strong against +me that Mineha would not let me prescribe for her poor hand; so we came +away, rather thankful to escape safe and sound. I hear the poor woman +is still suffering agonies from her hand, in spite of her having had +medicine made over it again, during the whole of one night, by another +man!” + +Several years ago Bishop Holmes gave an interesting description of the +medicine-man in the Diocese of Athabasca. + +“Their faith in,” he says, “and fear of medicine-men was unshaken; their +love for heathen feasts and practices was as strong as ever. Nearly all +sickness, accidents, and misfortunes were attributed to the use of _muche +muskeke_ (bad medicine), directly or indirectly, by the medicine-men. +They supposed that the medicine-man obtained himself, or employed some +other to obtain, a hair from the head of his intended victim, and that +the hair was put into the bad medicine, and the effect was according +to the medicine-man’s intention. They believed that the antidote could +be obtained from the Indian doctor, but it meant a good round sum in +blankets, horses, tobacco, etc. They believed that their medicine-men had +direct intercourse with the _muche manito_ (evil spirit), through whose +assistance they were able to perform most wonderful feats. Insanity was +attributed to the direct possession of an evil spirit. An insane person +was called a _wetigo_ (cannibal). When any person—man or woman—manifested +symptoms of ‘wetigoism,’ the old Indian doctors were called in to +practise all their incantations and exorcise the evil spirit, which in +very few cases was successful. The first symptoms of cannibalism manifest +themselves in dreams and insomnia. The evil spirit is said to appear +in a vision with a plate of human flesh, about which there is an awful +and irresistible fascination. The _wetigo_ is strictly guarded by the +medicine-men, who, with the noise of their drums and rattles in order to +frighten the evil spirit away, would drive any sane man out of his mind. +The last and most dangerous stage is when the _wetigo_ has accepted from +the evil spirit the meal of human flesh, after which he is securely tied +with cords. He refuses any kind of food, and has an intense craving for +human flesh. In this stage they suppose that ice forms in the breast of +the _wetigo_, and they firmly believe that they have seen the _wetigo_ +vomit ice. The last remedy applied is the axe. Within the nineteen years +I have been at Lesser Slave Lake three _wetigos_ have been killed with +axes, like animals, by their own friends. + +“Another heathen custom was the cruel neglect of the aged and infirm. +Starvation was the means employed among the Indians of getting rid of +them. + +“Such a description of the ‘noble red man,’ without a reference to his +good points, might lead people to think that there is a good deal of +truth in the saying that ‘the only good Indian is a dead Indian.’ But in +the character of all Indians there are three redeeming features. First, +their belief in the _Kesa Manito_ (the Great Spirit), and, I might add, +their strong belief in the personality of the Devil. Secondly, their +generous hospitality. They have all things in common, and would give any +traveller, be he Indian or white man, their last morsel, even if they had +no prospect of another meal themselves for the next week. Thirdly, their +passionate love for children. I could trust my children with them under +any circumstances, for I should know that so long as there was a meal +left the children would get the best of it.” + +Indians, as a rule, are shrewder and more intelligent than many people +suppose. Someone has said that they are “instincts on legs,” but this is +wrong. They make splendid guides, and can find their way through a mazy +forest or a desolate wilderness when white men fail entirely. The early +explorers owed much to the Indians in guiding them on their long journeys. + +They read the whites and understand their ways far better than many +suppose. As they sit about the camp-fires, the pale-faces are all +carefully discussed. Each man is known by some peculiarity. One is a fox, +wolf, or bear, according to some characteristic which the Indians have +noted. + +They are humorists, too, and at times quick at repartee. A trader, Taylor +by name, made a visit some time ago to a band of Indians at Big Salmon. +He carried with him a dress which had been ordered for “Mrs. Charlie.” +Reaching the place, he inquired for the latter. Then the question was +which Charlie’s wife was meant. Was it Big Salmon Charlie, Little Salmon +Charlie, or some other Charlie? Much puzzled, the trader exclaimed, “Too +much Charlie!” Quick as a flash an Indian turned to him and replied: + +“Taylor, heem keep road-house; Taylor, heem cut wood down trail; you +Taylor; too moche Taylor!” + +Not long ago, when on a visit to England, Bishop Stringer spoke in a most +interesting way about these Indians. + +“A few years ago,” he said, “those Indians were degraded, superstitious, +and ignorant, without any written language at all; but God’s Word was +given to them through Archdeacon McDonald, and the complete Bible was +translated, and there was found a people zealous to learn to read that +Word. It was the ABC of a written language to them, and it is the only +book, outside one or two others connected with our Church, and it remains +to-day the classic of all those Northern tribes on the Yukon side, as +well as the Mackenzie River. Archdeacon McDonald tells of men who in +those early days in three days learned sufficient to go off to their +Indian camps and acquire enough knowledge themselves unaided to read +God’s Word. We thank God that that was the case. He tells of men who came +long distances, some of them fifty years of age, and who learned to read +in those early days. There was one man he speaks of who came 600 miles in +order to learn to read God’s Word. + +“I want to tell you of one man, a good friend of mine who has passed +away, an Indian who was ordained a deacon a few years ago, a blot out +of the superstitious darkness of that Northern land. I had the pleasure +of going with him from one camp to another across those barren forests, +sometimes on barren grounds and sometimes in the shelter of the forest. +From God’s Word he would teach his people, gathering them together, night +after night, holding little services, reading God’s Word, and explaining +it to them. After years of work amongst his people he passed away. As he +was crossing the Divide to the Yukon side to reach a distant tribe of +Indians, one man accompanied him—a young man named Amos—who had hitherto +been quite careless about religious matters. The name of the deacon +was the Rev. John Ttssietla. Ttssietla means, by the way, ‘He laughs at +a mosquito.’ There are mosquitoes in that country, and I suppose that +when he was a child he did not mind the mosquitoes, and he was called +‘He laughs at a mosquito.’ John was his Christian name. This time he was +starving. There was no food in the land; game was scarce; and he felt +that the last days were come for him unless he could get food. As he lay +dying out on the top of one of the mountains, he said to Amos, ‘Amos, I +am about to leave you, but I want to give you this Book—God’s Word—and I +want you to read it. I want you to teach it to my people.’ A few hours +afterwards he passed away, and Amos, who had been hitherto careless, +began to read that Word alone on the mountains as he lay to rest his +friend, John Ttssietla. Then he began to teach the children to read, and +then he began to teach others, and last year, when I saw him down in the +Yukon Valley, I found that he was so much advanced that I hope in a year +or two, after passing a few examinations, he will be able to take the +place of his friend, John Ttssietla, in the work. + +“I have not time to tell you very much about that Northern land, but I +want to tell you this. As you go down the Mackenzie River from Edmonton +the two thousand odd miles to reach the Arctic Ocean, every two or three +hundred miles you find a place called a Hudson’s Bay Company’s post. +There is usually a mission in connection with it. You will find around +the old Hudson’s Bay Company’s post, if you watch closely, things like +stumps which have been cut off level with the ground almost. What does +that mean? They extend right round the fort. It means that forty-five +years ago the Hudson’s Bay Company people had to have a stockade all +round those posts to protect their lives and their property. Now they +have been cut down and used for firewood. What has caused that? The +light of the Gospel truth which has gone into that land. We thank God +for what has been done in connection with that, and for the influence of +God’s Word in that Northern region. + +“The Bible is, as I have said, the standard book; and the language +into which the Bible has been translated—it had to be translated into +one particular dialect—is becoming the classic of many of the tribes +in that Northern land, the central language, used by the people more +and more. Other tribes learned to use it, and learned the meanings of +words which they do not use in their own dialect. There is a great +deal of difficulty, of course, in getting words when translating the +Bible into those Northern languages. The name for God even is not +known; and Archdeacon McDonald, I think very wisely, adopted one word, +‘Vittekwichanchyo,’ which means ‘I am.’ That word is now known all +through that land in connection with the great Creator of the universe. + +“The last speaker has told you that there are numerous snakes in South +America. If we had a few snakes in that Northern land we should not be +forced to translate some passages that refer to snakes in a roundabout +way, calling a snake ‘a creeping thing,’ or something else of that kind. +The sentence, ‘Wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove,’ is translated +in one of the Eskimo languages—I think, in Greenland—by ‘Wise as an +ermine, a weasel’ (because that is the wisest in the country), ‘and as +harmless as a seal-pup.’ It seems amusing, but it is quite as expressive. + +“As God’s Word is sent out to that country, the Bibles are sold to the +Indians. Nobody ever gets a Bible for nothing. The Indians are quite +willing to pay for them. They pay for them, not in money, as you do here, +but in kind. They sometimes bring in dried meat or fish, or something +else of that kind. I have a little piece of dried meat here, and I think +I had better show it to you as a part of the coin of that country. This +is a very small piece, but I may tell you that this is the kind of meat +which we like to use on our long trips. You can throw it around, and you +can do anything you like with it. That piece is five or six years old +now, and it has not changed at all, and it is quite as palatable as it +was five or six years ago. It is very convenient for travelling in that +country. An Indian will bring in a piece of that about a foot wide and +about two feet long, and he will trade it for an Indian New Testament, +and about four times as much as that for a Bible. That means a great +deal for this people. Sometimes they bring in a piece of deer-skin, or +something of that kind, and sometimes they bring in about ten big fish, +and the missionary is able to turn them into money and send it to the +Bible Society. In that way these people are taught to pay for the Word +of God, and, of course, they appreciate it all the more. The price of a +New Testament in the country is one skin. You cannot understand what that +means. Its market value corresponds to about 2_s._ A whole Bible is worth +three or four skins. These Indians sometimes receive a Bible in debt, and +go off to their hunting-grounds; but the very first thing they always do, +when they come in on the next trip, if they have anything, is to pay for +the Bible which they have received. And how reverently they will use the +Bible! They wrap it in deer-skin or something like that; and they bring +back all the old Bibles again. I have had piles of old dirty Bibles. They +revere them so much that they do not want to destroy them, and I have +had to destroy them quietly after the piles became too large. It shows +the reverence that they have for God’s Word. These Bibles are carried +with them, although they are heavy. Here is one. This is not one with +the thin kind of paper, and it is very heavy; and one can realize what +it means for an Indian having one of these books on a long journey where +every pound counts so much. But you will understand how he appreciates it +when I tell you that every family in that land which I have ever seen has +had some part of God’s Word in its camp, no matter where it went on its +journeys.” + + * * * * * + +We have seen in a previous chapter how when Mr. Bompas was consecrated +Bishop of the Diocese of Athabasca, he had charge of a vast region of +one million square miles. In 1883, finding the field too large, he had +it divided, the northern portion being called Mackenzie River, which the +Bishop took as his own. Here he carried on the work east and west of the +Rocky Mountains for several years. But finding the task too great for +one man—owing partly to the influx of miners along the Yukon River—he +again had a division made in 1890, the region west of the mountains thus +becoming the Diocese of Selkirk (now Yukon). Archdeacon Reeve became +Bishop of the Mackenzie River Diocese, while Bishop Bompas decided to go +into the regions beyond across the mountains. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +STIRRING DAYS AT FORTY MILE + + +A grand picture rises before the mind as we think of Bishop Bompas far +away in the Northland, worn by years of toil, and yet pressing on to new +work. If I were an artist, I would sketch him standing at Fort Norman in +front of the rude mission-house. He is looking away to the west, towards +the Rocky Mountains, with his left hand to his ear, as if listening to +voices from the great Yukon River. In his right hand he clutches two +letters, one urging him to come to Manitoba to rest, the other pleading +with him to return to England to spend the rest of his life in peace. +Which call will he heed? That is the question, as we see him standing +there in the “Valley of Decision.” His own terse words give the answer, +which might well be placed below the picture. “I find,” he wrote, “the +needle points west rather than east, and north rather than south.” + +Yes, that was always his idea, to be going farther to reclaim the sheep +of the wilderness. He shrank from the thought of going back to England. +He had been now twenty-five years in the North, and loved the wild. + +“To life in England,” he wrote, “and to my relatives there, I feel so +long dead and buried that I cannot think a short visit home, as if from +the grave, would be of much use. If over fifteen years ago, when I was at +home, I felt like Samuel’s ghost, how should I feel now?” + +Leaving Fort Norman, he went again across the Rocky Mountains, and spent +the winter of 1891-92 at the lonely rampart-house. He did not mind the +loneliness, for he spent the time at his beloved studies. In the spring, +when the snow had disappeared from the land, he would walk through the +woods drinking in the beautiful things of Nature. + +“I find,” he said, “a few flowers even in this Arctic clime, such as +the pretty wild-rose, the lupin and bluebell. There are also berry +blossoms, and plenty of the white blossoms of what we call ‘marsh tea.’ +These blossoms really make rather pleasant and aromatic tea. The leaves, +when used for the same purpose, are rather bitter. Raspberry-shoots, +birch-buds, and some other berry-trees are also at times used to make tea +in the absence of the genuine article, but they are rather medicinal. The +west side of the mountains is, on the whole, more flowery than the east +side.” + +In the spring, after the ice had gone out, he went down the Porcupine +River to the Yukon. It was here he met Mrs. Bompas, who was returning +from England. They had not met since 1887, and Mrs. Bompas vividly +describes this meeting. After speaking about the trip up the river from +St. Michael’s, she mentions the great excitement which ensued on July 26, +when “two Indians came on board, bringing news of the Bishop, who is at +the next village, ‘Showman.’ But a delay took place owing to the boiler +being cleaned, and it was not until midnight that ‘two bells’ sounded, a +signal for the boat to stop. I pricked up my ears, and then another bell, +which meant, ‘Stop her.’ It must be for wood, of course; but I sprang +from my berth, and looked out of my small window to see a pretty Indian +camp, and—my husband on the beach, grey and weather-beaten, but in health +better than I had expected!” + +From here they went up the river to Forty Mile, where there was a large +camp of miners and Indians. In the log-house, which had been built by +poor Ellington, the Bishop and his faithful wife took up their new burden +among complete strangers. Their special work was among the Indians, and +for the children a school was at once started. There was much to do about +the place—repairs of all kinds to be made, and the Bishop was kept very +busy. + +From time to time we catch brief glimpses of the life in the +mission-house. Occasionally Mrs. Bompas lets in a little light, which is +most interesting. We see the Bishop turning from the cares of the diocese +to provide for some Indian child, or do necessary work around the house. +She tells how the Bishop “has been busy carpentering and devising a +number of things for our comfort—a beautiful cupboard to hold the girls’ +clothes, shelves and brackets, new bench for dining-room, bedsteads +mended, a new door for our little dining-room, frames for double windows, +new dining-table, and old one repaired. This, with his self-imposed duty +of waiting upon everyone, superintending the kitchen, and doctoring any +sick members, has filled up his time the last few weeks. I feel thankful +when for a short time in the evening he retires to his study and takes up +his beloved Syriac.” + +But, alas for “the beautiful cupboard and shelves” which the Bishop +had so carefully made! Boards were very scarce—not enough even to make +coffins in which to bury the dead, and the shelves had to be taken down +to make a coffin for an Indian who had been brought in from the distant +hunting-grounds. Mrs. Bompas, who relates this incident, tells most +pathetically of the trials they had in connection with burying the dead +on the Mackenzie River. The Indians would beg packing-boxes from the +Hudson’s Bay Company’s officers, and as these were generally too small, +arms and legs would often be seen hanging out of the box as it was +lowered into the grave. + +Whenever the Indians arrived from their hunting-grounds, the Bishop was +kept busy almost night and day attending to their wants, and instructing +them in the faith, if only for a few days. This teaching was by no means +lost, for out on the hills and mountains the Indians had their daily +services, when appointed leaders would instruct the others. + +Many were the wants the good Bishop relieved. He always kept a store of +medicine in the house, and became quite expert in his knowledge of Indian +troubles. To them he was doctor as well as teacher, and they always +turned to him in time of trouble. He was tireless even to the last in +his attendance upon sick persons. Sometimes he even performed surgical +operations. With nothing but a pocket-knife he has been known to sever a +diseased toe or thumb of some member of his dusky flock. Once he cut off +a man’s leg with a common hand-saw, and the man is living and able to +work to-day. + +One spring, east of the mountains, he was public vaccinator. Smallpox +was raging, and the previous summer over two thousand Indians are said +to have died. The Bishop found at times much trouble in persuading the +natives to submit to the operation, but, in spite of difficulties, he +vaccinated about five hundred. + +He had himself suffered from snow-blindness, and knew how painful it +was. When he saw many of his flock thus afflicted, his heart was moved, +and he did his best to relieve them. He had never studied at a medical +college, but his keen powers of observation and the study of some of +the standard medical books that he had always at hand stood him in good +stead on many an occasion. He had witnessed so often the sufferings +endured by his flock owing to snow-blindness in the spring that, when he +returned home for consecration, he took advantage of the visit to attend +several lectures at an eye hospital, and was henceforth able to treat +the patients who came to him with splendid success. Great was the faith +the Indians had in the Bishop’s healing powers. Only a few years ago an +Indian along the Yukon River, who had been treated by the police doctor +for some time, was heard to say, “P’lice doctor no good;” and then with +animation continued, “Ah! Beeshop heem moche good!” + +So now at Forty Mile the Indians came to him with all kinds of troubles. +One day a young woman arrived with her hand in a pitiable condition, +and asked the Bishop to give medicine to make it well. She had had a +quarrel with one of her neighbours, words led to blows, and then a +rough-and-tumble fight ensued, and even hair-pulling. During the affair +the woman’s hand was badly bitten and lacerated by the sharp teeth of her +opponent. + +On another occasion a woman was brought prostrate and disfigured from a +fight with her “man.” (They never say husband here.) She was bleeding +from mouth and ears, and must have received hard usage. We are not +permitted to know the cause of their troubles, but no doubt they happened +quite often, and the good missionary was quite accustomed to them. + +But his patients were not all like these. There were other cases which +touched his heart most deeply. A little boy, named Andrew, was one day +brought into the mission-house with a broken leg. Carefully the Bishop +set it, and this gave the child much relief. He became quite contented +with his new home, and “sang and whistled in his bed so prettily,” Mrs. +Bompas tells us. It was difficult to keep the little fellow still, so the +Bishop slept in his room every night so as to be near. Then, when the boy +was well enough, the Bishop lifted him in his strong arms and carried +him out on the platform. Andrew’s face was radiant with joy, and how +beautiful a sight it was to see his noble protector gazing fondly down +upon him! + +Not only did the women and children need his attention, but the men of +the flock as well. Though many were quiet, and gave little or no trouble, +there were always others of a turbulent nature. Of these the Bishop had +no fear. He never hesitated to speak the word of rebuke, or to interfere +in order to stop a fight. + +One day two Indians became engaged in a serious fight close by the +mission. One, Roderick by name, was determined to kill the other, and was +making desperate thrusts with a long, sharp knife. The Bishop, observing +the encounter, made for the contestants, and taking Roderick by the +collar, quietly said, “Come.” But the Indian still fought and slashed +with his knife, the Bishop all the time retaining his hold, and saying, +“Come, come with me.” After much effort he succeeded in separating them, +and half leading, half dragging, drew Roderick to the mission-house. Then +the Indian, completely exhausted, sank upon a large stone near by. Ere +long he began to realize how he had been saved from committing murder, +and reaching out his hand, seized that of the Bishop to thank him for +what he had done. + +As the miners continued to arrive, the Bishop became much worried over +the change that took place among his Indians, and sadly he wrote: + +“Nothing could be of greater contrast than the squalid poverty and want +of all things in which the Indians here lived thirty years ago and the +lavish luxury and extravagance with which they now squander hundreds of +dollars on needless food and dress, if not in a still more questionable +manner. The Indians now place such high price on any meat or fuel, or +other things which they supply to the whites, such as leather or shoes, +that it is hard for your missionaries to live with economy among them, +and the worst of all is that the younger Indians are only too apt to +imitate the careless whites in irreligion and debauchery.” + +Then the white men exerted a baneful influence upon his Indians, +demoralizing them through drink and in many other unlawful ways. He had +to contend with the same difficulties as other missionaries in like +circumstances. It was Hans Egede, the great apostle to Greenland, who, +in 1730, said that while able in perfect security to sleep in the tents +of the natives, he had to keep a watch and fire-arms by his bed as a +protection against his fellow-Christians. Bishop Bompas remarked, after +several years’ sad experience with the whites among his little flock, +that “the advent of white population strengthens the call for missions to +the natives. While they are in the minority in population, they are not +so in Church attendance. At Dawson, with a population of 4,000 or 5,000, +no weekday services can be maintained, while at Moosehide, Klondyke, with +only 500 inhabitants, frequently 50 attend daily evening prayers.” + +In January, 1895, the Bishop gave a description of this Northern +settlement: “A town is laid down at Forty Mile, and they have two +doctors, library, reading-room, debating society, theatre, eating-houses, +and plenty of ‘saloons,’ as public-houses are called in the West, besides +two stores or shops, and a few tradesmen. One debate was as to which has +caused the most misery in the past century, war or whisky. It was decided +to give the enviable preference to whisky. This was truly appropriate in +a mining camp.” + +Though the miners, for the most part, were a hard-working, well-meaning +class of men, there were a few who were bent on mischief and playing +practical jokes. Some of these latter, at times, proved more serious +than they anticipated, as it was in Ellington’s case. Observing the +venerable Bishop moving steadily about his daily work, with his thoughts +on higher things, they imagined it would be a fine idea to spring upon +him a practical joke. So one day a man with a very serious face came to +the mission-house and asked the Bishop to bury a certain miner who had +recently died. This the Bishop agreed to do at the appointed hour. When +the man had departed, Mr. Totty, who was at Forty Mile, remarked that it +was strange that they had not heard of the man’s illness. At this the +Bishop became suspicious, so, going to the white settlement, he asked +a store-keeper there when the man had died. “He is not dead,” was the +reply. “Some of the boys wanted to have a little fun and watch you read +the Burial Service over an empty box.” + +Though, fortunately, the attempt upon the Bishop failed, this trick had +imposed upon Mr. Ellington some years before. He, in all sincerity, stood +by the open grave, and read most feelingly the beautiful Burial Service +from beginning to end, only to find out at last it was all a farce. + +Notwithstanding certain jokes of this kind, the miners had the +profoundest respect for the Bishop and his devoted wife. Though many of +them were indifferent to all things spiritual, still, they could admire +nobleness when they beheld it, as they did every day in the two faithful +soldiers of the Cross in their midst. As a token of their esteem, on +Christmas Day, 1892, a splendid nugget of gold was presented to Mrs. +Bompas, with the following address, signed by fifty-three miners: + +“It is proposed to make a Christmas present to Mrs. Bompas, the wife of +the Rev. Bishop Bompas (for which purpose a collection will be taken +up amongst those who are willing to contribute), and that the present +shall be in the form of a Forty Mile nugget, as most appropriate to the +occasion, as a mark of respect and esteem from the miners of Forty Mile, +irrespective of creeds or religions; and, further, that it be distinctly +understood to be a personal present to the first white lady who has +wintered amongst us.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FLOODED OUT + + +Several years ago it was my privilege to take service for Bishop Bompas +at Carcross during his absence at various stations down the river. I +slept in the mission-house, and that evening spent some very pleasant +hours looking over the Bishop’s library. As book after book was +examined, I noticed how many bore marks of hard usage—not only worn from +constant packing and repacking, but they were soiled by water. How had +it happened? I wondered. Had they been spilled from a canoe in one of +his long voyages, or had they been exposed to a drenching rain? These +thoughts came to my mind, but not the right one. Not until years later +did I learn the story of how these books became soiled. + +It was at Forty Mile, in the lonely days before the words “Klondyke” and +“Yukon” thrilled the whole world, when the noble Bishop was caring for +his little flock at this far northern mission station. The winter had +been a long, trying one, and eagerly all were awaiting the coming of +spring, when the snow would melt from the land, the birds fill the air +with their music, and the ice in the great river would rush roaring down +to the sea. + +Day after day they watched and waited. When would the ice go? The eager +little dusky faces of the mission children were often pressed against the +panes, waiting to catch the first glimpse of the movement. Occasionally +the Bishop rose from his rude desk, strode to the door, and stood looking +anxiously up-stream. He knew better than the little ones what the +going out of the ice might mean to them. They were on an island cut off +from the mainland by a small creek, or what is called in this country a +“slough.” He had heard stories from the Indians of bygone days when the +ice had jammed below and flooded the whole island, while huge blocks of +ice rushed along, sweeping down everything before them. At times they +became stranded, and remained there long after the waters had subsided, +grim witnesses of the terrible time. + +Thus all day long they watched and waited. Towards evening a shout was +raised: “The ice is going! The ice is going!” and all rushed to see a +wonder which, once beheld, can never fade from the memory. + +“It was,” to use Mrs. Bompas’s own words, “as if a commanding officer had +issued orders to march, and the whole regiment obeyed. The great mass +swept by in a frantic rush, completely beyond the power of the pen to +describe. Huge blocks of every shape and size, carried along at a rapid +speed, ground and tore one another, while many monsters were forced upon +the bank by the fearful pressure. Seven hundred miles of ice, five or six +feet thick, were crowded down that stream, at this place about 650 yards +wide.” + +“Huge blocks,” says an eye-witness, “would get squeezed up by the +pressure of still larger ones coming down behind them. Then the block +in front would dart swiftly forward, like a greyhound slipped from the +leash, and the great, tearing mass behind would sink and disappear, to +come rolling up again half a mile farther down. On they went, tumbling +over one another in their haste and gladness to be free: down to the +bottom; up again into the air, grinding the sponge-ice to powder; blocked +up for a moment, then whirled on again, until they were themselves +pulverized, or hurled on to the bank, or reached a clear space where they +might for a few hundred yards float onward more peacefully.” + +Having watched the grand sight for some time, and feeling the danger of a +flood was now over, the Bishop and his household retired to rest, after +commending themselves to the great Father’s keeping. But little were they +aware that down where the Forty Mile River flows into the Yukon a jam +was being formed; and the ice and water thus impeded began to rise and +overflow the banks. Unconscious of the danger, those in the mission-house +slept on. Presently they were awakened by the terrible sound of water +sweeping around them, and rushing through the house. The Bishop sprang +from his bed, lighted a candle, and moved downstairs. Here he found the +floor covered with water, which was steadily rising. Thinking not of +himself, nor of his books, but only of the helpless little ones upstairs, +he waded through the icy water, and seizing what provisions he could lay +his hands upon, carried them upstairs. He did not know how long they +might be kept there, and the children must not starve. + +Rapidly the water rose, flooding all the furniture downstairs, the little +organ, and the books which were on the lower shelves. + +There was now nothing else to do but to remain upstairs and see what +would happen. The children huddled around, trembling with fear, and +listening to the roaring outside, and the water rushing through the +house. The Bishop, strong and calm, tried to soothe their fears, speaking +words of kindness and comfort. He could trust when the little ones +feared, for had he not often been in the midst of so many great dangers? +and the Master had delivered him out of them all. No doubt he thought of +his peril upon the raft on the Mackenzie River amid drifting ice, his +danger among the Eskimo, and his many other wonderful escapes, of which +he seldom spoke. He would think, too, of the time his canoe was wrecked, +and he and his companions were saved as by a miracle, the details of +which he never told. Yes, after all these mercies in the past, he could +feel sure that the same One who had stilled the stormy winds and waves of +the far-off Galilean lake was able still to save. + +Higher and higher rose the water. It crept up the stairs, inch by inch, +step by step. Oh, what a cold, cruel monster it was, reaching up its icy +fingers to clutch the little band above! How much higher would it come? +Would it reach the upper floor? If so, what then? Besides the water, +there was the danger of the floating ice. At any instant a huge block +might surge against the building and sweep it away like a toy house of +cards. + +While the little band huddled there, anxious eyes were peering through +the darkness. A few members of the mounted police were pacing up and +down the shore, listening to the roaring flood, and thinking of those +in danger on the island. As the water steadily rose, they hesitated no +longer, but, launching their two stout canoes, started to the rescue. +Moving up the narrow creek or slough, which was somewhat protected from +the ice, they reached a position directly opposite the back of the +mission-house, several hundred yards away. But now their work began in +real earnest, for across that rushing flood, mid blocks of ice, and +through the darkness, it was necessary to guide their craft. It needed +courage and muscles of steel to accomplish the task, but when once these +sturdy guardians make up their mind to do a thing, there is no turning +back; whether it be fire, frost, or flood, they press straight forward. +So now, in the face of these difficulties, they moved on foot by foot, +sometimes feeling the keels grinding on a piece of floating ice, or again +being swept back by a whirling eddy. But advance they did, and at length +reached the house. It was impossible to gain admittance by the door; the +water was too high for that. They shouted, and from a window upstairs +came the Bishop’s glad response. Swinging the canoes to this side of the +house, they held them close; the children were all lowered one by one +out of the window, to be received by the strong arms below. Then came the +Bishop, the last to leave. + +Swept onward with the current, they were all borne safely across the +waters and landed upon the mainland. Full of joy and gratitude was the +Bishop’s heart at the rescue which had been made. + +When morning broke over the land the waters had subsided, and the river +was clear of ice. The mission-house was still standing, but all around +huge blocks of ice lay stranded, where they remained for many days. The +mission-house was in a lamentable condition. Everything was soaked, but +what did it signify so long as all were saved? + +This was not the only time when a flood arose and drove out the +missionaries. In the spring of 1901, when the Rev. John Hawksley and +family were stationed here, a flood swept upon them, and they were +compelled to flee to the hills. + +“For a time,” says Mr. Hawksley, “we were in some danger from large floes +of ice floating round the buildings, threatening us with destruction. +Owing to the pluck of one Mr. Royal, a white man, and Angus, a native +member of our Church, we were taken over the broken ice and landed safely +on the hills after five hours’ suspense, most of which time was spent in +an open boat, exposed to the biting wind blowing at the time. We had to +pass the night on the hills. We had neither food nor blankets, but the +Indians at once set about making us comfortable, two of them actually +venturing back to fetch a tent to shelter us, and the others willingly +sharing their blankets and food with us. You will be pleased to learn +that none of us were any the worse for our adventure. The church had four +feet of water in it, and the house somewhat less. Our losses were rather +heavy.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +HOW THE BISHOP GOT HIS MAIL + + +A number of years ago Rudyard Kipling wrote in a most interesting way +about the foot-service mail to the hills in India. He drew a picture of +the land where the robber lurks, the tiger stalks unseen, and lonely +“exiles are waiting for letters from home.” The hero in this story is a +humble carrier of the overland mail, with bags tucked in his waist-belt, +fording swollen rivers, climbing steep cliffs, facing tempests, stopping +at nothing, ever moving on: + + “From level to upland—from upland to crest, + Fly the soft sandalled feet, strains the brawny chest.” + +But had Kipling turned his attention from India to the cold, desolate +region of North America, along the great Mackenzie and Yukon Rivers, what +subjects he might have had for his facile pen and vivid imagination! + +Here are regions, portions of which lie girdled by the Arctic Circle, +ice-locked from seven to eight long dreary months. More than this, huge, +almost impassable, mountains lift their hoary heads as great barriers. +These peaks, snow-capped and majestic, glow with unrivalled splendour +when touched by the rising or setting sun, as if bidding defiance to any +bold enough to intrude into their domain. + +Cooped up in this desolate place were a few exiles, thousands of miles +from home or any town; their companions the wild beasts of the forests, +straggling bands of uncouth Indians, and the faithful dogs. + +During the brief summer months the mail and supplies were taken into +the country by open boats or small steamers, which plied on those great +Northern waterways; but in winter all these routes were closed, and for +eight months nothing happened to break the monotony or the silence which +reigned supreme. No stranger appeared with tidings of the world beyond; +no newspaper or magazine beguiled the weary hours, and no letters from +loved ones cheered the loneliness of the great darkness. They were like +men buried alive. + +Bishop Bompas faced all this for thirty-five years, and only at the close +of his life did he have a railroad at his door and mails two or three +times a week. + +When he first entered the country in 1865 he found it somewhat hard to +wait for things to reach him from England. Seldom did he speak about this +hardship, and then only because he was thinking of his dusky flock. + +“You can have little idea,” he once wrote, “of the way in which we count +here by years what you would count by days. You would say, ‘I will get +it to-morrow.’ We say, ‘It has not come this year; perhaps it will come +next.’ Or, ‘I must order such a book from home. If no mishap occur, in +three or four years I may hope to see it.’ A bit of white chalk would, +I think, have been of more use to me the last twelve months than fifty +sovereigns; and I have often thought I would barter everything I brought +out, except the Bible, for one or two Sunday-school primers.... But I +hope I can say I am learning, in whatever state I am, therewith to be +content, and to rely on the promise that ‘my God shall supply all your +needs according to His riches in glory by Jesus Christ.’” + +When Mrs. Bompas first went to the Mackenzie River as a bride, she had +to wait eight long, dreary months without receiving one letter from her +friends at home. Great was her joy when one day the Bishop came from a +trip and poured the long-looked-for letters into her lap. + +[Illustration: TAKING THE MAIL INTO DAWSON IN SPRING WHEN THE STAGE +CANNOT RUN + +Weeks after the ice in the Yukon River has gone out, Lake Le Berge, +about twenty-five miles below Whitehorse, holds firm. It is, therefore, +necessary to transport freight and mail over the ice to the steamers +which are waiting at the foot of the lake.] + +People in a settled country, even though they live miles from towns or +cities, can usually get many little things they need by mail for a few +cents, but up here in the North it is different. + +“There is no use,” says Mrs. Bompas, “in fretting and exclaiming that +you cannot possibly go without soap or candles, or pins and needles; +that your stationery department is at its lowest; that your knives +and forks are reduced to one blunt scalping-knife and two or three +one-pronged forks. To nearly such predicaments as these we have ourselves +been reduced. One year our mission-house at Slave Lake lacked putty to +fasten in our small window-panes. We tried flour-paste and several other +experiments, but the flour froze, and we had to resort to pins, which +my Indian babies used to delight in pulling out. One year I had hardly +any soap. To confess the honest truth, I believe _that_ was the only +privation I ever wept over like a child. We might have made some soap +without difficulty, but, alas! one of the necessary ingredients in soap +is salt, and salt had not come among that fall’s supplies. One year, +again, I lacked hair-pins. The Bishop, who is endless in his resources, +undertook to manufacture me a few out of some wire for netting which was +in our mission-store. The articles turned out capital to all intents and +purposes, albeit somewhat blunt at the point, lacking a file to sharpen +them.” + +The bringing in of the mails in the winter-time was a Herculean task. +Bishop Stringer, who spent so many years in the North, relates some +thrilling stories of the difficulty of the undertaking. + +“Our mails,” he says, “used to come to us twice a year. The winter post +had to be brought from Edmonton, 2,200 miles to the south, by sledge and +dogs. The year before we came away there was deep snow on the road, and +the mail was so delayed that the mail-men’s provisions gave out, and +all their dogs died except one. The two Indians who were in charge of +the mail unfastened the bundles, and discarded all the small packets, +thinking the larger ones must be of more value. With this lighter load +they struggled on. They found a moose-skin frozen, and kept life together +by boiling pieces of it and eating them. They took two or three weeks +to travel the last 250 miles. They came in completely worn out. One +man harnessed himself to the sledge in front of the solitary remaining +dog, and the other pushed behind. They travelled three days like that. +One of them had taken his baby boy with him, but, in spite of their own +privations, the men contrived to keep the child plump and well.” + +Much delighted were the missionaries to see the couriers, and eagerly +they seized the precious mail, but, alas! nearly all the letters had been +left far behind in the smaller packages, and all they brought were a +few advertisements. Sadly disappointed, they had to wait several months +longer until the next mail-man arrived. + +As a rule, the letters were much soiled and worn from frequent handling +at the various posts, and at times Bishop Bompas complained of the +thinness of the envelopes, which was not conducive to secrecy. + +An amusing incident happened on one occasion, when the courier was +hurrying forward with the mail. In some manner he broke through the +ice, and dogs, man, and letters were thoroughly soaked. It was a cold +day, so, heading for the shore, the Indian made a good fire, dried his +clothes, and then gazed sadly upon the wet letters. At length a thought +occurred to him, and taking the soiled epistles out of the envelopes, he +stacked them around the fire, near enough to dry, but not to burn. When +this was completed to his satisfaction, he began to replace them. But, +alas! though well-versed in woodland lore, he had never acquired the +gentle art of reading, so that the letters went back helter-skelter. +Into envelopes addressed to the Bishop went important missives meant only +for the Company’s officers, or the tender sighings of some fair maiden +for a Northern lover, while the Bishop’s letters were disposed of in a +similar manner. Thinking he had accomplished a very clever feat, the +courier pushed on his way, and, reaching the Fort, was much astonished at +the exclamations and excitement of all. Not until the whole matter was +explained by the puzzled courier was its humorous side seen, and then a +good laugh ensued. + +When Bishop Bompas crossed the mountains and lived along the Yukon River, +for a number of years, in winter he was more than ever cut off from the +outside world. There were no regular mail-carriers, and from the time +the river closed early in the fall until it opened late in the spring he +could not expect to receive one letter. So intolerable did such a life +become, that at last efforts were made to obtain one mail at least during +the winter. + +The man who made this trip was an Indian of the great Thlinkit tribe, of +more than ordinary grit, endurance, and muscle. He was well known as a +famous traveller and courier, having made several wonderful trips through +the Cassiar country carrying mail and gold-dust. To him, therefore, was +entrusted the responsibility of conveying the mail to the waiting exiles +along the Yukon River. For the trip he was to receive $700, and a tax of +$1 on each letter, to be collected when delivered to the owner, these +missives being from five hundred to seven hundred in number. + +Starting from Juneau (now the capital of Alaska) by canoe, with two +Indian youths, a dog-team, and supplies, Jackson reached the mouth of +the Stickeen River. Up this stream he paddled to the head of canoe +navigation, then through a dense forest for seventy-five miles to Atlin +Lake. Out upon this lake they moved, and were making good time, when a +storm, swift and sudden as the rush of doom, swept down upon them, snow +and hail, mingled with the on-rushing wind, blotting out everything from +view. The cold was intense, unbearable. The dogs added their pitiful +cries to the howling storm. The leader—noble animal that he was—bravely +faced the tempest, but the wheel-dog refused to move; he held back, +crouched, and then dropped in the snow. The keen, stinging lash had no +effect upon the fallen brute. Whipping out his knife, Jackson severed the +traces, pushed him aside, and pressed on with the remaining dogs. Not far +had they gone before another refused to work, and dropped in his tracks. +He too was abandoned to share the fate of his companion. With the team +thus reduced it was impossible to take forward the load of provisions, +which were therefore stacked on the ice, and a stick erected to mark the +spot. With little left to hinder their progress they sped on, and after +a terrible struggle reached some friendly trees. Without the storm raged +with fierce violence, covering the land and their scanty provisions upon +the lake deep with snow. The next day the tempest abated, and once more +Jackson and his companions continued their long journey. + +Only one who has travelled in the winter along the Yukon River can +realize what it means. The ice does not form smooth and level, as in many +streams. It freezes at the bottom, and this, rising to the surface, fills +the river with a floating mass of crushing, surging blocks of ice. As +the current is swift and strong, this body moves along for miles, until +a sharp bend on one side and a projecting point on the other combine to +form a narrow channel, where the ice jams. The on-rushing mass, driven +against this, piles up in wild confusion, huge cakes at times being +lifted ten to fifteen feet, and held as in a mighty vice. For miles in +places the river is thus packed, and as far as the eye can view nothing +is to be seen but a grim, icy field wedged between steep banks, lined +with dense, scrubby trees. + +[Illustration: PACK-HORSE SUPPLIES IN 1898 + +As the only way of travelling over the mountains was a trail, horses were +loaded with provisions, etc. These are called “packs,” and it is only a +skilled hand which can bind the load on the animal’s back, and tie what +is known as the “diamond hitch.” Pack-horses are still used in the Yukon, +where the trails are unfit for carts or waggons.] + +Over this the traveller has to make his devious way. There is no other +course, and as the dogs creep on, many are the yells of agony which split +the stinging air. The sled becomes wedged, and the poor brutes strain in +vain to free the load. Or at times it topples upon them, burying their +bruised bodies in the snow. To add to the misery of cold and the cruel +lash, their feet become raw from the sharp ice, and drops of blood mark +every foot of the trail. + +Such was the ordeal that Jackson and his dogs had to undergo at frequent +intervals in their long 800 miles from Atlin to Circle City. Day after +day they pressed on, down through the Golden Horn, across Marsh Lake, +by the dreaded Whitehorse Canyon and rapids, over the desolate and +wind-swept Lake La Berge, and along the Thirty Mile River, avoiding with +extreme caution the river’s fearful breathing-places, the watery grave of +many a poor musher. + +To add to their difficulties, food at length ran low, and when thirty +miles from Fort Selkirk, only a handful of flour remained. With nothing +for the dogs, and only a mouthful for the Indians, and wearied to the +point of exhaustion, they reached the settlement. Here provisions were +obtained, and when a rest had been made, they pushed forward. After a +further hard struggle, with the thermometer from 50 to 60 degrees below +zero, their destination was reached and the mail delivered. Precious were +these letters to the lonely exiles, but how great had been the suffering +of Jackson and his little party in their long, terrible journey! + +After a time, when thousands of people were flocking into the country, +a better winter mail service was established. This was by means of the +famous Mounted Police, of whom we shall hear more in another chapter. +From the White Pass Summit to Dawson, a distance of over five hundred +miles, men were stationed at twenty different posts. To them, therefore, +the post-offices and the carrying of the mail were entrusted. From point +to point the bags were carried by teams of strong, well-fed dogs, drawing +500 to 700 pounds of precious letters. They travelled almost with the +speed of fleet horses, at times day and night, accompanied generally by +two men. + +Such trips, however, were not made without the spice of excitement. Many +are the stories told of those stirring days: the rivalry of dog-teams, +the betting, and the more serious incidents from the dangers of the +ever-uncertain river, which was always a menace to the traveller. No one +could tell when the ice beneath his feet would give way and engulf him in +a watery grave below. + +A corporal and a dog-driver were hurrying the mail forward on the last +day of November, 1898. Splendid progress was made until eight miles from +the mouth of the Hootalinqua River. Suddenly the ice began to move, +breaking up at the same time into large and small blocks. Unable to gain +the shore, men and dogs were swept down the river. It was a serious +situation, with the vast field of ice heaving and grinding, bearing them +on to apparent destruction. Fortunately the block which was bearing them +surged for an instant near the shore, and passed beneath an overhanging +tree. With cat-like agility they sprang and caught a large limb, and thus +drew themselves up to a place of safety. Though every effort was made, +it was impossible to save the mail, and it was swept down the stream, +carrying, no doubt, the Bishop’s long-looked-for letters. + +But steadily the mail service improved. This was due to the building +of the White Pass Railroad from Skagway to Whitehorse, a distance of +110 miles. From this latter place the mail was taken down-river by +steamers. But when the Yukon was locked in its winter sleep, much of +the old difficulty remained. To overcome this the famous stage-road +was constructed—320 miles—from Whitehorse to Dawson. For the service +splendidly equipped sleighs were provided, capable of holding passengers +as well. These, drawn by six, and at times eight, fleet horses, made the +journey in a few days in all kinds of weather. + +Though this road winds its long way through a dreary wilderness, the +natural abode of highwaymen and robbers, yet never once has there been +a hold-up, or the mails intercepted. This is due in a large measure to +the magnificent service of the Royal North-West Mounted Police, who are +stationed at regular intervals along the trail during the winter months. +Ever alert, they strike terror into the hearts of desperadoes, who turn +to other fields. + +The principal trouble with this service is in the opening and closing of +the river during spring and fall. When the stage cannot travel, and the +ice is floating in the river, the mail is run down by canoes, which are +hauled over any solid ice by dog-sleds. + +The outbound couriers have the hardest time of all at such seasons. +During November, 1901, three men, with three teams of dogs each, left +Dawson for Whitehorse with about two thousand pounds of first-class mail. +The ice was running in the river, though solid in places along the shore. +At times they were wading to their waists in the ice-cold water, with the +thermometer degrees below zero, or creeping on hands and knees along some +slippery, shelving edge, when at any instant there was danger of being +hurled into the surging mass in the dark water below. In places even this +precarious trail was denied them, and they were compelled to force their +way through dense thickets of bushes and over tangled masses of dead +timber. The cold was intense, and fearful were their sufferings. Thus +for days these picked men of the Royal Mail Service fought their way up +that crooked river against almost insurmountable difficulties, but win +out they did, and at length reached Whitehorse, and delivered the mail in +perfect condition. + +Little did people in city, town, or country realize, when they received +letters from friends in the far North, what a sacrifice had been made for +their sake by these stout-hearted heroes in the simple path of duty. + +During the time the police carried the mail, there was always the period +in the spring, when the ice was bad, that the people at Dawson and other +places received no letters. Then, when the river did open, and the first +steamer arrived, with tons of all kinds of mail, great was the rush and +excitement. The police at Dawson had charge of the post-office, and they +had only a small building in which to serve those thousands of people +who were anxious to receive their letters. They did the best they could, +however, under the circumstances. People stood in a long black line +waiting their turn. Some of these would stand there all day and all +night, waiting for the precious letters. Men have even been known to +take their blankets, roll themselves up in these, and sleep right by the +door to be ready when the office opened the next day. Women were always +served first, and some of these did a thriving business, as men would pay +them so much to obtain their letters for them. Since then a great change +has taken place, and now at Dawson there is a fine post-office, with a +competent staff of workers to serve the people. + +Thus an outline has been given of the way Bishop Bompas received his mail +as he wore out thirty-five years of his noble life there in the vast +wilderness. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE GOLDEN KLONDYKE + + +Seldom did any man have such an excited throng thrust upon him in so +short a time as did Bishop Bompas. While he was steadily and quietly +carrying on his Master’s work at Forty Mile, a stir which was to thrill +the whole world was taking place in a certain portion of his diocese. + +Gold had been discovered by a white man, George Carmack, and his Indian +companions. It was on a little creek, a branch of the Klondyke, that the +precious metal was found. When word reached the outside world, months +later, a wild stampede took place. Merchants gave up their business, +clerks left their desks, farmers their ploughs, blacksmiths their anvils, +and rushed northwards to make their fortunes. + +They knew nothing of the difficulties they would have to face, and many, +becoming discouraged, soon turned back; others of a more determined +character pushed forward. They climbed the rugged Chilcoot and White +Pass summits, facing terrible obstacles. Cities of tents sprang into +existence on the shores of Lake Bennett and other places, where men and +women watched for the Yukon River to open. Some moved down over the ice, +and many were the strange scenes to be noticed—a team of goats hauling a +sled, or a woman driving a young heifer, which pulled her load! In the +spring thousands of rude craft followed the ice down the river. All along +the Yukon to-day may be seen little mounds, some with rude crosses over +them, which tell their own sad tales of poor fellows who perished in the +waters far away from their homes. Boats were dashed to pieces, or, cut +in two, were left stranded in some desolate place. The full story of +the rush will never be told, but the little that is known fills us with +wonder at what these people endured for the golden treasure. + +They poured into the Klondyke, and here, where this little stream joins +the Yukon, they built the city of Dawson. Some distance back were the +rich creeks, and here the surging, excited gold-seekers dug with feverish +haste into the yielding gravel. Many had more money than they knew what +to do with. Men staked their claims, and worked them with windlass and +buckets. Numerous are the marvellous stories told of those stirring days. + +One man, who had been a bar-tender at Forty Mile, inquired how far it +was to the main creek, where he wished to stake a claim. When told the +distance, he was too lazy to go on, and staked in a little tributary +creek, known as a “pup.” As a result of his laziness, in the spring he +carried with him out of the country $132,000 in gold-dust, which he had +taken out of his “pup” stake. And this, remember, represented only a +fraction of what the claim was worth. + +One man was in the habit of washing out some of his gravel every night, +and used to fill his gold-pan from his dump, and take it into his shack +for the purpose. He soon found that he was obtaining $70 to the pan, +and the amount was steadily increasing. This regular increase, and the +man’s excitement over his evening’s work, soon became so well known that +many of his neighbours met at his place every night, and watched the +proceedings with interest, and, at times, with envy. The fortunate digger +was always very jubilant, especially when the amount reached $120 to the +pan—and a panful is only a very small fraction of the day’s dump. + +[Illustration: GOAT-TEAM WITH SLED ON THE TRAIL, 1898 + +All kinds of teams were used on the trail in the days of the great +rush to the Klondyke. Anything that would draw a pound was forced into +service, even goats and heifers.] + +One night the neighbours trooped in as usual, but instead of seeing him +bright as of old, found him sitting down with a very long face. For a +time he would only shake his head when asked what was wrong, and look +wistfully at the pan. Finally he told his tale, and in a deep, melancholy +voice exclaimed: “I’m off the pay-streak, boys; I only got $57 (£11 4s.) +to the pan to-day.” + +He was really still in the heart of a very rich pay-streak, but he was so +accustomed to large results that when a falling-off appeared, he became +discouraged, and imagined his claim was exhausted. And yet that same man, +a few months before, would have looked upon $57 to the pan as something +wonderful. + +Amusing, too, are some of the stories told; and the following, if not +strictly true, may serve to show that, even in the midst of the wild +scramble, the humorous side was not forgotten. + +One man, so it is related, possessed a very long pair of whiskers. He had +been working hard in his drift all the winter, and during that time had +neither washed nor shaved. In the spring he cut off his whiskers, washed +them out in his gold-pan, and obtained $27 as the result. + +There was gold everywhere; it was little thought of. It was stored +away in anything that happened to be convenient. Gum boots, filled +with precious nuggets, were thrown carelessly aside. Cabins were never +locked, and there was strong feeling among the miners in reference to the +stealing of gold. A sneak thief or a sluice-box robber was considered the +most contemptible of beings, and was hounded out of the place. + +But though gold was plentiful, it was not everything. Just think of men +staring at their millions and having little or nothing to eat! Prices +were very high, and on several occasions provisions ran short. Eggs sold +for $1 apiece, and common candles brought fabulous prices. A man who had +brought in some potatoes on a venture sold the 200 pounds for $150 out +on one of the creeks. At Bennett, where goods were packed on mules to be +carried over the summit, horseshoe nails one day ran out. One man had +a small supply. A rush accordingly took place for the coveted article, +and the fortunate owner easily sold his nails for $1 each (_i.e._, 4s.). +In fact, a volume could be written of the tales told—some true, some +untrue—of the prices paid for the most common things. We shall, however, +mention but one more, which has its humorous side as well. + +A man who had recently arrived wished to do some mending. Making his way +to the nearest store, he asked for a needle. “It will be fifty cents, +please,” remarked the store-keeper, as he delivered the article. “Fifty +cents for a needle!” exclaimed the customer in astonishment. “Are you not +mistaken?” “Oh no!” blandly replied the dealer. “You see, the freight is +so high we have to charge big prices.” + +Imagine freight being high on a needle, when a whole package could come +by mail for two cents! And yet this is the cry in the Yukon to-day. +Prices, though nothing compared to what they were in the early days, +in many cases are exorbitant, and the excuse is as of old—the cost of +bringing things into the country. + +Formerly nearly everything was paid for in gold. Nuggets and gold-dust +were used instead of coins. It is said that a certain public-house was +torn down lately in Dawson, and when the floor was taken up the earth +beneath was panned out, and gold-dust and nuggets to the value of $3,000 +were obtained. To-day it is different, and the ordinary money is used. In +Dawson twenty-five cents is the smallest coin in use, and in Whitehorse +the five-cent piece, though you have to put several of them together if +you wish to purchase anything. + +It takes one some time to get accustomed to the various terms used in the +Yukon. A twenty-five-cent piece is called “two bits”; fifty-cent piece, +“four bits”; and seventy-five cents, “six bits.” They are so commonly +used that it is hard after a time to say anything else. A person who +first enters the country is called a “cheechacho.” After living in the +land for two or three years, or having seen the Yukon River close and +open, one is dubbed a “sourdough.” This name is taken from the lump of +sour dough a prospector or miner carries with him to start his bread. +Travelling with dogs, the ordinary words used are “Mush on!” and “Hike +on!” “Hit” is another common term. Instead of saying, “He started on the +trail,” it is always, “He hit the trail.” The word is used in another +way. Several years ago, when Whitehorse was in its infancy, a number of +gambling men came to church. When the plate was passed around, one of the +men gave the collector a ten-dollar bill. + +“Take the change out of that,” he said. + +“How much?” asked the collector. + +“Oh, hit me for five,” was the reply. + +He was accordingly handed back five dollars, for it was well understood +what he meant. + +The guard-room is commonly known as the “skookum house.” “Skookum” is +an Indian coast word meaning “strong.” An insane asylum is known as +the “bug-house”; and a person who is crazy is said to be “bugs,” or +“bug-house.” How these terms came to be used is rather a mystery. “Up +against it” is applied to one who has had bad luck. “A wad of dough” is +simply the money a man has made, and has nothing to do with pastry. These +and many more are common expressions in the Yukon, and it is marvellous +how soon one gets accustomed to them. + +Through all this excitement Bishop Bompas was living quietly at Forty +Mile. He watched the living stream of eager gold-seekers hurrying by +through the summer and winter. Many were the wants he supplied, and the +weary men he assisted with food and clothing. But the gold fever did not +possess him. Sometimes we hear about the greediness of missionaries, and +that it is money they are after. But here in the North, at a time when +millions were to be made, the missionaries stood aside. They joined in no +stampede, and they staked no claims. They were there to carry the Gospel +message, and not to dig for gold. It is most interesting to read the +Bishop’s letters to his brother George in England at this time, and a few +extracts will give a vivid picture of what was going on: + + “BUXTON MISSION, UPPER YUKON RIVER, + “_April 15, 1897_. + + “I think I will put on paper for you a few notes about the + sudden change that is taking place in the course of a striking + Providence in this region. From being a poor, desolate, and + neglected country, it is suddenly becoming a rich and populous + one. This is the effect of the new and very valuable gold-mines + discovered last year about fifty miles south of us, at a place + now called Klondyke and Dawson City. These new mines are said + to be as rich as any yet known for their size, which is at + present very limited. Only about 100 claims are yet found that + are very profitable.... + + “At the new mines last autumn any claim could be bought for a + few hundred dollars. Now we hear that some have already changed + hands for $50,000, and some are estimated to be worth $500,000. + The owners of the richest claims are said to be leaving the + country in spring, having already as much gold as they can + carry, and being as rich as they care to be; and they will sell + their claims at a high price to others. + + “The miners of Circle City, about 300 miles below us, have been + coming up all winter, hauling their sleds of provisions, to the + number of about 500, till the Yukon has become like a thronged + thoroughfare. They have paid, I think, as much as $250 for an + Indian dog to help haul their sleds. + + “Flour and meal have both been selling during the winter at + from $½ to $1 per pound; and the Indians here loan out their + dogs at $1 per day. The Indians, too, get somewhat rich, but, + of course, they squander their money. + + “The temperature has been most singular. The winter set in very + early, being severe in October, and partly so in November. + Then three months, December, January, and February, were so + mild that it was not like winter at all. This seems quite a + providential favour to the numerous travellers. + + “For myself, during the past winter I have enjoyed more ease + and leisure than usual, from having more helpers around me, and + I have devoted my days to digging the mines of God’s holy Word, + and have found, in my own estimation, richer prizes than the + nuggets of Klondyke.” + +[Illustration: THE GOLDEN LURE: A SEVEN THOUSAND CLEAN-UP ON LIVINGSTONE +CREEK DURING THE SUMMER OF 1906. THE LARGE NUGGET IN THE PAN IS WORTH +$470, OR NEARLY £100 + +A miner’s gold-pan, containing $7,000 of the precious metal. The large +nugget is worth $470, or nearly £100. This amount of gold was obtained +from a “clean-up” on Livingstone Creek in the summer of 1906. The mining +had been done during winter and spring, and when the water came the whole +was washed out. + +_Photograph by E. F. Harnacher._] + + _May 28, 1897._—“I hear now that the creeks are so winding as + to make the gold streak extend 200 or 300 miles. I am told + £4,000 was washed from the earth of one claim in one day. + Another bought a claim for £10,000, and paid it all off out + of the ground in two or three months. The richest claims are + thought to be worth £100,000 or £200,000. (A claim is 600 + feet of the creek, which each miner is allowed to pick for + himself at the start.) ... From $1 to $2 per pan is reported + to be a common rate there. This is something like taking your + washing-basin, filling it with earth from your garden, and + then, after washing away the earth with a little water, finding + a silver crown or half a sovereign at the bottom. I suppose, + in such a case, you might go again, and so do the miners. They + next proceed to work with sluice-boxes, which is only a similar + process on a larger scale. The earth is thrown into wooden + boxes or troughs with a corrugated or uneven bottom, so as to + retain the gold when the earth is washed out. + + “An Irishman who was here yesterday is said to do his work + so badly that his wife used to make from $4 to $20 a day by + picking up his leavings. She is now gone on a visit home with + her earnings.” + +During this mad rush the Bishop was not idle. He was planning how the +Church might be brought to these miners. He himself was not accustomed +to work among white people, and did not feel equal to the task. But +there was a man upon whom he could depend at this critical time. This +was the Rev. R. J. Bowen, who had recently arrived from England. To him, +therefore, the Bishop stated his plans, and as soon as possible Mr. Bowen +started up the river to plant the standard of Christ in that excited +camp of gold-seekers. It must have seemed a forlorn hope to the young +missionary as he drew near the new town. Almost two years before he had +visited that place, and on the very site where his camp had then been +pitched large buildings were now erected, and a hurrying crowd thronged +the streets. The great cry was gold; for that the people had come, and +not for religion. Yet among them Mr. Bowen began to work, and through his +earnestness won the hearts of the miners, and induced many of them to +attend service. + +These men were not miners in the ordinary sense of the word. Many +had never handled a pick or shovel, but had been reared in ease in +comfortable homes, sons of noble families, who had joined the mad rush to +win a fortune in a short time. Such men were not slow to see the efforts +the mother-Church was making for their spiritual welfare in the great +Northland. They saw the earnest missionary valiantly standing in their +midst, pleading the Master’s cause. Their hearts were touched, and around +him they rallied. + +A log church was at first built, and called “St. Paul’s.” When Dawson +grew to be a large city, this was replaced by a new frame church which +cost $14,000. It is now used by Bishop Stringer as the cathedral of his +diocese. + +[Illustration: PROSPECTORS AND MINERS ON THE TRAIL + +Horses and dogs are expensive in the North, so when prospectors wish to +take provisions over the trails they must do much of the work themselves. +It is no uncommon sight to see men harnessed up wearily drawing their +load day after day. At times a sail is hoisted to catch any favourable +breeze. This is of much service on crossing an inland lake, or a low, +flat region.] + +When the Church work was well under way at Dawson, the Bishop for a +while relieved Mr. Bowen, who returned to Forty Mile, and was united in +marriage to Miss Mellet, who had been labouring in the diocese for some +time as schoolmistress. At Dawson the Bishop was out of his element. So +long had he laboured among the Indians that work among the whites was +very hard. In his letters of that time he draws a pathetic picture of the +condition of affairs—the dwindling of the congregations, and the frank +acknowledgment of his own inability to do much among the miners. “But +Christ reigns,” he wrote, “and the work is His, not mine, and let us +trust and hope.” + +This worry, together with improper food, brought on a severe attack +of scurvy, and when he went back to Forty Mile in April, he was in a +very weak condition. Yet, notwithstanding his illness, he persisted in +conducting the Indian school and attending to his correspondence. + +“I cannot move,” he wrote, “without losing my breath, nor walk a +few steps without great pain. If I can hold on till I obtain green +vegetables, they may benefit me.” + +After a time “green vegetables” reached him from Dawson, and at once an +improvement took place. To these the Bishop declared his recovery was +almost entirely due. + +Mrs. Bompas, during this trying season, was at Fort Yukon, unable to +reach the Bishop. She had been summoned to England, to the bedside of her +sister, who was dangerously ill. On her return to San Francisco, after a +few months’ absence, she found that wild excitement reigned, owing to the +Klondyke gold discovery. + +“The whole of the great city,” so she writes, “was gathered on the wharf +to witness the departure of the first steamer for Klondyke. On the boat +itself the crowd was no less conspicuous. Men and women seemed locked +together in frantic excitement. Shouts and cries were heard on all sides. +Parting gifts were thrown on board, hats and handkerchiefs waved with +enthusiasm, and in a few instances with wild sobs of pain. Then the +anchor was raised, and the vessel started for St. Michael. Such a motley +crowd is not often seen gathered together in one vessel. The Company +did its best to accommodate all, but the attempt was but partially +successful. Seven men were often the occupiers of one state-room, and +the chief number of passengers were of the roughest kind of miners. On +reaching St. Michael, the same number of passengers were moved on to the +smaller steamer. Here our discomforts were considerably increased.” + +After a tedious voyage up the river, Fort Yukon was reached. It was a +memorable day on which they arrived at this place. + +“The miners,” continues Mrs. Bompas, “were looking eagerly forward to the +gold-mines of the Klondyke, when the whole load of passengers were set +ashore, and the captain announced that he was not going a step farther. +Prayers, entreaties, and remonstrances were unavailing. He gave no excuse +for his conduct but that he was going back immediately to St. Michael—it +was supposed, to lay in a cargo of whisky.” + +And at Fort Yukon Mrs. Bompas was stranded for eight long months, thirty +miles within the Arctic Circle. Fortunately, the Rev. John Hawksley and +family were stationed here, who did what they could for her comfort. But +to the Bishop at Forty Mile, in feeble health, disturbing news arrived +of the riotous times among the miners at Fort Yukon, and their desperate +efforts to overpower the American soldiers. Such information caused him +much anxiety, and most thankful was he when at length the ice ran out of +the river, and Mrs. Bompas was able to continue her way after the long +delay. + +[Illustration: THE RUSH TO THE KLONDYKE. ONE OF MANY STRANGE CRAFT + +“From one point on Lake Bennett,” wrote Colonel Steele, Superintendent +of the North-West Mounted Police, “I counted on an eight-mile stretch +of water over eight hundred boats under full sail; and, for forty-five +miles, at no point were the boats more than two hundred yards apart.”] + +The following summer the Bishop turned his attention to the southern part +of his diocese. Word had reached him of stirring towns on Lake Bennett +and Lake Atlin. Thinking them to be in his jurisdiction, he made the +long and difficult journey up-stream to view the land. Reaching Bennett +during the summer of 1899, he was astonished to see a flourishing city +containing thousands of people. But greater still was his surprise +to find that Bennett and Atlin were in British Columbia, and that he +had gone several miles beyond his diocese. His stay was very brief at +Bennett, and on his return trip down the river he spent two days among +the Indians at Tagish, gaining much information concerning these natives +and their language. One week later Bishop Ridley arrived at Bennett, and, +writing of the visit of his brother-Bishop, he says: + +“Dr. Bompas has the full tide of civilization forced upon him to his +sorrow.... A week before my arrival he stood where I now write. Would +that he had waited the few days, that I might have had the honour of +welcoming him to my diocese. He thought Bennett and Atlin were within +his, and therefore ventured so far. Arriving here, he found that he had +trespassed beyond his jurisdiction no less than fourteen miles. The +newspaper-man who reported an interview with him states that he hurried +northwards and buried himself once more in the frozen north, that no +other man loves but for the sake of its gold. This report, copied into +an American paper, added striking glosses to the account. What would +the dear Bishop think if he saw himself described as the most devoted +of Catholic (meaning Roman Catholic) Bishops in the wide world? This +gloss was evidently by a Roman newsman, who covertly hit at the snug and +comfortable lives of Protestants who assumed episcopal authority. Bishop +Bompas, says the paper, was so modest that he would not talk of the +countless hairbreadth escapes from awful peril and death, treating them +as phases of everyday life, not to be counted worthy of notice.” + +The following winter Bishop Bompas remained at the Indian village of +Moosehide, and, amidst school labours and diocesan cares, formed plans +for important extension of the mission-work. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE MOUNTED POLICE + + +Who has not heard of the Royal North-West Mounted Police, that devoted +little band of men, about one thousand strong, who guard an empire? What +magic lies in the title! What visions rise before the mind of lonely +detachments, long, bleak trails, deeds of heroism, constant watchfulness, +unswerving devotion and loyalty to the Sovereign of the Realm! + +We have seen in former chapters how helpful they were to the Bishop in +bringing in mails in the early days, and of their rescue of him and his +household from the flood at Forty Mile. It therefore seems right that +some account should be given here of these noble men, who patrol these +great Northern regions, and how they have aided not only the miners and +frontiersmen, but the missionaries as well. + +There was a time in the history of Canada when the great North-West +Territory belonged to the Hudson’s Bay Company. At length the British +Government purchased the land from them for a large sum of money. +Settlers began to pour into the country. All kinds came, bad as well as +good, took up land, brought their families, and built homes, many of them +out in lonely places. Liquor-dealers, horse-thieves, and desperadoes +began to flock into the new country, thinking it a good place to carry on +their illegal business. The Indians, inflamed by whisky or hatred of the +new-comers, were always a source of trouble. It was never known at what +instant an uprising would take place, when thousands of dusky warriors +would sweep over the land, carrying destruction and death in their train. + +[Illustration: BREAKING TRAIL: THE MOUNTED POLICE TAKING THE MAIL FROM +DAWSON TO FORT MCPHERSON + +It is a most trying task breaking down the trail for the dogs to bring +along the sleds, loaded with provisions and camping outfit. The snow is +generally light, and even after the snow-shoes have crushed it down the +sleds draw hard, and the poor dogs make slow progress.] + +It was at this critical time, 1873, that a little body of men, known +as the North-West Mounted Police, entered the country to preserve law +and order. What could a mere handful of men do in such a vast country, +against such a host of redskins and evil white men? It was like the +stripling David going forth to meet the giant Goliath. But as David +had right on his side, and a mighty Power behind him, so had these few +dauntless men who took up their gigantic task. Every man, as he went +forth to make an arrest or settle some dispute, knew that he had the +power of a great Empire behind his back. The renegade white men knew it, +and the Indians soon knew it, too. They were well aware that if they shot +down one of these prairie riders, thrust a sword through his breast, or +injured him in any way, they would have to face the wrath of the whole +British Empire. + +Going, therefore, to his work clad with such an authority, one man, even +a stripling, was a match for a horde. The lifting of his gauntleted hand +was sufficient to quell a mob; the appearance of a red coat in a drinking +and gambling house, where six-shooters were lying all around, was as if +an army had appeared at the door; and a mere speck on the prairie caused +the lone frontiersman and his wife to breathe more freely, for they knew +a rider of the plains was on his long patrol of watchfulness. + +They became the sleuth-hounds of the trails, and the watch-dogs of life +and property. Woe to the man who had committed any crime! there was no +region or country which could free him from the grip of the alert Reds. +There was only one door of escape, and that was death. On snow-shoes and +with dog-teams, through vast forests, over sweeping prairies, across +barren grounds, they would track their man until they found him, either +dead or alive. + +No more thrilling instance is given of their coolness and courage than +during the building of the Canadian-Pacific Railway right across Canada +from the Atlantic to the Pacific. It was in 1883 that out on the prairies +the work of construction was being rushed ahead. At one place a wily +Indian chief, Pie-a-pot by name, and his numerous tribe had pitched their +tents, and refused to allow the work to go on. Pie-a-pot had hundreds +of well-armed braves, anxious for a fight, and only waiting for an +opportunity to begin their deadly work. Here at last was the time, and +their hearts beat high at the thought of sweeping away the pale-faces who +had invaded their country. + +The Mounted Police never considered numbers. When word reached them of +what the Indians were doing, two smart members of the force, a sergeant +and a constable, rode into Pie-a-pot’s camp. Just think of it—two against +so many! It seemed like the sheerest piece of madness. The sergeant at +once ordered the Indians to leave. This command was received with shouts +of laughter. The braves gave vent to savage threats, and the women +made the air resound with their shouts of derision. Then the sergeant +calmly pulled out his watch, and told Pie-a-pot he would give him just +one-quarter of an hour to obey his order and strike camp. At this the +excitement became more intense. The braves jeered, discharged their +rifles under the horses’ noses, and jostled the riders; but the two +policemen remained as calm as if nothing unusual was going on. + +[Illustration: THE ROYAL NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE + +When a strike is made in a new region, and the prospectors and miners +rush to the place, the Mounted Police at once pitch their tents there. If +the strike prove of importance, and the camp is likely to be permanent, +the Police erect good log-houses for themselves. + +_From a photograph by Muirhead._] + +At the end of the fifteen minutes the sergeant placed the watch in his +pocket, threw the reins to his companion, and walked deliberately over +to Pie-a-pot’s tent. The coverings of the tent are spread over a number +of poles, tied together near the top. These poles are so arranged that +the removal of a particular one, called the “key-pole,” brings the whole +structure down. + +The sergeant did not say a word, but very quietly, so as to impress the +Indians, kicked out the key-pole of Pie-a-pot’s tent, and brought the +whole affair down upon the old man’s head. Howls of rage went up at this +insult to the chief, and all rushed for their arms. + +It was a critical moment. The least sign of weakness on the policemen’s +part, or a motion from Pie-a-pot, would have been fatal to the two brave +men; but they were as cool as ever. The sergeant then walked around, and +kicked out all the key-poles of the other tents. + +“Pie-a-pot,” says W. A. Fraser, the Canadian author, writing about this, +“had either got to kill the sergeant—stick his knife into the whole +British nation by the murder of this unruffled soldier—or give up and +move away. He chose the latter course, for Pie-a-pot had brains.” + +At this time the Mounted Police had not advanced into the Yukon +territory; but as the miners began to arrive, Bishop Bompas longed for +some authority to protect his dusky flock, and to quell the disturbances +which sometimes took place. It was partly due to him that at last a body +of these men were sent to Forty Mile. Just across the little Forty Mile +River they built their post, at a place known as Cudahy. From here they +patrolled the creeks, and settled any turbulent spirits who were bent on +making trouble. + +One night a man and a woman came to the Bishop’s house and asked him to +marry them. This he at once did, never suspecting anything wrong. Just +at the conclusion of the service a knock sounded upon the outer door. +There the Bishop found a policeman, who at once asked to see the man he +believed to be in the house. + +“But he is engaged,” remarked the Bishop, “and cannot very well see you +just now.” When, however, he heard that he was needed for some mischief +he had been doing, the good missionary became very uneasy. He took the +policeman into his study, where the newly-married man was standing with +his back to the door. The policeman noticed that a revolver was sticking +out of the man’s hip-pocket, and knew he would have to act without delay. +Quickly crossing the room to where the man was standing, he seized the +murderous weapon in one hand, and clapping the other on his shoulder, +told him that he was a prisoner. + +This sudden arrest surprised him, and he turned angrily upon the Bishop, +thinking he had informed upon him. But the policeman soon explained +everything, and that the woman standing there was the wife of another man +living at Forty Mile. “In that case,” said the Bishop, sternly looking +toward the prisoner, “the marriage I have just celebrated is null and +void.” Then the humour of the situation seemed to strike him, and he +added, with a merry twinkle in his eye, “And I have got the fees!” + +The policeman then took the prisoner away, and driving a log into the +ground in the centre of the largest of the shacks, handcuffed the man, +and fastened him to the log with a trace-chain. They gave him several +blankets, in which he rolled himself up and went to sleep. Finally, +the man was expelled from Forty Mile. He was packed into a boat in the +middle of the next night, given a piece of bacon, and pushed out into +the current, with strict orders never to return. He was never heard of +again—or the woman he had married—or the fees! + +[Illustration: THE MOUNTED POLICE COOKING A MEAL + +On the trail the mid-day meal is eaten in the open, in some sheltered +place if possible, where there is sufficient fuel for a fire. The dogs +remain in harness, and are not fed until their day’s work is done. It is +a very trying experience to light a fire and prepare a meal on a cold +day.] + +When, several years later, so much gold was found on the Klondyke River, +and thousands of men poured into the country, many more men of the +Mounted Police were sent to the Yukon. If you were to go to-day to a +little place called Tagish, on the head-waters of this great Northern +river, you would see a number of tumble-down log-buildings; and going +farther still down that stream, other deserted houses in lonely places +would be seen. These ruins once throbbed with life and energy. The Yukon +River was the great highway of traffic, and as the living stream moved +by, summer and winter, ever-watchful eyes from some detachment noted the +procession; willing hands were ready to uphold some weary wayfarer, and +chafe his poor, numb body; active feet were always in readiness to track +the miscreant to earth and bring him to justice. Only on the final day +of account will it be known how many lives were saved, how many bands of +lawless men held in check, and how much good done by that little body of +men. + +That was several years ago, and since then changes have taken place. +Now there are two great nerve-centres, Dawson and Whitehorse. As the +telegraph operator feels the beat of a city’s pulse many miles away, so +the commanding officer knows what is taking place in the most remote +portion of his huge district. Now, all along the trail which leads from +Whitehorse to Dawson, a distance of 320 miles, policemen are stationed +at regular intervals. A hold-up is an unknown event, and one travels as +safely as along some quiet village in Eastern Canada. + +If you go to the barracks at Whitehorse, you will see a pile of old +registers, with thousands of names recorded there. Every man who goes +down the river in an open boat must give his name, and have his boat +registered. Sometimes three or four men go together. Then, upon reaching +Dawson, if any are missing, the police at once begin to inquire. They +know who were in the boat, and they at once ask what has happened to the +others. In this way criminals have been found out and punished. Many are +the stories those old registers could tell of the early, stirring days. + +The writer has travelled 1,000 miles by dog-team in the Yukon, and +everywhere he went he met members of the force, no matter how desolate +the region. One Saturday night he and his Indian arrived, cold and tired, +at a police post. Here they were kindly sheltered and fed. The next day +being Sunday, the police-team was harnessed to a sled, and a drive made +to a road house some distance away. Here service was held. No one could +sing, but a big gramophone served instead, and rolled off several old, +familiar tunes. + +Everywhere the missionary goes he is sure to find a hearty welcome and +assistance from these men. Living in the shadow of the big log barracks +for about five years, the writer has seen much of these men. Many of +them are from England, Ireland, and Scotland. They are, as a rule, a +gentlemanly class of fellows, some having been bred in homes of comfort +and luxury. Here they are all equal, unless they obtain the much-coveted +stripes on the sleeves which lift them to the rank of corporal or +staff-sergeant. Their scarlet uniforms, with the well-polished buttons, +are often seen on the streets. They have their own skating-rink, near +the barracks, toboggan-slide, and a fine library and recreation room. It +is certainly pleasant to hear all through the day the sweet bugle-calls, +summoning the men to their various duties. The present bugler, who is the +son of an English clergyman, has kindly supplied the notes and words of +some of the bugle-calls. + +[Music: MEN’S MEAL: SECOND CALL. + + Pick, pick ’em up, pick ’em up, hot po-ta-toes, + hot po-ta-toes; pick ’em up, pick ’em up, hot po-ta-toes, oh!] + +[Music: STABLES CALL. + + Oh, come to the sta-ble, all ye that are a-ble, and + Wa-ter your hor-ses, and feed them some corn; + Wa-ter your hor-ses, and give them some corn; + Wa-ter your hor-ses, and feed them some corn. + Oh, come to the sta-ble, all ye that are a-ble, and + Wa-ter your hor-ses, and feed them some corn.] + +[Music: LIGHTS OUT. + + Lights out! lights out!] + +[Music: REGIMENTAL CALL (R.N.-W.M.P.).] + +It was mentioned in another chapter how the police carried the mails +along the river with dog-teams before the stage-road was built from +Dawson to Whitehorse. They still do much work in this line, carrying +mails to lonely outlying creeks. But the great task is that of carrying +the mail over the Rocky Mountains to Fort McPherson, 475 miles from +Dawson. Away up there in that desolate region, at Herschel Island and +other places, are Hudson’s Bay Company’s men, as well as missionaries, +hunters, and trappers, eagerly longing for news from the outside world. +About Christmas-time a patrol starts from Dawson to carry the mail to +these people afar off. + +[Illustration: THE DAWSON—FORT MCPHERSON MAIL ROUTE + +The dogs used by the Mounted Police, in harness and on the trail, are the +best that can be obtained, and even then some of them give out beneath +the fearful hardships of the trail.] + +It is a Herculean task to break trail through a desolate wilderness and +over the wind-swept Rocky Mountains. Only the hardiest men and dogs are +chosen for this task. Usually there are about four policemen and two +Indian guides, with five dog-teams and toboggans. If you look into a +police report, you will read there the events which happen day after +day, for it takes about three months to make the round trip of 950 miles +in all. How careful is the man in charge not to tell too much about +what that march means! But anyone who has been on the trail can easily +read between the lines, and he sees hardships endured and difficulties +overcome of which Arctic explorers might well be proud. + +Suppose we pick out a few of these matter-of-fact entries of the trip of +1905: + +“_January 1, 1906._—Roads very heavy. Distance travelled, twenty miles. +Snowing all day. Thirty-five degrees below zero.” + +“_January 8._—Followed McQuesten Lake to the end, and then followed the +edge of the hills for about seven miles. Weather, 48 below. Strong wind +all day.” + +“_January 9._—Four men went ahead to break trail.” + +“_January 10._—Weather very windy, and 61 below.” + +“_January 16._—Snow very deep, with water on ice. Weather 18 below in +a.m., and 38 below in p.m.” + +“_January 18._—Had a very hard day on the dogs, and they just played out. +Braine Creek is nearly all glacier. Nearly all of the party got wet, and +we had a narrow escape from freezing. Distance travelled, eighteen miles. +Weather, 54 below.” + +“_January 26._—Left camp at 8 a.m., with a blizzard blowing.” + +“_January 27._—Dog John had to be turned loose on account of frozen feet.” + +“_February 1._—Had to turn dog Ping loose, and neither he nor John turned +up at night.” + +“_February 2._—Dogs did not turn up, and I reckon their feet are too bad +for them to travel.” + +“_February 8._—The mountain we crossed is a very bald one, and we could +not see much of it on account of storm.” + +“_February 14._—Left camp at 7.30 a.m., and followed the portage two +miles to Peel River, and then seventeen miles down the Peel to a native +cabin, and camped there at 8 p.m. We had eaten the last bite of food for +breakfast, but fortunately came to an Indian camp, where we obtained +twenty-four rabbits, and gave the dogs each half a rabbit. Distance +travelled, nineteen miles. Weather, 52 below.” + +“_February 15._—Followed the Peel River down to Fort McPherson, where +we arrived at 4.30 p.m. On our arrival all of our dogs were just about +played out; in fact, one of them, Sandy, dropped about a mile above the +fort.” + +And so His Majesty’s mail was carried over that desolate waste. The +bare words, “dog’s feet frozen,” “broke trail,” “52 below zero,” “wind +blowing,” “snow very deep,” and such-like—what pictures rise before the +mind as we read these laconic words! They are typical of the North, where +men shrink from enlarging on their hardships, lest they should seem like +boasters. It was the same with Bishop Bompas. Read the accounts of his +journeys, and you will find them, as a rule, long, dry statements of his +many journeys. + +These pictures of the carrying of the mail from Dawson to Fort McPherson +will prove interesting. They were given to the writer last summer by one +of the men who made the long journey. As far as is known, they have never +yet been given to the public. + +And so far up in this Northern region these noble men carry on their +great work. Well it was that King Edward lately bestowed upon them the +additional regal name, and now they are known as the Royal North-West +Mounted Police. Their motto is, _Maintien le droit_. And well do they +follow it out. One more closing incident is typical of them all: + +A young man was sent to hunt up some horses that had strayed. It was +winter, and a blizzard struck him. He never returned, but the next +spring, in a cut-off _coulée_, an officer on patrol found a uniform by +the side of a skeleton. A piece of paper arrested his attention. Picking +it up, he read the pathetic words which had been scrawled there by the +young man, on a leaf torn from a pocket-diary, the winter before: “_Lost. +Horse dead. Am trying to push ahead. Have done my best._” + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +“FAINT, YET PURSUING” + + +When on a visit to one of his mission-stations during his later years, +the Bishop was asked to write a few lines in an autograph album. He +at once complied with the request, and wrote the words, which he felt +applied to him as they did to Gideon and his 300, “Faint, yet pursuing.” + +Years of strenuous work were telling upon his gigantic constitution, and +he began to realize that ere long he must lay down the staff of office. +For some time he had his attention turned towards the southern portion +of the diocese, to the Indians who were gathered at Caribou Crossing, +which had become quite an important railway centre. In August, 1901, he +and Mrs. Bompas bade farewell to all at Forty Mile, and started on their +journey up the river. Whitehorse was only in its infancy, and the Rev. R. +J. and Mrs. Bowen had just returned from England to take charge of the +Church work. In their little tent they received the venerable couple, +and did all in their power to minister to their comfort. The welcome at +Caribou Crossing was most meagre. A tent which belonged to Bishop Ridley +gave them shelter for a few hours, when, hearing of a bunk-house across +the river, they at once rented it, and afterwards purchased it for $150. +It was dirty and uncomfortable, but the Bishop placed a rug and blanket +on the big table for Mrs. Bompas to rest while he went to explore. The +house was infested with gophers, which ran along the rafters, causing +great annoyance. But, notwithstanding the toil of the day, evening +prayer was held in Bishop Ridley’s tent. Here services were conducted +till the fall, when the weather grew so cold that Mrs. Bompas’s fingers +became numb as she played at the little harmonium which she brought +with her. After that, services, morning and evening, were held at the +mission-house, “which,” as Mrs. Bompas tells us, “had been used as a +road-house and post-office, and possessed one good-sized room, over the +door of which there still exists the ominous word ‘Bar-room’ (now hidden +behind a picture); and in this room we had to gather—Indians and white +people—for Sunday and weekday services, for baptisms, marriages, and +funerals, for school-children and adult classes, etc.” + +In 1903, Bishop Ridley, of Caledonia, paid a visit to Caribou Crossing on +his way to Atlin. The description he gives of the episcopal residence and +the life of the venerable occupants is most interesting, a few extracts +of which must be given here: + +“There on the platform stands the straight and venerable hero of the +North, Dr. Bompas, the Bishop of Selkirk. I jumped from the train and, +though I had never met him before, I grasped his hand and exclaimed, ‘At +last! at last!’ We knew each other well by letter only. He was as placid +as the mountains and the lakes they embosom.” + +Then a glimpse is given of the “Bishop’s house, built of logs, on the +sand. The flooring-boards were half an inch apart; so shrunken were they +that it would be easy to rip them up and lay them down close together. +Then the roof: it was papered, with battens across the paper. I was +anxious to see inside less of the light of heaven through the rents. +Ventilation is carried to excess. Everything around is as simple as +indifference to creature comforts can make it, excepting the books, which +are numerous, up-to-date, and as choice as any two excellent scholars +could wish. + +“The question that has often sprung from my heart has been this: if +this poor thirty-pound affair is by comparison delightful, what of the +contrivances that have sheltered them in the past forty years? + +“Never in my life did I value hospitality so much, or feel so +honoured, as here, under the roof of these grand apostles of God. Two +septuagenarians of grace and broad culture, whose years have been spent +nobly in God’s eyes, have deliberately chosen an austere type of service, +not for austerity’s sake, but for Christ’s sake, under circumstances the +average citizen of the Empire would feel to be past endurance. They are +as happy as heroic. She, accomplished far beyond the standard one meets +with in London drawing-rooms, unless among the most cultured circles; +he, a fine scholar, steeped in Hebrew and Syriac lore, as well as in the +commoner studies of the clergy, live on, love on, labour on in this vast +expanse, little trodden but by the Indians for whom they live and will +die. + +“If such lives fail in Christ’s cause, that cause is doomed. Let those +who criticize cease their cackling, and try to imitate by self-sacrifice +such lives as those I have just touched on; and they, too, may have some +share in the betterment of mankind—the expansion of Christ’s kingdom and +the eternal welfare of humanity.” + +Anxious days followed the Bishop’s removal to this place. The diocese was +scarce of clergy, and when Mr. Bowen left Whitehorse earnest appeals were +sent “outside” for men. Then it was, upon the Bishop’s earnest request, +that the Rev. I. O. Stringer arrived in November, 1903, to take up the +work laid down by Mr. Bowen. Much pleased was the Bishop to have Mr. +Stringer so near, and at once marked him as his successor. + +Then followed the death of his old friend Archbishop Machray, and as +senior Bishop of the province of Rupert’s Land, he was summoned to +Winnipeg. A message reached him from Mr. John Machray, nephew of the +late Primate, telling him of the Archbishop’s death, with the addition: +“As senior Bishop, it is important that you should attend a conference of +Bishops in Winnipeg to select a successor.” + +Though the Bishop shrank much from leaving the North to mingle with the +bustling world, yet, after a few minutes’ thought, he sent back the +following answer: + +“I will try to be with you by Easter.” + +And on Easter Eve, April, 1904, with Mrs. Bompas and Susie, a little deaf +and dumb girl,[3] he was met by several of the clergy at Winnipeg, and +was present at St. John’s Cathedral on Easter Day, though only as one +of the congregation, being too much overcome by the crowd and bustle of +the city to take any active part in the service. What thoughts must have +surged through his mind as he looked upon the great prairie city, which +had changed so much since last he saw it thirty long years before! + +On the following Sunday he was able to preach in St. John’s Cathedral. +“His sermon,” so Mrs. Bompas tells us, “was in his usual earnest and +unembellished style, referring to the last time he had officiated in that +church, nearly thirty years before, alluding with pathos to the many who +had left the busy whirl of life during that period, and expressing his +great pleasure that, among the many changes that were taking place in the +Church, the services of St. John’s Cathedral still retained something of +their old, almost austere, simplicity.” + +The Bishop’s time was fully occupied during his stay in Winnipeg. There +were old friends calling upon him, reporters seeking interviews, meetings +to attend, and addresses to deliver, which wearied him very much. His +voice was feeble, and could not be distinctly heard at the gatherings +where he told of his Northern diocese. But what did that matter? The +people thought more of the man—the man of whom they had heard such +wonderful things—and cheered him heartily. + +The Archbishop of Rupert’s Land, in an address at the 107th Anniversary +of the Church Missionary Society, at Exeter Hall, London, April, 1907, +thus referred to the visit of Bishop Bompas to Winnipeg: + +“Dr. Bompas, that splendid veteran missionary, who came down at the +time of my election—he was as humble as a little child—when he stood +on the platform at a great missionary meeting, and when I, introducing +him, spoke of the hardships he had gone through, corrected me thus when +he started to speak. He said: ‘It is you men at the centre, with your +telephones and your telegrams, who have the hardships. We have a soft +time in the North. Nobody ever worries us.’ That is all that he said +about his hardships. Then he told the story of his work in a simple, +childlike way.” + +The city life did not agree with him. He longed for his Northern flock +and the quietness of his little log-house at Caribou Crossing. A doctor +was consulted, who strongly advised him not to return to his diocese for +some time. Before this the Bishop was uncertain when he would return; but +after the doctor’s verdict had been given, he hesitated no longer, but +fixed a date for his departure. Only three weeks did he stay in Winnipeg, +and then started northward. Acts of kindness were showered upon him on +every hand. All delighted to honour the noble missionary in their midst. +As he stood on the platform before leaving Winnipeg, an unknown friend, +knowing that the Bishop would not afford himself the luxury of a good +berth, slipped into his hand a ticket for one in the Pullman car. + +When once again in his own diocese, the longing grew stronger for +rest, and he became impatient for the time when his successor would be +appointed. Then, the delay in the election of the new Archbishop gave +him much concern. He felt it was his duty to go once more to Winnipeg to +hasten matters, and many were the letters written and received before +everything was finally arranged. His annual trip down the river to visit +the various mission stations became more and more of a burden, and he +wished to stay quietly in one place to carry on his desired work. + +And that desired work filled him with gladness. “The daily round, the +common task” was all that he asked for. Praise might go to others; he +wished for none for himself. The Indian school occupied much of his +time, and part of each morning was given up to it. The building over the +river, which at first had been used for the school, was exchanged for +the log police-barracks, quite close to the mission-house. It was an +interesting sight to observe the venerable, grey-haired teacher among a +number of stirring young Indian pupils. Gladly did he leave his beloved +translations to be awhile the teacher. + + “Freely the sage, though wrapped in musings high, + Assumed the teacher’s part.” + +Though the Bishop used to say that to teach Indians was a very difficult +task, “like writing in the sand, instead of graving in the rock,” yet he +never gave up, but went bravely on till the last. + +A portion of his time was devoted to letter-writing and translation work. +He was always an early riser, and his letters were written in the early +morning in the quietness of his study. Letter-writing he seemed to love, +and seldom did he pen less than six or seven missives a day. It was in +this manner he could express himself most freely, and sometimes, when +wishing to convey a message to a member of his household, he would do so +by letter, at times leaving it at the post-office to be delivered later +in the day. + +[Illustration: AN INDIAN BOY AT PLAY + +When the Indians come into town the dusky lads are fond of imitating the +ways of the white people. Too often they copy the worse side. But this +little fellow is certainly engaged in innocent sport.] + +[Illustration: AN INDIAN BOY AT WORK + +Indians on the Yukon dislike work. Around the towns they will beg for +food and clothing. At the Whitehorse Rectory a pile of unsplit wood was +kept ready, and the able-bodied natives were made to earn their food and +clothing.] + +Rarely did he miss meeting the train on its arrival at the settlement, +that he might be at hand to receive his mail as soon as possible. His +tall, erect figure, with the leather travelling-bag[4] slung across his +shoulder, walking up and down the platform, was a most familiar sight. +Strangers would gaze with curiosity upon the veteran of the North, of +whom they had heard so much, and often snapshots were taken, to be +reproduced in books, magazines, or newspaper articles. This latter the +Bishop bore with good-natured tolerance, considering it a necessary +evil, and one of the discomforts of modern civilization. He told one of +his clergy—him who now wields the episcopal staff—who was busy taking a +number of pictures of the Bishop and his Indian school, that he did not +wish to see _him_ go, but he would like to see the _camera_ make a hasty +departure. + +For some time the Bishop wished to change the name of Caribou Crossing, +as his letters often went to other places of a similar name, and thus +caused much delay and confusion. After careful consideration, he chose +the name of “Carcross.” Many objected to the change, and strongly-worded +articles were written in the local paper condemning the “mongrel name of +Carcross.” The Bishop remained silent, replying to none of these attacks. +At length a letter appeared, addressed to the Bishop, from the Secretary +of the Geographic Board of Canada, stating that at a meeting of the +Board “the name ‘Carcross’ was approved instead of ‘Caribou’ or ‘Caribou +Crossing.’” The Bishop smiled, but said nothing. Since then the new name +has steadily won its way. + +Notwithstanding the school-work and study, ample time was found for +other duties which devolved upon him. There were Indians calling at most +unseasonable hours for advice over some perplexing question. The advice +thus freely given was often interpreted in most unexpected ways. On one +occasion he had a long talk with an Indian who had taken a young woman +as his second wife, having wearied of the first. The Bishop told him it +was wrong to have two wives, and that he should only have one. The Indian +seemed much surprised with these words, and promised to obey; but, to +the astonishment of all, he put away his old, faithful wife and kept the +younger. + +Once, at a wedding of two Indians, the Bishop repeated very carefully +the words, “for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness +and in health,” etc., and told the groom to repeat them after him. The +Indian was much puzzled. He could not repeat the words, neither could +he understand their meaning, and looked vacantly around. After a time a +light illumined his face, and, turning to his passive, dusky bride, he +said: “Me sick, you take care me; you sick, me take care you—eh?” + +The building of the new church at Carcross was a great comfort to the +Bishop. Services had been held in the mission-house, which was too small +to accommodate all who attended. The cost of the building was met almost +entirely by kind friends outside the diocese. In 1904 Mrs. Bompas visited +Eastern Canada, and addressed the Women’s Association at Montreal, +Toronto, Ottawa, and Quebec on mission-work in the North. Great was her +surprise when, at the annual meeting of this noble handmaid of the Church +at the Cathedral in Toronto, she was presented with the generous gift of +$800 towards the church building fund for St. Saviour’s, Carcross. Other +gifts came steadily in, and the success of the church was complete. + +In the erection of this little building the Bishop was most active, not +only superintending the work, but doing much manual labour himself. With +his own hands he made a little gate for the church-door, to keep out the +numerous Indian dogs which were always prowling around during service. +This specimen of the Bishop’s handiwork remained for some time after his +death, a curiosity to all who looked upon it, especially to tourists. + +It was a happy day when at last the church was opened for service. It was +consecrated on August 8, 1904, after Mrs. Bompas’s return to the diocese. +The services were of a very simple nature, for the Bishop seemed to have +an almost complete disregard for external things. Seldom did he wear his +episcopal robes—not even when visiting the different mission stations in +his diocese—being content to use the long white surplice with the black +stole, minus his Doctor’s hood. This was a cause of worry to Mrs. Bompas, +who rejoiced to see all things done “decently and in order.” Once, +on the Mackenzie River, when starting to hold a Confirmation service +some distance away, he was urged by Mrs. Bompas to take his episcopal +robes. He refused to do so, saying that the surplice was sufficient. On +that trip his boat was swamped, and everything was lost, and only with +difficulty were he and his companions saved. + +Anxiously the Bishop awaited Bishop Stringer’s return from Winnipeg +to take charge of the diocese. No jealousy came into his heart at the +thought of handing over the work to another. It was his own wish, for +he knew a younger and stronger man was needed. For himself, he did not +wish to leave the Yukon or to retire. He resolved to still carry on his +Master’s work as a humble missionary much farther down the river. He was +eager to be away among his dusky flock, free from all the cares of the +huge diocese, which were becoming a great burden. + +At length Bishop Stringer arrived, and at once he handed over the affairs +to him, and discussed his own plans with the enthusiasm of youth, little +thinking that the Master of Life was about to call him to a higher +service. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +LIGHT AT EVENTIDE + + +In a famous picture an old warrior, scarred in many a fierce battle, is +seen hanging up his sword; his work ended, he could afford to rest. But +not so with Bishop Bompas, the faithful soldier of the Cross. No thought +of ease entered his mind, but only more work for the Master. As St. Paul +of old handed on his commission to his son Timothy, so did this veteran +apostle of a later day pass on the torch to a younger son in the faith, +that he might be free for other work. Then came the end, the last scene +in the life of this noble man, for “God’s finger touched him, and he +slept.” + +Far away in dear old England, 7,000 miles from a quiet grave in the great +Canadian northland, the following account of those last days has been +beautifully written as a loving tribute by her, the faithful wife, who +for long years bore with the devoted Bishop the burden and heat of the +day: + +“The storms on Lake Bennett, on the shores of which Carcross is situated, +are at times pretty severe. The winds blow in gusts down the steep +mountain gullies, and toss into fury the waters of the lake. The depth +of that lake between Carcross and Bennett is very great. It has often +been sounded, and no bottom reached. Many a hastily run-up scow, full of +brave, enterprising miners, has been wrecked on these waters, and many +a nameless grave in the white man’s territory marks the resting-place +of some poor fellow who was strong to venture, but had not learnt to +realize the many dangers and vicissitudes of a miner’s life. But the lake +has its periods of calm no less than those of turmoil and unrest. Mark it +on some evening of summer, when scarcely a ripple stirs its surface. The +reflection of the mountains on the water is so clear and vivid that one +is tempted to doubt which is the reality and which is the shadow. + +[Illustration: ON THE TRAIL + +The writer’s last trip into Livingstone Creek, seventy miles from +Whitehorse. The scene is on a large mountain lake, with towering rocks on +every side. The Indian, Jimmy Jackson, is at the rear of the sled.] + +“Such a calm, such a change from turmoil into peace, marked the evening +of the life we have been considering. We believe that God’s servants have +been given a premonition of the approach of death. The Bishop had laid +his plans some months ahead, and made necessary preparations for a winter +down the river. He had always been remarkable for physical strength and +energy. For his winter travelling he was always seen running, with the +jaunty pace of the Northern tripper, ahead of his sledge. He was ever +ready to help the men hauling up a boat at some of the portages, or in +pushing it down the bank into the river. Among our party it was always +the Bishop who insisted on charging himself with the heaviest articles, +and it was only within the last two years that he abstained from hauling +water from the lake for the whole of our household. But symptoms of some +diminution of strength and vigour in this strong man were beginning to +show themselves. The eyes that had pored so long with imperfect light +over the pages of Hebrew and Syriac, in which he so delighted, were +failing, and had to be strengthened by glasses stronger and yet stronger +still. Since his last attack of scurvy he had lost all sense of smell or +taste. No one could be with the Bishop many hours without observing an +expression of weariness and dejection in his countenance, which was as +intense as pathetic. He was often heard whispering, ‘Courage, courage!’ +To more than one of his friends he had given his impression that he had +not long to live. To his brother he wrote just a year before his death: +‘For myself, I am most thankful to be in this happy retirement. When +the time comes, I hope for as tranquil an earthly ending as that of our +brother George, though perhaps mine may be more sudden, and possibly not +even in my bed.’ + +“The Bishop’s burden of responsibility had of late years been greatly +increased by the advent of the white men. The population of the diocese +had increased sevenfold and at rapid strides. The problem of providing +for the spiritual needs of these people, and especially of keeping the +Indians from the allurements of the whisky traffic and the snares of the +gambling-table, was weighing heavily upon him. But the darkest hour is +the hour before the dawn; the labourer’s task was nearly accomplished. +The Rev. I. O. Stringer had been nominated by the Bishop and approved +by the Church Missionary Society and the Canadian Board of Missions as +successor to Bishop Bompas in the See of Selkirk (now called the See of +Yukon). He was a good man and an earnest Churchman, and had had some +years’ experience of mission-work among the Indians of Peel River and the +Eskimo of Herschel Island, at the mouth of the Mackenzie. Mr. Stringer +was consecrated Bishop in St. John’s Cathedral, Winnipeg, December +17, 1905, and his arrival in Selkirk Diocese was ardently looked for. +With him was expected the Rev. A. E. O’Meara, of Toronto, to be placed +in charge of the newly-started mission at Conrad, twelve miles from +Carcross, the centre of a new mining camp. + +“And so, with the mission staff a little better equipped, with the work +of the diocese passing into younger and less toil-worn hands, our Bishop +could now turn his thoughts to his own plans for the coming months. +The Church Missionary Society had suggested to him a retiring pension, +but this he declined to accept, unless he continued in some department +of the work of the mission. His great desire now, and one which had +for a long time past occupied his thoughts, was to start a new mission +on Little Salmon River, where there are often congregated together 200 +Indians who have seldom come within sound of the Gospel. But Bishop +Stringer and others dissuaded him from the new venture, thinking that +the work of starting a new mission, with the prospect of having to +build a house and get in supplies for the coming winter, was one for +which neither the Bishop himself nor his wife, at their advanced age, +were fitted. Accepting this disappointment as God’s will, Bishop Bompas +prepared to go down the river to Forty Mile, below Dawson. Now was there +bustle and unrest on the mission premises at Carcross preparatory to the +departure. + +“A passage for the Bishop and Mrs. Bompas and two Indian girls had +been secured on one of the river steamers to sail on Monday. This was +Saturday, June 9, a day calm and bright, as our summer days in the far +North mostly are. The Bishop was as active as ever on that day. Twice he +had walked across the long railway bridge, and his quick elastic step +had been commented on as that of a young man. Later on he had been up to +the school, and on to the Indian camp to visit some sick Indians. Then +he went home, and remained for some time in conversation with Bishop +Stringer, into whose hands he had already committed all the affairs of +the diocese. Then the mission party dined together, and at eight o’clock +they all reassembled for prayers. After prayers the Bishop retired to his +study and shut the door. + +“Was there, we wonder, any intimation of the coming rest in the breast +of that stalwart warrior, whose end of life was now so near as to be +reckoned, not by hours, but by minutes only? Was there any consciousness +of having fought a good fight, and finished his course? We know not. +Sitting on a box, as was his custom, he began the sermon which proved to +be his last. Presently the pen stopped; the hand that so often had guided +it was to do so no more. Near him was one of his flock, an Indian girl, +who needed some attention, and as he arose he leaned his elbow on a pile +of boxes. And while standing there the great call came: the hand of God +touched him, and the body which had endured so much fell forward. When +Bishop Stringer reached his side a few minutes later, the Indian girl +was holding his head in her lap. Nothing could be done, and without a +struggle, without one word of farewell, the brave soul passed forth to a +higher life. + +“And so the tale is told, the chapter ended, of that life begun +seventy-two years since. A suffering, uneventful life, and yet, we hope, +not all unfruitful of God’s glory, and of souls won for the fold of the +Good Shepherd. Most aptly do the words of the poet apply to him: + + “O good grey head which all men knew, + O voice from which their omens all men drew, + O iron nerve to true occasion true, + O fallen at length that tower of strength, + Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew. + Such was he whom we deplore. + The long self-sacrifice of life is o’er.” + +“The awe and silence which overspread the camp, and school, and mission +that night and the following day were very striking. By the morning +of Sunday tidings of the Bishop’s death had been flashed to Ottawa, +and London, and all down the river. On Tuesday morning notices of the +Bishop’s life and work were in many American and Canadian newspapers, +with his portrait. + +[Illustration: THE BODY OF BISHOP BOMPAS TAKEN IN A BOAT FROM THE CHURCH +TO THE GRAVEYARD + +Mrs. Bompas and Mrs. Cody are sitting in the back part of the boat. As +there was no team available on the Mission side of the river, the boat +was the only means of conveyance.] + +“The funeral had to be on Monday, June 11, Festival of St. Barnabas (the +Son of Consolation). Messages came from the Indians down the river, as +well as from friends elsewhere, expressing deepest sympathy with Mrs. +Bompas in the terrible shock she had sustained. The Indians heard with +extreme satisfaction that their friend and Bishop had once expressed +a wish to be buried among them. Two of them came and offered to dig +his grave, adding, ‘You no pay me.’ In the Indian cemetery, therefore, +beautifully situated less than a mile from Carcross, was the grave made +ready. The mountains, clad with their dark pine-woods, looked down grave +and solemn on the Indians’ burial-ground. There were not many graves, but +they were well and carefully kept and tended, for they were all friends +who lay there, and we knew the life and history of each one. Below the +cemetery were the waters of the lake, in summer ever studded with swift +canoes, or white man’s row-boats, or the steamer _Gleamer_ and smaller +vessels. But on this day there was no movement on the lake. All vessels +had their flags half-mast high, and deferred their sailing that their +captains and men might attend the funeral. It took place at five o’clock. +On account of the distance, only two of the Bishop’s clergy were able to +take part in the solemn service, Mr. O’Meara, of Conrad, and Mr. Cody, of +Whitehorse. + +“The little church of St. Saviour’s was now filled with all the white +population of Carcross and all the Indians who had come to do honour to +the great man who had fallen in their midst. The two hymns chosen from +the Hymnal Companion were most appropriate. One, ‘For all the Saints,’ +telling of the triumph of the saints of God after earth’s hard fight; +the other, ‘Jesus lives,’ breathing forth the blessed hope of victory +over the grave and a glorious resurrection. The service was conducted +by Bishop Stringer, assisted by the two clergymen; and then the dear +Bishop’s body was lifted into a boat waiting at the foot of the bank, +and rowed by two natives over water as smooth as glass to the cemetery. +Three white men and three Indians carried the body from the shore to +the grave; and after the beautiful service had been read, the children +of the Indian mission-school came one by one and dropped into the grave +their little offerings of wild flowers, which had been gathered for the +occasion. + +“There is a humble grave in one of the loveliest and most secluded spots +in the Yukon territory. Dark pine-forests guard that grave. During the +winter months pure, untrodden snow covers it. It is enclosed by a rough +fence made of fir-wood, which an Indian woodman cut down and trimmed, +leaving the bark on, and then fixed strong and stable around the grave. +But none will disturb that spot: no foot of man or beast will dishonour +it; the sweet notes of the Canadian robin and the merry chirp of the +snow-bird are almost the only sounds which break the silence of that +sacred place. The Indians love that grave; the mission children visit +it at times with soft steps and hushed voices to lay some cross of wild +flowers or evergreens upon it. There is a grey granite headstone with the +words, ‘In the peace of Christ,’ and the name and age of him who rests +beneath. It is the grave of Bishop Bompas.” + +“On the night of the Bishop’s death,” says Bishop Stringer, “one group +of Indians after another came to the Bishop’s house with sorrow depicted +on each face as they asked at first if the sad news were true, and then +other questions, showing their deep concern. In the morning they came +one by one to look for the last time on the face of him who was always +their friend. Never more could he listen patiently to all their troubles; +never again would he get up from the midst of his work and tramp off +half a mile to their camps to see a sick person, and give all the relief +possible in medicine, food, and clothing, and, above all, advice in their +many adversities and, oftentimes, complicated troubles. + +“The day after the funeral an Indian and his wife arrived on foot from +Skagway. As Mrs. Bompas went out to shake hands with them as old +friends, she said, ‘Bishop has gone.’ The woman looked interested, +thinking she meant he had gone to visit some of the other missions. Mrs. +Bompas tried to explain. ‘Bishop dead three days,’ she said. Then the +truth seemed to dawn on the Indian woman, and she repeated, with rising +inflection, ‘Bishop dead? Bishop dead? Bishop dead?’ at the same time +giving vent to such a wail as I scarcely ever heard from a human being. I +then realized more than ever how much the loss of our dear Bishop meant +to his own people, the Indians.” + +All men had a profound respect for Bishop Bompas, especially the hardy +prospectors. They had endured so much on the lonely trails that they +looked upon the Bishop as one of themselves, who had not spent his life +in ease and luxury, but struggling with Nature at her sternest. In +speaking of the late Bishop, a prospector at Carcross said: + +“I feel as if I had lost my best friend. Sometimes some of us were hard +up—no funds and no food; but we always felt we could turn to the Bishop +for help. We knew that to knock at his door and ask him if there was any +odd job we could do meant always, and especially if the Bishop knew we +were hard up, that he would find something for us to do—now some wood to +get, or, again, some stove-pipe to fix, or a few nails to drive for Mrs. +Bompas, or some other work that would give him the opportunity to pay us +sufficient to keep body and soul together.” + +Bishop Stringer, who records this conversation, also mentions that on the +Mackenzie River he once met a miner who had been in Dawson in the early +days. “When asked if he knew Bishop Bompas, he said he thought he had +seen him. When he was described as a pioneer in the land, he suddenly +exclaimed: ‘Oh yes; that’s the man who wrote the book. I have often seen +him and spoken to him. Many of us have read his book. The miners know +him as “the man who wrote the book.”’ He referred to the ‘History of the +Mackenzie River Diocese,’ which contains much matter of interest to the +miner about the North.” + +The letters received by Mrs. Bompas were full of the sincerest sympathy. +Some were from the men of the “Old Brigade,” who had stood shoulder +to shoulder with the Bishop in his great fight against the powers of +darkness. Beautiful as well as pathetic are the words of the Venerable +Archdeacon McDonald, from Winnipeg: + +“He was a man dear to me, and I thank God for the abundant grace that +was bestowed upon him, enabling him to labour patiently and persistently +among the natives, for whose sake he became a missionary. I cannot +forget that it was to replace me he first came to the North, when, as it +was thought, my earthly course was nearly run, and I would have to lay +down the Banner of the Cross. Nobly has he borne the standard; he has +fought the fight of faith, he has finished his course, and has gone to +receive, with the Apostle Paul, and all who love the appearing of our +sweet Saviour Christ, the crown of righteousness which shall be bestowed +upon them.... Thus another landmark has gone. Bishop Bompas achieved a +great reputation for devotedness and saintliness and the most heroic +courage. Like our great pattern, he constantly went about doing good. +He counted not his life dear unto him, but exposed it many times in his +great Master’s cause. He has left a splendid record and example for all +Bishops and clergy. You and the Bishop have done a magnificent work in +that Northern region—a work that has blessed not only the Indians, but, +in an indirect way, the entire Church of God.” + +Thus lived and died this noble missionary in the great Northland, among +his dusky flock. Though he is dead, the results of his noble life cannot +perish. With him will always be associated thoughts of mighty rivers and +great inland lakes, snow-capped mountains and sweeping plains; thoughts +of heroism and devotion to duty; but, above all, thoughts of gratitude +for countless unknown natives of the North, on river, mountain, and +plain, who have been lifted out of darkness and brought close to the +Great Shepherd’s side, through the light of the Gospel carried by a +faithful herald of salvation—this noble Apostle of the North. + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +[1] Sitka, until recently the capital of Alaska. + +[2] “Pathfinders of the West,” by A. C. Laut. + +[3] This girl was placed in the Deaf and Dumb Institution at Winnipeg. +She died on February 26, 1897, of tuberculosis, aged ten years. + +[4] This travelling-bag was exhibited in 1909 at the Missionary Loan +Exhibition held in Montreal, and attracted much attention. + + + + +THE END + +BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78770 *** diff --git a/78770-h/78770-h.htm b/78770-h/78770-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d414659 --- /dev/null +++ b/78770-h/78770-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8023 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + On trail and rapid by dog-sled and canoe | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +a { + text-decoration: none; +} + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +h2.nobreak { + page-break-before: avoid; +} + +hr.chap { + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + clear: both; + width: 65%; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; +} + +img.w100 { + width: 100%; +} + +div.chapter { + page-break-before: always; +} + +p { + margin-top: 0.5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +table { + margin: 1em auto 1em auto; + max-width: 40em; + border-collapse: collapse; +} + +td { + padding-left: 2.25em; + padding-right: 0.25em; + vertical-align: top; + text-indent: -2em; + text-align: justify; +} + +.tdc { + vertical-align: bottom; + text-align: center; + padding: 0 0.25em; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.tdr { + text-align: right; +} + +.tdpg { + vertical-align: bottom; + text-align: right; +} + +blockquote { + margin: 1.5em 10%; +} + +.center { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; +} + +figcaption p.p1 { + text-align: center; + font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0; +} + +figcaption p.p2 { + text-align: justify; + font-size: 90%; +} + +figcaption p.p3 { + text-align: right; + font-size: 90%; +} + +figcaption .poetry { + font-size: 90%; +} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto auto 1em auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.footnotes { + margin-top: 1em; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.footnote { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em; +} + +.footnote .label { + position: absolute; + right: 84%; + text-align: right; +} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none; +} + +.larger { + font-size: 150%; +} + +.mid { + font-size: 125%; +} + +.mt2 { + margin-top: 2em; +} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + right: 4%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; +} + +.poetry-container { + text-align: center; +} + +.poetry { + display: inline-block; + text-align: left; +} + +.poetry .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; +} + +.poetry .verse { + padding-left: 3em; +} + +.poetry .indent0 { + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poetry .indent2 { + text-indent: -2em; +} + +.right { + text-align: right; +} + +.smaller { + font-size: 80%; +} + +.smcap { + font-variant: small-caps; + font-style: normal; +} + +.titlepage { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 3em; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.tn { + background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + text-align: center; + font-size: smaller; + padding: 0.5em; +} + +.x-ebookmaker img { + max-width: 100%; + width: auto; + height: auto; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .poetry { + display: block; + margin-left: 1.5em; +} + +.x-ebookmaker blockquote { + margin: 1.5em 5%; +} + + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp48 {width: 48%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp48 {width: 100%;} +.illowp100 {width: 100%;} +.illowp50 {width: 50%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp50 {width: 100%;} +.illowp56 {width: 56%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp56 {width: 100%;} +.illowp72 {width: 72%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp72 {width: 100%;} + </style> + </head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78770 ***</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">[i]</span></p> + +<p class="titlepage larger">ON TRAIL AND RAPID BY DOG-SLED +AND CANOE</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">[ii]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp48" id="illus01" style="max-width: 28.125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus01.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">A Hazardous Voyage.</span></p> + <p class="p2">The river was full of floating ice, the water turbulent, and the craft + a crazy collection of logs and boards. For days the undaunted Bishop and + his one companion, an Indian, plied the poles, chilled to the bone but + never giving up, until at length an icy barrier formed across the river, + and they were compelled to abandon the raft.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[iii]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<p class="titlepage larger">ON TRAIL AND RAPID<br> +BY DOG-SLED & CANOE</p> + +<p class="center mid"><span class="smaller">THE STORY OF</span><br> +BISHOP BOMPAS’S LIFE AMONGST<br> +THE RED INDIANS AND ESKIMO</p> + +<p class="titlepage">TOLD FOR BOYS AND GIRLS</p> + +<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY THE</span><br> +REV. H. A. CODY, M.A.<br> +<span class="smaller">AUTHOR OF “AN APOSTLE OF THE NORTH”</span></p> + +<p class="titlepage">WITH TWENTY-SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS</p> + +<p class="titlepage"><i>SECOND EDITION</i></p> + +<p class="titlepage">TORONTO<br> +THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY<br> +LIMITED<br> +<span class="smaller">1912</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[iv]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[v]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2> + +</div> + +<p>I have been asked to write this narrative of the life of +Bishop Bompas for boys and girls. The scenes among which +his strenuous course was run—the lands of the Red Indians +and Eskimo—have always appealed to the imagination of +the young; and the endurance which he showed in his +amazing journeys, and the dauntless courage with which he +faced innumerable perils for his Master’s sake, give to his +labours a character of heroism which they will be sure to +recognize.</p> + +<p>I have been able to add some new matter to that which +appeared in “An Apostle of the North.” Part of the +chapter on “How the Bishop got his Mail” has been taken +from an article of mine which appeared in the <i>Pacific +Monthly Magazine</i> in 1908, and which the publishers have +kindly given permission to use.</p> + +<p>I am indebted to Miss Agnes C. Laut for extracts from +her most interesting book, “Pathfinders of the West.”</p> + +<p class="mt2">This work was begun at Whitehorse when the thermometer +stood at 60° below zero. It was continued a few weeks later +among the roses and orange groves of sunny California, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[vi]</span>is now completed in far Eastern Canada, at St. John, the +grey old loyalist city by the sea.</p> + +<p>I hope and trust that it may kindle in the hearts of some +of those who read it a longing to follow in the footsteps of +Bishop Bompas, and to volunteer, like him, for service in +these distant outposts of Christ’s Church militant here in +earth.</p> + +<p class="right">H. A. C.</p> + +<p><i>Easter, 1910.</i></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vii]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> + +</div> + +<table> + <tr> + <td class="tdr smaller">CHAPTER</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">I.</td> + <td>ROMANCE OF EXPLORATION</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">13</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">II.</td> + <td>EARLY DAYS</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">23</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">III.</td> + <td>FORWARD TO THE FRONT</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">31</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">IV.</td> + <td>IN DANGER AMONG THE ESKIMO</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">39</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">V.</td> + <td>ESKIMO LIFE</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">52</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VI.</td> + <td>OUT OF THE NORTH</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">62</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VII.</td> + <td>BACK TO THE WILDERNESS</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">70</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> + <td>A TERRIBLE JOURNEY IN WINTER</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">78</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">IX.</td> + <td>THE LITTLE ONES OF THE FLOCK</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">89</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">X.</td> + <td>A RACE WITH WINTER</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">97</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XI.</td> + <td>TIMES OF FAMINE</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">105</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XII.</td> + <td>MID DRIFTING ICE</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">114</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> + <td>INDIAN WAYS</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">121</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIV.</td> + <td>STIRRING DAYS AT FORTY MILE</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">140</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XV.</td> + <td>FLOODED OUT</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">148</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XVI.</td> + <td>HOW THE BISHOP GOT HIS MAIL</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">153</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XVII.</td> + <td>THE GOLDEN KLONDYKE</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">163</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XVIII.</td> + <td>THE MOUNTED POLICE</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">174</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIX.</td> + <td>“FAINT, YET PURSUING”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">185</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XX.</td> + <td>LIGHT AT EVENTIDE</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">194</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +</div> + +<table> + <tr> + <td>THE BISHOP AND AN INDIAN ON A RAFT</td> + <td class="tdpg" colspan="2"><a href="#illus01"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>CANOE-TRAVELLING IN NORTH-WEST CANADA</td> + <td class="tdc"><i>page</i></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus02">20</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A SNOW-HOUSE MADE ON THE MARCH</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus03">56</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>WINTER TRAVELLING. A MISSIONARY’S INDIAN HELPER</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus04">68</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>AN INDIAN ENCAMPMENT</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus05">74</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>DOG-SLED IN NORTH-WEST CANADA</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus06">80</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>FEEDING THE DOGS</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus07">84</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>THE MISSION SCHOOL AT CARCROSS</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus08">90</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>AN INDIAN BOY SLIDING DOWNHILL</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus09">94</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>THE DOGS RESTING AFTER A HARD DAY’S WORK</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus10">94</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>TROUT-SPEARERS BRINGING SUPPLIES FOR A MISSION STATION</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus11">108</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>AN INDIAN SUMMER CAMP AT PEEL RIVER</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus12">122</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>AN OLD INDIAN DESERTED BY HIS PEOPLE</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus13">126</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>TAKING THE MAIL INTO DAWSON IN SPRING</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus14">154</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>PACK-HORSE SUPPLIES IN 1898 </td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus15">158</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>GOAT-TEAM WITH SLED ON THE TRAIL, 1896</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus16">164</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A MINER’S GOLD-PAN</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus17">168</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>PROSPECTORS AND MINERS ON THE TRAIL</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus18">170</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>THE RUSH TO THE KLONDYKE. ONE OF MANY STRANGE CRAFT</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus19">172</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>BREAKING TRAIL</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus20">174</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>THE ROYAL NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus21">176</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>THE MOUNTED POLICE COOKING A MEAL</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus22">178</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>THE DAWSON—FORT MACPHERSON MAIL ROUTE</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus23">182</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>INDIAN BOYS AT WORK AND PLAY</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus24">190</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>ON THE TRAIL</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus26">194</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>THE BODY OF BISHOP BOMPAS TAKEN IN A BOAT FROM THE CHURCH + TO THE GRAVEYARD</td> + <td class="tdc">”</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus27">198</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[xi]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="AN_APOSTLE_OF_THE_NORTH">AN APOSTLE OF THE NORTH</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>Written by the author of this book, when he first saw Bishop Bompas +arrive at Whitehorse, in June, 1904.</i>)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We saw him come—there was no loud acclaim:</div> + <div class="verse indent2">He stood among the crowd, so frail and spare;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His humble garb marked his still humbler mien,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Whilst gently waved his scanty, silvery hair.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He stood alone, as stands some ancient pine</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Amidst a stirring land and busy mart,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And strove to grasp the new and unknown ways,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Which were so strange to his intrepid heart.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But as I gazed upon that trembling form,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And marked the lisping words which slowly fell,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A vision rose before me, grand and clear,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Which thrilled my soul like some sweet vesper bell.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I saw a lonely region, cold and drear,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I saw the sad wild natives of the North</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Pass slow before me, Christless, base, forlorn.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And as I thus beheld there passed straightforth</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A lonely man—ay, more than common man—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">’Twas one of God’s great heroes, brave and strong,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who gave up home and friends and comforts all,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And for Christ’s sake passed forth to conquer wrong;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In lonely wilds, in wigwams foul and drear,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Midst sickness, famine, plague, and sore distress,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He pressed straight on, true soldier of the Cross,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">His only aim to comfort and to bless.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">[xii]</span> </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And so he stands as stood his Master, Christ;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Brave leader he, no matter what the cost;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">True teacher he, whose every word was love;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Good Shepherd of God’s children strayed and lost.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And this we know, when broken lies the bowl,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The after-glow of his devoted life</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Will lead men on to do and dare for Christ,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And win for Him through darkness, pain, and strife.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span></p> + +<h1>ON TRAIL AND RAPID BY<br> +DOG-SLED AND CANOE</h1> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br> +<span class="smaller">ROMANCE OF EXPLORATION</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>The progress of civilization and Christianity in the Canadian +North-West, as in many other parts of the world, is due in +a large measure to great fur-trading companies. With a +wonderful devotion to the cause in hand, they pushed beyond +the bounds of civilization and entered regions never before +trodden by white man. They built forts, gained the respect +of savage tribes, and ruled them with a firm hand. By their +boats missionaries travelled over the noble streams into the +wilderness, ministered to the natives who gathered round the +forts, and received supplies from the companies’ stores.</p> + +<p>As friction between bodies produces heat, fire, and light, +so, by the rivalry of fur-trading companies, the northland of +Canada was opened up, and a new era ushered in. Eager to +outstrip one another, they were ever pushing farther and +farther into the country, and, as has been well said, “the +great explorers of the period (1763-1812) were all connected +with the fur trade.”</p> + +<p>Away to the north stretched a region, a land of wonder +and strange stories. Indians told of a “great river” in the +far North-West, and showed specimens of copper found along +its banks. The Hudson’s Bay Company, acting upon these +reports, decided to make a thorough investigation, with the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>object of solving the problem of the North-West Passage by +land, to ascertain what mines were near the mouth of the +Great River, “to smoke the calumet of peace with the +Indians, and to take accurate astronomical observations.”</p> + +<p>The man chosen for this work, Samuel Hearne, the +“Mungo Park of Canada,” was a trustworthy servant of the +Company, who, on November 6, 1769, started on his voyage +of exploration from Prince of Wales Fort, on the shore of +Hudson’s Bay. Owing to the desertion of over half his men, +the attempt proved a failure, and he was forced to turn back.</p> + +<p>Two months later he started again, and followed a northwesterly +course over streams, lakes, and then inland across +the “Barren Grounds.” Food was very scarce, and they were +reduced to great straits. “For a whole week cranberries, +scraps of leather, and burnt bones were their only food.” To +add to their troubles, when 500 miles had been made, their +only quadrant was blown over and broken. So again Hearne +was forced to retrace his weary steps to the Bay.</p> + +<p>Nothing daunted by these failures, this noble-hearted +explorer once more started on his northward quest. This +time he was more successful. With a strong band of Indians +who were waging war against the Eskimo, he floated down-stream, +and ere long gained the sea, the first white man to +reach the Arctic Ocean from the interior.</p> + +<p>“The most unpleasant part of Mr. Hearne’s story,” wrote +Bishop Bompas in his book on the “Diocese of Mackenzie +River,” “is that the party of Indians with whom he travelled, +entirely without his sanction, made an unprovoked attack on +a number of Eskimo encamped on the Coppermine River, +and in the night barbarously massacred the whole body of men, +women, and children, and spoiled their tents. The site of +the massacre became known afterwards as the ‘Bloody Falls.’”</p> + +<p>Miss Agnes C. Laut, in her most interesting book, “Pathfinders +of the West,” speaking about this incident, says:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span></p> + +<p>“The conduct of Hearne’s rascally companions could no +longer be misunderstood. Hunters came in with game; but +when the hungry slaves would have lighted a moss fire to +cook the meat, the forbidding hand of a chief went up. No +fires were to be lighted. The Indians advanced with whispers, +dodging from stone to stone like raiders in ambush. Spies +went forward on tiptoe. Then far down-stream below the +cataracts Hearne descried the domed tent-tops of an Eskimo +band sound asleep; for it was midnight, though the sun was +at high noon. When Hearne looked back to his companions, +he found himself deserted. The Indians were already wading +the river for the west bank, where the Eskimo had camped. +Hearne overtook his guides stripping themselves of everything +that might impede flight or give hand-hold to an +enemy, and daubing their skin with war-paint. Hearne +begged Matonabbee to restrain the murderous warriors. The +great chief smiled with silent contempt. He was too true +a disciple of a doctrine which Indians practised hundreds of +years before white men had avowed it—the survival of the fit, +the extermination of the weak—for any qualms of pity towards +a victim whose death would contribute profit. Wearing only +moccasins and bucklers of hardened hide, armed with muskets, +lances, and tomahawks, the Indians jostled Hearne out of +their way, stole forward from stone to stone to within a gun-length +of the Eskimo, then, with a wild war-shout, flung +themselves on the unsuspecting sleepers.</p> + +<p>“The Eskimo were taken unprepared. They staggered +from their tents, still dazed in sleep, to be mowed down by +a crashing of fire-arms which they had never before heard. +The poor creatures fled in frantic terror, to be met only by +lance-point and gun-butt. A young girl fell coiling at +Hearne’s feet like a wounded snake. A well-aimed lance had +pinioned the living form to earth. She caught Hearne round +the knees, imploring him with dumb entreaty; but the white +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>man was pushed back with jeers. Sobbing with horror, +Hearne begged the Indians to put their victim out of pain. +The rocks rang with the mockery of the torturers. She was +speared to death before Hearne’s eyes. On that scene of +indescribable horror the white man could no longer bear to +look. He turned toward the river, and there was a spectacle +like a nightmare. Some of the Eskimo were escaping by +leaping to their hide boats, and with lightning strokes of the +double-bladed paddles dashing down the current to the far +bank of the river; but sitting motionless as stone was an old, +old woman—probably a witch of the tribe—red-eyed as if +she were blind, deaf to all the noise about her, unconscious +of all her danger, fishing for salmon below the falls. There was +a shout from the raiders; the old woman did not even look up +to face her fate; and she, too, fell a victim to that thirst for +blood which is as insatiable in the redskin as in the wolf-pack.”</p> + +<p>“It is remarkable,” says Bishop Bompas, “that there is a +bird in those parts which the Indians there call the ‘alarm +bird,’ or ‘bird of warning’—a sort of owl which hovers over +the heads of strangers and precedes them in the direction +they go. If these birds see other moving objects, they flit +alternately from one party to the other with screaming noise, +so that the Indians place great confidence in the alarm bird +to apprise them of the approach of strangers, or to conduct +them to herds of deer or musk oxen.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Hearne remarks that all the time the Indians lay in +ambush, preparatory to the above-mentioned horrid massacre, +a large flock of these birds were continually flying about +and hovering alternately over the Indian and Eskimo tents, +making a noise to awake any man out of the soundest sleep. +The Eskimo, unhappily, have a great objection to being +disturbed from sleep, and will not be awakened—an obstinacy +which seems to have cost that band their lives.”</p> + +<p>Hearne, like Columbus, was not to have the honour of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>giving his name to the great river he discovered. This was +reserved for another intrepid explorer, Alexander Mackenzie, +of the North-West Company. In 1789 he started from Fort +Chipewyan, on Lake Athabasca, in search of the “Western +Sea.” He, too, was confronted with great difficulties. Wild +Indians told “of demon-haunted caves and impassable falls.” +Terrified by these tales, his Indians refused to go farther. +With infinite patience Mackenzie induced them to continue +seven days longer, and if in that time they did not discover +the sea, he promised to turn back. Before the end of the +week the mouth of the river was reached, and the explorer +knew it was the Arctic Ocean he had gained instead of the +Western Sea.</p> + +<p>“It is hard,” says Bishop Bompas, “to overpraise the intrepid +courage, cool prudence, and inquiring intelligence of +that noble traveller.... Sir Alexander Mackenzie took +the greatest pains to conciliate all Indians whom he met by +presents and promises of peaceful trade, and he energetically +restrained all attempts at murder or rapine made by the +Indians who accompanied him. He did not meet with +Eskimo, and it is little wonder that these and the Mackenzie +River Indians were shy of him, as it was then customary for +the Athabasca Indians to make annual war expeditions down +the Mackenzie for purposes of plunder, massacre, and rapine, +as well as for the kidnapping of women and slaves.”</p> + +<p>In after-years many eminent explorers, such as Franklin, +Richardson, Simpson, and Rae, entered the country, the +accounts of whose journeys and thrilling adventures may be +read elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Several years after the discovery of the Mackenzie River +trading-posts were established at various places along this +stream and its tributaries. To these the Indians brought +their furs, and a thriving business was carried on. For a +time there was a keen rivalry between the Hudson’s Bay +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>Company and the North-West Company, but at length a +union was effected under the name of the former.</p> + +<p>Not satisfied with the great advance which had thus been +made, these “lords of the forest and lakes” turned their +attention in another direction. Ever before their vision rose +the majestic peaks of the Rocky Mountains; beyond these +barriers were unknown regions. What possibilities lay in +that <i>terra incognita</i> they could only conjecture. News reached +them of a great river flowing to the west, the estuary of +which had been explored by the Russians several years before, +and named by them the “Quickpak.” This stream they +knew must drain a large territory, which might prove +valuable for fur-trading purposes.</p> + +<p>There was a man in the Company’s service especially fitted +for the task of pathfinder into the new region. This was +Robert Campbell, a Scotchman by birth, over six feet of +upstanding flesh, bone, muscle, and iron nerve, as dauntless +a pioneer as ever shot a swirling rapid or faced a howling +blizzard. To him, therefore, the task was consigned in the +spring of 1840 by Sir George Simpson, Governor of the +Company.</p> + +<p>At once he began the undertaking, and after a hard and +dangerous voyage up the Liard River, over lakes and portages, +a stream was reached, which Campbell named the Pelly, in +honour of Sir H. Pelly. A raft was hurriedly made, on +which they floated several miles down the river to view the +country. Considering they had gone far enough from their +base of supplies, they abandoned the raft, but not before +Campbell had cast into the stream a sealed tin can with +notice of his discovery, the date, and other information.</p> + +<p>The discovery of the Pelly River only served to increase +the interest of the Company, and it was resolved to push +forward the investigation. In 1842 birch-bark in sufficient +quantity for the building of a canoe was sent up to the Pelly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>River, and the same year the construction of a fur-trading +post was begun, and named Fort Pelly Banks. Early in +June, 1843, Mr. Campbell started down the stream in the +canoe which had been built, accompanied by two French +Canadians and an Indian interpreter.</p> + +<p>Concerning this exciting journey Mr. Campbell has given +us a vivid description which should be of great interest to all.</p> + +<p>“As we advanced,” he says, “the river increased in size, +and the scenery formed a succession of picturesque landscapes. +About twenty-five miles from Pelly Banks we encountered a +bad rapid—‘Hooles’—where we were forced to disembark +everything, but elsewhere we had a nice flowing current. +Ranges of mountains flanked us on both sides. On the right +hand the mountains were generally covered with wood; the +left range was more open, with patches of poplar running up +the valleys and <i>barnsides</i>, reminding one of the green brae-face +of the Highland glens. We frequently saw moose-deer +and bears as we passed along; and at points where the precipice +rose abrupt from the water’s edge, the wild sheep—‘big-horn’—were +often seen on the shelving rocks. They +were very keen-sighted, and when once alarmed they file +swiftly and gracefully over the mountains. When we chanced +to get one we found it splendid eating, delicate enough for +an epicure.</p> + +<p>“In this manner we travelled on for several days. We saw +only one family of Indians—‘Knife’ Indians—till we reached +the junction of the Pelly with a tributary, which I named +the ‘Lewes.’ Here we found a large camp of Indians—the +‘Wood’ Indians. We took them by no ordinary surprise, as +they had never seen a white man before, and they looked +upon us with some awe as well as curiosity. Two of their +chiefs, father and son, were very tall, stout, handsome men. +We smoked the pipe of peace together, and I distributed +some presents. They spoke in loud tones, as do all the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>Indians in their natural state, but they seemed kind and +peaceable. When we explained to them as best we could +that we were going down-stream, they all raised their voices +against it. Among other dangers, they indicated that inhabitating +the lower river were many tribes of ‘bad’ Indians—‘numerous +as the sand’—who would not only kill us, but +eat us; we should never get back alive, and friends coming +to look after us would unjustly blame them for our death. +All this frightened our men to such a degree that I had +reluctantly to consent to our return, which, under the circumstances, +was the only alternative. I learned afterwards +that it would have been madness in us to have made any +further advance, unprepared as we were for such an enterprise.</p> + +<p>“Much depressed, we that afternoon retraced our course +up-stream; but before doing so I launched on the river a +sealed can containing memoranda of our trip, etc. I was so +dejected at the unexpected turn of affairs that I was perfectly +heedless of what was passing; but on the third day of our +upward progress I noticed, on both sides of the river, fires +burning on the hill-tops far and near. This awoke me to a +sense of our situation. I conjectured that, as in Scotland in +the olden time, these were <i>signal fires</i>, and that they summoned +the Indians to surround and intercept us. Thus +aroused, we made the best use of paddles and ‘tracking-line’ +to get up-stream and ahead of the Indian signals. On the +fourth morning we came to a party of Indians on the further +bank of the river. They made signs to us to cross over, +which we did. They were very hostile, watching us with bows +bent and arrows in hand, and would not come down from the +top of the high bank to the water’s edge to meet us. I sent +up a man with some tobacco, the emblem of peace, to reassure +them, but at first they would hardly remove their hands from +their bows to receive it. We ascended the bank to them, and +had a most friendly interview, carried on by words and signs. +It required, however, some finesse and adroitness to get away +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>from them. Once in the canoe, we quickly pushed out and +struck obliquely for the opposite bank, so as to be out of +range of their arrows, and I faced about, gun in hand, to +observe their actions. The river was there too broad either +for ball or arrow. We worked hard during the rest of the +day, and until late; the men were tired out, and I made them +all sleep in my tent while I kept watch. At that season the +night is so clear that one can read or write throughout. +Our camp lay on the bank of the river, at the base of a +steep declivity, which had large trees here and there up its +grassy slope. In the branches of one of these trees I passed +the greater part of the anxious night, reading Hervey’s +‘Meditations’ and keeping a vigilant lookout. Occasionally +I descended and walked to the river-bank, but all was +still. Two years afterwards, when friendly relations had been +established with the Indians in the district, I learned, to my +no small astonishment, that the hostile tribe encountered +down the river had dogged us all day, and, when we halted +for the night, had encamped behind the crest of the hill, and +from this retreat had watched my every movement. With the +exactitude of detail characteristic of Indians, they described +me sitting in the tree, holding ‘something white’ (the book) +in my hand, and often raising my eyes to make a survey of +the neighbourhood; then descending to the river-bank, taking +my horn cup from my belt, and, even while I drank, glancing +up and down the river and towards the hill. They confessed +that, had I knelt down to drink, they would have rushed +upon me and drowned me in the swift current, and, after +thus despatching me, would have massacred the sleeping +inmates of my tent. How often, without knowing it, are we +protected from danger by the merciful hand of Providence! +Next morning we were early in motion, and were glad to +observe that we had outwitted the Indians and outstripped +their signal fires.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus02" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus02.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">Canoe-Travelling in North-West Canada</span></p> + <p class="p2">The canoes are made of birch-bark over a light framework, and are + consequently very frail. They are, however, light and portable, a + great advantage when navigating rivers with falls or rapids. Those + places where the canoe must be carried from one navigable piece + of water to another are known as portages.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>In the spring of 1848 Campbell once more returned, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>erected a post for trading purposes at the confluence of the +Lewes and Pelly Rivers. This place was called Fort Selkirk, +and occupied a dangerous position, owing to the animosity of +a tribe of Indians, known as the Chilcats, along the Pacific +Coast. From time immemorial they had kept the natives of +the interior in abject submission, having defeated them in a +great battle. They refused to allow them to cross the mountains +to trade with the white men on the coast, as they +themselves did a thriving business as “middlemen.” When +they beheld the hated white race establishing a post in what +they considered their rightful domain, and drawing away the +principal part of the trade, their anger knew no bounds. +Crossing the mountains, they floated down the river, and, +without a word of warning, attacked the fort and razed it to +the ground. Campbell was not present at the destruction of +his trading-post, as, two years after its erection, he had started +down the river to see, at any cost, what lay beyond.</p> + +<p>In the meantime another entry had been made into the +Yukon region away to the north. In 1842, Mr. J. Bell, in +the employ of the Hudson’s Bay Company, crossed the Rocky +Mountains, and descended the Porcupine River for three days’ +journey. In 1846 he returned, and moved down the river to +its mouth till he reached a great stream, which the Indians +told him was the Yukon. Believing this to be in British +territory, Mr. A. H. Murray established a trading-post at +this spot the following year, and called it Fort Yukon. It +was here that the first missionary work was carried on by +the Church Missionary Society, the scene of Archdeacon +McDonald’s wonderful labours for the Master.</p> + +<p>In this brief outline of the discovery of the Mackenzie and +the Yukon Rivers we have seen the brave efforts of these +noble pioneers. We shall see now how they were followed +by the great King’s messengers with the glorious Gospel of +salvation.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br> +<span class="smaller">EARLY DAYS</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>We all like to read about heroes, whether on sea or land. +How real they become to us as we picture them in our minds, +and eagerly follow their adventures! We wonder what they +did when boys, and if they performed wonderful things then. +Nothing is too small to be of importance when once we have +a real, noble hero.</p> + +<p>William Carpenter Bompas was a hero in the true sense of +the word—not one who gained his laurels by fighting on the +sea, or rushing forward, even to the bayonet’s point, in some +great charge. His glory was gained in a far different manner, +when he enlisted in the service of the great King of kings, +and carried the banner of the Cross over great Arctic regions +and grim, snow-capped mountains, to rescue wandering Indians +and Eskimo, and lead them to the Master’s feet.</p> + +<p>There was very little in his early life to show that he contained +the stuff of which heroes are made. He was a shy boy, +fond of retirement and study. But there was good blood in +his veins, and blood will tell. The family, on his mother’s +side, was partly Royalist and partly Puritan. One member +is known to have been private secretary to Henrietta Maria, +and was hung by the Parliamentarians for aiding Charles I.; +while another at one time was secretary to Hampden. We +shall see how the characteristics of these two great parties +were in later years remarkably united in William Bompas.</p> + +<p>The Bompas family is of French extraction, and there is an +interesting tradition which tells how the name was first given.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span></p> + +<p>It was on the field of Crecy that an ancestor performed a +deed of great valour in the fight, and was knighted by +Edward the Black Prince. A bystander remarked: “C’est +un bon pas.” And the Knight replied that he would take +that for his motto.</p> + +<p>How often young William Bompas must have listened with +intense eagerness to that story of his valiant ancestor, and +longed to do some great deed himself! Little did he then +think that he would be called upon to do more than all +before him, and the step that he was destined to take would +be the best of all.</p> + +<p>His father, Charles Carpenter Bompas, was a Serjeant-at-law, +and one of the most eminent advocates of his day. It is +said that the famous Charles Dickens had him in his mind +when he wrote about Serjeant Buzfuz in the “Pickwick +Papers.” When William was only ten years old, his father +died very suddenly, leaving a widow and eight children—five +sons and three daughters.</p> + +<p>William, in early youth, showed most plainly those +characteristics which marked his whole life. He was a quiet +boy, owing partly, no doubt, to private tuition at home, +which deprived him to a large extent of the society of other +boys. Cricket, football, and such games, he did not play, his +chief pleasure being walking, and sketching churches and +other buildings that he encountered in his rambles. Gardening +he was fond of, and the knowledge thus gained stood him +in good stead years later when planning for the mission-farms +in his northern diocese.</p> + +<p>The influence of a religious home made a deep and lasting +impression upon him. His parents were earnest Christians, +belonging to the Baptist denomination. Sunday was strictly +observed, the father making it a firm rule never to read briefs +or hold consultations on the Day of Rest. Bible-reading, +too, was carefully observed. Serjeant Bompas was a man of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>liberal views, allowing his children to indulge in harmless +amusements, and occasionally permitting them to attend the +theatre and to play cards, if not for money.</p> + +<p>William from childhood was of a deeply religious turn of +mind, and at the age of sixteen was baptized by immersion, +on a profession of his faith, by the Hon. and Rev. Baptist +Noel. This step caused his mother great joy, and after her +death the following was found among her many papers:</p> + +<p>“<i>July 7, 1850.</i>—This day I would record the mercy which +has rendered it one of peculiar blessing and happiness. The +favour and presence of God has been manifested to us again +during the past week, and I have enjoyed the best earthly +happiness in seeing my dear and dutiful son W. devote +himself unreservedly to the service of his Saviour. Having +conscientiously decided on baptism by immersion, he was +publicly baptized on the 5th by Mr. Baptist Noel, at his +chapel in John Street, and was at the same time admitted as +member of Mr. Stratten’s church, and to-day I have had the +privilege of partaking with him of that ordinance which I +trust will be most profitable to us both.”</p> + +<p>At this time William was attending a small day-school, +and the master, Mr. Elliott, wrote of him:</p> + +<p>“I never had a pupil who made such acquisitions of knowledge +in so short a time; his attainments in mathematics +and classics are far beyond the majority of youths at his +age, and would warrant anyone conversant with the state of +education in the Universities in predicting a brilliant career +for him, should he ever have that path open to him. I think, +however, that the development of his mind is still more +remarkable than the amount of his knowledge.”</p> + +<p>But a University career was not practicable, and William +was therefore articled in 1852 to the same firm of solicitors +with whom his brother George was working. At the expiration +of his five years of service he transferred himself to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>another city firm, Messrs. Ashurst, Morris and Company, +with whom he remained about two years. While here a +catastrophe occurred in the failure of a great company, +involving ruin to unnumbered families. The harrowing +spectacle of the poorer shareholders who brought their claims +into court, having lost their all without remedy, was a terrible +strain upon the young man’s nervous system, which had been +weakened by a severe illness but a short time before. This, +together with strenuous labour, brought on a second breakdown, +and early in 1858 he was forced to give up work +altogether. He declared that it took him three months to +learn to do nothing. During his year of inaction the Greek +Testament was his constant companion. Change of scene +became necessary, and he spent some time at his mother’s +home, Broughton, Hants, and later with his sister visited the +Normandy coast.</p> + +<p>“The summer after his illness,” writes his brother, Judge +Bompas, “we went on a walking tour to Scotland; and one +evening it got dark before we had reached our destination, +and we had to sleep out in the mountains with no shelter, +and amidst frequent showers of rain. William, though in +his weak health, was perfectly fearless and in great spirits, +repeating part of Macaulay’s ‘Lays’ and other poems for +much of the night.”</p> + +<p>As his strength returned, his mind turned more and more +to his early desire of entering the ministry. Leaving the +communion of his early associations, he decided to seek +ordination in the Church of England, and in 1858 was confirmed +by the Bishop of London at St. Mary’s, Bryanston +Square. His remarkable linguistic ability enabled him soon +to add by private study a good knowledge of Hebrew to that +of Latin and Greek, which he already possessed.</p> + +<p>In 1859 he was accepted by Dr. Jackson, the Bishop of +Lincoln, as a literate candidate for Holy Orders, and was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>ordained deacon by him at the Advent ordination the same +year, and appointed curate to the Rev. H. Owen, Rector of +Trusthorpe and Sutton-in-the-Marsh.</p> + +<p>The first charge was a trying experience. The parish of +Sutton was a wild district, with a rough and primitive +population, and most of the men had been smugglers in +former times. No school was established, and there had +been no resident clergyman since the time of the Reformation. +Mr. Bompas at once began a great work among the +children, gathering them into his own house, and teaching +them, at first by himself, and later with the help of his +sister and a girl from a neighbouring village. By his care +for the children, and by the unfailing sympathy shown in his +visits to his parishioners, he succeeded in winning their +gratitude and confidence. His plan for the erection of a +school was at first strongly opposed by some of the farmers, +who were unwilling to give land for the purpose. But +Mr. Bompas, with that tact and gentleness which marked all +his dealings, at length overcame opposition, and when he left at +the end of two years the building was completed and opened.</p> + +<p>“I can well remember,” writes one, in reference to the +young curate’s work at Sutton, “as quite a little child, how +he won my heart by carrying my poor pet-cat, that had been +hurt by a heavy piece of wood falling on it, into a place of +safety, and doing all he could to ease its pain. Also, about +the same time, in a heavy gale of wind, he was going out to +dinner at Mablethorpe, and, passing through Trusthorpe, +found a little girl blown into the thick black mud at the +side of a big drain, and unable to free herself. He not only +went to the rescue, but carried her to her home at the far +end of Sutton, regardless of dinner! The <i>once</i>,” continues +the same writer, “that he revisited Sutton and preached +there, the people lined the path from church to gate, and +stood waiting for him to leave the church, that they might +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>get a word as he passed—a very unusual demonstration from +our true but undemonstrative Lincolnshire folk of those days.”</p> + +<p>While at Sutton, in the second year of his clerical life, a +great sorrow came to Mr. Bompas in the death of his mother, +to whose bedside he was summoned in January, 1861. He +was devotedly attached to her, and was able to take part, +with the rest of his family, in ministering comfort to her +during her last days.</p> + +<p>In the midst of early discouragements, Mr. Bompas found +a valuable friend and helper in Mrs. Loft, of Trusthorpe Hall. +He was always sure of a hearty welcome at her house, and in +after-years she followed his course with the wannest interest, +and corresponded with him to the end of her life.</p> + +<p>In 1862 he accepted the curacy of New Radford, Nottingham, +a poor and crowded parish, populated largely by lace-workers. +The number of souls, about 10,000, within the small triangle +of New Radford was about the same as the population of the +vast diocese of 900,000 square miles of which he was later to +have episcopal supervision. To this circumstance he referred +when preaching in the parish on his return to England for +consecration in 1874.</p> + +<p>From Nottingham, Mr. Bompas went for a short time as +curate to Holy Trinity, South Lincolnshire, returning in 1864 +to his former neighbourhood as curate to the Rev. H. Oldrid +at Alford, Lincolnshire. As the earnest curate passed from +house to house in his daily work, his parishioners little thought +what a bright fire of enthusiasm was burning in his heart. +He had been much stirred by the stories told by missionaries +of heathen dying without the knowledge of Christ in far-away +lands, and he longed to go abroad and bear the message +of salvation. His mind turned to China and India, with +their seething millions; but as he was a little over thirty +years of age at that time, the Church Missionary Society +thought him rather old to grapple with the difficulties of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>Eastern languages. But when one door closes, another opens, +and at the right moment Bishop Anderson arrived from +Rupert’s Land, and made his great appeal for a volunteer to +relieve the Rev. Robert McDonald at Fort Yukon.</p> + +<p>It was on May 1, 1865, that this missionary Bishop was +touching the hearts of a large crowd at St. Bride’s, London, +England. He had travelled a long way to attend the anniversary +of the Church Missionary Society, and was preaching +the sermon which was destined to bear so much fruit. Bishop +Anderson was the bearer of a great message to the Church in +England. He had much to tell of the vastness of Canada, +and the great regions where the children of the wild lived and +died without the knowledge of Christ. He told of a lonely +mission-station on the mighty Yukon River, where a soldier +of the cross, the Rev. Robert McDonald, with health fast +failing, was standing bravely at his post of duty till someone +should relieve him. What thoughts must have surged through +his mind as he looked on the many upturned faces before him! +Who was there among those listeners willing to consecrate his +life to the Master’s work? Lifting up his voice, the Bishop +uttered these words, which have become so memorable:</p> + +<p>“Shall no one come forward to take up the standard of the +Lord as it falls from his hands, and to occupy the ground?”</p> + +<p>The service ended, the clergy retired, and the congregation +began to disperse. But there was one whose heart had been +deeply touched by the speaker’s words, and, walking at once +into the vestry, William Bompas, the Lincolnshire curate, +offered to go to Canada to relieve the missionary at Fort +Yukon.</p> + +<p>He was at once accepted by the Church Missionary Society, +and ordained to the priesthood by Bishop, afterwards Archbishop, +Machray, who had just been consecrated as successor +to Bishop Anderson.</p> + +<p>How little did those who attended that ordination service +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>realize the important part those two men would take in +Christ’s great work, or that among the heroes of the Church +in Canada in years to come no names would be held in greater +reverence than those of Machray and Bompas!</p> + +<p>Only three weeks did Mr. Bompas have in which to prepare +for his long journey; but they were sufficient, as he was +anxious to be on his way. So complete was his consecration +to the work before him that “he decided,” so his brother +tells us, “to take nothing with him that might lead back his +thoughts to home, and he gave away all his books and other +tokens of remembrance, even the paragraph Bible which he +had always used.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br> +<span class="smaller">FORWARD TO THE FRONT</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>Shortly after Mr. Bompas was accepted by the Church +Missionary Society, he went to Salisbury Square and inquired +how far it was to his mission-field, and the length of time +required for the journey. When told it was about 8,000 +miles, and that he was hardly likely to reach it that year, a +smile passed over his face as he replied, “I see I must start +with a small bag.”</p> + +<p>After he learned more about the country, a longing entered +into his heart to start as soon as possible, and reach Fort +Simpson, on the Mackenzie River, by Christmas Day. Was +such a thing possible? No one before had ever done it in +winter, and was it likely that the young, ardent missionary +would be the first to accomplish the task? With this determination, +Mr. Bompas was not long in making preparations +for his journey, and on June 30, 1865, he left London for +Liverpool, where he boarded the steamer <i>Persia</i>, bound for +New York.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bompas was surprised that this steamer burnt 100 +tons of coal daily; but now the Cunard liner <i>Mauretania</i> +burns 1,000 tons each day in 192 furnaces.</p> + +<p>He travelled in company with the Rev. J. P. and Mrs. +Gardiner and family and Miss M. M. Smith, who were going +to the Red River. There were many passengers, mostly +Americans, and for these an effort was made to hold service +the first Sunday, but the captain refused to give his permission. +On the following Sunday, however, they were more successful, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>and service was held in the saloon, attended by crew and +passengers. Tracts were also distributed among the sailors, +“accompanied by religious conversation.”</p> + +<p>Reaching New York on July 12, two days were spent at +the Astor House Hotel, where they had the exciting experience +of viewing a disastrous fire right across the street, when +a large block of buildings, including Barnum’s Museum, was +destroyed. From New York they proceeded to Niagara by +the Hudson River and New York Central Railway. On the +way Mr. Bompas spent one night at Rochester to see Captain +Palmer, of the American Telegraph Company.</p> + +<p>“He informed me,” wrote Mr. Bompas, “that a party of +explorers were already on their way to Fort Yukon from +Sidkar,⁠<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> on the Pacific coast, with the view of carrying out +the Company’s contract entered into with the Russian Government +for laying a telegraph-line through Siberia and across +Behring’s Strait, to join existing lines in America. Should +the Atlantic cable prove successful, the Yukon line would, I +suppose, complete the circuit of the globe.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bompas considered the American railways rather noisy +and jostling, and the large saloon carriages, holding about +sixty people, less pleasant than the English style. At the +same time, he thought the general arrangements were “good +and expeditious,” and admired the system of communication +throughout the train and the “booking through luggage by +duplicate ‘cheques’ or metal badges.”</p> + +<p>Leaving Niagara, they reached Chicago by way of Detroit. +Here were seen “many soldiers returning from the war, some +of them wounded, and most looking pale and sickly, reminding +one too plainly of the many who never returned.” From +Chicago they went by rail to La Crosse, and thence by steamer +to St. Paul. Here Dr. Schultz, a Red River merchant, and +afterwards Sir John Schultz, Lieutenant-Governor of Manitoba, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>was met, who conveyed their heavy luggage across the +plains in his ox-train, and proved in many ways of great +assistance.</p> + +<p>At St. Cloud the first difficulty presented itself. Since the +fearful Sioux massacre of 1862, people were in great dread all +over the country, and they found it impossible to get anyone +to convey them on towards Red River. After much trouble +and delay, they were forced to procure a conveyance for +themselves. Before leaving St. Cloud, they were told time +and time again to beware of the Indians, who were always +prowling around. “But,” said one informant, “they will +respect the English flag, and I advise you to take one along.” +Such a thing the party did not possess. But Mr. Bompas +was equal to the occasion; so, procuring some red and white +cotton, he soon formed quite a respectable banner, which was +fastened to a small flagstaff erected on the cart.</p> + +<p>Dr. Schultz had been overtaken some distance out on the +prairie, and when they had gone some way farther mounted +Indians appeared in sight, and, like the wind, one warrior +swept down to view the small cavalcade. Beholding the flag +of the clustered crosses, he gazed for a time upon the little +band, and, moving away, he left them unmolested.</p> + +<p>“On the whole, however,” said Mr. Bompas, “we travelled +without special discomfort, Dr. Schultz acting as guide. The +charge of the horses, making fires, cooking, encamping, driving, +etc., of course threw much work upon us, being without a +servant.”</p> + +<p>Reaching the Red River in safety, Mr. Bompas was much +pleased with the whole general appearance of the place.</p> + +<p>“The houses,” he wrote, “are cleanly and cheerful, and +new ones are being built. The settlement extends altogether +about twenty-five miles down the banks of the river. In this +distance there are five churches. The three which I saw are +well built and spacious. The schoolrooms, also, and parsonages +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>are of good size. Mr. Cowley was just removing into a +new house of a very substantial character.”</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Bompas had not long to wait, for the boats of +the great Hudson’s Bay Company were ready to start on their +long northern journey, and he was to go with them. There +were four boats, called a “brigade,” each rowed by seven or +eight men, “mostly Salteaux Indians, heathen, and unable to +speak English—a tribe much averse to Christianity.”</p> + +<p>Then northward fled that fleet of boats, across great inland +lakes, over hard portages where the freight had to be carried, +past the company’s posts, mission stations, and Indian encampments, +where services were held when possible.</p> + +<p>But winter was rapidly closing in upon them and threatening +the daring voyagers. Sixty-three days had they been out +from the Red River Settlement when Portage la Roche was +reached on October 12, and there they found they were too +late to meet any boat going farther north. Here was a +difficult situation, but Mr. Bompas was not to be defeated. +Engaging a canoe and two French half-breeds, he pushed +bravely forward. The journey was a hard one. In some +places they had to battle with drifting ice, and the water +froze to their canoe and paddles. Still they pressed on, all +day long contending with running ice, and the bleak, cold +wind whistling around them and freezing the water upon +their clothes. At night there was the lonely shore, the +camp-fire, the scanty meal, and the cold ground covered with +brush for a bed. The next day up and on again—the same +weary work, the same hard fight. Such was the struggle for +eight long days, till Fort Chipewyan, on Lake Athabasca, +was reached.</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Christie, the officer in charge of the post, gave +him a hearty welcome; here the warm stove sent out its +cheerful glow, and here, too, were to be found many comforts +for the winter months, if he would only stay and rest. But +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>no; it was ever up and on. Never before had such a man +stood within the fort. Who could conquer that northern +stream at such a season? But the missionary only smiled, +and asked for canoe and men. He was given a large craft and +three Indian lads.</p> + +<p>And once more that dauntless herald of the Cross sped +northward. For several days the trim canoe cut the water, +driven by determined arms. Then winter swept down in all +its fury; the river became full of floating ice, jamming, tearing, +and impeding their canoe. Axes were brought to bear; +they would cleave a passage. The missionary must not be +stopped. How they did work! The ice-chips flew; the spray +dashed and drenched them, and then encased their bodies +with an icy armour. Colder and colder it grew, and the river +became a solid mass from bank to bank. The canoe was +dragged ashore, and placed <i>en cache</i> on the bank with their +baggage. All around was the pitiless wild. It was a dreary +sight to this intrepid traveller, with winter upon him, the +bleak wilderness surrounding him, and very little food. The +enthusiasm of a less ardent spirit would have been completely +damped; but Mr. Bompas was made of sterner stuff, and +without delay he and his companions pushed forward through +the forest. On and on they travelled by a circuitous route, +through brushwood and thickets, with clothes torn, hands +and faces scratched and bleeding, and uncertain where they +were. Night shut down and wrapped them in its gloomy +mantle. All the next day they struggled forward, without +food, and again night overtook them. Still they staggered +on, and just when they were wearied to the point of exhaustion +the lights of Fort Resolution, on Great Slave Lake, +gleamed their welcome through the darkness.</p> + +<p>It was necessary for the traveller to remain here until the +ice in the lake became firm enough to cross with dogs and +snow-shoes. Mr. Lockhart, the Company’s officer, offered his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>hospitality, and during the delay Mr. Bompas continued busy +“in the preparation,” as he tells us, “of letters for the winter +express, which is despatched hence to the south in December, +and also in practising walking with snow-shoes, in preparation +for my journey forward.”</p> + +<p>After he had remained at Fort Resolution about a month, +“Mr. Lockhart kindly despatched him across the lake on +snow-shoes, with two men and a sledge of dogs.” Ice was +found drifting in the open lake, and they were obliged to +lengthen their course by following the shore very closely. +“However, by God’s help,” wrote Mr. Bompas, “we arrived +safely at the next post (Big Island) in five days, when I +was again hospitably entertained by the officer in charge, +Mr. Bird.”</p> + +<p>Here again he waited anxiously for the men from Fort +Simpson with the winter packet of mail. They arrived on +December 13, and four days later they started for Fort +Simpson, and the missionary with them. Could they make +the fort by Christmas Day? that was the question. Only a +short time remained in which to do it. Day after day they +sped forward. Saturday came, and still they were on the +trail, and the next would be Christmas Day. One hundred +and seventy-seven days had passed since leaving London, and +was he to lose after all, and so very near his destination? +But still the dogs raced forward, nearer and nearer, till, oh +joy! on Christmas morning the fort hove into sight. There +was the flag floating from its tall staff; there were the men +crowding around to give their welcome, and among them +stood that dauntless pioneer, the Rev. W. W. Kirkby, with +great surprise on his face, as Mr. Bompas rushed forward and +seized him by the hand.</p> + +<p>Great was Mr. Bompas’s delight in having accomplished +the journey, and reached the fort on that blessed day in time +for the morning service, and thankfully he wrote:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span></p> + +<p>“As I had especially wished to arrive by Christmas, I +could not but acknowledge a remarkable token that our +lives are indeed in God’s hand. It is hardly needful to say +how warm a welcome I received from Mr. Kirkby. When I +heard what a trying time he had passed through last fall in +consequence of the epidemic sickness among the Indians, I +felt very glad to have persevered in my efforts to reach him +this winter.”</p> + +<p>No less enthusiastically did Mr. Kirkby write to the +Church Missionary Society on June 3, 1886:</p> + +<p>“You will imagine, better than I can tell, what a delight +and surprise the unexpected arrival of Mr. Bompas was to us. +He reached us in health and safety on Christmas morning, +making the day too doubly happy by his presence and glad +tidings that he brought. He was a Christmas-box indeed, +and one for which we thank God with a full heart. The +entire unexpectedness of his coming caused us to see in it +more of the loving-kindness of our God. Such a thing as an +arrival here in winter is never thought of, nor had it ever +before occurred. After the boats leave here in the fall we +have no visitors from without the district until now, when +the waters are open again. Our dear brother deserves the +greatest credit for the way in which he persevered in getting +to us, and the accomplishment of his journey speaks much +for his energy and determination. A more auspicious day, +too, he could not have had for his arrival. He was just in +time for morning service, so that we had at once the happiness +of partaking of the Holy Communion together. Then +followed the Indian service, in which he expressed much +delight; and in the evening, like good Samuel Marsden of +old, he began his work by preaching from St. Luke xi. 10. +He remained with us until Easter, and then went on with the +packet-men to Great Bear Lake, where I trust God is doubly +blessing him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span></p> + +<p>“Fancy, it is not yet a year since he left England, and in +that short time he has travelled so far, entered upon his +work, and acquired enough of the language to be able to tell +to the Indians in their own tongue the wonderful works of +God. I admire that way of doing things exceedingly, and +would accord all honour to him who thus performs his +Master’s work.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br> +<span class="smaller">IN DANGER AMONG THE ESKIMO</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>People get very much excited over the North Pole explorations. +They praise, too, the few men of the Royal North-West +Mounted Police, who in these days patrol the Arctic coast +at the mouth of the Mackenzie River. But how few know +about the missionary heroes who have advanced into those +desolate regions, facing hardships and even death to bear the +Gospel message to the Eskimo living in those places. It +was Mr. Bompas who first went as a missionary to the Arctic +coast at the mouth of the Mackenzie River, and the story of +his experiences and narrow escape from death is one of the +most thrilling in missionary annals.</p> + +<p>On a journey to Fort Yukon he had met a number of +Eskimo at Fort McPherson, who requested him to go with +them down to the coast. He could not get these poor +creatures out of his mind, so in the spring he went back over +the mountains for the purpose of visiting them. These +natives, with their strange, uncouth manners, strongly appealed +to his noble nature, and he expressed his feelings for such in +the following beautiful words:</p> + +<p>“At the funeral of the great Duke of Wellington, it was +considered to be a mark of solemn respect that the obsequies +should be attended by one soldier from every part and +regiment of the British army; and it is a part of the Saviour’s +glory that one jewel be gathered to His crown from every +tribe of the lost human race. It is an honour to seek to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>secure for our Lord one such jewel from even the remotest +tribe.”</p> + +<p>Leaving Fort McPherson on April 18, 1870, Mr. Bompas +started down the river in company with two Eskimo, hauling +a small sled with blankets and provisions. On the way he +received a message from the Chief of the Eskimo telling him +to go back, as the natives “were starving and quarrelling, and +one had just been stabbed and killed in a dispute about some +tobacco.” But this message had no effect upon the missionary; +he was busy in his Master’s service, and he knew +that same Master would take care of His servant, and undaunted, +he pressed bravely forward.</p> + +<p>For three days they continued to travel without any +difficulty, camping at night on the river-bank, and making +a small fire of broken boughs. But the glare of the spring +sun was very severe, and Mr. Bompas was stricken with snow-blindness. +This affliction is one common in the North, and +only those who have themselves suffered on the trail can +fully realize what it means.</p> + +<p>“As the sun rises higher,” wrote Mr. Bompas, “and has +more power in the months of March and April, to walk long +over the snow in the sunlight becomes distressing to the eyes +from the dazzling brightness. This is especially the case in +traversing a wide lake or in descending a broad river, where +there are no near forests of dark pines to relieve the gaze, +but an unbroken expanse of snow.</p> + +<p>“The effect of this is to produce, after a time, acute inflammation +of the eyes. These, in the end, may be so entirely +closed as to involve a temporary blindness, accompanied by +much smarting pain.... The voyager feels very helpless +during the acute stage of snow-blindness, and, like Elymas +the sorcerer, or St. Paul himself, he ‘seeks some one to lead +him by the hand.’”</p> + +<p>For three days in awful darkness he was led by the hand +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>of the native boy, making about twenty-five miles a day, till +the first Eskimo camp was reached. It was only a snow-house, +and to enter it with closed eyes, stumbling at every +step, was a most disagreeable introduction.</p> + +<p>A description of what a snow-house is like is given by the +Rev. Mr. Whittaker, who years afterwards lived among the +Eskimo at Herschel Island.</p> + +<p>“I remained,” he says, “at the village [Kitligagzooit] just +two weeks, and a most uncomfortable time it was, principally +on account of the cold. They are all in snow-houses now, +and the temperature required to preserve a snow-house will +not conduce to a white man’s comfort. I suffered constantly +and almost unremittingly with cold hands and feet, and no +amount of clothing would keep them warm. My blood +appeared to stagnate and afford me no heat. The intense +cold made me ravenously hungry, and although deer meat +was plentiful, I craved fat, and at length was tempted to try +some of the white whale that had lain in the ground since +summer. It was strong, even burning my throat, but after a +little I ate it with relish. It is eaten about half-frozen—raw, +of course.</p> + +<p>“In the house where I stayed were two Huskie families, +seven of them and myself all in one room about the size of +an ordinary bedroom. There we ate, drank, slept, and lived +the daily round. The houses are just such as you may see in +any pictures of Arctic scenes. There is no fire in them +except the big seal-oil lamp, over which they do much of +their cooking.”</p> + +<p>And yet such sufferings were little considered by Mr. Bompas. +“They are delights,” he once said. “The first footprint on +earth made by our risen Saviour was the nail-mark of suffering, +and for the spread of the Gospel I, too, am prepared to +suffer.”</p> + +<p>After one day of rest in the snow-house, he recovered his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>sight, and then, moving forward, reached another camp. His +appearance at each place, so he tells us, “excited a great +deal of observation and curiosity, as they had never had a +European among them in the same way before.”</p> + +<p>In this camp he was disturbed “by yelling and dancing” +on the very spot where he was lying. This was caused by an +old woman “making medicine—that is, conjuring in order to +cure a man who was, or was thought to be, sick.” Mr. Bompas, +unable to stand the terrible confusion, tried to stop them by +saying that medicine-making was all a wicked lie, whereupon +the old woman threw herself upon the missionary, and in no +gentle manner vented upon him her wrath. After this he +left the place and betook himself to another camp, where he +lay down and “enjoyed a good night’s rest.” Next morning, +seeing the man who was the cause of all the trouble, Mr. Bompas +found he was suffering from a sore head, for which he gave +him a “small piece of soap and a few grains of alum to rub +it with.” When he saw the man some time later, he was +told that his conjuring was very strong.</p> + +<p>What a forlorn hope lay before this missionary in trying +to uplift and save such wild, uncouth creatures, who were +ever around him! Yet there were many things which +appealed to him. He looked deeper than the mere surface, +and, studying them very carefully, saw there was much cause +for encouragement. He noticed how ingenious the Eskimo +was in the formation of implements “out of any old iron +which he is able to obtain, such as files, saws, etc., from which +he will forge variously shaped knives, gimlets, and other +tools, with which he constructs his boats and canoes, as well +as arrows, bows, spears, fishing-hooks, nets and tackle, sledges, +and all other implements for the chase, as well as furniture +for his tent.”</p> + +<p>Then he watched his skill in building the snow-house, +which he could “compare to nothing but the skill of the bee +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>in making its honeycomb.... The snowy material is so +beautiful that the work proceeds as if by magic. The blocks +of frozen snow are cut out of the mass with large knives, and +built into solid masonry, which freezes together as the work +proceeds, without the aid of mortar. Being arched over, a +dome-shaped house is formed, with a piece of clear ice for +a window, and a hole, through which you creep on all-fours, +for a door or entrance. One-half of the interior is raised +about two feet, and strewn with deer-skins as beds and sofas, +on which the long nights are passed in sleep, for which an +Eskimo seems to have an insatiable capability and relish.” +People who were so clever and artistic, he well knew, must +have a love for the beautiful, and were capable of higher +things.</p> + +<p>He studied their religious instincts, and found they were +very low. They were addicted to lying, stealing, and even +stabbing. “They practised heathen dances, songs, and conjuring, +and placed much dependence upon spells and charms.” +And yet, sifting all this, he found they believed in two spirits: +one “an evil, named Atti, which seems to symbolize cold +and death, and which they seek to exorcise or appease by +their charms and spells; the other, a dim idea of a good +spirit connected with the sun, as the source of warmth and +life.” Their faint idea of heaven was that of a “perpetual +spring, and the name they give to ministers who bring them +tidings of the world above is ‘Children of the Sun.’” He +also learned that they possessed a tradition of the Creation, +and of the descent of mankind from a single pair.</p> + +<p>Though he found them at times very treacherous, yet there +was a spirit of true hospitality still existing, which he felt +could be fanned into a flame, and which would work a great +change. His own difficulty was the language, and he maintained +that the best hope would be to bring a Christian +Eskimo from Labrador, as the Moravian missionaries there +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>and in Greenland had mastered the language in the course of +many years’ labour.</p> + +<p>Though the language was a great obstacle, still Mr. Bompas +determined to do the best he could. He collected many +Eskimo words, and, with his remarkable linguistic ability, +made fair progress in a short time. He found they expressed +great willingness to be taught, and he says:</p> + +<p>“They have received the little instruction I have been able +to give them with great thankfulness. At the same time, +their ignorance and carelessness are so great that they seem +quite unable at present to apprehend the solemnities of +religion. The chief idea they have in seeing my books is to +wish that they could be metamorphosed into tobacco, and, +indeed, at present smoking seems to be the sole object of +their lives.”</p> + +<p>He accompanied them on their various hunting and fishing +journeys, and lost no opportunity of studying them and +winning their affection. He stood by their side as they fished +for hours through holes in the ice, and, observing their great +patience, he himself became strengthened in the greater task +of fishing for souls, and expresses the thought in the following +words:</p> + +<p>“We may admire the patience of an Eskimo fishing for +hours over the blow-hole for a seal; and such should be the +perseverance of a watcher for souls. ‘Lord, we have toiled +all night, and have taken nothing; nevertheless, at Thy word +I will let down the net.’”</p> + +<p>During the cold weather Mr. Bompas slept with the +Eskimo in their small, crowded houses, and the inconvenience +he suffered must have been great, as the following words will +show:</p> + +<p>“The Eskimo sleep in their tents between their deer-skins, +all together in a row extending the whole breadth of the +tent; and if there are more than enough for one row, they +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>commence a second at the foot of the bed, with the head +turned the other way. For myself, I always took care to +commence the second row, keeping to the extremity of the +tent, and thus generally rested without inconvenience, except, +perhaps, a foot thrust occasionally into my side. At the same +time, it must be confessed that the Eskimo are rather noisy, +often talking and singing a great part of the night, especially +the boys; and if any extra visitors arrive, so that the tent is +overfull, it is not exactly agreeable.”</p> + +<p>When the warmer weather arrived, Mr. Bompas began to +camp by himself outside, and found it much better. The +days became so long that he found it difficult to tell what +time of the day or night it was, as he “thought it most +prudent” not to carry his watch with him. Seldom did the +missionary speak of his hardships; but, reading between the +lines of the few words he utters, one can see they were of no +ordinary nature.</p> + +<p>In a letter to Mrs. Loft, in England, Mr. Bompas gave a +vivid description of these Eskimo.</p> + +<p>“It would be easy for you to realize,” he wrote, “and even +experience, the whole thing if so minded. First go and sleep +a night in the first gipsy camp you can find along some road-side, +and that is precisely like life with the Indians. From +thence go to the nearest well-to-do farmer and spend a night +in his pig-sty (with the pigs, of course), and this is exactly +life with the Eskimo. As this comprises the whole thing in +a nutshell, I think I need give you no further description. +The difficulty you would have in crawling or wriggling into +the sty through a hole only large enough for a pig was +exactly my case with the Eskimo houses. As to the habits +of your companions, the advantage would be probably on +the side of the pigs, and the safety of the position decidedly +so. As you will not believe in the truth of this little simile, +how much less would you believe if I gave you all particulars! +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>So I prefer silence to exposing myself to your incredulity; +but if I had to visit them again, I should liken it rather to +taking lodgings in the den of a polar bear. The first time, +in God’s good providence, he did not show his claws.</p> + +<p>“Harness yourself to a wheelbarrow or a garden-roller, +and then, having blindfolded yourself, you will be able to +fancy me arriving, snow-blind and hauling my sledge, at the +Eskimo camp, which is a white beehive about six feet across, +with the way a little larger than that for the bees.... +As to one’s costume, you cannot manage that, except that a +blanket is always a good cloak for us; but take a large +butcher’s knife in your hand, and that of itself will make you +an Eskimo without further additions.</p> + +<p>“If you will swallow a chimneyful of smoke, or take a few +whiffs of the fumes of charcoal, you will know something of +the Eskimo’s mode of intoxicating themselves with tobacco, +and a tanyard will give you some idea of the sweetness of +their camps. Fat, raw bacon, you will find, tastes much like +whale blubber, and lamp oil, sweetened somewhat, might pass +for seal fat. Rats you will doubtless find equally good to +eat at home as here, though without the musk flavour; but +you must get some raw fish, a little rotten, to enjoy a good +Eskimo dinner.</p> + +<p>“Fold a large black horse’s tail on the top of your head, +and another on each side of your face, and you will adopt +exactly the Arctic lady’s head-gear; then thrust a knife +through the centre of each cheek, and leave the end of the +knife-handle permanently in the hole, and you will experience +the agreeable comfort of the Arctic cheek ornament. After +this, get a dozen railway trucks tackled together, and load +them with large and small tow-boats, scaffold-poles, a marquee, +three or four dead oxen, the contents of a fishmonger’s +stall and of a small rag-shop, and then harness all your +family, and draw the trucks on the rails from Alford to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>Boston, with a few dogs to help, and thus you will have a +very close resemblance to an Eskimo family travelling in +winter with their effects over the frozen ice. As I have +formed one of the haulers on such an expedition, I speak +from personal experience.”</p> + +<p>Writing to his brother George, he says:</p> + +<p>“Do you know that the Eskimo took me for a son of Cain, +probably Mahujael, for they said on my visit that in the first +family in the world two brothers quarrelled, and the one +killed the other, and the murderer had to wander away, and +they concluded that the white men who now came to meet +them were probably sons of the murderer.”</p> + +<p>Several years later, referring to these Eskimo, he wrote:</p> + +<p>“Both the Rev. Mr. Canham and myself often showed the +Eskimo the <i>Illustrated London News</i>, when, on meeting with +an elephant, they would recognize it, apparently by its trunk, +exclaiming ‘Kaleh!’ as an exclamation of surprise. The +interpreter, an Eskimo, who speaks English well, told me +that they knew the animal, because, though not now alive in +their country, they thought it was not long since it was so +from finding its body or skeleton. As elephant bodies are +known to have been found on the Siberian coasts, it is still +less strange that they should be found near the Mackenzie, +for the current sets eastward from Behring’s Strait. The +bodies might, however, lie embedded in the ice for thousands +of years without decomposition, and may have been floated +hither at the time of the flood.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bompas gives an amusing account of the food he ate, +but from the description, how disagreeable it must have been! +Bishop Reeve made a visit in 1892 to a tribe of Eskimo, known +as Huskies, eastward along the shore of the Mackenzie River.</p> + +<p>“The men were all out hunting whales,” he wrote, “but +the women and children soon came around and gazed at the +strange white man. In the evening the men came in. They +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>had had a successful day’s hunt, and hauled home many +whales. The whales they catch here are white whales, +averaging from eight to fifteen feet in length, and very stout. +These they cut up into about six pieces. Then they skin +these pieces, and put the fat or blubber into bags, and hang +up the meat to dry, first cutting it into slices. This is the +work of the women. The fins and tails seem to be considered +delicacies, and are eaten raw. Some of the fat and meat is +stowed away in caches for winter use. These caches are small +holes in the ground, about five feet deep, sometimes lined with +logs, but generally without any lining except the frost. The +whale meat becomes very strong after being in these a while +in the summer, and then it is ready to eat. One day, sitting +in one of the tents, while the Huskies were having one of their +many meals, I was given a delicious piece of fin—at least, by +the way the natives were devouring it, I thought it must be +delicious. I cut off a very small piece and put it into my +mouth. The Huskies were watching to see how I would like +it. I slipped the rest into my pocket, and after a while +slyly got that piece out of my mouth. I suppose they thought +I had eaten some, but I had not, and I nearly lost my dinner +in the bargain. The thought of that delicious whale-fin +haunted me for days; but then it was raw, and had not been +pickled in a cache for several days.”</p> + +<p>For a time things went very well with Mr. Bompas, and +he was allowed to move from place to place and teach the +simple truths of the Gospel as far as he was able. But the +cruel conjurers, or medicine-men, were watching him with +suspicious eyes. They did not like the man to be in their +midst with the new teaching, and they therefore determined +to get rid of him. Now the Eskimo have a great dread of +evil spirits. So one day the conjurers made the startling +announcement that evil spirits were in the camp, and that +the white man was the cause of them. They determined, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>therefore, to drive them out, and also to drive out the +missionary from their midst. Mr. Bompas was trying to +sleep in one of the houses when the medicine-men began to +dance and conjure about him. Finding it impossible to get +any rest, Mr. Bompas went outside, and there rolled himself +up in his blanket. The conjurers followed him, and continued +their diabolical noise. “Only those,” says Bishop Stringer, +“who have seen the Eskimo conjuring dance can realize +how wild and savage it is, and how desolate a feeling it +brings to one not accustomed to it.”</p> + +<p>For a while they continued the noise, and several times +they jumped upon the missionary in order to enforce their +meaning, but the Heavenly Father was watching, and delivered +His faithful servant. After a while the medicine-men said +they had accomplished their purpose, and would let the white +man live.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Bompas did not put much dependence on these +words, and knew that at any time they might turn upon him +and tear him to pieces. This they attempted to do not long +after. It happened, when the ice had gone out of the +Mackenzie River, the Eskimo began to move up-stream to +trade with the Hudson’s Bay Company at Fort McPherson, +taking the missionary with them. It was a voyage of +250 miles, and much ice was encountered. For days they +made slow progress, and laboured hard. Then they became +angry with one another, and, stirred by the jealous medicine-men, +also cast threatening glances upon the white man in +their midst. They imagined that in some way he was the +cause of all their trouble, and angry glances were followed +by threatening gestures, and Mr. Bompas realized the situation +was most critical. One night, after a day of unusually +hard work—when little progress had been made—the natives +became so hostile that Mr. Bompas feared they would take +his life ere morning. But, notwithstanding the impending +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>danger, the faithful servant committed himself to the Father’s +keeping, and, wearied out, soon fell asleep.</p> + +<p>His great friend among the Eskimo was the old chief, +Shipataitook by name, who had at the first invited him to +visit them, offered the missionary the use of his camp, and +entertained and fed him with the greatest kindness and +cordiality. He had taken such a fancy to the brave young +white man that he could not see him murdered without +making an effort to save him. He had heard the threatening +words, and when the plotters were about to fall upon their +victim, he told them to wait, as he had something to tell +them before they proceeded farther. Then he began a +strange story which, falling upon the ears of the naturally +superstitious natives, had a great effect. He told them he +had a remarkable dream the night before. They had moved +up the river, and were almost at Fort McPherson; and as +they approached they saw the banks lined with the Hudson’s +Bay Company’s men and Indians, all armed ready to shoot +them down in the boats if they did not have the white man +with them. When this story was told, all plotting ceased; +and in the morning, when Mr. Bompas awoke, he found no +longer angry glances cast upon him, but the natives were +attentive in their care.</p> + +<p>On June 14 the ice left them, and the river became clear, +and without more detention they continued on their way, +“and arrived safely, by God’s help,” says Mr. Bompas, “at +Peel’s River Fort on June 18, about midnight.”</p> + +<p>Here a most hearty welcome was given him by Mr. Andrew +Flett, the officer in charge of the Fur Company’s post, and +of him Mr. Bompas wrote in the following words:</p> + +<p>“His influence over the Eskimo, as well as the Indians, +has been very beneficial, for the whole time of his residence +among them—now nearly ten years—and by consistent and +honourable conduct, as well as by his attention to the duties +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>of religion, he has done much to assist the work of the +missionary. Of his personal kindness to myself I have had +much experience during the past twelve months.”</p> + +<p>In this beautiful heart-felt testimony to the work and +kindness of one man we see how the missionary was cheered +in his great labour by earnest words of sympathy and an +ever-open door of hospitality, where he could rest from his +great journeys. To Mrs. Flett also Mr. Bompas was greatly +indebted, for in the study of the Louchieux language she +gave him much material aid. Upon the lay members of the +Church of Christ devolves a noble work in cheering the hearts +and upholding the hands of their leaders in their strenuous +battle against the powers of darkness.</p> + +<p>Never again was Mr. Bompas able to visit that band of +Eskimo along the Mackenzie River, but he ever held them +in mind, and often his heart went out to them, and he +declared that “there was nothing warmer than the grasp of +a Husky’s hand.”</p> + +<p>His visit had not been in vain. He had lived among them, +shared their humble camps, and, though they could not +understand him, nor fully comprehend his message, yet they +could understand his love for them, and long years after they +spoke of him in the highest terms.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br> +<span class="smaller">ESKIMO LIFE</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>“Squatted on a polar-bear skin, with a deer-skin for a desk,” +was the way in which Mr. Bompas wrote the following +interesting description of the Eskimo he visited. It was +written by the camp-fire, under the open sky, with the +Eskimo all sitting around, working at their canoes, nets, +fishing-lines, bows and arrows. Often they would thrust +their inquisitive faces over his paper, asking over and over +again what he was writing about.</p> + +<p>“This race of Eskimo inhabit the coast of the Arctic Sea +at the north of the great River Mackenzie. In spring and +fall they ascend the river in their skin boats for about 200 +miles, and trade fox and bear skins for tobacco and iron +kettles, etc., at the nearest post of the Hudson’s Bay Company +on Peel’s River.</p> + +<p>“In person and stature the race is a fine one. The men +are, many of them, tall and powerful, some more than six feet, +the average stature exceeding, I should say, that in England. +The women are smaller, probably of about the same average +stature as English women. The complexion and features are +not unlike the English. Several of the Eskimo, both men +and women, had I met them at home in European costume, I +should hardly have taken for foreigners. Others, again, have +a more distinguishing cast of countenance. The men’s hair is +cut short across the forehead. The face is square, forehead +prominent, eyebrows horizontal, nose straight, mouth large. +Some have a short beard, but most are without it. They +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>have a circular tonsure on the top of the head, similar to +that of Romish priests, and the men wear bones through +their cheeks, intended for ornament. A hole is bored through +each cheek near the lower lip as soon as a youth approaches +manhood, and through this is thrust a large button of ivory +(walrus tusk), and the ambition of an Eskimo is to have fixed +to this white button half a blue bead of the size of a man’s +finger-end. To possess one of these glass beads, which I +suppose could be had in England for a penny, they are willing +to give two black fox-skins, each of which might sell in +England for £50. To drive this advantageous bargain, however, +they are obliged to convey their furs many hundred +miles along the coast westward towards Behring’s Straits, +where other tribes of Eskimo are visited by American trading-vessels +from the Pacific. This cheek ornament (called <i>totuk</i>) +is, of course, a great disfigurement. It enlarges the mouth, +and causes inconvenience to the wearer both in speaking and +eating. Such, however, are the demands of Eskimo fashion.</p> + +<p>“The women have also a peculiar custom of wearing large +bundles of hair on the top and sides of their head. It perhaps +can hardly be properly called false hair, as it probably once +had connection with the head which carries it. But the +present want of continuity is manifest, as the large bundles +are often laid aside for a time at night. I presume that all +the hair which ever grew on the head is carefully preserved +and added to the stock, as it seems to increase with the age +of the wearer. This is also an inconvenient and disfiguring +custom, but probably the Eskimo women would consider some +of our home fashions more absurd.</p> + +<p>“The dress of the Eskimo is handsome. It consists of +shirt, coat, and trousers, usually of deer-skin, and fringed +with the long hair of the wolf and wolverine. Their favourite +head-dress is the skin of a wolverine’s head, surrounded with +blue beads, over which is worn the hood of the coat, with a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>wide fringe of wolf or wolverine hair. Their boots are of +otter and seal skin. The sheep and musk-rat also occasionally +contribute their skins towards the clothing of an Eskimo. +The clothes are, of course, made by the women, and not without +considerable taste, ornamented with blue beads, of which +they are very fond, and strips of the white hair of the deer +being sewn into the brown by way of braiding. The coat is +shaped like a shirt. Sometimes the hair is turned inside +towards the skin of the wearer, and this affords greater +warmth. The animal’s skin which is thus turned outside is +then dressed so as to be quite white, and, when well beaded, +makes a showy appearance.</p> + +<p>“The dress of the women is very similar to that of the +men, the coat and trousers of the same material, the chief +difference being in the shape of the hood, which, in the case +of the women, is made larger, to enclose their extra store of +hair, and thus better protect their face. The women also +wear no boots, but the trousers and shoes are all in one.</p> + +<p>“The Eskimo is seldom seen without a large butcher’s knife +in his hand, which, in case of a quarrel, he unhappily uses too +often to stab his neighbour. His weapon for hunting on land +is the bow, as guns have not yet come into much use among +them. On the water fish-spears of various construction are +his constant companions.</p> + +<p>“The Eskimo bow is very strong, and its elasticity is increased +by being backed with lines of twisted sinew. The +arrows are well made and feathered, headed with bone or iron +according to the game intended to be shot. The fish-hooks +are generally of bone, and sometimes baited as at home. But +for some fish no bait at all is used. The shank of the hook +of white bone is carved into the shape of a small fish, and is +thus mistaken for a bait. It is armed with a small iron barb +which secures the prey. The fish-spears are pointed with iron, +and lie on the outside of their canoes. One spear with three +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>prongs, like a hay-fork or trident, is used for hunting musk-rats +in the river, and is thrown from the canoe out of a +wooden handle or rest. The fishing-lines, and even nets, are +made often of whalebone, as also are partridge-snares, etc. +In fact, whalebone is used chiefly for tying and fastening the +canoe frames, spear-heads, etc.; the only other kind of line +they have, made of twisted sinew, being not well fitted for use +in the water. Whalebone seems a strange material to form +into fishing-nets, but it is split thin and cleverly netted to the +length of several yards, and about one yard in width. The +other lines, made of sinew, are very neatly plaited to the +length of 100 yards or more, forming a very strong fine cord, +used for fishing-nets, bow-springs, and various purposes.</p> + +<p>“The construction of boats or canoes is part of an Eskimo’s +employment in spring. The boat or canoe frame is first +made out of a log of drift-wood, split up by means of bone +wedges into the required lengths. Each is carefully shaped, +smoothed, and finished by what are called in this country +crooked knives—that is, a knife with a blade slightly bent, +and used for shaving wood instead of a smoothing-plane. +The canoe is then covered with otter-skin and the boat with +seal-skin. The shape of an Eskimo canoe is well known. It is +about twelve feet long, and is entirely covered with otter-skin, +except the small hole in the centre in which the Eskimo sits +with his double and single paddles, and spears laid carefully +in ivory fittings on the outside of the canoe.</p> + +<p>“The boat is from twenty to thirty feet long, and covered +with seal-skin, which is very strong, and forms a most serviceable +vessel. The wooden framework on which the skin is +stretched appears slight, but is securely fastened. This is +an open boat propelled by two oars, and, when the wind is +favourable, by a sail. As the men travel generally in their +canoes for the sake of hunting, it is chiefly the women and +children who remain in the boat, which conveys the tents, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>furniture, utensils, etc. As the women row but very leisurely, +the progress made is rather slow; but the men are employed +in hunting, and time is not often of much importance to an +Eskimo.</p> + +<p>“The dwellings of the Eskimo consist in winter of snow-houses +built on the ice, in summer of deer-skin tents, and in +the autumn, or fall, of wooden huts, partly underground, and +covered with earth. The chief home of the Eskimo is on the +ice. Here he passes at least half the year, and it is to this +that his habits are chiefly adapted. In building his snow-house +he shows a wonderful readiness, which I can compare +to nothing but the skill of a bee in making its honeycomb. +In the Eskimo country the fallen snow on the wide river-mouths, +after being driven by the wind, becomes caked or +frozen so as to have considerable tenacity, and at the same +time to be readily cut with the knife. The Eskimo then, +with his large butcher’s knife, cuts out square blocks of this +frozen snow as it lies on the face of the river, of the size of +ordinary blocks of stone masonry, and with these he builds +the house perfectly circular, of the shape of a beehive. With +no tool but the knife, which is used as a trowel, he works +with surprising rapidity, and the whole is arched over without +any support from beneath, except perhaps a single pole +during the construction. Any architect or mason at home +would, I suppose, be astonished to witness the work, and +might fail in imitating it, for without line or plummet and +square, or measurement, the circular span and arch are exactly +preserved, and the whole is finished in the space of a single +hour. The work proceeds as if by magic, the snow forming +stone and mortar both in one, for each block, when laid to its +neighbour, adheres and freezes to it so as to form one solid +mass, while the least touch of the knife shapes it and removes +any superfluous juttings. The weight of a single building +block is just such as a man can readily lift. In building the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span>walls of the house the work is simple, but in arching over the +roof it would seem impossible to proceed without support or +framework below. In fact, however, a single staff only is +placed under a block added to the roof just until the next +block is placed in juxtaposition. The adherence of the two +blocks is then sufficient to prevent any danger of falling, the +staff is removed, and the same thing repeated with the ensuing +block, until the whole is completed by working the tiers of +snow spirally.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus03" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus03.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">A Snow-House made on the March</span></p> + <p class="p2">These houses have the advantage of costing nothing but time and labour + to make. The “bricks” are large slabs of frozen snow cut in such a shape + that they converge until they form a perfect dome. A hole large enough + for a man to crawl in on his stomach is left as a doorway. The dogs are + the draught animals of the frozen North; they are hard and untiring + workers, but of very irritable temper. Their usual fare is fish.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“An Eskimo in winter travelling builds a small snow-house +every night for his lodging, but when encamped for any length +of time he makes one of considerable dimensions. One in +which I lodged was about twelve or fourteen feet in diameter, +and about nine feet high in the centre from the level of the ice. +Half of the interior is occupied by the bed, which is raised +about three feet from the ice on snow covered with boards, on +which are laid ample deer-skin rugs for bedding; over these +are again deer-skin blankets for covering.</p> + +<p>“Opposite the bed is the small, low entrance, shaped like +that into a dog-kennel, through which you have to creep on +all-fours. This at night is covered up with a block of snow. +On each side of the entrance (inside) is a shelf of snow, of the +same height as the bed, on which is placed a large black +wooden dish or trough forming the lamp. A little moss along +the side of this dish forms the lamp-wick, fed by grease, which +is constantly replenished from small lumps of fat hung over +the flame, and which drop grease into the dish.</p> + +<p>“It seems a strange anomaly, that the coldest inhabited +country should be that in which fires are considered superfluous. +The heat given out by the lamps is certainly considerable, but +still, the camps are cold. The temperature must of course be +constantly below freezing-point, or the snow would melt. The +Eskimo, however, do not feel the cold as we do. Their hands +and faces are of a more plump and fleshy form than ours, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>the circulation of their blood is warmer, for their hands felt +quite hot to the touch while sitting without exercise in their +freezing camps. An Eskimo’s chief resource against the cold +is the amount of fuel he consumes internally in the form of +whale and seal fat used as food; and the provision of these +large animals in the polar sea for the use of these few scattered +savages is a remarkable proof of God’s providential care over +the meanest of His creatures....</p> + +<p>“The Eskimo generally cooks meat or fish twice a day—once +about noon, and again the last thing before sleeping at +night. If hungry at other times, he will eat a fish or piece +of meat raw—that is, frozen; and this is not so disgusting as +you might suppose, for the effect of freezing meat or fish is +something the same as cooking it—that is, to harden the fibre +and dry up the superfluous moisture. Even Europeans in +this country sometimes eat a piece of frozen fish uncooked, +and find it good and wholesome.</p> + +<p>“When an Eskimo visits a neighbour’s house, before he +has been sitting long food is always offered him—generally a +frozen fish, which he evidently eats with much relish. Sometimes +it is a small piece of frozen deer’s meat, or, as a great +delicacy, a lump of whale or seal fat. If he happens to come +in at the time of cooking, a portion of what is cooked is set +before him. This seems to be the rule of Eskimo hospitality.</p> + +<p>“As soon as the spring thaw sets in, about the middle of +May, the Eskimo exchanges his snow-house for a deer-skin tent +or lodge, with which he soon after removes to the river-bank, +where he lives by fishing or hunting deer before proceeding to +the sea for the seal and whale fishery. In the autumn, or +fall of the year, the cold sets in early, and the deer-skin tent +becomes uncomfortable before the ice and snow are thick and +hard enough for building snow-houses. At this time the +Eskimo build, or rather excavate, huts in the river-bank, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>which they ceil and cover with logs and earth. They close up +at night the small entrance with skins, and rely for light and +warmth chiefly on their lamps. A small window of thin skin +or parchment is made in the roof; but as the short days of +December approach the sun hardly shows itself, and daylight +is but scanty. In the snow-house a block of clear ice inserted +in the front forms a beautiful window, and as spring approaches, +and the daylight is perpetual, a cheerful contrast is presented +to the constant gloom and darkness of an Arctic winter.</p> + +<p>“This is a country of contrast. In winter the gloom is +such that daylight seems a passing stranger. In spring the +glare is so great that the eye is sore and inflamed, if not +blinded by it. In winter the thermometer will stand about +100 degrees below freezing-point, and in summer, in the sun, +at least about 100 degrees above it.</p> + +<p>“An Eskimo travelling with his family and effects in winter +affords quite an exciting display. About a dozen sledges or +trucks are harnessed together, and on these are laid a very +miscellaneous assortment of property and provision. Boat-frame, +canoes, tents, tent-poles, and boards, deer-skin bedding +and blankets, several whole deers’ carcasses, some hundreds of +frozen fish pressed into a solid mass, tent furniture, utensils, +clothes, fishing-nets and implements, with many other seemingly +needless stores, are all laden promiscuously on the train, +which is propelled by men, women, and dogs, all hauling by +lines along the sides of the sledges, and assisted, when the +wind is favourable, by a sail.</p> + +<p>“The arrival of a large number of such sledge-trains at +camp one after another is like so many railway-trains coming +in, for the runnels of the sledges are covered first with bone, +and this is again carefully coated with ice, so that the sledges +run on the frozen snows like trucks on a railway. The sledge-train +which I assisted in drawing myself consisted, I believe, +of fourteen trucks, hauled by four men and boys, three women, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>and five dogs. More than a dozen such trains reached the +camp at which I was staying. In spring the sledges are all +stowed away on the river-bank, and the boat forms the means +of conveying the Eskimo’s effects during the summer months....</p> + +<p>“Considering the smallness of the number of the Eskimo +band we have been describing, and that no others are to be +found within about 100 miles, a wonderful provision has +indeed been made by God’s good providence for their sustenance. +This bounty seems intended on purpose to banish the +thought that these distant wanderers, condemned to such +severity of climate, are outcasts from the Divine care.</p> + +<p>“In fact, both the power and goodness of God are in some +respect shown in this country more especially than in others; +for while sometimes we are constrained to say, in seeing the +vast expanse of snow and the thickness of the ice, ‘Who can +stand before His cold?’ yet the greater is the marvel when +‘He sendeth forth His word and melteth them; He causeth +His wind to blow, and the waters flow.’ The Eskimo know +not to thank their Heavenly Father who gives them their +daily supply of food, and though they have heard with gladness +and thankfulness the short story of Gospel truth which +alone I have been able as yet to communicate to them, yet it +requires the same mighty Power which melts their Arctic +snows and thaws their frozen ocean to turn them from darkness +to light, and from the power of Satan unto God.</p> + +<p>“With respect to the character and habits of the Eskimo, +it is best to speak reservedly. They are certainly kind and +hospitable, civil and obliging, skilful and clever in handicraft. +I fear it must be added that they are liable to fits of passion +and sulkiness, that they are lazy and sleepy, and addicted to +lying, stealing, and even stabbing. Over their other shortcomings +it is best to draw a veil.</p> + +<p>“They practise heathen dances, songs, and conjuring, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>this seems to be the greater part of their religion. Their +dance, however, is a mere shuffling of the feet, their song is +but a monotonous yell, and their conjuring consists only in +yelling and beating the tambourine, and throwing the body +into various distortions and attitudes. They possess also, +most of them, in a bag, a collection of small, miscellaneous +articles, which are intended, I suppose, beneficially to influence +their hunting by way of spells and charms. Beyond this I +cannot find that they have much religion remaining among +them. They know of an evil spirit, named Atti, which seems +to symbolize cold and death, and which they seek to exorcise +or appease by their charms and spells.</p> + +<p>“Their only idea of a good spirit is connected with the +sun, as the source of warmth and life; and, considering the +severity of their climate, it is not wonderful that their natural +religion should symbolize the powers of good and evil by +warmth and cold. If they have any idea of heaven, it is that +of a perpetual spring, and the name they give to the ministers +who bring them tidings of the world above is ‘Children of +the Sun.’ I have not found that they have knowledge of a +future life. They say the old Eskimo used to know these +things, but the young ones have forgotten them. They +possess, however, a tradition of the Creation, and of the +descent of mankind from a single pair.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br> +<span class="smaller">OUT OF THE NORTH</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>One day when Mr. Bompas was walking along the Yukon +River, he returned to Fort Yukon, and found there a letter +awaiting him. It was from England from the Church +Missionary Society, asking him to go all the way to London +to be made Bishop of the vast northern Diocese of Athabasca, +which was to be formed. Mr. Bompas did not want to be a +Bishop. He preferred to live the life of a humble missionary +among the Indians whom he so dearly loved.</p> + +<p>In July, 1873, he set his face homewards with the express +purpose of turning the Church Missionary Society from the +idea. It was a long journey that lay ahead of him, fraught +with many dangers and difficulties. The clerk at Fort Yukon, +in charge of the American Fur Company’s post, kindly +supplied him with provisions and with two Indian lads, who +had volunteered for the trip. Soon all was ready, and then +the start was made up the Porcupine River; and after two +weeks of hard and persevering labour, he reached the Rocky +Mountains. Here the Indians left him to return to Fort +Yukon, and alone and on foot the missionary began his +journey across the mountains. Three days was he in accomplishing +the task, and in a furious snowstorm, “which rendered +the mountains almost as white as in winter,” reached Fort +McPherson, Peel River, on August 6.</p> + +<p class="mt2">What it means to cross these mountains may be learned +from the terrible experience of Bishop Stringer during the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>fall of 1909. It is best given in the words of Rev. C. E. +Whittaker, stationed at Fort McPherson:</p> + +<p>“After the Bishop’s return from his Eskimo visitation, he +outfitted for crossing the mountains by the well-known Rat +River and McDougall’s Pass route with Mr. Johnson, who is +on his way to Chicago, after eleven years’ service in the north. +They had a sufficient crew, leaving here September 1, and a +good Peterborough canoe; but on the fifth day one of their +Indian men was taken dangerously ill, and he had to be sent +home and more help procured. By this nearly a week was +lost, and the weather becoming colder, the water got very low +in the mountain streams. However, on September 20 they +crossed the Divide. The two men attacked an unknown +proposition alone. The battle with ice began the first day, +but, hoping to find more and clearer water in Bell River, they +kept on. The upper reaches of the Bell were easily navigated, +but once through the mountains, the current became very +slack, and the ice again hindered them. They cut heavy +birch clubs to smash the ice, hoping to reach the Porcupine +about forty-five miles from the summit. They were stalled, +and had to cache their canoe and baggage. What was to be +done now? La Pierre’s house was close by, but abandoned. +There was not a known Indian camp within 100 miles. Old +Crow or Rampart House might be reached in time if they +had supplies, but with only three days’ rations it was unthinkable. +Their starting-point, Fort McPherson, lay beyond +the mountains, and the snow was already deep, and neither +of them knew the trail. This last only seemed not impossible, +and they decided to undertake it. Continuing down the Bell +on foot, through the rough willows and deep snow, they +struck the mouth of the La Chute River and followed it up-stream +for several days, killing here and there a few ducks +and spruce grouse to eke out their scanty fare. At Fool’s +River, coming in from the north, they missed the trail, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>spent a whole week wallowing through deep snow and deeper +fog in this river and on the mountains near it. Returning +to the mouth, they spent three days making snow-shoes and +cutting up moccasins for webbing. Again ascending the +La Chute, they climbed the Height of Land, and, working by +compass, they crossed three distinct Divides before reaching +an east-flowing stream. They saw one sheep, and once some +caribou, but at too great a distance, and going fast. They +were now living on one meal a day, and that meal was less +than one quarter of an average meal. For instance, at one +time four red squirrels and a spoonful each of flour and rice +fed them three days; another day they had a leg of ptarmigan +each. They tried eating moccasin leather, and ended on +<i>messinke</i> boots or <i>muckalucks</i>, which are made of raw seal-skin. +These are found very nourishing. Food being so +scarce, their strength failed and their progress was slow. At +times the fog was so dense that they could scarcely see a step +ahead, and more than once they trod on the verge of a precipice. +Then they had to make long detours, and so they +continued day after day, some nights sleeping on the mountains +without fire, but generally in some creek-bed with a few +willows, sleeping from very weariness and exhaustion. Once +the Bishop said to Mr. Johnson: ‘It is curious, but there is +ever rising up in my mind the words, “Go, labour on, ’tis +not for naught.”’ And Mr. Johnson replied: ‘It is curious +indeed, for in my mind there constantly repeats itself that +other hymn, “To the work, to the work! ye are servants of +God.”’ And so, though famished, and worn, and fog-bound, +and never knowing how far they had yet to go to safety, +they were ever buoyed up with a strong hope of ultimate +escape. When they finally descended an eastern slope, and +knew that they were at least past the maze of fog, a thrill +of assurance gave them renewed energy, and they followed +the bed of a small river until they came into the Peel, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>twenty miles above this post. Here they saw snow-shoe +tracks, the first signs of any human habitation, an Indian +having lately passed by that way trapping. Early next +morning they reached an encampment, and they afterwards +declared it was worth coming back to see the kindness and +hospitality with which they were received.”</p> + +<p class="mt2">Starting again by canoe, Mr. Bompas, with two other +Indian lads, reached Fort Simpson, a distance of 800 miles, +on September 2, “after three weeks of fatiguing towing.” +Pushing on his way, after a difficult journey, contending with +the cold and swift stream, he reached Portage la Loche on +October 8, having travelled 2,600 miles since July, “and all, +except about 300 to 400 miles, against a strong current.”</p> + +<p>Owing to the cold weather he was forced to remain at the +Portage for ten days, and when the swamps were sufficiently +frozen, he “started on foot through the woods to Buffalo +Lake in company with two servants of the Hudson’s Bay +Company.” Reaching the lake, he travelled with some difficulty +on the fresh ice around the margin, and at the farther +end found a camp of Indians, who guided him to Isle à la +Crosse. Here a detention of ten days was made, and then +he left with dogs and sledge for Green Lake, with three +employés of the Hudson’s Bay Company. The weather +becoming milder, they were forced “to cross one of the +intervening rivers on a raft.”</p> + +<p>From Green Lake they entered “on the plain country of +Saskatchewan,” and after a walk of five days reached Fort +Carlton. While here Mr. Bompas visited the Prince Albert +Settlement on the banks of the North Saskatchewan, and +says: “This settlement is the first that has been formed by +the immigrants in that neighbourhood, and it bears every +sign of increasing prosperity and success.”</p> + +<p>From Carlton House, Touchwood Hills was reached with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>a horse and sledge. Here, through the kindness of the postmaster, +he was furnished with a carriole and dogs, and, after +a journey of 400 or 500 miles, reached the Red River Settlement.</p> + +<p>“I enjoyed the kind hospitality of the Bishop of Rupert’s +Land and Archdeacon Cowley,” wrote Mr. Bompas, “and +was much interested in seeing the progress of the mission +work in the colony. I reached, by God’s good providence, +the first houses of the settlement on the last evening of the +old year, and after nearly six months’ travel in the wilds, I +awoke on New Year’s morning to a new life of civilization +and society.”</p> + +<p>It is said that when Mr. Bompas reached the episcopal +residence and inquired for Bishop Machray, the servant +mistook him for a tramp (in his rough travelling clothes), +and told him his master was very busy, and could not be +disturbed. So insistent was the stranger that the servant +went to the Bishop’s study and told him a tramp was at the +door determined to see him.</p> + +<p>“He is hungry, no doubt,” replied the Bishop; “take him +into the kitchen and give him something to eat.”</p> + +<p>Accordingly Mr. Bompas was ushered in, and was soon +calmly enjoying a plateful of soup, at the same time urging +that he might see the master of the house. Hearing the +talking, and wondering who the insistent stranger could be, +the Bishop appeared in the doorway, and great was his +astonishment to see before him the veteran missionary.</p> + +<p>“Bompas!” he cried, as he rushed forward, “is it you?”</p> + +<p>We can well realize how Mr. Bompas must have enjoyed +this little scene, and the surprise of the good and noble +Bishop of Rupert’s Land.</p> + +<p>We will let Mr. Bompas describe the rest of the journey:</p> + +<p>“From Manitoba the dog-train was exchanged for the +stage-coach for Moorhead, the terminus of the American +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>railway towards the north-west. In this the cold was piercing +and freezing, even though the travellers were wrapped in +buffalo-skins. The poor horses were utterly exhausted in +drawing the vehicle about fifteen miles through the snow, +and though they were changed thus often, yet at last the +journey had to be suspended during a storm, and in the end +the horses, though changed every stage, occupied a week in +performing the same distance as that travelled by the dogs in +four days, more easily and pleasantly—that is, 160 miles.</p> + +<p>“The journey was next continued by railway, but from the +fires not being lighted in the cars the cold was intense, and +the train was shortly brought to a standstill in a snow-drift. +Though two locomotives were tugging at it, no progress could +be made till the guards with shovels disengaged the carriage-wheels +from the snow which entangled them.</p> + +<p>“In Canada the journey by stage-coach was resumed. This +was shortly after overturned into a ditch by the wayside +while scaling a snow-drift. The outside passengers were +deposited in an adjoining field, where, to be sure, the snow +provided them with a sufficiently soft bed to fall on. The +inside passengers had a more uncomfortable shaking.</p> + +<p>“The journey was next proceeded with by train to Montreal, +before approaching which the cars left the rails, causing some +apprehension and delay, which might have been increased had +not the guard been provided with a powerful winch for the +purpose of replacing the carriages on the track.</p> + +<p>“From Montreal, following the Grand Trunk Railway to +Portland, I embarked in the steamship <i>Scandinavian</i>, of the +Allan line. At starting, the masts, yards, and deck of the +steamer presented a woeful appearance, from being thickly +coated and hung with ice, yet 200 miles were made the first +day. By the constantly increasing head-wind, however, the +daily speed was decreased down to 100 miles per day, at +which rate the captain thought it prudent to shut off half +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>the steam, and diminish the speed to a minimum, for fear +that something should give way in the plunging vessel. +After thirteen days, under the careful seamanship of Captain +Smith, Liverpool was reached on February 13, in the safe-keeping +of a protecting Providence.”</p> + +<p>This account is given to show some of the difficulties the +traveller experienced in the early days in his trips to and +from England. Mr. Bompas, after this journey, decided in +favour of the dog-team.</p> + +<p>“On the whole,” he said, “the dogs may be counted to +hold their own in competing with horse-flesh or steam, +whether on land or water.”</p> + +<p>At last the soldier was home from the front, the hero +among his friends, and after the years of hardships he might +have enjoyed a well-earned rest. But his thoughts were far +away across the ocean in his vast field of labour, and the voice +of the children of the wild was ever urging him to make haste. +The restraints, conventionalities, and luxuries of civilized life +worried him; the narrowness of the streets was unbearable, +and he longed for the smell of the camp-fire, the free, fresh +air of the North, the great untamed streams, the snow-capped +mountains, and his dusky flock.</p> + +<p>During his stay in England, Mr. Bompas had many commissions +to fulfil, which occupied much of his time. There +were purchases to make for people in North-West Canada, including +six gold watches for as many female residents, and a +pair of corsets for another. Obtaining the latter caused much +worry to the missionary. But he was never known to back +down, and finally the purchase was made. Is it any wonder +that he preferred the life among the Indians, who worried so +little concerning the wherewithal they should be clothed?</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus04" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus04.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">Winter Travelling. A Missionary’s Indian Helper</span></p> + <p class="p2">This picture shows a sled loaded up, with the dogs harnessed, and the + Indian driver standing by them.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Mr. Bompas was unsuccessful in dissuading the Church +Missionary Society from carrying out their plan, and on May 3 +he and John McLean were elevated to the Episcopate. The +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>consecration took place in the parish church of St. Mary’s, +Lambeth, Dr. Tait, Archbishop of Canterbury, being assisted +by Bishop Jackson of London, Bishop Hughes of St. Asaph, +and Bishop Anderson, late of Rupert’s Land. The sermon +was preached by the last-named prelate, who referred to the +two new dioceses of Saskatchewan and Athabasca:</p> + +<p>“To-day the noble plan will be consummated by the consecration +of two more Bishops. One will preside over the +Church in the western portion of the land, labouring among +the Indians of the plains, and along the valley of that river +whose source is in the Rocky Mountains, the River Saskatchewan. +The other will have the northern diocese as his own, +along yet mightier lakes, and with rivers which roll down an +immense volume and discharge themselves into the Arctic +Ocean.”</p> + +<p>After some words addressed to Bishop McLean, the charge +which was given to Bishop Bompas concluded thus:</p> + +<p>“You have been there for more than eight years, in labours +abundant, and your love has not lessened nor your zeal +slackened. You have brought home, as the fruit of your +labour, portions of Scripture, prayers and hymns, in seven +different dialects or tongues. You are ready to take the +precious treasure out with you—the translations printed and +prepared by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. +You have also one complete Gospel, that of St. Mark, which +the British and Foreign Bible Society has enabled you to +carry through the press.</p> + +<p>“But you left good treasure behind, in souls warmed with +the love of Christ and softened by the spirit of grace. You +have the hearts of the Indians and the Eskimo.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br> +<span class="smaller">BACK TO THE WILDERNESS</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>Bishop Bompas was not to return alone to his great work, for +a few days after his consecration, May 7, he was united in +marriage to Miss Charlotte Selina Cox by Bishop Anderson, +assisted by the Rev. John Robins, Vicar of St. Peter’s, +Netting Hill, and the Rev. Henry Gordon, Rector of Harting.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bompas was a woman of much refinement and devotion +to the mission cause. Her father, Joseph Cox, M.D., of +Montague Square, London, was ordered to Naples for his +health. During this trip, in which he was accompanied by +his family, his daughter, afterwards Mrs. Bompas, acquired +that love for the Italian language which ever after continued +to be a great source of pleasure to her. No matter where +she went in the northern wilds of Canada, she carried her +Dante with her, which she studied, with much delight, in the +original.</p> + +<p>During her stay at Naples she attended her first ball, given +by the British Ambassador, and met the King of Naples (the +notorious King “Bomba”), and always afterwards remembered +his remark in Italian, “What have you done to amuse yourself +at the carnival?”</p> + +<p>When quite young, Mrs. Bompas had little interest in +missions, and says: “My brother, who was Vicar of Bishop’s +Tawton, Devonshire, used to hold missionary meetings at the +Vicarage, and I remember thinking them the dullest affairs, +and the clergymen who addressed us, and whom my brother, +perhaps, would introduce as the distinguished missionary from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>Japan or Honolulu, I looked upon as the most dismal old +slow coaches it was anyone’s unhappy fate to attend to.”</p> + +<p>Her interest at length became aroused, and later, when +the martyrdom of Bishop Patteson startled the Christian +world, she became much excited, and reached, as she tells us, +“the enthusiastic stage when we resolve to become missionaries +ourselves, and are all impatient to be off anywhere—to +China, Japan, or to the Indians of the Mackenzie River.”</p> + +<p>It was at this period she cast in her lot with the Bishop of +Athabasca, and became “consecrated to mission work.”</p> + +<p>The Bishop and Mrs. Bompas, on May 12, 1874, set their +faces towards their great field of labour. Friends and loved +ones came to bid them farewell, among whom was Bishop +Anderson, late of Rupert’s Land, who presented the Bishop +with a beautiful paten for his cathedral in the new Diocese of +Athabasca. The good steamship <i>China</i>, of the Cunard Line, +received them, and soon she was cutting her way through the +water bound for New York. Consecrated, married, and +sailed all in one week! Such was the record of the Bishop, +who declared it was the hardest week he ever experienced. +Never again was he to look upon the shores of his native land, +or visit the scenes of childhood; the northern wilds of Canada +needed him, and there he remained till the last.</p> + +<p>Ahead of them lay the long journey of two months by open +boat to Fort Simpson. At Winnipeg they missed the boats +of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and after some difficulty +another was obtained, in the hope of overtaking the former. +It was a “brilliant, cloudless” June morning when they crossed +the prairie towards St. John’s Cathedral, and sighted the +“river, looking still and silvery in the morning light,” and +found the boat, their home for weeks to come, “moored just +below St. John’s College.” Farewells were said, the boat +pushed off, and they moved on their way, leaving the Bishop +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>of Rupert’s Land waving his hand from the bank of the +stream.</p> + +<p>It was a tedious journey, as day after day they glided +forward. Not only was the heat intense, but the swarms of +mosquitoes proved a great annoyance.</p> + +<p>“I had come prepared for intense cold,” wrote Mrs. Bompas, +“and we were destined to endure tropical heat. All up the +Saskatchewan, Stanley, and English Rivers the banks slope +down like a funnel, and the July and August sun scorches +with vertical rays the heads of the travellers. We were seated +in open boats, each with a crew of ten or twelve men, who +spread our sails when the wind was fair, and took them in +when the wind failed us. Eighty-six was, some of those days, +our average temperature, and I had come provided with the +thickest of serge dresses, as none of my friends had realized +the possibility of anything but frost and cold in these northern +regions. Besides this, we had to encounter swarms of +mosquitoes, crowding thick around us, penetrating our boots +and stockings, and invading our Robabou soup and pemmican, +etc. I remember the bliss it was in those days in camping-time +to escape from the rest of the party, and, getting rid of +boots and stockings, to sit with my feet and legs in the cool +water of the river, to soothe the intolerable irritation of the +mosquito-bites.”</p> + +<p>But in the midst of all this there were times of refreshing, +and at various places hearty were the greetings that awaited +them. One morning they reached St. Andrews, on Red +River, and there before them appeared a pretty stone church, +with wide, square tower, and a comfortable-looking parsonage-house, +with a nice veranda, and a few scattered cottages +around. It was a pleasant home scene, and there they found +the Vicar, the Rev. John Grisdale (afterwards Bishop of +Qu’Appelle), and about sixty others, who had been waiting +all the morning to receive them. After luncheon had been +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>served a little service was held on the veranda, and as they +left, the bell of the church rang out a peal of farewell, and +all on shore gave a hearty cheer.</p> + +<p>All along the way Indians were encountered camped on the +bank, and at times a halt was made while the Bishop spoke +a few words to them. One night they stopped near a number +of natives, and service was held. Among the party was a poor +woman totally blind. The Bishop knelt by her side and told +her of the blind man in the Gospel story, and repeated to her +several passages of Scripture, to which the woman listened +with much eagerness, and seemed greatly pleased.</p> + +<p>The many long, hard portages formed a great impediment +to their progress, and through the scorching heat, fighting +myriads of mosquitoes, the provisions had to be carried overland +and the boat dragged up the rapids. The Bishop +willingly took his share of the labour, and though of great +strength, overtaxed himself in lifting a heavy box, and +sprained his back, or, rather, re-sprained it, as he had been +injured some weeks before in hauling at the boat. He +suffered much agony from the sprain, which troubled him +somewhat during the rest of his life.</p> + +<p>An incident happened on this trip which serves to show +the Bishop’s forgetfulness of self when others were to be considered. +A young Indian lost his hat overboard, and, being +unable to obtain it, suffered much from the heat as he toiled +at the oar. The Bishop, seeing his discomfort, at once placed +his own hat upon the Indian’s head, and insisted that he +should wear it. The sight of the native with the flat, broad-brimmed +episcopal head-gear caused great amusement to the +entire company.</p> + +<p>There were times of excitement, too, as they moved on their +way. We shall let Mrs. Bompas tell of one in her own +graphic style:</p> + +<p>“It was about 6 o’clock p.m., the sun still high, but a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>fresh breeze had set in, and was filling the sail of our boat, +and giving us comfort and refreshment after a sultry day. +We were beginning to discuss our landing, wondering where +our steersman intended us to encamp that night, as all the +details are left to his control and management.</p> + +<p>“Suddenly, as we were quietly sailing on, an exclamation +was made by one of our sailors, and as suddenly all eyes were +directed towards a line of thick wood which encircled a bay +on our right. It would be impossible to give any idea of the +intense eagerness which marked the gaze of our ten men. +You must know something of the Indian’s intensity of +character, and his love of sport, to be able to understand +and appreciate it.</p> + +<p>“Our fore-oar man, ‘Charley,’ especially attracted my +attention. Such a strange, tawny, heavy face as his was +when passive, with long black hair hanging on each side his +face, and a disordered attempt at whiskers and moustache; +one hand clutching nervously at his oar, and the other shading +his eyes; every sinew, almost every nerve, in a state of +tension. We longed to ask what object they saw, but scarcely +ventured to do so, for silence had overspread our crew, and +though apparently much was being discussed, and important +matters decided upon, yet it was all done by signs, or in low-whispered +accents. At last some conclusion was evidently +arrived at. The sail was lowered, and our course altered in +the direction of the wood in question. At the same time the +Bishop ascertained from one of the men, and whispered to me, +the cause of all this excitement—namely, ‘a black bear’!</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus05" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus05.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">An Indian Encampment</span></p> + <p class="p3"><i>From a photograph by Mr. J. M. Lowndes, Calgary</i></p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“It needed the quick eye and ear of a Red Indian to detect +the bear, if such it was, at the distance we then found ourselves +from the wood, and amid the countless shadows of those +great Norway pines, or the grotesque forms of aged stumps +and stones which edged the wood. For some moments I felt +convinced that it was all a mistake, and that our bear would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>turn out no more than a ‘bare idea’! However, the men had +full faith in their hero, though I had none, and so, still in +dead silence, we moved steadily on, making for the wood at +the exact point where the dark object had at first been visible.</p> + +<p>“It was really very striking, the way in which we drew up +to shore, and lowered our sail, all with no more sound than +would have awakened a sleeping infant. And now two of the +men slipped ashore, having first possessed themselves of loaded +guns. Others followed, with soft, stealthy footsteps, and all +soon disappeared in the mazes of the thick forest.</p> + +<p>“One thing I could observe for myself, which laid to rest +my doubts as to the fact of the bear having actually been seen—great, +spreading paw-prints on the sand. Yes, he had an +existence then, poor old Bruin! and had been quietly disporting +himself upon the sand that evening, perhaps in +pursuit of a little fish for his supper, little thinking, poor +beast, of the sumptuous repast for ten hungry men which he +was destined to form that very night.</p> + +<p>“The part left for us to play at this time was certainly less +exciting and less interesting than that of our men. Close into +the shore at that time of the evening mosquitoes invariably +abound. This evening they positively swarmed, and in addition +to them were a number of sand-flies, so small that no +veil could keep them out, and almost as vicious as their great-aunts, +the mosquitoes. So there we sat, poor, helpless beings! +tapping our foreheads and hands to get quit of our buzzing +enemies, and thinking longingly of our tents and supper.</p> + +<p>“Suddenly there was the sound of a gun fired, which +roused our interest, and made us feel as if the game were in +earnest. First one, then another report was heard, and after +a few moments’ interval there arose shouts of triumph, and +cries or screams, such as only those Indians can give.</p> + +<p>“Our party in the meantime, being weary of the mosquitoes, +and naturally by this time somewhat excited by the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span>matter in hand, had left the boat and gone ashore. Sticks +and faggots were collected, and in a few moments a splendid +fire was kindled. Around it we closely gathered, thankful +for the temporary relief from the buzzing enemies, for no +mosquitoes dare invade the region of smoke or fire.</p> + +<p>“Soon was heard the sound of approaching footsteps. +Tramp, tramp, tramp, as of men marching under some heavy +burden, accompanied by the sound of many voices, and soon +the party appeared in sight. The two foremost carried a +stout pole, to which, with his legs tied together, hung the +body of poor Bruin! The men brought up their trophy and +laid him down among the ferns, and bluebells, and pretty +golden tansy for us to examine. A splendid bear he was, +about two years old, very fat, and with hair as sleek and +glossy as if—forgive me, Bruin!—he had been accustomed to +the use of ‘bear’s grease.’</p> + +<p>“Our young French-Canadian, who had shot him, said he +had tracked the beast for some distance, and then stood still. +In a few moments he heard the rustle of leaves and breaking +twigs, and the slow tread of the four paws. Soon he came +in sight, when one shot made him fall, and a second bullet +despatched him wholly.</p> + +<p>“That night—that very night, over our camp-fire, a huge +cauldron was suspended, and joints of bear were cooked, +eaten, and I presume enjoyed, by our men. We ourselves +were, I was thankful to feel, excused from sharing in the +repast that evening. But a dish of delicate bear steaks was +presented to us next morning for breakfast; and having with +difficulty conquered a certain feeling of great repugnance in +tasting them, we could not but pronounce them excellent.</p> + +<p>“I do not think it is at all fair to name a person who is +uncouth and ill-mannered ‘bearish.’ My experience of Bruin +shows that he is remarkable for a sedate yet good-tempered +expression, and his tastes are certainly not ungentlemanly, as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>he seems to live entirely on fish and the wild berries of these +noble Canadian forests. I understand that a bear once was +heard to tell his cub, who ate voraciously, and showed temper +to his brothers and sisters, that he was most ‘mannish’ in his +behaviour. I thought the epithet not wholly inappropriate.”</p> + +<p>Fort Simpson was reached on September 24, and much excitement +took place. The red flag of welcome was soon hoisted, +and Mr. Hardisty, the chief officer, and the whole settlement +came to the shore to meet them. So hearty was the reception +that they did not perceive the shadow—the grim shadow +of starvation—that was hanging over the fort and land. +There was only one week’s provisions in the Company’s store, +and game was very scarce. At this point the new party +arrived, bringing six extra mouths to be fed, besides the +boat’s crew, and yet the Company’s officers received them with +the utmost courtesy and good temper, and did their best to +look and speak cheerfully. Most of the men around the fort +had to be sent away, and there was difficulty in collecting +dried scraps of meat for the wives and children. At length +there came a time when there was not another meal left. +The poor dogs hung around the houses, “day by day growing +thinner and thinner, their poor bones almost through their +skins; their sad, wistful look when anyone appeared. Even +a dry biscuit could not be thrown to them.” But just when +matters reached the worst, two Indians arrived, bringing +fresh meat, and the great tension slackened.</p> + +<p>“From that moment,” says Mrs. Bompas, “the supplies +have never failed. As surely as the provisions got low, so +surely, too, would two or three sledges appear unexpectedly, +bringing fresh supplies.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br> +<span class="smaller">A TERRIBLE JOURNEY IN WINTER</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>The Bishop had to be ever on the move to cover even a small +portion of his huge diocese. He had no comfortable railway +cars in which to travel, and no horses to draw him speedily +along; only dogs, faithful little animals, to carry his food +and camping outfit, while he and his companions walked.</p> + +<p>Fort Simpson was chosen by the Bishop as his abode at +first. It is situated at the confluence of the Mackenzie and +Liard Rivers, and formed the most central and convenient +point for managing the vast diocese. This position had been +occupied years before by the Hudson’s Bay Company, and +here, in 1859, Mr. Kirkby built the church and mission-house.</p> + +<p>All around stretched the huge diocese of one million square +miles—and such a diocese! It has been well described by the +Bishop himself in the following words:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“No shepherd there his flock to fold,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No harvest waves its tresses gold;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No city with its thronging crowd,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No market with its clamour loud;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No magistrates dispense the laws,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No advocate to plead the cause;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No sounding bugle calls to arms,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No bandits rouse to dread alarms;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No courser scours the grassy plain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No lion shakes his tawny mane;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No carriages for weary feet,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No waggons jostle in the street;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No well-tilled farms, no fencèd field,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No orchard with its welcome yield;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No luscious fruit to engage the taste,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No dainties to prolong the feast;</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> <div class="verse indent0">No steaming car its weighty load</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Drags with swift wheel o’er iron road;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No distant messages of fire</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Flash, lightning-like, through endless wire;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No church with tower or tapering spire,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No organ note, no chanting choir.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Writing of the extent of his diocese, the Bishop says:</p> + +<p>“To represent the length and tediousness of travel in this +diocese, it may be compared to a voyage in a row-boat from +the Gulf of St. Lawrence to Fort William, on Lake Superior, +or a European may compare it to a voyage in a canal barge +from England to Turkey. Both the length and breadth of +this diocese equal the distance from London to Constantinople.</p> + +<p>“If all the populations between London and Constantinople +were to disappear, except a few bands of Indians or +gipsies, and all the cities and towns were obliterated, except +a few log-huts on the sites of the capital cities—such is the +solitary desolation of this land. Again, if all the diversity +of landscape and variety of harvest-field and meadow were +exchanged for an unbroken line of willow and pine trees—such +is this country.”</p> + +<p>In this region the Bishop and his devoted wife began their +great work together. At once an Indian school was started, +carried on at first principally by the Bishop himself. Mrs. +Bompas says:</p> + +<p>“My ears often grew weary of the perpetual ‘ba, be, bo, bu; +cha, che, cho, chu.’ These, with a few hymns translated into +their own language, and a little counting, were the first +studies mastered by our Simpson scholars.”</p> + +<p>Three hundred miles from Fort Simpson was another post +of the Hudson’s Bay Company, Fort Rae. Here was a band +of Indians who needed the message of the Gospel, and the +Bishop decided to go to them. Together with several men +from Fort Rae he set out, having with his sled Allen Hardisty, +an Indian who was being trained as a catechist.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span></p> + +<p>“It was a clear, beautiful morning,” says Mrs. Bompas, +“November 27, 1874. The great frozen river glittered in +the sunshine. Not a smooth, glassy surface, but all covered +with huge boulders of ice, and these again all thickly strewn +with snow.... Here are our ‘trippers,’ as they are called, +and all ready to start, and my Bishop in his fur cap and +warm wraps which I have made for him. His large mittens, +formed of deer-skin and fur, are suspended from the neck, as +is the custom here. Allen, the catechist, packed the sledges +last evening with their bags of clothing and provisions for +the way—blankets, cooking implements, etc. There are +three sledges, and the dogs ready harnessed. I am rather +proud of my ‘tapis,’ which, amid sundry difficulties, I contrived +to get finished, with some help, in time. Now comes +the word, ‘Off! all ready!’ Our farewells are said, the drivers +smack their whips, the dogs cry out and start in full scamper, +the trippers running by the side of their sledges at such a +pace that they are soon out of sight.”</p> + +<p>It is certainly an interesting thing to watch a dog-team +start on a long journey. The harness is decorated in gay +trappings with ribbons, beads, coloured cloth, and many +jingling bells. The dogs enter into the spirit of the undertaking, +and lift up their voices in wild yelps and barks.</p> + +<p>A good dog-team in the North costs from $100 to $200, +averaging about $25 a dog. Some of the best in the country +are bred by the natives, nearly every grown-up Indian having +his own dog-team and sledge or toboggan. The Indians +make their own sledges and harness, the former being made +of birch-wood, and the latter of moose-skin.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus06" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus06.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">Dog-Sled in North-West Canada</span></p> + <p class="p2">A couple married at Whitehorse by Bishop Stringer started in November + with this team of dogs, and, after a journey of 1,200 miles, arrived + at Fairbanks in the spring.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Though the Bishop and his companions started off bravely +and in high spirits, they little realized what difficulties were +ahead. The snow was deep and the cold intense. The dogs +suffered much. The sharp crust and ice cut their feet and +blood-marked every foot of the trail. This is by no means +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>uncommon in Northern travel. The snow gathers in lumps +between the dogs’ toes, and often the poor brutes will stop +and tear savagely at the pieces with their teeth. Often the +driver does this work of mercy, and the dog will lie on his +side or back, looking up piteously into his master’s face. +Sometimes little moose-skin moccasins are made, in shape +like a miner’s gold-poke, with a drawing-string at the top. +These, fastened securely upon the dogs’ feet, give them much +relief, though it is hard for them to draw heavy loads, as the +moccasins prevent their toes from gripping the trail. The +lash, too, adds to the dogs’ suffering. To a person who has +never been on the trail, or in common parlance “mushed +dogs,” it may seem an unnecessary cruelty; but the truth is, +they will not work at all unless the whip is used to a certain +extent. There is a great difference, of course, between urging +on the animals now and then with a sharp cut of the whip +and ill-treating them as some drivers do. It is no uncommon +thing for a brutal master to pound his dogs with a heavy +stick, beating them until they are almost insensible. The +curses of some men are terrible to listen to, and many contend +that dogs will not travel without a string of oaths being +hurled at them.</p> + +<p>A missionary some years ago in the Yukon held a service, +at which only miners and prospectors were present. His +subject was swearing, and he spoke about dog-driving. He +appealed to them, and asked if it were not possible to drive +dogs without cursing at them. At this a hardy, husky miner +rose to his feet, and looking calmly at the missionary, replied: +“Your Reverence, it can’t be done.” Now this is all nonsense. +It can be done, and dogs which are properly trained will +travel just as well to the words, “Mush on,” and “Hike +on, there,” as to all the choicest oaths in the English +language.</p> + +<p>The Bishop would never allow the dogs to be ill-treated in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>his presence; neither would he permit his men to swear at +them. It was his usual custom to go ahead, on his long, +springing snow-shoes, which sometimes are called “Northern +slippers,” and break down the trail. He was a man of great +endurance, and day after day he kept the lead, sometimes till +long after dark. “The ground is generally rough, and to +walk in some places may be compared to what it would be to +walk over the heads and shoulders of a crowd.”</p> + +<p>“Snow-shoe walking,” says the Bishop, “requires care to +avoid trouble. If the snow-shoe lashings, or any other bands, +are too tight on the limbs, or if the feet are held too stiffly, a +very painful affliction of the muscles supervenes, known as the +snow-shoe sickness. This sickness sometimes causes the legs +to swell like those of an elephant, and renders them so powerless +that the feet may have to be lifted with the hand by lines +attached to the front of the snow-shoes.”</p> + +<p>Day by day the dark forms moved on. All around was +the pitiless waste. The terrible cold chilled to the bone. +No sound broke the silence but the crunch, crunch of the +snow-shoes, or the shouts of the drivers, the cracks of the +whips, and the yelps of the dogs. At times they had to contend +with driving storms, and only those who have been on +the Northern trails can fully realize what they mean. Bishop +Stringer, who spent many hard years within the Arctic Circle, +vividly describes such an experience. He was travelling over +a desolate region, away to the east, where the foot of white +men had never before trod.</p> + +<p>“It may appear,” he says, “quite novel to travel over lands +where no white man has ever been. The novelty wears off +quickly, though, when one has to face the storms and isolation +of those desolate wilds. I had as a guide a boy (the +only one I could obtain from one of the villages) who was +both deaf and stupid, and somewhat lazy. We had, of +course, to carry our wood from the sea-coast, or do without +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>any. We had a cotton tent that had seen many winters’ +rough usage, and a small stove made out of an old stove-pipe. +By means of this we were able to keep warm while the wood +lasted. When on the return trip our wood gave out, and we +had to travel in the face of a blinding snowstorm, or freeze in +the tent, and for part of the night we were hopelessly lost, +and without any means of camping or getting ourselves warm, +except by running. The boy gave out early, and while he +sat on the sled, I had to run before the dogs, in the face of +the storm, without track or guide of any kind. By keeping +right into the wind I judged we were not far astray. I was +quite glad, when the daybreak came, to find ourselves not far +from the village.”</p> + +<p>It was always a great joy when Bishop Bompas and the +men dragged their weary bodies into camp. Sometimes they +had to travel over a barren stretch of country, and how eagerly +they would watch ahead for a clump of trees in which to +spend the night! But when camping-time arrived, there was +no warm house or steaming supper awaiting them—nothing +but the silent trees, grim and desolate, surrounding them.</p> + +<p>Having chosen a suitable spot with plenty of dry wood +near, the snow was scraped away with a snow-shoe for a shovel. +This place was then thickly covered with fir, spruce, or pine +branches, and a fire started from the shavings of dry wood or +a piece of birch bark.</p> + +<p>“If there are no pine,” wrote the Bishop, “a fire can be +made with dry willows. If these are lacking, evergreen +willows are supposed to burn, when once ignited. Should +there be none of these, there may probably be no fire, unless, +as a last resort, a sledge can be chopped up for the purpose. +There may be inconvenience also in the lack of materials for +starting a fire. In the absence of sulphur matches, fire is +commonly made with flint and steel and a piece of country +touch-wood, which consists of a fungoid growth or excrescence +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>on the bark of the birch or poplar. A small particle of this +touch-wood is kindled to a spark with flint and steel, the +touch-wood is then placed on a handful of shavings cut from +dry wood, and the whole is waved together in the air until it +bursts into a flame. When a steel is missing, a knife may +be at hand, or fire may be obtained by snapping a gun. +An Indian chief has told of his life being saved at a last +emergency by obtaining fire from a piece of greenstone, +carried for a whetstone, and an iron buckle from his dog-harness.”</p> + +<p>After the fire was started, snow was melted in the kettles, +for it is almost impossible to obtain water in any other way +on the trail. The dogs are not fed until the end of the day. +This may seem cruel; but if fed before, they are lazy, and will +do very little work.</p> + +<p>Once I was travelling in the Yukon, and in the morning, +seeing the dogs looking wistfully at us as we ate our breakfast, +I urged my Indian guide to feed them. He did so under +strong protest. Then I found my mistake. We made very +little progress that day, and were forced to camp unusually +early. The dogs would go a short distance, stop, squat down +upon the trail, and look back at us. The whip had little or no +effect. The food in the morning had spoiled them, and they +were not anxious to reach the camp at night.</p> + +<p>After supper was over, and the dogs fed, the moccasins and +socks were hung up to dry, for they are always wet after a +day’s travel. Then the Bishop, sitting there, would bring out +his little Bible, read a word of comfort, and offer up a few +prayers to the great Father; then, rolling themselves up in +their blankets on the yielding boughs, close to the fire, they +would take their well-earned rest. Sometimes they would +awake to find the fire out and themselves covered with a soft +white mantle of snow. Shortly after midnight they would +arise, and prepare for another long day’s march. Such was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>their daily experience, and all the time the trail was getting +more difficult.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus07" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus07.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">Feeding the Dogs</span></p> + <p class="p2">The usual fare of these useful animals is fish.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>The worst was yet to come. Much snow had fallen, and +their progress was slower, and food running low. They were +still a long distance from Fort Rae, and had therefore to +place themselves on short allowance. Steadily their small +supply of provisions diminished, until only a little was left; +then a mouthful apiece for hungry men and ravenous dogs. +The latter did some hunting on their own account when the +day’s work was over, and fortunate were they to find a timid +rabbit lurking near. Their keenness of scent is marvellous, +especially when starving. I remember once, when our dog-food +was all gone, that Yukon, my noble leader, dug through +the snow on the shore of Lake Laberge and found a sack +containing several dried fish, which had been left there the +previous fall by some lone fisherman.</p> + +<p>At length the food was all gone, and the tired, starving men +looked at one another. What were they to do? The Bishop +straightened himself up, drew the girdle tighter about his +waist, and pointed forward. He even smiled, for he could ever +do that, even when his face was drawn and haggard. It was +not the smile of scorn, but of trust. He well knew that, as +the Lord stood with the great veteran St. Paul, he would stand +by him there in the great northland. He must have experienced +a certain joy that he was suffering for the Master’s +sake. Ah! he was being trained in a stern school for the +great work which still lay before him. It was but one of the +thousands of sufferings he endured, of which he would seldom +speak. It was the Venerable Archdeacon Canham who once +found the Bishop in a lonely place with nothing to eat but a +few tallow candles. Upon these he subsisted until he obtained +proper food.</p> + +<p>There was now nothing to do but drag on their weary steps. +It was necessary, too, to assist the dogs, for the poor creatures +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>were so weak that they could do but little. So on they +pressed, and crunch, swish, sounded the snow-shoes. What a +pitiful little procession wound its way through that white, +cruel desolation! The keen frost whitened their beards and +eyebrows, singeing their faces, and chilling their hearts. +And then the desolate camp at night, with nothing to eat!</p> + +<p>But there was hope, and what will not men endure when +they have even a spark of hope in their hearts? They were +drawing near to Fort Rae. At last the buildings hove into +sight, and slowly and painfully they struggled in, faint and +weary to the point of collapse. The dogs must have scented +the settlement long before the men saw the place. They +would smell the smoke in the air and take courage.</p> + +<p>I was travelling to Dalton Post during the spring of 1905 +with three dogs and an Indian. One day we had a terrible +march, and were forced to abandon tent and supplies owing +to a flooded stream. From three o’clock in the morning until +eight at night we plodded on, in some places wading to our +knees in water, and again facing a furious snowstorm on a +large lake. On the little Klukshu Lake the dogs stopped. +They were tired out, and refused to advance. The shore was +desolate, and we had very little to camp with. What were we +to do? Suddenly Yukon, the leader, pricked up his ears and +started on a run, and it was all we could do to keep pace with +him. Not for an instant did he stop until we swung into an +Indian lodge about a mile away. He had scented the camp +the whole of that distance. When I related this incident +afterwards to one well accustomed to Indians and their ways +of living, astonishment was expressed that the dog had not +scented the camp long before. And it certainly was a wonder, +for the place was most foul. But how welcome for all that +to weary travellers!</p> + +<p>Great was the Bishop’s pleasure at reaching Fort Rae. It +was joy after the battle. He had suffered, but what did it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>matter? Sitting around the camp-fire, all difficulties of the +way were forgotten, as he explained to the Indians the message +he had come to bring of the loving Saviour.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, at the Fort, Mrs. Bompas was anxiously awaiting +the Bishop’s return. Mr. Reeve took charge of the settlement, +while Mr. Hodgson conducted the Indian school. It +was a weary time—a time of darkness, for grease had given +out, and there were few candles, as the deer were very thin. +Never before had there been such a scarcity. Every particle was +saved with jealous care, and doled out with the greatest caution.</p> + +<p>But, notwithstanding the darkness, a cheerful time was spent +at Christmas, when Mrs. Bompas brought in twelve old Indian +wives and gave them a Christmas dinner. They tried their +best to use the knives and forks, but at last gave up in despair, +and had to “take to Nature’s implements.”</p> + +<p>Then a Christmas-tree—a grand affair—was given for the +Indian and the white children of the officers of the fort. The +presents were made by hand, and Mrs. Bompas wrote:</p> + +<p>“Years ago, in my childhood, when my busy fingers accomplished +things of this kind, my dear mother used to tell me I +should one day be the head of a toy-shop. How little did she +then dream in what way her words would be fulfilled! I +actually made a lamb—‘Mackenzie River breed’—all horned +and woolly, with sparkling black eyes.”</p> + +<p>Many were the wonderful things made for that tree, and +great was the delight of those little dark-skinned Indians as +they looked upon their first Christmas-tree.</p> + +<p>After the excitement had subsided dreary days of waiting +followed, when, one Sunday morning, bells were heard, and a +dog-team swung into the fort, and there, to the astonishment +of all, appeared the Bishop “with white, snowy beard fringed +with icicles, in a deer-skin coat and beaver hat and mittens—a +present from Fort Rae.” What rejoicing there was! and +more rejoicing still when he poured into Mrs. Bompas’s lap +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>the long-looked-for home letters, which had been eight months +reaching her. “Dear, precious letters,” says the faithful recorder +of these early days, “for which I had so longed and +prayed and wept for eight months past! The long silence was +broken, the electric chain laid down between England, Darmstadt, +and Fort Simpson.”</p> + +<p>The Bishop’s experience on this trip by no means prevented +him from taking others. Shortly after his return from Fort +Rae an incident happened which almost deprived the Church +of its heroic missionary. He wished to visit Fort Norman, +some 200 miles north of Fort Simpson, and made ready to +travel in the dead of winter with several of the Hudson’s Bay +Company’s men, who were going that way. On the morning +of the departure, Mrs. Bompas went to the Indian camp and +asked the natives, who were to accompany the travellers, to +look after the Bishop. “Are we not men?” said one of them, +Natsatt by name. “Is he not our Bishop? Koka” (<i>i.e.</i>, +That’s enough.)</p> + +<p>And so they started. But on this occasion the Bishop did +not go ahead, as was his custom. He lagged behind the sled, +travelling slower and slower all the time. Natsatt kept looking +back, and when at length the Bishop disappeared from +sight, he became alarmed. “Me no feel easy,” he presently +remarked; “me not comfortable.” Leaving the rest of the +party, who swung on their way, he went back to look for the +Bishop. Soon he found him, helpless, in the middle of the +trail, bent double, with hands on his knees, trying to walk. +He had been seized with fearful cramps, which were rendering +him powerless. Natsatt made a fire as quickly as possible, +and rubbed the Bishop thoroughly, and after the suffering +man was well warmed, with a great effort succeeded in getting +him back to the fort. The day was extremely cold—40 degrees +below zero. A few minutes more, and the Bishop would +have perished on the trail.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br> +<span class="smaller">THE LITTLE ONES OF THE FLOCK</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>The Bishop loved the little ones of his dusky flock, and never +was he so happy as when they were gathered around him. +For long years he was their patient teacher, and gladly did +he give up some of his time each day for their sake. Indian +children are full of fun and mischief, and many were the +pranks they would play upon their venerable teacher. +Shrewd, too, were they to watch the effect of their capers. +They knew they could go so far and no farther. When they +saw the Bishop running his fingers through his hair they +knew a storm was brewing, and silence would ensue.</p> + +<p>As he looked upon their little faces a deep love would +come into his heart, for he knew the life-history of each. +That bright-faced little lad had been rescued from a cruel +father, or that little girl had been saved from a life of +degradation. During his long years in the North, over such +a vast sweep of country, he had relieved and saved many a +little waif. He could not bear to see them suffer, and sometimes +his eyes were blinded to their imperfections. Once, +hearing the sobs of a child who was being chastised, he +marched to the schoolroom door and sought admittance. +This not being complied with immediately, with a mighty +push he drove open the door, seized the child from the +teacher’s grasp, and, placing it upon his knee, soothed it with +parental affection.</p> + +<p>The story of poor old Martha is a touching one. Her +daughter’s child, little Tommy, a miserable, misshapen +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>creature, was very sick. They sent for the Bishop, who did +all in his power, but in vain. The child soon passed away. +Through his tender care he won their hearts, and not long +after the child’s death Martha came to him one cold, dark +night, and begged the Bishop “to give her some medicine to +do her heart good; she had pain there ever since Tommy +died.” And there, in the quietness of the mission-house, the +noble teacher talked with her, telling her of the great Physician +of souls, and sending her away comforted.</p> + +<p>The story of Jennie de Nord is one of much beauty and +pathos, in which we see the Bishop risking his own life to +save a little child. Old De Nord was a chief among the Fort +Simpson Indians. He was a noted hunter and trapper, +strong and stalwart, and a loving father to his four motherless +children. Jennie was the only girl of the family, a +regular little vixen, with sparkling black eyes and a merry, +roguish laugh. She was utterly fearless, and her power of +will and body were often the cause of wonder even to her +own people. She would face the wild, husky dogs of her +tribe, or launch a small canoe and paddle herself to visit her +father’s fish-nets. She admired her father’s gun very much, +but it was too big for her to handle. One day a white man +came to the camp, and as he showed his fine pistol, Jennie +became much excited. She watched him closely, and stood +in breathless wonder when he fired it off for the entertainment +of the Indians. The next morning, when the white +man awoke, his pistol was gone. Somebody had stolen it! +All became alert to find the thief. Then Jennie, with her +face all flushed, came forward with the weapon. She had +taken it from beneath the white man’s blanket while he slept, +and hugged it fondly throughout the night.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp48" id="illus08" style="max-width: 28.125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus08.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">The Mission School at Carcross</span></p> + <p class="p2">At the Bishop’s left stands Miss Mary Ellis, who for years worked among + the Indians in the Yukon, and who was really the first teacher at + Carcross.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>For the first few years of her life Jennie was tended by an +aunt, who lavished much affection upon the child. Jennie +was then given to the care of another aunt, Takatse-mo +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>by name, who was rather a stern woman, and had several +children of her own to care for. She did not act kindly +towards her new charge, and made her do very hard work, +such as hauling water from the river, chopping wood for the +camp-fire, and many other chores about the place. Besides +this, Jennie was poorly fed. The little round cheeks grew +thin, and a forlorn look appeared upon her usually merry +face. While her relatives and neighbours were talking about +this, and wondering what to do, Jennie took the matter +into her own hands, and one day suddenly disappeared from +the camp. Her aunt did not worry herself at all about the +girl’s departure. She said she would come back when she +felt hungry; but Jennie did not come back. She had taken +no food with her except a piece of hard, dried deer’s meat; +neither did she have any outer covering beyond her small +blanket, which had served her in early years, and was rather +threadbare. The day after Jennie’s flight the neighbours, +and even the aunt, became much alarmed about her. The +snow was deep around Fort Simpson, and starving wolves +prowled about the woods. Their howls were often heard at +night, and were responded to by the camp dogs. At last it +was resolved to consult the Bishop. “We must go after the +child at once,” was the reply, as soon as he heard the story; +and he immediately prepared to head the expedition. Snow-shoes +and cloth leggings were made ready; stout moccasins, +and blankets, socks, fur cap, and other things necessary for +the journey. Just a little more than half an hour after the +news of Jennie’s departure reached the mission-house, the +Bishop and two Indians started off after the strayed waif. +They found it difficult to trace her, as the previous night had +been windy, and Jennie’s tiny footprints were covered up. +They imagined she had gone in search of her father, who was +camped some distance away. Travelling in this direction, +they had much difficulty in making their way through +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>the tangled brushwood, and often they had to follow the +river in order to make any progress at all. Here they +met the piercing north-east wind, which cut their faces, +and formed icicles on beard and eyelashes. For ten miles +they continued on their way without discovering any sign +of Jennie. The Bishop felt much discouraged, and was +thinking of returning to the Fort to try some other route. +Suddenly one of the Indians uttered an exclamation, and +pointed upwards to a faint column of smoke slowly rising +among the dark fir-trees. New hope filled their hearts, and +quickly climbing the banks of the stream, they made straight +for the fire. Presently they caught sight of the clustered +poles, which had been a wigwam, and there they found a +little huddled form lying in one corner, clutching closely +about her body the one poor frayed blanket. Opening her +eyes, and seeing the Bishop bending over her, she uttered the +pitiful word, “Ti-tin-tie” (I am hungry). Jennie had walked +more than ten miles, and reaching at last De Nord’s halting-place, +her strength had given out. Here she found her father’s +gun, which had been left in a cache loaded. This the girl +had eagerly seized, and by firing it off obtained a spark which +started the fire. By this she had crouched, trying to keep +life in her body, when found by the rescuers. At once a +roaring fire was blazing up. Water was brought, a cup of +tea made for Jennie, and after a few hours’ rest the party set +out on their return trip to Fort Simpson. Jennie had to be +carried most of the way, for she was not only much exhausted, +but her shoes were almost worn out. In his strong arms the +Bishop carried her part of the way, and how his heart must +have rejoiced at finding the lost lamb! But the trip cost him +much. His clothes were wet, for in places he had been forced +to wade through overflowing water. He could hardly reach +Fort Simpson, so great were the cramps which seized him, +and for days he endured great suffering. But what did it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>matter? Jennie was safe, and none the worse for her experience.</p> + +<p>Four years later the Bishop was called upon to lay poor +Jennie to rest. Her father made her work harder than she +was able to do. One day she started with the dogs and sleds +for the woods to bring in a deer her father had killed. The +journey was a long one, and when she returned to the camp +tired out, she complained of not feeling well, and lying down +on her bed of brushwood, died the next day.</p> + +<p>Such a scene as this wrung the Bishop’s heart, and he did +all in his power to bring the little ones into the mission-schools, +where they could receive proper care. An interesting +sight it was to see this shepherd returning from some long +trip, bringing with him several wild, dirty little natives for +his school.</p> + +<p>Not only did the Bishop bring the children into the mission-school, +but time and time again he and Mrs. Bompas received +some poor little waif as their own. A few years after his +consecration, little Jennie, a mere babe, was thus taken to +their hearts. She came to them, so Mrs. Bompas tells us,</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“At holy Christmas-tide,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When winter o’er our Northern home</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Its lusty arms spread wide;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When snow-drifts gathered thick and deep,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Winds moaned in sad unrest,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My little Indian baby sought</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A shelter at my breast.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Upon this child they bestowed their affection; but alas! +notwithstanding the greatest care, it gradually wasted away, +and passed to the great Father above.</p> + +<p>Some time later another was received into their home and +hearts. This was Owindia (The Weeping One), who was +baptized Lucy May. A terrible tragedy had been enacted +at one of the Indian camps, from which the babe had been +marvellously rescued. Her mother had been cruelly murdered +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>by an angry husband, and as there was no one to care for her, +the Bishop and Mrs. Bompas took the motherless child. Great +was the joy they received from the little one, and with much +pride she was taken to England several years later, where, +after some time, she died. Mrs. Bompas beautifully tells the +story of this waif in her little book, “Owindia.”</p> + +<p>The Indian boys are great little hunters and trappers. The +forest is their home, and they read the world of Nature like +an open book. They have their numerous sports, too, paddling +along the shore of some lake in the summer-time, or coasting +down a steep hill in the winter. The bank in front of the +Indian village, just across the river from Whitehorse, at times +is worn smooth from numerous little moccasined feet. Approaching +the place, one has to be careful not to be suddenly +upset by a crouching figure, sweeping down the hill, balancing +himself with much skill upon one foot. This little fellow in +the picture was caught one bright day enjoying his favourite +sport.</p> + +<p>Dogs are their constant companions, and they love them +dearly. It is interesting to watch Indian boys playing with +these faithful animals. Though savage and vicious to strangers, +they obey the slightest command of their little dusky masters. +In the winter-time it is no uncommon thing to see a lad +speeding along the trail drawn by two or three lank huskies. +In the summer-time a rude waggon is often made, and seated +upon a soap-box, the boy will drive his patient dog with +much pride.</p> + +<p>These are the bright, active lads who are brought into +the mission-school, taught to read and write, and to receive +the knowledge of the loving Saviour. To see the little +fellows in the wild, rude state in the forest, and then behold +them several months after they have entered the school, +you would hardly know they were the same children. +They are not naturally quick at learning from the printed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>page, and the Bishop at times became much discouraged at +their slowness, and said it was “like writing in the sand +instead of graving in the rock.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus09" style="max-width: 31.25em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus09.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">An Indian Boy sliding Downhill at Whitehorse</span></p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus10" style="max-width: 31.25em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus10.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">The Dogs resting after a Hard Day’s Work</span></p> + <p class="p2">Brush of fir-trees is laid upon the snow, and upon this the dogs huddle through + the long cold nights.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Several years ago I had a class of bright-eyed, dusky children +at Whitehorse. Day after day they were instructed in the +mysteries of A, B, and C. Then a list of simple words was carefully +studied, such as “cat,” “dog,” “pig,” “cow” and “boy.” +At last, thinking they all knew the words well, I asked the +brightest boy in the room to repeat them once more for the +benefit of the whole class. Bravely and proudly he started, +“C—a—t, cat; d—o—g, dog.” Thus far he had no trouble. +The next word was puzzling. Slowly and carefully he spelled +it out, “p—i—g.” He tried hard to remember its meaning, +and a breathless silence ensued. Suddenly his face cleared, +and proudly he spelt it again, “p—i—g, boy.” There was +a roar of laughter from his companions, and I do not think +the young speller knows to this day what they laughed at.</p> + +<p>Indian children are fond of music, and they have very sweet +voices. At the Carcross Mission it is an interesting sight to +see several rows of well-dressed boys and girls, with books in +their hands, singing lustily some favourite hymn. Two of +these little lads were recently brought to the Whitehorse +Hospital for a painful treatment. Visiting them the next +day, I saw a hymn-book lying by Johnny Black’s side. “Have +you been reading in this?” I inquired. “We have been singing, +sir,” was the reply. “And will you sing some to me?” I asked. +Immediately the book was opened, and in a quavering voice +the little fellow sang the hymn beginning with the following +verse:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Great God, and wilt Thou condescend</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To be my Father and my Friend;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I a poor child, and Thou so high,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Lord of earth, and air, and sky!”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Occasionally Tony, in the adjoining bed, would join in; +but he was rather weak, so he could not sing much. Listening +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>to these two little lads, I thought what a good work was being +done—a work started in this diocese by Bishop Bompas—in +bringing such as these to the Saviour’s feet in love and faith. +These were the two little boys who at the Carcross Church +took up the collection regularly every Sunday.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br> +<span class="smaller">A RACE WITH WINTER</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>If you wish to cross the Rocky Mountains to-day westward to +the Pacific coast, there are the cars of the Canadian-Pacific +Railway, in which you can travel in luxurious comfort and +ease. As the train winds its way up to the summit, and +crosses the Great Divide, and then creeps down, down the +western slope, wonders without number are presented to view. +Majestic snow-capped mountains surround you on every side; +streams rush, leaping and foaming, like white threads far +below, as the train hangs from some dizzy height, crawling +around a jagged precipice. As you look down, and then +shrink back, at the wild scene below, you marvel at the skill +of the engineers who could build a railroad in such a place. +Then your mind turns to the men who first penetrated these +wilds, and who were forced to cross the mountains before the +railroad was built. What hardships they endured, what +perils, and how many lives were lost in the undertaking! +Hundreds of miles farther north Bishop Bompas performed +this task years before the railroad was built, and at a season +of the year when travelling over the mountains was very +difficult.</p> + +<p>While Bishop Bompas was carrying on his steady work +along the great inland streams, a storm was brewing in an +active mission centre on the Pacific coast. Mr. Duncan, who +had been sent out by the Church Missionary Society, was +working among the Indians at Metlakahtla with good results. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>Bishop Hills, of Columbia Diocese, several times visited the +settlement and baptized a large number of converts. But +Mr. Duncan objected to the Indian Christians being prepared +for Confirmation, thinking they would make a fetish of it. +Time and time again the Church Missionary Society sent out +ordained men to Metlakahtla, but Mr. Duncan would not +listen to them, and remained most headstrong in his views. +Matters thus reached a climax. Bishop Hills well knew if he +visited Metlakahtla it would only add fuel to the flames, as +Mr. Duncan, for certain reasons, had taken a dislike to him. +He therefore acted a wise part, and wrote to Bishop Bompas +asking him to go to Metlakahtla as arbitrator.</p> + +<p>It was late in the season ere the letter reached the Bishop, +but without delay he prepared for the trip. At any season +it was a great undertaking, but at that time of the year the +difficulty was very much increased. In a direct line the +journey was a long one, but to reach the coast the distance +was lengthened by a circuitous route over rivers, lakes, +portages, and mountain summits.</p> + +<p>Then winter was upon them.</p> + +<p>“All the latter part of September,” wrote the Bishop, +“the frost and snow had been more severe than I had ever +known it before at the same season, so the winter had +decidedly the first start in our race.”</p> + +<p>It was a cold, frosty day, that 8th of October, 1877, when +the Bishop left Dunvegan in a stout canoe, with several +Indians, on his long race to the coast against stern Winter. +For five days they moved up the river, contending with drifting +ice, which met them coming out of “tributary streams,” +and on the 13th Fort St. John’s was reached, where they +“were kindly entertained for the Sunday by the officer in +charge” of the Hudson’s Bay post. From this point they left +winter “behind for a fortnight, and were fairly ahead in the +race.” But every day they expected to be overtaken by their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>competitor, and arose from their “couches anxiously every +morning, foreboding signs of ice or snow.”</p> + +<p>Rocky Mountain House was reached on the 17th, where a +large band of Indians was found assembled. The Bishop lost +no opportunity of speaking a word to the natives wherever +he met them, and the seed thus sown bore much fruit in +after years. For the first time he found no sickness in the +camps, which fact he attributed “to their unusually liberal +use of soap and water, as compared with the tribes farther +north.”</p> + +<p>Ahead of them was the Peace River Canyon, and, after +making a land portage of twelve miles to overcome this +dangerous spot, they again proceeded by canoe. But the +work was becoming harder all the time. The current was very +swift, and the canoe had to be poled all the way. In trying +to ascend the Parle Pas Rapids, the current was so “strong +that their canoe turned on them, and was swept down the +stream, but, being a large one, descended safely.”</p> + +<p>“Most of the time that we were passing through the gorge +of the Rocky Mountains the weather was foggy, but when the +mist cleared we saw the bold crags and hilly heights closely +overhanging the river in snowy grandeur. The mountain +terraces and picturesque scenery on this route have been described +by Canadian explorers.”</p> + +<p>“On the very morning that we left Parsnip River,” wrote +the Bishop, “the ice began again to drift thickly to meet us, +and had we been only a few hours later, we might have been +inconvenienced by it, showing us that stern Winter was still +on our track.”</p> + +<p>For eleven days the Bishop and his men poled their craft +against the stream, and, with many dangers passed, reached +McLeod’s Lake Fort on October 29. Here they were hospitably +received by Mr. McKenzie, the officer in charge, and an +opportunity was given to see the Indians who were at the fort. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>A rest of two days was made here, and then they started +across the lake. This was a difficult task, as the ice was beginning +to stretch from shore to shore, and they had to force +their way as best they could around the corner of the solid +mass.</p> + +<p>From Lake McLeod a long portage of eighty miles was made +over frozen ground to the beautiful sheet of water known as +Stuart Lake, on the shore of which the officer at Fort +St. James gave them a hearty welcome. Here the Bishop +was on historic ground. Seventy-one years before those famous +explorers, Simon Fraser and John Stuart, discovered the lake +which took the name of the latter. Fort St. James, which +was erected on its banks “long before Victoria and New Westminster +had been called into existence,” was the regular capital +of British Columbia, “where a representative of our own race +ruled over reds and whites.”</p> + +<p>A stay of four days was made at this place, during which +time heavy snowstorms raged over the land, and ice began to +form in the lake, which threatened to bar further progress. +This body of water, which is about fifty miles in length, had +to be traversed, and the Indians refused to make the long +journey at that season and in such weather. During the +delay the Bishop was invited to hold Divine service at the fort +on Sunday. Never before had the place “been visited by a +Protestant missionary, the Roman Catholics only having +laboured in the region, and Mr. Hamilton, the Hudson’s Bay +Company’s chief officer there, brought up a family of ten +children without having, for more than twenty years, any +opportunity of seeing a Protestant minister.”</p> + +<p>After much difficulty the Indians were persuaded to go +forward, and, leaving Fort St. James on November 7, started +out upon their perilous journey. Safely crossing Lake Stuart, +they made a portage of seven miles and a half to Lake Babine. +This is a body of water eighty-seven miles long and from one-half +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>to five or six miles wide. The canoes here were poor +affairs, owing to the lack of large cedar-trees, from which such +crafts are made on the Pacific coast. They were common +dug-outs, formed from the cotton-wood trees—small, narrow, +slab-sided, and as a rule much warped and out of shape.</p> + +<p>This was all the Bishop could obtain to make the voyage, +but he was used to anything, even a raft, so, launching the frail +craft, they again started forward. When they had gone part +of the way a furious snowstorm swept down upon them, blotting +out the landscape, while the white-capped waves +threatened every instant to engulf them. Creeping along the +lee-side of the lake, they pressed steadily on, for the Bishop +must reach the coast before the winter locked everything tight. +After days of hard paddling and battling with wind and waves, +their hearts were gladdened by the sight of Fort Babine. The +Indians here, who, by the way, were Roman Catholics, were +naturally suspicious of a Church of England missionary. +“However,” remarked the Bishop, “they treated us well.”</p> + +<p>These Indians were called “Babines” from the custom +they had of wearing a wooden lip-piece on the lower lip. +In 1812, when Harmon, the explorer, first pushed his way +into this region, they were wild and war-like, brandishing +their weapons in a threatening manner as the explorer drew +near. Then they numbered about 2,000. Now they have +dwindled to 250 since the arrival of the whites—a sad comment +upon the influence of so-called civilized people. Their +principal business was salmon-fishing in the fine lake which +stretched away to the south-east.</p> + +<p>From Fort Babine they started on the land-trail over the +mountains to Skeena Forks. This was a difficult undertaking, +and winter overtook them once again. Beginning the portage, +the snow was several inches deep, and as they ascended the +mountain it deepened continually, till they were forced to dig +out their camps, “to sleep in a foot and a half of snow, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>without snow-shoes the walking was heavy. We were invading +Winter’s own domain,” continued the Bishop, “and it +was little wonder if he was severe with us.”</p> + +<p>As they descended the western slope the next morning, the +snow diminished rapidly, and they “camped at night in the +grass without a vestige of snow remaining, and only saw stern +Winter frowning down from the heights behind.”</p> + +<p>On reaching the Skeena Forks they were given a hearty +welcome by Mr. Hankin, a trader who lived here, who informed +the Bishop that, till the previous year, the Skeena +River had never been known to continue open so late, being +generally frozen the first week in November, and now it was +the 17th. The next day the descent of the Skeena was begun +by canoe in fear and trembling, lest the ice might “drift down +from behind.” And the race began in earnest, for a heavy +snowstorm swept over the land, and Winter once more made a +last effort to block them. But through the tempest sped the +determined missionary, through rapids and canyons, over bars, +whirling eddies, and dangers without number. At last, to his +joy, he found that, on nearing the coast, the mild breezes of +the Pacific were too much for grim Winter, and he steadily +retreated, leaving the little party unscathed.</p> + +<p>At Port Essington, the little town at the mouth of the +Skeena, Mr. Morrison, the missionary in charge, one day, +November 23, saw a stranger approaching in a canoe. His +clothes were torn and ragged, his face bronzed from wind +and sun, while his long, uncombed beard swept his breast. +So travel-worn was the man that Mr. Morrison mistook him +for a miner as he disembarked. “Well,” said he, “what +success have you had?” The Bishop replied that he had +been fairly successful, evidently relishing the joke. Just then +Mr. Morrison saw the remains of the episcopal apron, and, +remembering that he had heard that a Bishop was expected +at Metlakahtla from inland, exclaimed: “Perhaps you are +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>the Bishop who I heard was expected?” “Yes,” was the +reply, “I am all that is left of him.”</p> + +<p>After spending one night with Mr. Morrison, the Bishop +proceeded twenty-five miles by canoe along the coast northward +to Metlakahtla, which he reached on the 24th, “this +being the tenth canoe,” he remarks, “that we sat in since +leaving Dunvegan.”</p> + +<p>The venerable Archdeacon Collison, of the Diocese of +Caledonia, wrote from Kincolith Naas Mission of the visit of +Bishop Bompas to the Pacific coast:</p> + +<p>“He remained at Metlakahtla that winter, where he succeeded +in confirming a large number of candidates. By the +first steamer in spring he came over to me on Queen Charlotte’s +Island, at Massett. I had a little bedroom specially prepared +for him in the new mission-house, but he preferred lying +down on the floor, as he said he was not accustomed to sleeping +in rooms. He was about to lie down just across the doorway, +when I begged him to take another position, as he might be +disturbed by someone entering late or early.</p> + +<p>“I returned with him to the mainland on the steamer. +We went together to the Naas River by canoe—a voyage of +some fifty miles—to Kincolith. The owner of the canoe, +who was a chief, was steering, and I was seated near him +towards the stern, whilst the Bishop was seated forward. +As the Bishop raised his arms in paddling, in which we were +all engaged, it revealed a long tear in the side of his shirt. +Suddenly the chief asked me in a low tone, in Tsimshean: +‘Why is the chief’s shirt so torn?’ I replied: ‘He has been +a long time travelling through the forest.’ He was dressed +very roughly, and wore a pair of moccasins. When we +reached Kincolith, he purchased a coarse pair of brogans in +the little Indian store there. He was in the habit of sitting, +after the others had finished their meal, eating a small piece +of dry yeast-powder bread, baked by Mrs. Tomlinson or one +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>of her Indian girl boarders, and he would exclaim: ‘How +sweet this bread is to my taste after roughing it so long on +the trails!’ He informed us of the privations both missionaries +and Indians had endured owing to scarcity of food +during certain seasons, on more than one occasion having had +to boil and eat the skins of the animals that had been caught +in the hunt for their furs. I ventured to suggest to him that +this might be avoided if they could only grow potatoes and +pit them securely. We had taught our Indians to do this. +The Bishop feared they would not mature in his diocese, but +promised to remember it. Afterwards I was informed he +had introduced the potato with success.</p> + +<p>“The Rev. R. Tomlinson and I accompanied the Bishop +when he started to return to the head of canoe navigation on +the Naas River, and some distance on the trail. We had a +prayer-meeting at the point where we separated in the forest, +in which we joined in prayer for needful blessings—the Bishop +for us and God’s work in our hands, and we for him in his +journey and labours for the Lord. He gave away his great-coat +and a pot to the Indians, and started on the second stage +of his return journey accompanied by one young Indian.”</p> + +<p>While on the coast it was but natural that the Bishop’s +thoughts should wander to his native land.</p> + +<p>“From the Pacific coast,” he wrote, “a few weeks would +have taken me to England or any part of the civilized world; +but I preferred to return north without even visiting the +haunts of civilization (except so far as the Indians are cultivated +at our missions), on the ground that such a visit renders +the mind unsettled or disinclined for a life in the wilds.”</p> + +<p>Brave soldier of the Cross, how willing he was to sacrifice +anything for the Master’s cause! Leaving the coast, he +started in the spring up the Skeena River, and once again +plunged into the wilderness among his dusky flock.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br> +<span class="smaller">TIMES OF FAMINE</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>Life in the northland is hard and lonely enough at the best; +but when food gives out, and starvation stares people in the +face, it is too horrible even to imagine. And yet it is a +common thing during the long winters, when game is scarce, +when no fish are to be caught, and even the little rabbits die, +for famine to stalk through the land, bringing misery and +death to hundreds of men, women, and children.</p> + +<p>“In India and elsewhere,” says Mrs. Bompas, “as soon as +such a calamity is made known, subscriptions are raised, and +supplies are sent off as soon as possible. But it must be +months and months before the tidings of the misery here +could even reach our friends in England, and in the meantime +to what terrible straits might we not be reduced. One +shudders to think of what men are driven to by the pangs of +hunger.”</p> + +<p>Both whites and Indians suffer at such times. How hard +it must be for parents to see their little children crying out +for food, and to be unable to give them any! In 1878, the +Bishop returned from his visit to the Pacific coast. When +he reached his diocese, sad stories were told him of the fearful +famine which had ravaged his flock the previous winter. +Food was scarce, owing to the extreme mildness of the season, +interfering with the chase, and the mission supplies having +failed to reach them in the fall. He gives a graphic picture +of the sufferings endured in the diocese:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span></p> + +<p>“Horses were killed for food, and furs eaten at several of +the posts. The Indians had to eat a good many of their +beaver-skins. Imagine an English lady taking her supper off +her muff! The gentleman now here with me supported his +family for a while on bear-skins—those you see at home +mostly in the form of Grenadier caps. Can you fancy giving +a little girl, a year or two old, a piece of Grenadier’s cap, +carefully singed, boiled and toasted, to eat? Mr. McAulay’s +little girl has not yet recovered from the almost fatal sickness +that resulted. The scarcity brings out the strange contrast between +this country and others. Elsewhere money ‘answereth +all things,’ and among India’s millions half a million sterling +will relieve a famine; but send it here, and though a great +sum among our scattered individuals, who can be counted by +tens, yet it would do us no good, as for digestion we must +find it ‘hard cash’ indeed!”</p> + +<p>It was not only at one place or one season that the famine +came. It was a common occurrence. Once, in 1886, the +Bishop held his Synod at Fort Simpson. There was a +scarcity of food, the beginning of the great famine which +ensued, and all were placed on short allowance. One day the +dinner consisted of barley and a few potatoes, but it is said +that the Bishop was equal to the occasion, commending the +scanty fare by repeating Prov. xv. 17: “Better is a dinner of +herbs where love is than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.”</p> + +<p>The winter that followed the meeting of the clergy was a +terrible one. The famine increased. Game was scarce, few +moose were to be obtained, the rabbits all died, and the fish +nearly all left the river. The Indians asserted that the +scarcity of the finny prey was caused by the propeller of the +new steamer <i>Wrigley</i>, which first churned the head-waters of +the great river the preceding fall, but was unable to reach the +northern posts owing to the ice; hence the lack of supplies. +But any excuse would serve the Indians, as, on a previous +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>occasion when fish were scarce (so Mrs. Bompas tells us), the +natives said it was due to the white women bathing in the +river. Such a radical change as cleanliness was evidently as +much disliked by the fish as by the Indians.</p> + +<p>Through the weary days of famine sad reports reached the +Bishop of Indians dying for lack of food.</p> + +<p>“Forty starving Indians,” so he wrote, “are said to have +been eating each other on Peace River, and 200 dead there +of measles, and a like number at Isle à la Crosse.”</p> + +<p>“We have been living for some days,” says Mrs. Bompas, +“on barley soup and potatoes twice a day. We are four in +family, and William gives us all the giant’s share, and takes +so little himself. One hopes and prays for help. One hears +terrible accounts of the Indians, all about, all starving; no +rabbits or anything for them to fall back upon. Here many +of them hunt for rotten potatoes thrown away last fall. Oh, +it is truly heart-rending!”</p> + +<p>Well has Longfellow in his “Hiawatha” described the +desolation of such a scene as is only too common in the North:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“O the long and dreary winter!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O the cold and cruel winter!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ever thicker, thicker, thicker</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Froze the ice on lake and river.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ever deeper, deeper, deeper</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fell the snow o’er all the landscape;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fell the covering snow and drifted</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Through the forest round the village....</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“O the wasting of the famine!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O the wailing of the children!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O the anguish of the women!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All the earth was sick and famished;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Hungry was the air around them;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Hungry was the sky above them;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the hungry stars above them</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Like the eyes of wolves glared at them.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>The mission party were placed on half rations, and earnest +prayers were offered up to the great Father above for deliverance. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>Starving wolves were seen prowling around, ready to +snatch up anything, carrying off little children if they ventured +near. “We are just hanging on by our eyelashes,” quaintly +wrote Mrs. Bompas.</p> + +<p>The Bishop starved himself to feed his household, and +daily he became thinner and more haggard. At last the +provisions were so reduced that the Bishop, to lessen the +number at the Fort, left for another place. He seldom +thought of himself, but only of those dependent upon him. +He could live anywhere, even in a snow-bank, with a few +scraps for food. Truly his wants were few.</p> + +<p>“An iron cup, plate, or knife,” writes Mr. Spendlove, +“with one or two kettles, form his culinary equipment. A +hole in the snow, a corner of a boat, wigwam, or log-hut, +provided space, six feet by two feet, for sleeping accommodation. +Imagine him seated on a box in a twelve-foot room, +without furniture, and there cooking, teaching, studying, +early and late, always at work, never at ease, never known to +take a holiday.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bompas tells us that the Bishop was a very self-contained +man. During the years when he was itinerating +among the Indians and Eskimo he had lived so much alone +in tent or cabin that he had learnt to be wholly independent +of external aid. Moreover, he had trained himself to endure +hardness as a good soldier of the Cross. His diet was at all +times abstemious, almost severely so. To the last he never +allowed himself milk or cream in tea or coffee. He was a +fairly good cook and bread-maker, and loved to produce a +good and savoury dish for his friends, although eschewing all +such dainties himself.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="illus11" style="max-width: 29.6875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus11.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">Trout-Spearers bringing Supplies for a Mission Station</span></p> + <p class="p3">From a photograph taken during a heavy fall of snow.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>One day, when they knew not where to-morrow’s food +would come from, Mr. Spendlove and several Indians came, +bringing moose-meat. They told a terrible story of suffering +below. All at Fort Wrigley were starving, absolutely no +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>food was to be obtained, and a number of Indians died. +Mr. Spendlove and his fellow-travellers were pitifully thin. +Several of the poor dogs had died off, and those which +survived were too weak to draw the sled, and had to be +hauled themselves. By a special mercy they came upon two +moose, which had just been killed by wolves. This meat +helped them out, and probably saved their lives.</p> + +<p>“All the Indians were just on the verge of starvation,” +wrote Mr. Garten of Fort Rae. “All kinds of shifts were +made to preserve life; they were obliged to eat some of the +parchment of the fur which they caught; and even old +leather dresses which had been worn by the Indian women +were eaten up. The children fared very badly, not being +able to eat the leather. Of course, there were the usual +miseries accompanying such a state of things: such as men +falling down from exhaustion, stealing what little they could +from each other, etc., but happily no crimes were committed, +as far as I know; only two Indians died from starvation. +Things would not have been so bad had there been rabbits +and partridges, but unhappily these also were wanting.”</p> + +<p>At such times terrible stories were related of what happened +away from the Fort. Husbands driven mad from the pangs +of hunger were said to have eaten their wives and little +ones.</p> + +<p>“There is an old Indian,” says Mrs. Bompas, “even now +pointed out here, who is said to have eaten his wife and +children.”</p> + +<p>“Such a dreadful thing occurred on Friday,” she wrote at +another time, “which has saddened us all. The poor Indian +Cachie was seen crossing the river, wading through the water +and over the ice at the peril of his life. He got to the shore +at last in a most distressing state. His wife and three +children all died from starvation. There are rumours more +ugly still concerning him, though we hope they are but +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>rumours. Even at the best it is a sad, ghastly story. The +poor man has been living on berries and squirrels.”</p> + +<p>Not only did the wives and little children suffer most at +such seasons, but the aged, especially the old women. Bishop +Stringer, much farther north, several years later, gives an +instance of what it means to these people in times of want:</p> + +<p>“In March a man came staggering in, and it required only +a glance to tell that he was starving—he looked more like a +skeleton than a man of flesh and blood. We gave him some +food, little by little at first, and then he told his story. He +and his aged mother spent the winter about fifty miles to the +westward. Game became scarce, and their supply of food +became exhausted. Being camped beside an old decayed +whale carcass, they lived on this for a time; but they soon +became so weak, and the snow so deep, that they were not +able to procure it any longer. The man caught some foxes, +and they ate them; then even foxes failed. Their only two +dogs were sacrificed to appease their appetites. When almost +on the point of starvation, they started for here without +blanket or tent. The mother was nearly blind, and when +about thirty miles from this place the son had to leave her in +a snow-house. He himself was so weak that it took three +days to come a distance that is considered one day’s fair +travelling. He told us he thought his mother would be dead, +and all the other natives seemed to think the same, and so +they did not think it important to start out at once to bury +her. After some little trouble, I got one native to go with +me, and, taking my dog-team, reached there early the next +day. My companion expected to find her a corpse, but +when we reached her snow-house she called from within: +‘Inooaloon kaivet?’ (My son, have you come back?). We +found her crouched in the middle of a snow-house about +three feet high, the door of which was partly open, with snow +drifting in. Here she had been for three days without blanket +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>or any covering but her clothing, and without fire, drink, or +food. She was very thirsty, and we soon made a fire, melted +snow, and gave her some water. I asked her if she were +hungry, and she said only a little, but someone had come to +her each night and had given her some fresh deer-meat. +(This, no doubt, was a dream or a vision; but it had the +effect of keeping her courage up, which is a great deal with +an Eskimo.) I asked her if she had slept, and she said she +had slept every night. She was not the least bit frozen, +although the temperature was down below zero. She said +also that she had asked the Good Spirit to help her, and +that He had heard her, and she had not been afraid. Poor +body! she had very little knowledge of higher things, but +her faith seemed to be great. We put her on the sled, and +came back to Herschel Island without camping—a continuous +trip of about fifty or sixty miles. My dogs were good, or we +could not have done it. The old woman’s eyesight was after +a time restored, and of course they were both very thankful +for the help they received. The man was in our house to-day, +and he says that his mother is quite hearty and strong.”</p> + +<p>Though many of these people, in the midst of such trouble, +sank lower than brutes, yet it is pleasing to know that the +knowledge of Christ filled some hearts, lifted them to a higher +level, and kept them from doing horrible things. Listen to +the words of two Indian Christians, which were told to the +Rev. W. Spendlove:</p> + +<p>“I have had a hard life,” said one; “seen many deaths from +starvation—thirty one winter. I have seen much wickedness, +too: have known men to eat human flesh; kill the old folks +by a blow with an axe; pitch the new-born child in the snow +to die. Yes, greedy men go to other men’s wives; blows to +women instead of words; children beaten like pounding the +drum. I heard the Good News; I took it in my heart, and +kept it there. I kept from all this evil, but I am an old +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>sinner. My heart has been black as your ink; God has made +it feel like raw flesh. He took away lots of my children. +I rebelled; I called the Great Spirit hard names. I said: +‘God is not wise; He must be unpitiful to want my children +when I need them so badly.’ Stop! I am a foolish Indian; +my black heart makes me talk that way. Those evil things +are not done now. Who stopped them? What shamed us +Redmen of our black, dirty ways? I see it clear now. God’s +Spirit pricked holes in our hearts and minds. His Word has +entered and stopped the fire of sin. It cannot burn now.</p> + +<p>“I have drunk animals’ blood, eaten raw flesh, and the +bad, dirty insides of all wild animals. Nothing can change +that heart. But I tell you there is another heart grown out +of the old one; now I have two. The new one is made by +faith in the blood of Jesus. I take the holy bread and wine. +I am happy; my soul is free and clean. Now I cook my food, +keep myself clean, wear white men’s clothes, and pray daily +to my Saviour. With these words I shake hands with you +big praying-men.”</p> + +<p>And another is:</p> + +<p>“I am a poor Red Indian wife, not supposed to speak first +to white people. I speak with my back turned, my head +down, and a shawl over my face. Why do this now? My +heart is full—running over. I know who is my Master; His +name is sweet and strong in my ears. He now keeps my +heart steady with His words. I travel about the woods, and +over mountains; I carry heavy burdens, but my step is light, +my heart is strong, the light is white in my eyes now, because +my sin-burden is laid on Jesus.”</p> + +<p>To add to the misery of famine, there was always the +horror of darkness; for candles became very scarce, owing to +lack or thinness of deer, from which grease is obtained. Over +and over again Mrs. Bompas laments the want. And what a +joy it was even to obtain a “bladder of grease”!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span></p> + +<p>“How you would smile,” she once wrote, “to see my +jealous care of every particle of grease; how I save every +small piece from my own candlestick and keep it in a little +box, so at the end of several days I have just enough to place +in a saucer, and with a piece of wick form my ‘wax candle’ +for dressing!”</p> + +<p>These, then, are some of the hardships the missionaries +have to undergo in that far-off land, in order to carry the +Gospel message to the natives of the North. Much do they +need our prayers and sympathy in their great loneliness, that +they may not faint, but carry forward the banner of the +Master.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br> +<span class="smaller">MID DRIFTING ICE</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>We have seen the Bishop travelling over the great Northern +waterways in trim canoes in the summer, and on snow-shoes +over the white trails in the winter. We will now watch him +battling and struggling forward on a rude raft mid surging, +drifting ice.</p> + +<p>In May, 1881, he began those marvellous trips which only +a giant constitution could have endured. From the Peace +River district he made a voyage far north to visit the Tukudh +Indians. Here he was given a hearty welcome, and rejoiced +to find that the natives had begun to teach one another to +read from the books which had been printed for their benefit. +An Indian from the far-off Yukon came all the way to see +him at this place, and urged him to go again and visit his +tribe. The Bishop was standing by a smouldering camp-fire +listening to the native pleading for his people. Suddenly the +Indian pointed downwards to the dying coals at their feet. +“That,” he said, “is how you have left us. You kindled the +fire of the Gospel among us, and left it untended to die out +again. Why have you done this?”</p> + +<p>The Bishop was much moved. He longed to go to them, +or to send someone in his place, but his men were very few, +and he himself was needed farther south. So, after spending +the summer among these noble Tukudhs, travelling from +May to August 2,500 miles, he returned to Great Slave +Lake to meet an incoming mission party from England. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>After that he went up the turbulent Liard River from Fort +Simpson to visit two forts there—Liard and Nelson.</p> + +<p>Winter was close upon him when he once again got back +to Fort Simpson. Mrs. Bompas was at Fort Norman, 200 +miles away, and he must reach that place as soon as possible, +to relieve her of the responsibility of the mission-work.</p> + +<p>Arriving at Fort Simpson, he found the river full of floating +ice, and no canoe could navigate that cruel stream in such +a condition. He was urged to remain there where it was +comfortable; it would be madness to go forward. But no, +that was not the Bishop’s way; he would go, no matter how +great the difficulties.</p> + +<p>A raft was therefore hurriedly built. This was a poor +affair—only a few logs placed side by side, and several poles +or boards across the top to hold them together. Even the +sturdy Vikings of olden days would have shrunk from venturing +forth on such a craft; but the Bishop was greater +than they. He had not only the courage of the Vikings, but +the holy enthusiasm of St. Paul, and these two virtues formed +a combination which could accomplish almost any undertaking.</p> + +<p>With one Indian he started from Fort Simpson upon his +shaky craft. With long poles in their hands they steered +their way down the stream. The floating ice jammed around +them, threatening to crush their tiny craft and engulf them +in a watery grave. At times they were standing in water +half-way to the knees, owing to the pressure of some heavy +blocks of ice. Then, as they handled their long poles, the +water ran down their sleeves and drenched their bodies. The +cold wind whistled about them, and froze the water upon +their clothes till they were covered with an icy armour. The +mittens on their hands became wet, then stiff and frozen, +while ice formed on the poles, making them heavy and +slippery. At night there was the camp-fire upon the shore, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>the brief rest, and then up and on again, for they must rush +through before the river became solid from bank to bank.</p> + +<p>Thus every day they battled on, chilled to the bone, and +ever in danger, yet never giving up. But stern Winter knew +no mercy. Colder and colder it grew, until at last the icy +bridge was formed, to remain during long, dreary months. +Then they were forced to abandon the raft, and fortunate +were they to find shelter at a place on the side of the stream, +known as La Violdete’s House. Here the Bishop remained +for ten days, until the ice in the river was strong enough to +travel upon. At the end of that time he and four Indians +started on foot for Fort Norman. They hoped to reach it in +six days, and took just enough food to last them for that +period. One of the Indians, seeing the tracks of a bear, went +off in pursuit, and lost sight of the others entirely.</p> + +<p>The Bishop and his three remaining companions pushed +steadily forward. But, alas! they missed the right trail, and +by the time they should have reached Fort Norman it was +still six days’ journey off. When they at length found out +their mistake their food was very low, and they were forced +to place themselves on short allowance. Wearily they plodded +onward, beating their way through tangled bushes and +tramping through the snow. Their feet, too, became sore, +for the rough ground, covered with sharp stones and snags, +tore their moccasins, and caused them to stumble and sometimes +to fall.</p> + +<p>At length they ate their last scrap of food—a fish and one +small barley-cake between four starving men. Fort Norman +was still two days’ hard travelling ahead, and they must make +it, or perish there in the wilderness. The Bishop was +becoming very weak and footsore. His continual travelling +and hardships since May were telling upon him. How he +longed to stop, to just lie down under some tree, and rest, +rest! But no, that would be fatal! His flock needed him, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>and he must not give up. So with firmly-compressed lips, +and face drawn and haggard, he stumbled on, trying to keep +pace with his more sturdy companions.</p> + +<p>But even the Bishop’s splendid will could not conquer his +worn body. His feet refused to move, and he sank exhausted +upon the snow. “Leave me here,” he said to the Indians; +“I can go no farther. You push on and send me back some +food.” There was nothing else to do, for men in desperate +circumstances cannot stand upon ceremony. So, building +a fire under one of the trees, and spreading some fir boughs +on the ground, the Indians once again started forward.</p> + +<p>And there in the lone wilderness the faithful Bishop was +left, perhaps to die. Suppose the Indians, too, should give +out ere they reached the Fort! What then? Or suppose +prowling, hungry wolves should find him. Then, in either +case, another name would be added to the long list of noble +men and women who had given their lives for the Master’s +sake.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, at Fort Norman, Mrs. Bompas was enduring +an agony of suspense. Where was the Bishop? Why was +he so delayed? Had something terrible happened to him? +Besides this, there was the responsibility of the mission-work, +with the many demands of the ever imperative Indians. A +white woman of high culture, away in the great North, living +in a rude log-house, shut off from all communication with the +outside world, and her husband lost somewhere in the wilds!</p> + +<p>The loneliness and dreariness of this place has been vividly +described by that earnest missionary, the Rev. W. Spendlove.</p> + +<p>“We reside,” he said, “in the northern confines of British +territory, on the Arctic slopes of this continent, not far from +the Arctic Circle and Great Bear Lake, amid wild, mountainous +scenery. Either the wild fury of the storm rages or dead +calm with intense cold prevails, interchanged with bright sun, +and cheerless ice and snow landscape for eight months of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>year. Ice-blocked and snow-bound, dark forest covers the +banks of the Mackenzie River, and beyond, a trackless desert +of beautiful, perfectly dry snow. Distance, 8,000 miles from +England, upwards of 1,500 miles beyond the out-limit of +Canadian frontier border of civilization, and our nearest +missionary brother fifteen days’ journey. Cut off from white +people, shut up among Red Indian savages! Oh, what vast +solitudes! What extreme loneliness! The effort to obtain +sufficient food and fuel for these regions is no easy task. +Other conditions of life are most disadvantageous. Nothing +in nature to smile upon us for eight months. No sight or +sound of civilization. No European Christian to mingle +with, or fellow-worker to shake the hand, join in mutual +sympathetic intercourse, and say, ‘Go on, brother, I believe +in you and your work.’”</p> + +<p>If such conditions were so trying and terrible to a man, +what must they have been to a woman with a body by no +means of the strongest, accustomed for years to a life of +comfort and the refined atmosphere of London drawing-rooms? +To make matters worse, “these Indians,” so Mrs. Bompas tells +us, “like all savage tribes, despise women. They call them +among themselves ‘the creatures,’ and will not submit to a +woman’s sway.”</p> + +<p>One night towards the middle of November, Mrs. Bompas +was aroused from sleep and much startled by loud knockings +upon the door. Trembling, and fearing for the Bishop, she +demanded who was there. “We bring you tidings of the +Bishop,” came the reply. “He is starving.”</p> + +<p>It did not take Mrs. Bompas long to spring from her bed, +and examine the two Indians as to the truth of their report. +When she heard of her husband’s pitiable condition her heart +sank very low. At the same time there came the thought +and firm belief that the Arms which had shielded him through +so many dangers would befriend him still.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span></p> + +<p>She well knew there was no time to lose, and her first effort +was to induce one of the men, Whu-tale by name, to take +relief to the Bishop. Though this Indian was not one of the +starving party, he had learned the story from the three who +had straggled, half-starved, into the Fort, and had hurried +off with another to carry the tale to the mission-house. +Mrs. Bompas knew he could be trusted to go in search of +the Bishop, and with Indian sagacity would find the place.</p> + +<p>“Whu-tale,” she said, “Bishop is starving in the woods. +I send him meat. Chiddi, chiddi!” (Quick, quick!). “You +take it to him, eh?” But Whu-tale did not like the idea of +starting out at that time of the night on such a long errand, +and doubtfully he shook his head. “Maybe to-morrow,” he +replied, with true Indian passiveness.</p> + +<p>“No, Whu-tale,” urged the anxious woman. “To-morrow +the Bishop must be here. He cannot stand until he has +eaten meat. I want you to take it now, and go to him like +the wind. If you go directly and bring Bishop safe, I will +give you a fine flannel shirt.”</p> + +<p>At this Whu-tale grew interested. Though the Bishop’s +sufferings did not appeal to him, the offer of the flannel shirt +moved him, and a little more briskly he remarked: “Then, +it would not be hard for me to go, and perhaps like the wind.”</p> + +<p>Having accomplished this much, Mrs. Bompas had still +stern work ahead. Wrapped in a deer-skin robe, she emerged +from the house, and climbed the hill to the Fort, and aroused +the Hudson’s Bay Company’s officer from a sound sleep to +obtain a supply of moose-meat. The thermometer was +nearly 80 degrees below zero, and starving wolves had been +recently seen lurking near the fort. She thought of neither +one nor the other, but only of her husband, out alone in the +night.</p> + +<p>At last Whu-tale was ready, and much rejoiced was she to +see him start off on his errand of mercy. All the next day +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>Mrs. Bompas waited and watched in great suspense. The +hours dragged slowly by. Daylight came and went. Whu-tale +had not returned. Darkness came, and just when +Mrs. Bompas was about to give up in despair, the travellers +returned, the Bishop hardly able to stand, and his beard +fringed with icicles. The Lord had indeed preserved him +from the many and great dangers, and thankful hearts offered +up fervent prayers to Him that night in the little mission-house.</p> + +<p>Here the Bishop stayed all the winter, and, notwithstanding +his last fearful experience, left again in the spring, among +the drift-ice, for the purpose of visiting Archdeacon McDonald +at Peel River, whose health was not good. Of the risk the +Bishop ran in this journey down-stream with the drifting ice +the following description in his own words will give some +idea:</p> + +<p>“The breaking-up of the ice in spring in the large rivers, +like the Mackenzie, is sometimes a fine sight. The ice may +pile in masses along the banks to the height of forty feet, or +be carried far into the woods. When any check occurs to +this drifting of the broken ice, so as to back the stream, the +ice may suddenly rise to the height of fifty feet or more and +flood the country.</p> + +<p>“The rivers and lakes freeze in winter to a depth of from +six to ten feet, and the force and impetus of large masses of +ice of this thickness, when hurled along the rapid current of +a mighty river, are enormous. Few exhibitions of the power +of the great Creator are more imposing than when ‘He +causeth His wind to blow and the waters flow.’”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br> +<span class="smaller">INDIAN WAYS</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>I tried once to take a snapshot of a group of friendly Indians +gathered around a camp-fire. It was a picturesque scene—the +rude brush lodge, the dusky-faced Indians squatted on +boughs and robes, the lean dogs lying around, and the bright +fire blazing up in the centre. What a fine picture it would +make! But, alas! when the negative was developed, how +great the disappointment! Instead of the bright blaze, there +was a hideous blur, almost blotting out the figures grouped +around. The beauty of the scene was gone; it could not be +captured.</p> + +<p>This is something like an attempt to describe the Indians +of the North. To visit them in their camps, watch their +quaint ways, and talk with them, is one thing; to paint +them in words which will be real, picturesque, and living is +quite another matter. There is as much difference as between +the bright, sparkling blaze and the blur upon the negative.</p> + +<p>A few men have succeeded in a wonderful manner in +describing the life of the Indians, such as Longfellow in his +“Hiawatha,” and Fenimore Cooper in his “Leatherstocking +Tales.” If Bishop Bompas had so wished, what marvellous +stories he could have told of his forty-one years among this +interesting people! He did describe some of their manners +and customs in two little books, “Northern Lights on the +Bible,” and a “History of the Diocese of Mackenzie River.” +But he has told us all too little. In this chapter it is, of +course, impossible to tell all about the ways of the Indians +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>in the vast field over which he travelled, for that field of +work comprised 1,000,000 square miles; but we will suppose +ourselves in a very fast and successful flying-machine, which +will take us from place to place, and give us brief glimpses of +these dusky children, scattered away up North over countless +leagues of forest, mountain, and plain.</p> + +<p>Indians are ever on the move, and well have they been +called “People of the Wandering Foot.” They do not stay +long in one place, and for this reason their houses are made +of skins of the deer or moose, stretched over slender poles in +the shape of beehives or haystacks. When they wish to +break up camp, they take the skins and leave the poles. In +some places, especially in the Yukon, to-day they live in log-houses, +and have regular villages in the fashion of white +people.</p> + +<p>To see a band of Indians breaking up camp is an interesting +sight. Everything is bustle and confusion. The women do +most of the work, and great is the chattering and scolding +which goes on. The dogs lie around, and even the smallest +dog has its pack to carry of the household effects, according +to its strength. They have no furniture to move, for the +ground is bed, chair, and table combined. The women do +not have to trouble about their dishes and silverware, as a +few tin cups and kettles are all they have, and fingers take +the place of forks.</p> + +<p>“When the Indians shift camp, which they often do every +week or two, the men-folk start first, unencumbered but with +their guns; and after making a track for ten or twelve miles, +they mark out a spot for the next encampment, and then +proceed on the chase till evening. The women, with their +families and dog-sleds, loaded with tent, bedding, and +utensils, trudge slowly after, and on arriving at the intended +camp, after clearing the snow, they strew the space with pine-branches +and erect the tent. After arranging this by disburdening +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>the sleds of their loads, they proceed to collect +fuel for firing, and have all ready for a repast by evening, +when the husbands return, bearing the produce of their hunt. +If a large animal has been killed, the wives walk to the spot +the next day to carry home the meat and hide. The men, +however, now more than formerly take a share in the camp +duties.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus12" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus12.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">An Indian Summer Camp at Peel River.</span></p> + <p class="p3"><i>From a photograph by the Rev. C. E. Whittaker</i></p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>The writer once, seeing a strange band of Indians thus +getting ready to depart, brought his camera to bear upon +the interesting scene, but so great was the indignation +displayed by the Indians that he was glad to beat a hasty +retreat. They have a superstitious dread of the little black +box with the mysterious click, which accounted for their +anger.</p> + +<p>As white men go among the Indians, the old-time dress +gradually disappears, and instead the men wear fine, factory-made +clothes, and the women are gaily adorned in gaudy +dress material and many-coloured ribbons, of which they are +very proud. They are exceedingly fond, too, of perfume, and +some will spend almost their last cent upon the sweet-scented +stuff. But, get the Indian away in the wild, his real home, +and there you will find him the most picturesque of beings. +Clothed in a suit made of fur, deer-skin, or dressed leather, +with a skin blanket, and with moccasins on his feet, you have +the typical Indian of whom we love to read.</p> + +<p>“The women’s dress,” so Bishop Bompas tells us, “mostly +consists of a long leather coat trimmed with cloth or beads, +and sometimes a cloth hood for the head. The women’s faces +were, till recently, often slightly tattooed with dark lines on +the chin, formed by drawing a thread loaded with gunpowder +or colouring-matter under the skin. The men were formerly +much addicted to painting their faces with vermilion, but +this has fallen into disuse among the tribes in contact with +Europeans. The Eskimo young men stripe their faces with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span>vermilion as a distinguishing mark when they have killed an +enemy.”</p> + +<p>In olden days the Indians wove baskets of roots close +enough together to hold water. This water was heated for +cooking purposes by plunging into it several hot stones. +Meat was baked by being buried in the earth and a fire made +over it. Now the boiling is done in iron or copper kettles, +and the roasting on wooden spits or skewers before the fire.</p> + +<p>Their food generally consists of meat and fish, but they +are coming more and more to use the delicacies of the white +man. Tea and tobacco they love, and the effects are often +none too good. In times of famine they will drink a large +amount of tea, and then complain of “sore heart.”</p> + +<p>“An idle Indian,” says Bishop Bompas, “may be more +inclined to allay the pangs of hunger with his pipe than to +brave the cold of winter in hastening to the chase. Many of +the Indians complain of pains in the chest, which may arise +from their incautiously imbibing the caustic ashes with which +they often load their empty pipes in lighting these at their +fire embers.”</p> + +<p>Before the arrival of Christianity the lot of the Indian +woman was very hard. A man multiplied his wives as one +would his cattle. They were only useful for hauling and +chopping wood; they were slaves in the hardest sense of the +term. Often mothers, knowing what their little girl-babies +would have to suffer when they were grown up, destroyed +them. One woman confessed to the first missionary among +them that she had killed thirteen. But since the Gospel has +reached them changes have taken place. Although women +yet have much of the work to do, they are treated far better, +and regarded with more affection.</p> + +<p>“In Indian marriages it seems to be a part of the etiquette +that the bride should show great reluctance to be wedded, till +she has at times to be forcibly dragged from her camp. Her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>friends also may exhibit great opposition to the intended +match; and yet this is, in fact, only a part of the ceremony. +Among some Indians it is understood to be absolutely forbidden +to a mother-in-law to look her son-in-law in the face +at least until the birth of his first child. This does not seem +to be enforced among the more northern Indians, but a son-in-law +is looked upon as a sort of hunter for his wife’s parents. +Their daughter does not leave her parents’ camp, and even +after marriage appears to be more under their control than +that of her husband.</p> + +<p>“As soon as a child is born, its parents usually drop their +own name and assume that of the child; and this is continued +a good deal even in the case of baptized Indians; so that you +may hear John’s father or Jane’s mother so spoken of in preference +to their own name. A wife, instead of speaking of her +husband, will prefer to speak of her boy’s father. Polygamy +was practised among the non-Christian Indians chiefly by the +chiefs and leading men, and with the excuse that more than +one wife was required by them to dress their furs and skins, +and carry their meat and effects, and do other camp duties.</p> + +<p>“The infant Indians are, as is well known, enveloped in +bags of moss, which, in this severe climate, are admirable preservatives +against cold and exposure. In these bags the infant +is tightly laced up, confining the limbs, and leaving only the +head exposed. This process of mummification does not seem +to weaken the limbs, nor to give discomfort to the patient. +The swing is the usual accompaniment of the moss-bag, where +the swaddled infant is lulled to rest. Slung over her shoulder, +this moss-bag is the constant burden of the mother’s travels.</p> + +<p>“In sickness the Indians are very pitiful. They soon lose +heart, and seem to die more from despondency than disease. +Their need is often not so much medicine as good nourishment +and nursing; but this is hard to obtain. Food is often +scarce even for those in health to seek it, and for a sick Indian +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>it may be hard to find a friend in need. The constant removals +are trying to the weak and infirm, and in times of +distress those who cannot follow the band are left behind to +perish. Indians have been known to devour their own children +in cases of absolute starvation; but such instances are rare, and +may, perhaps, be attributed to a temporary mania. Those +who are believed to have perpetrated such an act are feared +and shunned.</p> + +<p>“The dying are often hastily wrapped up and laid aside, +even before the last sigh has escaped, for there is a reluctance +to handle the dead. There is no fear of the resuscitation of +the corpse, which is, for the most part, stiffly frozen as soon +as removed from the camp-fire. Chocolate is a favourite +beverage with the sick where it can be obtained, and it is +looked upon as a medicine. The Indians universally give it +the name of ‘ox-blood,’ because it was mistaken by them for +the blood of the musk-ox when first they saw it used by the +whites. Rice, which is called ‘white barley,’ is another luxury +coveted by the sick. Flour is known by the Tukudh Indians +as ‘ashes from the end of heaven.’ Tobacco is ‘warmth’ or +‘comfort,’ and the pipe the ‘comforting stone.’”</p> + +<p>The aged are at times left on the trail to die. When they +are too feeble to keep up with the others, they are given some +food, and generally a rifle and cartridges. For a while they +struggle on, but after a time they give up the attempt and +are heard of no more, unless a prospecter, missionary, or +mounted policeman happens along.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus13" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus13.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">An Old Indian Deserted by his People</span></p> + <p class="p2">This native was brought into Whitehorse by the Mounted Police. He had + been left by his people alone on the trail. This is not + uncommon among some of the natives in certain places.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>This has long been the custom among these Northern +Indians, but only now prevails where the influence of the Gospel +has not been felt. During the fall of 1771, when Samuel +Hearne, the great explorer, was retreating from the Arctic +coast with a band of Indians, one of the wives of the native +men, in the last stages of consumption, could go no farther. +“For a band short of food to halt on the march meant death +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>to all. The Northern wilderness has its grim, unwritten law, +inexorable and merciless as death. For those who fall by the +way there is no pity. A whole tribe may not be exposed to +death for the sake of one person. Giving the squaw food and +a tent, the Indians left her to meet her last enemy, whether +death came by starvation, or cold, or the wolf-pack. Again +and again the abandoned squaw came up with the marchers, +weeping and begging their pity, only to fall from weakness. +But the wilderness has no pity; and so they left her.”⁠<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>⁠</p> + +<p>“The Indians were formerly accustomed, instead of burying +their dead, to place them on high scaffolds above ground; +but this habit was probably owing to the ground being for +many months in the year frozen too hard to dig it. The +raising on scaffolds was also a safer preservative than burying +under ground from the ravages of animals of prey. Since +mingling with the whites, however, the Indians conform to +European habits of burial. It was also formerly a superstitious +custom to place with the deceased his bow, arrows, +and other necessaries; and even in later times a gun, ammunition, +tobacco, fire-bag, and other articles, have been buried +in the grave of a dead Indian. Such a superstition it is hard +to eradicate; and perhaps it needs some care not to quench +too roughly the idea of a life continued after death, until the +knowledge of a spiritual immortality and a final resurrection +can be instilled to supplant the instinctive notion of a continued +mundane life.</p> + +<p>“The Indians had formerly much superstitious dread of +using any clothing or other articles belonging to a person +deceased. In case of a death, all the clothing and effects of +the departed were thrown away or destroyed; and even the +relatives would destroy their tents, guns, and other property, +either out of grief, or from dread of using again anything +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>that the deceased had come in contact with. These inconvenient +customs are being gradually relinquished.”</p> + +<p>Little white tents are placed over graves on high hills. In +some places the spots are well tended, and adorned with neat +palings and quaint coverings. Often flags are erected on +long poles. In olden days, in Southern Yukon, the Indians +burned their dead, and placed the ashes in boxes, over which +they built rude structures. During the Klondyke rush, in +some places, these boxes were disturbed by the gold-seekers, +which angered the Indians exceedingly.</p> + +<p>The natives live by the chase, and for this reason, if for no +other, they must be ever on the move to obtain a living. +When game is plentiful the Indians live well, and, having +enough for to-day, seldom take thought for the morrow. All +kinds of game abound, from the lordly moose and the savage +grizzly bear to the timid rabbit and the jaunty ptarmigan.</p> + +<p>To visit a fur-trader’s store and watch the various skins +brought in for barter is an interesting sight. You will see +the skin of the lynx, beaver, wolverine, bear, martin, ermine, +wolf, and the different kinds of fox, from the common red fox +to the costly cross or black fox. For this latter the Indians +are ever on the watch, as it is worth very much. One black +fox is a fortune. The animal is quite rare, and when one is +sighted weeks and months are often spent in obtaining the +prize. A few years ago an Indian started after one which he +had seen the day before. It was drawing towards spring, +when the tops of the foothills were losing their covering of +snow, owing to the hot rays of the sun. Noticing Mr. Reynard +on one of these bare places anxiously searching for mice, the +Indian dressed himself in a suit of white cotton, made for the +occasion, and crept cautiously to the edge of a bunch of trees +near by. Then he began to squeak like a mouse. Soon the +fox pricked up his ears and trotted off towards the woods, +hoping for a nice morsel. As he drew near the Indian levelled +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>his rifle, and shot the poor brute right through the head. +This fox-skin was an excellent one, and the fur-trader who +purchased it valued it at from 2,000 to 3,000 dollars.</p> + +<p>Many are the risks the native runs in his various wanderings +after the daily food. At times an angry moose threatens +to impale him with his great antlers, or a wounded bear hurls +himself upon the hunter. A few years ago an Indian, standing +by his lodge, saw a huge bear coming towards him. +Slipping back, he seized a small rifle and fired a shot at the +brute. It was enough to anger the monster, and with a +terrific roar he rushed upon the man. The Indian fought +hard, but he was as a child in the fearful grip. His clothes +and flesh were ripped and torn in a most frightful manner, +and but for the timely arrival of several Indians the man +would have been torn to pieces. As it was his life was +despaired of, and it was all the police doctor from Whitehorse +could do to cure him. When the bear had been killed +the Indians cut him all to pieces, and threw the portions to +the four winds of heaven. This is an old custom, and unless +this be done it is believed the injured man cannot get well. +As he did recover, however, the credit was given to their +prompt action in scattering the bear’s body, and not to the +skilful attention of the “white man’s doctor.”</p> + +<p>A sad incident happened about 100 miles back of Whitehorse. +An Indian was out hunting with his little boy, +about twelve years old. One day, seeing the fresh tracks of +a moose, which circled around the camp, he told the lad to +remain in the lodge while he started in pursuit. As the +hunter crept stealthily along on his noiseless snow-shoes, he +saw the bushes move in front of him. Thinking it was the +moose quietly browsing, he fired right at the spot, and then +rushed forward. What were his feelings to find, instead of +the lordly animal, his own little son lying bleeding on the +snow, dead. The poor boy, disobeying his father’s command, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>had started off to do some hunting on his own account, and +was thus struck by the fatal bullet.</p> + +<p>In many places the power of the wily medicine-man is still +strong among the Indians. This is especially so where the +Gospel message has not taken firm root. The natives still +believe that the conjurer has influence over things in the +heavens above and the earth beneath, and to gain his favour +various are the gifts which are slipped into his hands. One +of the most interesting superstitions is called “fox medicine.” +The Indian, wishing to have success with his season’s hunting, +before he departs will give the medicine-man money or furs; +he then thinks the foxes will be urged to come to his traps. +At Little Salmon, on the Yukon River, a fur-trader suggested +to the Indians that they should pay the conjurer after +the season’s hunt, according to the animals they had caught. +This they did, though the medicine-man did not like it at all, +for he received very few gifts from some of his people.</p> + +<p>The same trader was once travelling with an Indian on a +long trail. When pitching camp for the night, a branch fell +and struck the native a heavy blow on the head. He imagined +he was seriously injured, and sat for some time over the fire +in a most despondent attitude. At length he looked intently +into the trader’s face.</p> + +<p>“You got ’um paper?” he remarked.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” was the reply; and a leaf torn from a small note-book +was handed to him.</p> + +<p>“You got ’um pencil?” was the next request. This, too, +was given; and then the Indian slowly and laboriously traced +the figure of a cross upon the leaf. When this had been +accomplished to his satisfaction, he threw it into the fire, at +the same time blowing vigorously with his breath. Watching +the flames catch the paper and carry it aloft, he gave a sigh +of contentment, while a new expression came into his +face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span></p> + +<p>“What did you do that for?” asked the trader, much +interested in the proceeding.</p> + +<p>“Oh, medicine-man say when me leave on dis trip, if anything +matter, me make all same cross on paper, and put ’um +in fire; him get word dat way, and make me all same well +Injun. Me better now;” and, suiting the action to the +word, he leaped to his feet as if nothing had happened. +What the cross had to do with it is hard to say. Perhaps +it was some faint glimmering of the power of the Cross of +Christ which had come to the medicine-man, and this he used +to further his own plans.</p> + +<p>In some places the conjurer is of a very jealous nature, +and it is dangerous for anyone to interfere with him. Mrs. +Bompas, years ago, at Fort Simpson, on the Mackenzie +River, had a thrilling experience, which might have proved +quite fatal.</p> + +<p>“On going down to the camp one evening,” so she tells us, +“we were attracted to one of the leather tents or lodges, where +a low, droning sound announced the medicine-man’s presence. +‘Do let us go and see it!’ exclaimed Maggie; and I, hardly +reflecting on the prudence of the step, turned toward the spot +whence the sounds proceeded. It was in Mineha’s tent, and +here I discovered my little pet widow. Her hand had been +poisoned in some way, and she was suffering great pain. She +was lying down, with her hand extended, and beside her +crouched a young Trout Lake Indian, lately come in, a +deserter from one of the portage boats. Fancy the scene! +The woman moaning, with closed eyes; the Indian bending +over her and singing a low, monotonous song, which is a kind +of conjuring the Indians call ‘making medicine.’ Beside her +lay a small bark vessel with a few spoonfuls of blood, which +the young man drank from time to time, and then proceeded +with his operations. There was a deep silence in the camp, +except for these two sounds, when suddenly I appeared before +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>them, and exclaimed, partly in Indian, at the absurdity of +their doings. I knelt down by Mineha, and, taking her hand +out of that of the man’s, began to examine it. Then I pushed +back my conjurer, which made his hat fall off, and evidently +distressed his sense of dignity.</p> + +<p>“By this time all the women of the other camps came +gathering round the door. My hero persisted in his droning +song, and I in my remonstrances and assurance that it was all +rubbish, and displeasing to God. When at last the man gave +over, he retired to the back of the tent, where I suddenly became +aware of his gun, which the Indians usually kept loaded. +For a moment I thought it was all up with me, and Maggie +says I exclaimed: ‘Do it, then!’ However, he contented +himself with bending towards me three times, with eyes almost +on fire with passion, and uttering each time a word which +was anything but a blessing! Well, the game was stopped, +and so he quitted the tent. The man seemed fallen back in +a state of exhaustion, and was trembling all over. The fact +is, this medicine-making seems to be a kind of possession, +which they give themselves up to. His condition then was +pitiable to behold. However, there was nothing more to be +done, as the feeling was so strong against me that Mineha +would not let me prescribe for her poor hand; so we came +away, rather thankful to escape safe and sound. I hear the +poor woman is still suffering agonies from her hand, in spite +of her having had medicine made over it again, during the +whole of one night, by another man!”</p> + +<p>Several years ago Bishop Holmes gave an interesting description +of the medicine-man in the Diocese of Athabasca.</p> + +<p>“Their faith in,” he says, “and fear of medicine-men was +unshaken; their love for heathen feasts and practices was as +strong as ever. Nearly all sickness, accidents, and misfortunes +were attributed to the use of <i>muche muskeke</i> (bad medicine), +directly or indirectly, by the medicine-men. They supposed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>that the medicine-man obtained himself, or employed some +other to obtain, a hair from the head of his intended victim, +and that the hair was put into the bad medicine, and the +effect was according to the medicine-man’s intention. They +believed that the antidote could be obtained from the Indian +doctor, but it meant a good round sum in blankets, horses, +tobacco, etc. They believed that their medicine-men had +direct intercourse with the <i>muche manito</i> (evil spirit), through +whose assistance they were able to perform most wonderful +feats. Insanity was attributed to the direct possession of an +evil spirit. An insane person was called a <i>wetigo</i> (cannibal). +When any person—man or woman—manifested symptoms of +‘wetigoism,’ the old Indian doctors were called in to practise +all their incantations and exorcise the evil spirit, which in +very few cases was successful. The first symptoms of cannibalism +manifest themselves in dreams and insomnia. The +evil spirit is said to appear in a vision with a plate of human +flesh, about which there is an awful and irresistible fascination. +The <i>wetigo</i> is strictly guarded by the medicine-men, who, +with the noise of their drums and rattles in order to frighten +the evil spirit away, would drive any sane man out of his +mind. The last and most dangerous stage is when the <i>wetigo</i> +has accepted from the evil spirit the meal of human flesh, +after which he is securely tied with cords. He refuses any +kind of food, and has an intense craving for human flesh. In +this stage they suppose that ice forms in the breast of the +<i>wetigo</i>, and they firmly believe that they have seen the <i>wetigo</i> +vomit ice. The last remedy applied is the axe. Within the +nineteen years I have been at Lesser Slave Lake three <i>wetigos</i> +have been killed with axes, like animals, by their own friends.</p> + +<p>“Another heathen custom was the cruel neglect of the +aged and infirm. Starvation was the means employed among +the Indians of getting rid of them.</p> + +<p>“Such a description of the ‘noble red man,’ without a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span>reference to his good points, might lead people to think that +there is a good deal of truth in the saying that ‘the only good +Indian is a dead Indian.’ But in the character of all Indians +there are three redeeming features. First, their belief in the +<i>Kesa Manito</i> (the Great Spirit), and, I might add, their strong +belief in the personality of the Devil. Secondly, their generous +hospitality. They have all things in common, and would +give any traveller, be he Indian or white man, their last +morsel, even if they had no prospect of another meal themselves +for the next week. Thirdly, their passionate love for +children. I could trust my children with them under any +circumstances, for I should know that so long as there was a +meal left the children would get the best of it.”</p> + +<p>Indians, as a rule, are shrewder and more intelligent than +many people suppose. Someone has said that they are +“instincts on legs,” but this is wrong. They make splendid +guides, and can find their way through a mazy forest or a +desolate wilderness when white men fail entirely. The early +explorers owed much to the Indians in guiding them on their +long journeys.</p> + +<p>They read the whites and understand their ways far better +than many suppose. As they sit about the camp-fires, the +pale-faces are all carefully discussed. Each man is known by +some peculiarity. One is a fox, wolf, or bear, according to +some characteristic which the Indians have noted.</p> + +<p>They are humorists, too, and at times quick at repartee. +A trader, Taylor by name, made a visit some time ago to a +band of Indians at Big Salmon. He carried with him a dress +which had been ordered for “Mrs. Charlie.” Reaching the +place, he inquired for the latter. Then the question was which +Charlie’s wife was meant. Was it Big Salmon Charlie, Little +Salmon Charlie, or some other Charlie? Much puzzled, the +trader exclaimed, “Too much Charlie!” Quick as a flash an +Indian turned to him and replied:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span></p> + +<p>“Taylor, heem keep road-house; Taylor, heem cut wood +down trail; you Taylor; too moche Taylor!”</p> + +<p>Not long ago, when on a visit to England, Bishop Stringer +spoke in a most interesting way about these Indians.</p> + +<p>“A few years ago,” he said, “those Indians were degraded, +superstitious, and ignorant, without any written language at +all; but God’s Word was given to them through Archdeacon +McDonald, and the complete Bible was translated, and there +was found a people zealous to learn to read that Word. It +was the ABC of a written language to them, and it is the +only book, outside one or two others connected with our +Church, and it remains to-day the classic of all those Northern +tribes on the Yukon side, as well as the Mackenzie River. +Archdeacon McDonald tells of men who in those early days +in three days learned sufficient to go off to their Indian camps +and acquire enough knowledge themselves unaided to read +God’s Word. We thank God that that was the case. He +tells of men who came long distances, some of them fifty years +of age, and who learned to read in those early days. There +was one man he speaks of who came 600 miles in order to +learn to read God’s Word.</p> + +<p>“I want to tell you of one man, a good friend of mine who +has passed away, an Indian who was ordained a deacon a few +years ago, a blot out of the superstitious darkness of that +Northern land. I had the pleasure of going with him from +one camp to another across those barren forests, sometimes +on barren grounds and sometimes in the shelter of the forest. +From God’s Word he would teach his people, gathering them +together, night after night, holding little services, reading +God’s Word, and explaining it to them. After years of +work amongst his people he passed away. As he was crossing +the Divide to the Yukon side to reach a distant tribe of +Indians, one man accompanied him—a young man named +Amos—who had hitherto been quite careless about religious +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>matters. The name of the deacon was the Rev. John Ttssietla. +Ttssietla means, by the way, ‘He laughs at a mosquito.’ +There are mosquitoes in that country, and I suppose that +when he was a child he did not mind the mosquitoes, and he +was called ‘He laughs at a mosquito.’ John was his Christian +name. This time he was starving. There was no food in the +land; game was scarce; and he felt that the last days were +come for him unless he could get food. As he lay dying out +on the top of one of the mountains, he said to Amos, ‘Amos, +I am about to leave you, but I want to give you this Book—God’s +Word—and I want you to read it. I want you to +teach it to my people.’ A few hours afterwards he passed +away, and Amos, who had been hitherto careless, began to +read that Word alone on the mountains as he lay to rest his +friend, John Ttssietla. Then he began to teach the children +to read, and then he began to teach others, and last year, +when I saw him down in the Yukon Valley, I found that he +was so much advanced that I hope in a year or two, after +passing a few examinations, he will be able to take the place +of his friend, John Ttssietla, in the work.</p> + +<p>“I have not time to tell you very much about that Northern +land, but I want to tell you this. As you go down the +Mackenzie River from Edmonton the two thousand odd miles +to reach the Arctic Ocean, every two or three hundred miles you +find a place called a Hudson’s Bay Company’s post. There +is usually a mission in connection with it. You will find +around the old Hudson’s Bay Company’s post, if you watch +closely, things like stumps which have been cut off level with +the ground almost. What does that mean? They extend +right round the fort. It means that forty-five years ago the +Hudson’s Bay Company people had to have a stockade all +round those posts to protect their lives and their property. +Now they have been cut down and used for firewood. What +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>has caused that? The light of the Gospel truth which has +gone into that land. We thank God for what has been done +in connection with that, and for the influence of God’s Word +in that Northern region.</p> + +<p>“The Bible is, as I have said, the standard book; and the +language into which the Bible has been translated—it had to +be translated into one particular dialect—is becoming the +classic of many of the tribes in that Northern land, the central +language, used by the people more and more. Other tribes +learned to use it, and learned the meanings of words which +they do not use in their own dialect. There is a great deal +of difficulty, of course, in getting words when translating the +Bible into those Northern languages. The name for God +even is not known; and Archdeacon McDonald, I think very +wisely, adopted one word, ‘Vittekwichanchyo,’ which means +‘I am.’ That word is now known all through that land in +connection with the great Creator of the universe.</p> + +<p>“The last speaker has told you that there are numerous +snakes in South America. If we had a few snakes in that +Northern land we should not be forced to translate some +passages that refer to snakes in a roundabout way, calling a +snake ‘a creeping thing,’ or something else of that kind. +The sentence, ‘Wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove,’ is +translated in one of the Eskimo languages—I think, in +Greenland—by ‘Wise as an ermine, a weasel’ (because that is +the wisest in the country), ‘and as harmless as a seal-pup.’ It +seems amusing, but it is quite as expressive.</p> + +<p>“As God’s Word is sent out to that country, the Bibles +are sold to the Indians. Nobody ever gets a Bible for +nothing. The Indians are quite willing to pay for them. +They pay for them, not in money, as you do here, but in +kind. They sometimes bring in dried meat or fish, or something +else of that kind. I have a little piece of dried meat +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>here, and I think I had better show it to you as a part of the +coin of that country. This is a very small piece, but I may +tell you that this is the kind of meat which we like to use on +our long trips. You can throw it around, and you can do +anything you like with it. That piece is five or six years +old now, and it has not changed at all, and it is quite as +palatable as it was five or six years ago. It is very convenient +for travelling in that country. An Indian will bring +in a piece of that about a foot wide and about two feet long, +and he will trade it for an Indian New Testament, and about +four times as much as that for a Bible. That means a great +deal for this people. Sometimes they bring in a piece of +deer-skin, or something of that kind, and sometimes they +bring in about ten big fish, and the missionary is able to +turn them into money and send it to the Bible Society. In +that way these people are taught to pay for the Word of +God, and, of course, they appreciate it all the more. The +price of a New Testament in the country is one skin. You +cannot understand what that means. Its market value +corresponds to about 2<i>s.</i> A whole Bible is worth three or +four skins. These Indians sometimes receive a Bible in debt, +and go off to their hunting-grounds; but the very first thing +they always do, when they come in on the next trip, if they +have anything, is to pay for the Bible which they have +received. And how reverently they will use the Bible! +They wrap it in deer-skin or something like that; and they +bring back all the old Bibles again. I have had piles of old +dirty Bibles. They revere them so much that they do not +want to destroy them, and I have had to destroy them quietly +after the piles became too large. It shows the reverence +that they have for God’s Word. These Bibles are carried +with them, although they are heavy. Here is one. This is +not one with the thin kind of paper, and it is very heavy; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>and one can realize what it means for an Indian having one +of these books on a long journey where every pound counts +so much. But you will understand how he appreciates it +when I tell you that every family in that land which I have +ever seen has had some part of God’s Word in its camp, no +matter where it went on its journeys.”</p> + +<p class="mt2">We have seen in a previous chapter how when Mr. Bompas +was consecrated Bishop of the Diocese of Athabasca, he had +charge of a vast region of one million square miles. In 1883, +finding the field too large, he had it divided, the northern +portion being called Mackenzie River, which the Bishop took +as his own. Here he carried on the work east and west of +the Rocky Mountains for several years. But finding the +task too great for one man—owing partly to the influx of +miners along the Yukon River—he again had a division +made in 1890, the region west of the mountains thus becoming +the Diocese of Selkirk (now Yukon). Archdeacon +Reeve became Bishop of the Mackenzie River Diocese, while +Bishop Bompas decided to go into the regions beyond across +the mountains.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV<br> +<span class="smaller">STIRRING DAYS AT FORTY MILE</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>A grand picture rises before the mind as we think of Bishop +Bompas far away in the Northland, worn by years of toil, +and yet pressing on to new work. If I were an artist, I +would sketch him standing at Fort Norman in front of the +rude mission-house. He is looking away to the west, +towards the Rocky Mountains, with his left hand to his ear, +as if listening to voices from the great Yukon River. In his +right hand he clutches two letters, one urging him to come +to Manitoba to rest, the other pleading with him to return to +England to spend the rest of his life in peace. Which call +will he heed? That is the question, as we see him standing +there in the “Valley of Decision.” His own terse words give +the answer, which might well be placed below the picture. +“I find,” he wrote, “the needle points west rather than east, +and north rather than south.”</p> + +<p>Yes, that was always his idea, to be going farther to +reclaim the sheep of the wilderness. He shrank from the +thought of going back to England. He had been now +twenty-five years in the North, and loved the wild.</p> + +<p>“To life in England,” he wrote, “and to my relatives +there, I feel so long dead and buried that I cannot think a +short visit home, as if from the grave, would be of much use. +If over fifteen years ago, when I was at home, I felt like +Samuel’s ghost, how should I feel now?”</p> + +<p>Leaving Fort Norman, he went again across the Rocky +Mountains, and spent the winter of 1891-92 at the lonely +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>rampart-house. He did not mind the loneliness, for he +spent the time at his beloved studies. In the spring, when +the snow had disappeared from the land, he would walk +through the woods drinking in the beautiful things of Nature.</p> + +<p>“I find,” he said, “a few flowers even in this Arctic clime, +such as the pretty wild-rose, the lupin and bluebell. There +are also berry blossoms, and plenty of the white blossoms of +what we call ‘marsh tea.’ These blossoms really make rather +pleasant and aromatic tea. The leaves, when used for the +same purpose, are rather bitter. Raspberry-shoots, birch-buds, +and some other berry-trees are also at times used to +make tea in the absence of the genuine article, but they are +rather medicinal. The west side of the mountains is, on the +whole, more flowery than the east side.”</p> + +<p>In the spring, after the ice had gone out, he went down +the Porcupine River to the Yukon. It was here he met +Mrs. Bompas, who was returning from England. They had +not met since 1887, and Mrs. Bompas vividly describes this +meeting. After speaking about the trip up the river from +St. Michael’s, she mentions the great excitement which ensued +on July 26, when “two Indians came on board, bringing news +of the Bishop, who is at the next village, ‘Showman.’ But a +delay took place owing to the boiler being cleaned, and it +was not until midnight that ‘two bells’ sounded, a signal for +the boat to stop. I pricked up my ears, and then another +bell, which meant, ‘Stop her.’ It must be for wood, of course; +but I sprang from my berth, and looked out of my small +window to see a pretty Indian camp, and—my husband on +the beach, grey and weather-beaten, but in health better +than I had expected!”</p> + +<p>From here they went up the river to Forty Mile, where +there was a large camp of miners and Indians. In the log-house, +which had been built by poor Ellington, the Bishop +and his faithful wife took up their new burden among complete +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>strangers. Their special work was among the Indians, +and for the children a school was at once started. There +was much to do about the place—repairs of all kinds to be +made, and the Bishop was kept very busy.</p> + +<p>From time to time we catch brief glimpses of the life in +the mission-house. Occasionally Mrs. Bompas lets in a little +light, which is most interesting. We see the Bishop turning +from the cares of the diocese to provide for some Indian child, +or do necessary work around the house. She tells how the +Bishop “has been busy carpentering and devising a number +of things for our comfort—a beautiful cupboard to hold the +girls’ clothes, shelves and brackets, new bench for dining-room, +bedsteads mended, a new door for our little dining-room, +frames for double windows, new dining-table, and old one +repaired. This, with his self-imposed duty of waiting upon +everyone, superintending the kitchen, and doctoring any sick +members, has filled up his time the last few weeks. I feel +thankful when for a short time in the evening he retires to +his study and takes up his beloved Syriac.”</p> + +<p>But, alas for “the beautiful cupboard and shelves” which +the Bishop had so carefully made! Boards were very scarce—not +enough even to make coffins in which to bury the dead, +and the shelves had to be taken down to make a coffin for an +Indian who had been brought in from the distant hunting-grounds. +Mrs. Bompas, who relates this incident, tells most +pathetically of the trials they had in connection with burying +the dead on the Mackenzie River. The Indians would beg +packing-boxes from the Hudson’s Bay Company’s officers, and +as these were generally too small, arms and legs would often +be seen hanging out of the box as it was lowered into the +grave.</p> + +<p>Whenever the Indians arrived from their hunting-grounds, +the Bishop was kept busy almost night and day attending to +their wants, and instructing them in the faith, if only for a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>few days. This teaching was by no means lost, for out on +the hills and mountains the Indians had their daily services, +when appointed leaders would instruct the others.</p> + +<p>Many were the wants the good Bishop relieved. He always +kept a store of medicine in the house, and became quite expert +in his knowledge of Indian troubles. To them he was doctor +as well as teacher, and they always turned to him in time of +trouble. He was tireless even to the last in his attendance +upon sick persons. Sometimes he even performed surgical +operations. With nothing but a pocket-knife he has been +known to sever a diseased toe or thumb of some member of +his dusky flock. Once he cut off a man’s leg with a common +hand-saw, and the man is living and able to work to-day.</p> + +<p>One spring, east of the mountains, he was public vaccinator. +Smallpox was raging, and the previous summer over two +thousand Indians are said to have died. The Bishop found +at times much trouble in persuading the natives to submit to +the operation, but, in spite of difficulties, he vaccinated about +five hundred.</p> + +<p>He had himself suffered from snow-blindness, and knew +how painful it was. When he saw many of his flock thus +afflicted, his heart was moved, and he did his best to relieve +them. He had never studied at a medical college, but his +keen powers of observation and the study of some of the +standard medical books that he had always at hand stood +him in good stead on many an occasion. He had witnessed +so often the sufferings endured by his flock owing to snow-blindness +in the spring that, when he returned home for +consecration, he took advantage of the visit to attend several +lectures at an eye hospital, and was henceforth able to treat +the patients who came to him with splendid success. Great +was the faith the Indians had in the Bishop’s healing powers. +Only a few years ago an Indian along the Yukon River, who +had been treated by the police doctor for some time, was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>heard to say, “P’lice doctor no good;” and then with +animation continued, “Ah! Beeshop heem moche good!”</p> + +<p>So now at Forty Mile the Indians came to him with all +kinds of troubles. One day a young woman arrived with her +hand in a pitiable condition, and asked the Bishop to give +medicine to make it well. She had had a quarrel with one +of her neighbours, words led to blows, and then a rough-and-tumble +fight ensued, and even hair-pulling. During the +affair the woman’s hand was badly bitten and lacerated by +the sharp teeth of her opponent.</p> + +<p>On another occasion a woman was brought prostrate and +disfigured from a fight with her “man.” (They never say +husband here.) She was bleeding from mouth and ears, and +must have received hard usage. We are not permitted to +know the cause of their troubles, but no doubt they happened +quite often, and the good missionary was quite accustomed +to them.</p> + +<p>But his patients were not all like these. There were other +cases which touched his heart most deeply. A little boy, +named Andrew, was one day brought into the mission-house +with a broken leg. Carefully the Bishop set it, and this +gave the child much relief. He became quite contented with +his new home, and “sang and whistled in his bed so prettily,” +Mrs. Bompas tells us. It was difficult to keep the little +fellow still, so the Bishop slept in his room every night so as +to be near. Then, when the boy was well enough, the Bishop +lifted him in his strong arms and carried him out on the +platform. Andrew’s face was radiant with joy, and how +beautiful a sight it was to see his noble protector gazing +fondly down upon him!</p> + +<p>Not only did the women and children need his attention, +but the men of the flock as well. Though many were +quiet, and gave little or no trouble, there were always others +of a turbulent nature. Of these the Bishop had no fear. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span>He never hesitated to speak the word of rebuke, or to +interfere in order to stop a fight.</p> + +<p>One day two Indians became engaged in a serious fight +close by the mission. One, Roderick by name, was determined +to kill the other, and was making desperate thrusts with +a long, sharp knife. The Bishop, observing the encounter, +made for the contestants, and taking Roderick by the collar, +quietly said, “Come.” But the Indian still fought and +slashed with his knife, the Bishop all the time retaining his +hold, and saying, “Come, come with me.” After much +effort he succeeded in separating them, and half leading, half +dragging, drew Roderick to the mission-house. Then the +Indian, completely exhausted, sank upon a large stone near +by. Ere long he began to realize how he had been saved +from committing murder, and reaching out his hand, seized +that of the Bishop to thank him for what he had done.</p> + +<p>As the miners continued to arrive, the Bishop became +much worried over the change that took place among his +Indians, and sadly he wrote:</p> + +<p>“Nothing could be of greater contrast than the squalid +poverty and want of all things in which the Indians here +lived thirty years ago and the lavish luxury and extravagance +with which they now squander hundreds of dollars on +needless food and dress, if not in a still more questionable +manner. The Indians now place such high price on any +meat or fuel, or other things which they supply to the +whites, such as leather or shoes, that it is hard for your +missionaries to live with economy among them, and the worst +of all is that the younger Indians are only too apt to imitate +the careless whites in irreligion and debauchery.”</p> + +<p>Then the white men exerted a baneful influence upon his +Indians, demoralizing them through drink and in many +other unlawful ways. He had to contend with the same +difficulties as other missionaries in like circumstances. It +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>was Hans Egede, the great apostle to Greenland, who, in 1730, +said that while able in perfect security to sleep in the tents of +the natives, he had to keep a watch and fire-arms by his bed +as a protection against his fellow-Christians. Bishop Bompas +remarked, after several years’ sad experience with the whites +among his little flock, that “the advent of white population +strengthens the call for missions to the natives. While they +are in the minority in population, they are not so in Church +attendance. At Dawson, with a population of 4,000 or +5,000, no weekday services can be maintained, while at +Moosehide, Klondyke, with only 500 inhabitants, frequently +50 attend daily evening prayers.”</p> + +<p>In January, 1895, the Bishop gave a description of this +Northern settlement: “A town is laid down at Forty Mile, +and they have two doctors, library, reading-room, debating +society, theatre, eating-houses, and plenty of ‘saloons,’ as +public-houses are called in the West, besides two stores or +shops, and a few tradesmen. One debate was as to which has +caused the most misery in the past century, war or whisky. +It was decided to give the enviable preference to whisky. +This was truly appropriate in a mining camp.”</p> + +<p>Though the miners, for the most part, were a hard-working, +well-meaning class of men, there were a few who were bent on +mischief and playing practical jokes. Some of these latter, at +times, proved more serious than they anticipated, as it was in +Ellington’s case. Observing the venerable Bishop moving +steadily about his daily work, with his thoughts on higher +things, they imagined it would be a fine idea to spring upon +him a practical joke. So one day a man with a very serious +face came to the mission-house and asked the Bishop to bury +a certain miner who had recently died. This the Bishop +agreed to do at the appointed hour. When the man had +departed, Mr. Totty, who was at Forty Mile, remarked that +it was strange that they had not heard of the man’s illness. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>At this the Bishop became suspicious, so, going to the white +settlement, he asked a store-keeper there when the man had +died. “He is not dead,” was the reply. “Some of the boys +wanted to have a little fun and watch you read the Burial +Service over an empty box.”</p> + +<p>Though, fortunately, the attempt upon the Bishop failed, +this trick had imposed upon Mr. Ellington some years before. +He, in all sincerity, stood by the open grave, and read most +feelingly the beautiful Burial Service from beginning to end, +only to find out at last it was all a farce.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding certain jokes of this kind, the miners had +the profoundest respect for the Bishop and his devoted wife. +Though many of them were indifferent to all things spiritual, +still, they could admire nobleness when they beheld it, as +they did every day in the two faithful soldiers of the Cross in +their midst. As a token of their esteem, on Christmas Day, +1892, a splendid nugget of gold was presented to Mrs. Bompas, +with the following address, signed by fifty-three miners:</p> + +<p>“It is proposed to make a Christmas present to Mrs. Bompas, +the wife of the Rev. Bishop Bompas (for which purpose a +collection will be taken up amongst those who are willing to +contribute), and that the present shall be in the form of a +Forty Mile nugget, as most appropriate to the occasion, as a +mark of respect and esteem from the miners of Forty Mile, +irrespective of creeds or religions; and, further, that it be +distinctly understood to be a personal present to the first +white lady who has wintered amongst us.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV<br> +<span class="smaller">FLOODED OUT</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>Several years ago it was my privilege to take service for +Bishop Bompas at Carcross during his absence at various +stations down the river. I slept in the mission-house, and +that evening spent some very pleasant hours looking over the +Bishop’s library. As book after book was examined, I +noticed how many bore marks of hard usage—not only worn +from constant packing and repacking, but they were soiled +by water. How had it happened? I wondered. Had they +been spilled from a canoe in one of his long voyages, or had +they been exposed to a drenching rain? These thoughts +came to my mind, but not the right one. Not until years +later did I learn the story of how these books became soiled.</p> + +<p>It was at Forty Mile, in the lonely days before the words +“Klondyke” and “Yukon” thrilled the whole world, when +the noble Bishop was caring for his little flock at this far +northern mission station. The winter had been a long, +trying one, and eagerly all were awaiting the coming of +spring, when the snow would melt from the land, the birds +fill the air with their music, and the ice in the great river +would rush roaring down to the sea.</p> + +<p>Day after day they watched and waited. When would the +ice go? The eager little dusky faces of the mission children +were often pressed against the panes, waiting to catch the +first glimpse of the movement. Occasionally the Bishop rose +from his rude desk, strode to the door, and stood looking +anxiously up-stream. He knew better than the little ones +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>what the going out of the ice might mean to them. They +were on an island cut off from the mainland by a small creek, +or what is called in this country a “slough.” He had heard +stories from the Indians of bygone days when the ice had +jammed below and flooded the whole island, while huge +blocks of ice rushed along, sweeping down everything before +them. At times they became stranded, and remained there +long after the waters had subsided, grim witnesses of the +terrible time.</p> + +<p>Thus all day long they watched and waited. Towards +evening a shout was raised: “The ice is going! The ice is +going!” and all rushed to see a wonder which, once beheld, +can never fade from the memory.</p> + +<p>“It was,” to use Mrs. Bompas’s own words, “as if a commanding +officer had issued orders to march, and the whole +regiment obeyed. The great mass swept by in a frantic rush, +completely beyond the power of the pen to describe. Huge +blocks of every shape and size, carried along at a rapid speed, +ground and tore one another, while many monsters were forced +upon the bank by the fearful pressure. Seven hundred miles +of ice, five or six feet thick, were crowded down that stream, +at this place about 650 yards wide.”</p> + +<p>“Huge blocks,” says an eye-witness, “would get squeezed +up by the pressure of still larger ones coming down behind +them. Then the block in front would dart swiftly forward, +like a greyhound slipped from the leash, and the great, tearing +mass behind would sink and disappear, to come rolling up +again half a mile farther down. On they went, tumbling +over one another in their haste and gladness to be free: down +to the bottom; up again into the air, grinding the sponge-ice +to powder; blocked up for a moment, then whirled on +again, until they were themselves pulverized, or hurled on to +the bank, or reached a clear space where they might for a +few hundred yards float onward more peacefully.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span></p> + +<p>Having watched the grand sight for some time, and feeling +the danger of a flood was now over, the Bishop and his household +retired to rest, after commending themselves to the great +Father’s keeping. But little were they aware that down +where the Forty Mile River flows into the Yukon a jam was +being formed; and the ice and water thus impeded began to +rise and overflow the banks. Unconscious of the danger, those +in the mission-house slept on. Presently they were awakened +by the terrible sound of water sweeping around them, and +rushing through the house. The Bishop sprang from his bed, +lighted a candle, and moved downstairs. Here he found the +floor covered with water, which was steadily rising. Thinking +not of himself, nor of his books, but only of the helpless little +ones upstairs, he waded through the icy water, and seizing +what provisions he could lay his hands upon, carried them +upstairs. He did not know how long they might be kept +there, and the children must not starve.</p> + +<p>Rapidly the water rose, flooding all the furniture downstairs, +the little organ, and the books which were on the +lower shelves.</p> + +<p>There was now nothing else to do but to remain upstairs +and see what would happen. The children huddled around, +trembling with fear, and listening to the roaring outside, and +the water rushing through the house. The Bishop, strong +and calm, tried to soothe their fears, speaking words of kindness +and comfort. He could trust when the little ones feared, +for had he not often been in the midst of so many great +dangers? and the Master had delivered him out of them all. +No doubt he thought of his peril upon the raft on the +Mackenzie River amid drifting ice, his danger among the +Eskimo, and his many other wonderful escapes, of which he +seldom spoke. He would think, too, of the time his canoe +was wrecked, and he and his companions were saved as by a +miracle, the details of which he never told. Yes, after all +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>these mercies in the past, he could feel sure that the same +One who had stilled the stormy winds and waves of the far-off +Galilean lake was able still to save.</p> + +<p>Higher and higher rose the water. It crept up the stairs, +inch by inch, step by step. Oh, what a cold, cruel monster +it was, reaching up its icy fingers to clutch the little band +above! How much higher would it come? Would it reach +the upper floor? If so, what then? Besides the water, there +was the danger of the floating ice. At any instant a huge +block might surge against the building and sweep it away +like a toy house of cards.</p> + +<p>While the little band huddled there, anxious eyes were +peering through the darkness. A few members of the +mounted police were pacing up and down the shore, listening +to the roaring flood, and thinking of those in danger on the +island. As the water steadily rose, they hesitated no longer, +but, launching their two stout canoes, started to the rescue. +Moving up the narrow creek or slough, which was somewhat +protected from the ice, they reached a position directly +opposite the back of the mission-house, several hundred yards +away. But now their work began in real earnest, for across +that rushing flood, mid blocks of ice, and through the darkness, +it was necessary to guide their craft. It needed courage +and muscles of steel to accomplish the task, but when once +these sturdy guardians make up their mind to do a thing, +there is no turning back; whether it be fire, frost, or flood, +they press straight forward. So now, in the face of these +difficulties, they moved on foot by foot, sometimes feeling the +keels grinding on a piece of floating ice, or again being swept +back by a whirling eddy. But advance they did, and at length +reached the house. It was impossible to gain admittance by +the door; the water was too high for that. They shouted, +and from a window upstairs came the Bishop’s glad response. +Swinging the canoes to this side of the house, they held them +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>close; the children were all lowered one by one out of the +window, to be received by the strong arms below. Then +came the Bishop, the last to leave.</p> + +<p>Swept onward with the current, they were all borne safely +across the waters and landed upon the mainland. Full of joy +and gratitude was the Bishop’s heart at the rescue which had +been made.</p> + +<p>When morning broke over the land the waters had subsided, +and the river was clear of ice. The mission-house was +still standing, but all around huge blocks of ice lay stranded, +where they remained for many days. The mission-house was +in a lamentable condition. Everything was soaked, but what +did it signify so long as all were saved?</p> + +<p>This was not the only time when a flood arose and drove +out the missionaries. In the spring of 1901, when the Rev. +John Hawksley and family were stationed here, a flood swept +upon them, and they were compelled to flee to the hills.</p> + +<p>“For a time,” says Mr. Hawksley, “we were in some +danger from large floes of ice floating round the buildings, +threatening us with destruction. Owing to the pluck of one +Mr. Royal, a white man, and Angus, a native member of our +Church, we were taken over the broken ice and landed safely +on the hills after five hours’ suspense, most of which time was +spent in an open boat, exposed to the biting wind blowing +at the time. We had to pass the night on the hills. We +had neither food nor blankets, but the Indians at once set +about making us comfortable, two of them actually venturing +back to fetch a tent to shelter us, and the others willingly +sharing their blankets and food with us. You will be pleased +to learn that none of us were any the worse for our adventure. +The church had four feet of water in it, and the house somewhat +less. Our losses were rather heavy.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI<br> +<span class="smaller">HOW THE BISHOP GOT HIS MAIL</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>A number of years ago Rudyard Kipling wrote in a most +interesting way about the foot-service mail to the hills in +India. He drew a picture of the land where the robber +lurks, the tiger stalks unseen, and lonely “exiles are waiting +for letters from home.” The hero in this story is a humble +carrier of the overland mail, with bags tucked in his waist-belt, +fording swollen rivers, climbing steep cliffs, facing tempests, +stopping at nothing, ever moving on:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“From level to upland—from upland to crest,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fly the soft sandalled feet, strains the brawny chest.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>But had Kipling turned his attention from India to the +cold, desolate region of North America, along the great +Mackenzie and Yukon Rivers, what subjects he might have +had for his facile pen and vivid imagination!</p> + +<p>Here are regions, portions of which lie girdled by the +Arctic Circle, ice-locked from seven to eight long dreary +months. More than this, huge, almost impassable, mountains +lift their hoary heads as great barriers. These peaks, snow-capped +and majestic, glow with unrivalled splendour when +touched by the rising or setting sun, as if bidding defiance to +any bold enough to intrude into their domain.</p> + +<p>Cooped up in this desolate place were a few exiles, thousands +of miles from home or any town; their companions the wild +beasts of the forests, straggling bands of uncouth Indians, +and the faithful dogs.</p> + +<p>During the brief summer months the mail and supplies +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>were taken into the country by open boats or small steamers, +which plied on those great Northern waterways; but in winter +all these routes were closed, and for eight months nothing +happened to break the monotony or the silence which reigned +supreme. No stranger appeared with tidings of the world +beyond; no newspaper or magazine beguiled the weary hours, +and no letters from loved ones cheered the loneliness of the +great darkness. They were like men buried alive.</p> + +<p>Bishop Bompas faced all this for thirty-five years, and only +at the close of his life did he have a railroad at his door and +mails two or three times a week.</p> + +<p>When he first entered the country in 1865 he found it +somewhat hard to wait for things to reach him from England. +Seldom did he speak about this hardship, and then only +because he was thinking of his dusky flock.</p> + +<p>“You can have little idea,” he once wrote, “of the way in +which we count here by years what you would count by days. +You would say, ‘I will get it to-morrow.’ We say, ‘It has +not come this year; perhaps it will come next.’ Or, ‘I must +order such a book from home. If no mishap occur, in three +or four years I may hope to see it.’ A bit of white chalk +would, I think, have been of more use to me the last twelve +months than fifty sovereigns; and I have often thought I +would barter everything I brought out, except the Bible, for +one or two Sunday-school primers.... But I hope I can +say I am learning, in whatever state I am, therewith to be +content, and to rely on the promise that ‘my God shall +supply all your needs according to His riches in glory by +Jesus Christ.’”</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Bompas first went to the Mackenzie River as a +bride, she had to wait eight long, dreary months without +receiving one letter from her friends at home. Great was her +joy when one day the Bishop came from a trip and poured +the long-looked-for letters into her lap.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus14" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus14.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">Taking the Mail into Dawson in Spring when the Stage + cannot run</span></p> + <p class="p2">Weeks after the ice in the Yukon River has gone out, Lake Le Berge, + about twenty-five miles below Whitehorse, holds firm. It is, therefore, + necessary to transport freight and mail over the ice to the steamers + which are waiting at the foot of the lake.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span></p> + +<p>People in a settled country, even though they live miles +from towns or cities, can usually get many little things they +need by mail for a few cents, but up here in the North it is +different.</p> + +<p>“There is no use,” says Mrs. Bompas, “in fretting and +exclaiming that you cannot possibly go without soap or +candles, or pins and needles; that your stationery department +is at its lowest; that your knives and forks are reduced to +one blunt scalping-knife and two or three one-pronged forks. +To nearly such predicaments as these we have ourselves been +reduced. One year our mission-house at Slave Lake lacked +putty to fasten in our small window-panes. We tried flour-paste +and several other experiments, but the flour froze, and +we had to resort to pins, which my Indian babies used to +delight in pulling out. One year I had hardly any soap. +To confess the honest truth, I believe <i>that</i> was the only +privation I ever wept over like a child. We might have +made some soap without difficulty, but, alas! one of the +necessary ingredients in soap is salt, and salt had not come +among that fall’s supplies. One year, again, I lacked hair-pins. +The Bishop, who is endless in his resources, undertook +to manufacture me a few out of some wire for netting which +was in our mission-store. The articles turned out capital to +all intents and purposes, albeit somewhat blunt at the point, +lacking a file to sharpen them.”</p> + +<p>The bringing in of the mails in the winter-time was a +Herculean task. Bishop Stringer, who spent so many years +in the North, relates some thrilling stories of the difficulty of +the undertaking.</p> + +<p>“Our mails,” he says, “used to come to us twice a year. +The winter post had to be brought from Edmonton, 2,200 +miles to the south, by sledge and dogs. The year before we +came away there was deep snow on the road, and the mail +was so delayed that the mail-men’s provisions gave out, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>all their dogs died except one. The two Indians who were +in charge of the mail unfastened the bundles, and discarded +all the small packets, thinking the larger ones must be of +more value. With this lighter load they struggled on. +They found a moose-skin frozen, and kept life together by +boiling pieces of it and eating them. They took two or +three weeks to travel the last 250 miles. They came in completely +worn out. One man harnessed himself to the sledge +in front of the solitary remaining dog, and the other pushed +behind. They travelled three days like that. One of them had +taken his baby boy with him, but, in spite of their own +privations, the men contrived to keep the child plump and +well.”</p> + +<p>Much delighted were the missionaries to see the couriers, +and eagerly they seized the precious mail, but, alas! nearly +all the letters had been left far behind in the smaller packages, +and all they brought were a few advertisements. Sadly disappointed, +they had to wait several months longer until the +next mail-man arrived.</p> + +<p>As a rule, the letters were much soiled and worn from +frequent handling at the various posts, and at times Bishop +Bompas complained of the thinness of the envelopes, which +was not conducive to secrecy.</p> + +<p>An amusing incident happened on one occasion, when the +courier was hurrying forward with the mail. In some +manner he broke through the ice, and dogs, man, and letters +were thoroughly soaked. It was a cold day, so, heading for +the shore, the Indian made a good fire, dried his clothes, and +then gazed sadly upon the wet letters. At length a thought +occurred to him, and taking the soiled epistles out of the +envelopes, he stacked them around the fire, near enough to +dry, but not to burn. When this was completed to his +satisfaction, he began to replace them. But, alas! though +well-versed in woodland lore, he had never acquired the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>gentle art of reading, so that the letters went back helter-skelter. +Into envelopes addressed to the Bishop went important +missives meant only for the Company’s officers, or the +tender sighings of some fair maiden for a Northern lover, +while the Bishop’s letters were disposed of in a similar +manner. Thinking he had accomplished a very clever feat, +the courier pushed on his way, and, reaching the Fort, was +much astonished at the exclamations and excitement of all. +Not until the whole matter was explained by the puzzled +courier was its humorous side seen, and then a good laugh +ensued.</p> + +<p>When Bishop Bompas crossed the mountains and lived +along the Yukon River, for a number of years, in winter he +was more than ever cut off from the outside world. There +were no regular mail-carriers, and from the time the river +closed early in the fall until it opened late in the spring he +could not expect to receive one letter. So intolerable did +such a life become, that at last efforts were made to obtain +one mail at least during the winter.</p> + +<p>The man who made this trip was an Indian of the great +Thlinkit tribe, of more than ordinary grit, endurance, and +muscle. He was well known as a famous traveller and courier, +having made several wonderful trips through the Cassiar +country carrying mail and gold-dust. To him, therefore, +was entrusted the responsibility of conveying the mail to the +waiting exiles along the Yukon River. For the trip he was +to receive $700, and a tax of $1 on each letter, to be +collected when delivered to the owner, these missives being +from five hundred to seven hundred in number.</p> + +<p>Starting from Juneau (now the capital of Alaska) by +canoe, with two Indian youths, a dog-team, and supplies, +Jackson reached the mouth of the Stickeen River. Up this +stream he paddled to the head of canoe navigation, then +through a dense forest for seventy-five miles to Atlin Lake. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>Out upon this lake they moved, and were making good time, +when a storm, swift and sudden as the rush of doom, swept +down upon them, snow and hail, mingled with the on-rushing +wind, blotting out everything from view. The cold was +intense, unbearable. The dogs added their pitiful cries to +the howling storm. The leader—noble animal that he was—bravely +faced the tempest, but the wheel-dog refused to +move; he held back, crouched, and then dropped in the +snow. The keen, stinging lash had no effect upon the fallen +brute. Whipping out his knife, Jackson severed the traces, +pushed him aside, and pressed on with the remaining dogs. +Not far had they gone before another refused to work, and +dropped in his tracks. He too was abandoned to share the +fate of his companion. With the team thus reduced it was +impossible to take forward the load of provisions, which were +therefore stacked on the ice, and a stick erected to mark the +spot. With little left to hinder their progress they sped on, +and after a terrible struggle reached some friendly trees. +Without the storm raged with fierce violence, covering the +land and their scanty provisions upon the lake deep with +snow. The next day the tempest abated, and once more +Jackson and his companions continued their long journey.</p> + +<p>Only one who has travelled in the winter along the Yukon +River can realize what it means. The ice does not form +smooth and level, as in many streams. It freezes at the +bottom, and this, rising to the surface, fills the river with a +floating mass of crushing, surging blocks of ice. As the +current is swift and strong, this body moves along for miles, +until a sharp bend on one side and a projecting point on the +other combine to form a narrow channel, where the ice jams. +The on-rushing mass, driven against this, piles up in wild +confusion, huge cakes at times being lifted ten to fifteen feet, +and held as in a mighty vice. For miles in places the river +is thus packed, and as far as the eye can view nothing is to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>be seen but a grim, icy field wedged between steep banks, +lined with dense, scrubby trees.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus15" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus15.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">Pack-Horse Supplies in 1898</span></p> + <p class="p2">As the only way of travelling over the mountains was a trail, horses + were loaded with provisions, etc. These are called “packs,” and it is + only a skilled hand which can bind the load on the animal’s back, and + tie what is known as the “diamond hitch.” Pack-horses are still used + in the Yukon, where the trails are unfit for carts or waggons.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Over this the traveller has to make his devious way. +There is no other course, and as the dogs creep on, many are +the yells of agony which split the stinging air. The sled +becomes wedged, and the poor brutes strain in vain to free +the load. Or at times it topples upon them, burying their +bruised bodies in the snow. To add to the misery of cold and +the cruel lash, their feet become raw from the sharp ice, and +drops of blood mark every foot of the trail.</p> + +<p>Such was the ordeal that Jackson and his dogs had to +undergo at frequent intervals in their long 800 miles from +Atlin to Circle City. Day after day they pressed on, down +through the Golden Horn, across Marsh Lake, by the +dreaded Whitehorse Canyon and rapids, over the desolate +and wind-swept Lake La Berge, and along the Thirty Mile +River, avoiding with extreme caution the river’s fearful +breathing-places, the watery grave of many a poor musher.</p> + +<p>To add to their difficulties, food at length ran low, and +when thirty miles from Fort Selkirk, only a handful of flour +remained. With nothing for the dogs, and only a mouthful +for the Indians, and wearied to the point of exhaustion, they +reached the settlement. Here provisions were obtained, and +when a rest had been made, they pushed forward. After a +further hard struggle, with the thermometer from 50 to +60 degrees below zero, their destination was reached and the +mail delivered. Precious were these letters to the lonely +exiles, but how great had been the suffering of Jackson and +his little party in their long, terrible journey!</p> + +<p>After a time, when thousands of people were flocking into +the country, a better winter mail service was established. +This was by means of the famous Mounted Police, of whom +we shall hear more in another chapter. From the White Pass +Summit to Dawson, a distance of over five hundred miles, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>men were stationed at twenty different posts. To them, +therefore, the post-offices and the carrying of the mail were +entrusted. From point to point the bags were carried by +teams of strong, well-fed dogs, drawing 500 to 700 pounds +of precious letters. They travelled almost with the speed of +fleet horses, at times day and night, accompanied generally +by two men.</p> + +<p>Such trips, however, were not made without the spice of +excitement. Many are the stories told of those stirring days: +the rivalry of dog-teams, the betting, and the more serious +incidents from the dangers of the ever-uncertain river, which +was always a menace to the traveller. No one could tell +when the ice beneath his feet would give way and engulf him +in a watery grave below.</p> + +<p>A corporal and a dog-driver were hurrying the mail forward +on the last day of November, 1898. Splendid progress was made +until eight miles from the mouth of the Hootalinqua River. +Suddenly the ice began to move, breaking up at the same +time into large and small blocks. Unable to gain the shore, +men and dogs were swept down the river. It was a serious +situation, with the vast field of ice heaving and grinding, +bearing them on to apparent destruction. Fortunately the +block which was bearing them surged for an instant near the +shore, and passed beneath an overhanging tree. With cat-like +agility they sprang and caught a large limb, and thus +drew themselves up to a place of safety. Though every effort +was made, it was impossible to save the mail, and it was +swept down the stream, carrying, no doubt, the Bishop’s +long-looked-for letters.</p> + +<p>But steadily the mail service improved. This was due to +the building of the White Pass Railroad from Skagway to +Whitehorse, a distance of 110 miles. From this latter place +the mail was taken down-river by steamers. But when the +Yukon was locked in its winter sleep, much of the old difficulty +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>remained. To overcome this the famous stage-road +was constructed—320 miles—from Whitehorse to Dawson. +For the service splendidly equipped sleighs were provided, +capable of holding passengers as well. These, drawn by six, +and at times eight, fleet horses, made the journey in a few +days in all kinds of weather.</p> + +<p>Though this road winds its long way through a dreary +wilderness, the natural abode of highwaymen and robbers, +yet never once has there been a hold-up, or the mails intercepted. +This is due in a large measure to the magnificent +service of the Royal North-West Mounted Police, who are +stationed at regular intervals along the trail during the +winter months. Ever alert, they strike terror into the hearts +of desperadoes, who turn to other fields.</p> + +<p>The principal trouble with this service is in the opening +and closing of the river during spring and fall. When the +stage cannot travel, and the ice is floating in the river, the +mail is run down by canoes, which are hauled over any solid +ice by dog-sleds.</p> + +<p>The outbound couriers have the hardest time of all at +such seasons. During November, 1901, three men, with three +teams of dogs each, left Dawson for Whitehorse with about +two thousand pounds of first-class mail. The ice was running +in the river, though solid in places along the shore. At times +they were wading to their waists in the ice-cold water, with +the thermometer degrees below zero, or creeping on hands and +knees along some slippery, shelving edge, when at any instant +there was danger of being hurled into the surging mass in the +dark water below. In places even this precarious trail was +denied them, and they were compelled to force their way +through dense thickets of bushes and over tangled masses of +dead timber. The cold was intense, and fearful were their +sufferings. Thus for days these picked men of the Royal +Mail Service fought their way up that crooked river against +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>almost insurmountable difficulties, but win out they did, and +at length reached Whitehorse, and delivered the mail in +perfect condition.</p> + +<p>Little did people in city, town, or country realize, when +they received letters from friends in the far North, what a +sacrifice had been made for their sake by these stout-hearted +heroes in the simple path of duty.</p> + +<p>During the time the police carried the mail, there was +always the period in the spring, when the ice was bad, that +the people at Dawson and other places received no letters. +Then, when the river did open, and the first steamer arrived, +with tons of all kinds of mail, great was the rush and excitement. +The police at Dawson had charge of the post-office, +and they had only a small building in which to serve those +thousands of people who were anxious to receive their letters. +They did the best they could, however, under the circumstances. +People stood in a long black line waiting their turn. +Some of these would stand there all day and all night, waiting +for the precious letters. Men have even been known to take +their blankets, roll themselves up in these, and sleep right by +the door to be ready when the office opened the next day. +Women were always served first, and some of these did a +thriving business, as men would pay them so much to obtain +their letters for them. Since then a great change has taken +place, and now at Dawson there is a fine post-office, with a +competent staff of workers to serve the people.</p> + +<p>Thus an outline has been given of the way Bishop Bompas +received his mail as he wore out thirty-five years of his noble +life there in the vast wilderness.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII<br> +<span class="smaller">THE GOLDEN KLONDYKE</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>Seldom did any man have such an excited throng thrust upon +him in so short a time as did Bishop Bompas. While he was +steadily and quietly carrying on his Master’s work at Forty +Mile, a stir which was to thrill the whole world was taking +place in a certain portion of his diocese.</p> + +<p>Gold had been discovered by a white man, George Carmack, +and his Indian companions. It was on a little creek, a branch +of the Klondyke, that the precious metal was found. When +word reached the outside world, months later, a wild stampede +took place. Merchants gave up their business, clerks left +their desks, farmers their ploughs, blacksmiths their anvils, +and rushed northwards to make their fortunes.</p> + +<p>They knew nothing of the difficulties they would have to +face, and many, becoming discouraged, soon turned back; +others of a more determined character pushed forward. They +climbed the rugged Chilcoot and White Pass summits, facing +terrible obstacles. Cities of tents sprang into existence on +the shores of Lake Bennett and other places, where men and +women watched for the Yukon River to open. Some moved +down over the ice, and many were the strange scenes to be +noticed—a team of goats hauling a sled, or a woman driving +a young heifer, which pulled her load! In the spring thousands +of rude craft followed the ice down the river. All along the +Yukon to-day may be seen little mounds, some with rude +crosses over them, which tell their own sad tales of poor +fellows who perished in the waters far away from their homes. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>Boats were dashed to pieces, or, cut in two, were left stranded +in some desolate place. The full story of the rush will never +be told, but the little that is known fills us with wonder at +what these people endured for the golden treasure.</p> + +<p>They poured into the Klondyke, and here, where this little +stream joins the Yukon, they built the city of Dawson. +Some distance back were the rich creeks, and here the surging, +excited gold-seekers dug with feverish haste into the yielding +gravel. Many had more money than they knew what to do +with. Men staked their claims, and worked them with +windlass and buckets. Numerous are the marvellous stories +told of those stirring days.</p> + +<p>One man, who had been a bar-tender at Forty Mile, inquired +how far it was to the main creek, where he wished to stake a +claim. When told the distance, he was too lazy to go on, +and staked in a little tributary creek, known as a “pup.” As +a result of his laziness, in the spring he carried with him out +of the country $132,000 in gold-dust, which he had taken +out of his “pup” stake. And this, remember, represented +only a fraction of what the claim was worth.</p> + +<p>One man was in the habit of washing out some of his +gravel every night, and used to fill his gold-pan from his +dump, and take it into his shack for the purpose. He soon +found that he was obtaining $70 to the pan, and the amount +was steadily increasing. This regular increase, and the man’s +excitement over his evening’s work, soon became so well known +that many of his neighbours met at his place every night, +and watched the proceedings with interest, and, at times, +with envy. The fortunate digger was always very jubilant, +especially when the amount reached $120 to the pan—and a +panful is only a very small fraction of the day’s dump.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus16" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus16.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">Goat-Team with Sled on the Trail, 1898</span></p> + <p class="p2">All kinds of teams were used on the trail in the days of the great rush + to the Klondyke. Anything that would draw a pound was forced into service, + even goats and heifers.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>One night the neighbours trooped in as usual, but instead +of seeing him bright as of old, found him sitting down with +a very long face. For a time he would only shake his head +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>when asked what was wrong, and look wistfully at the pan. +Finally he told his tale, and in a deep, melancholy voice +exclaimed: “I’m off the pay-streak, boys; I only got $57 +(£11 4s.) to the pan to-day.”</p> + +<p>He was really still in the heart of a very rich pay-streak, +but he was so accustomed to large results that when a falling-off +appeared, he became discouraged, and imagined his claim +was exhausted. And yet that same man, a few months +before, would have looked upon $57 to the pan as something +wonderful.</p> + +<p>Amusing, too, are some of the stories told; and the +following, if not strictly true, may serve to show that, even +in the midst of the wild scramble, the humorous side was +not forgotten.</p> + +<p>One man, so it is related, possessed a very long pair of +whiskers. He had been working hard in his drift all the +winter, and during that time had neither washed nor shaved. +In the spring he cut off his whiskers, washed them out in his +gold-pan, and obtained $27 as the result.</p> + +<p>There was gold everywhere; it was little thought of. It +was stored away in anything that happened to be convenient. +Gum boots, filled with precious nuggets, were thrown carelessly +aside. Cabins were never locked, and there was strong +feeling among the miners in reference to the stealing of gold. +A sneak thief or a sluice-box robber was considered the most +contemptible of beings, and was hounded out of the place.</p> + +<p>But though gold was plentiful, it was not everything. +Just think of men staring at their millions and having little +or nothing to eat! Prices were very high, and on several +occasions provisions ran short. Eggs sold for $1 apiece, +and common candles brought fabulous prices. A man who +had brought in some potatoes on a venture sold the 200 +pounds for $150 out on one of the creeks. At Bennett, +where goods were packed on mules to be carried over the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>summit, horseshoe nails one day ran out. One man had a +small supply. A rush accordingly took place for the coveted +article, and the fortunate owner easily sold his nails for $1 +each (<i>i.e.</i>, 4s.). In fact, a volume could be written of the +tales told—some true, some untrue—of the prices paid for +the most common things. We shall, however, mention but +one more, which has its humorous side as well.</p> + +<p>A man who had recently arrived wished to do some +mending. Making his way to the nearest store, he asked for +a needle. “It will be fifty cents, please,” remarked the +store-keeper, as he delivered the article. “Fifty cents for a needle!” +exclaimed the customer in astonishment. “Are you not +mistaken?” “Oh no!” blandly replied the dealer. “You +see, the freight is so high we have to charge big prices.”</p> + +<p>Imagine freight being high on a needle, when a whole +package could come by mail for two cents! And yet this is +the cry in the Yukon to-day. Prices, though nothing compared +to what they were in the early days, in many cases are +exorbitant, and the excuse is as of old—the cost of bringing +things into the country.</p> + +<p>Formerly nearly everything was paid for in gold. Nuggets +and gold-dust were used instead of coins. It is said that a +certain public-house was torn down lately in Dawson, and +when the floor was taken up the earth beneath was panned +out, and gold-dust and nuggets to the value of $3,000 were +obtained. To-day it is different, and the ordinary money is +used. In Dawson twenty-five cents is the smallest coin in use, +and in Whitehorse the five-cent piece, though you have to put +several of them together if you wish to purchase anything.</p> + +<p>It takes one some time to get accustomed to the various +terms used in the Yukon. A twenty-five-cent piece is called +“two bits”; fifty-cent piece, “four bits”; and seventy-five +cents, “six bits.” They are so commonly used that it is +hard after a time to say anything else. A person who first +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>enters the country is called a “cheechacho.” After living in +the land for two or three years, or having seen the Yukon +River close and open, one is dubbed a “sourdough.” This +name is taken from the lump of sour dough a prospector or +miner carries with him to start his bread. Travelling with +dogs, the ordinary words used are “Mush on!” and “Hike on!” +“Hit” is another common term. Instead of saying, “He +started on the trail,” it is always, “He hit the trail.” The +word is used in another way. Several years ago, when +Whitehorse was in its infancy, a number of gambling men +came to church. When the plate was passed around, one of +the men gave the collector a ten-dollar bill.</p> + +<p>“Take the change out of that,” he said.</p> + +<p>“How much?” asked the collector.</p> + +<p>“Oh, hit me for five,” was the reply.</p> + +<p>He was accordingly handed back five dollars, for it was well +understood what he meant.</p> + +<p>The guard-room is commonly known as the “skookum +house.” “Skookum” is an Indian coast word meaning +“strong.” An insane asylum is known as the “bug-house”; +and a person who is crazy is said to be “bugs,” or “bug-house.” +How these terms came to be used is rather a +mystery. “Up against it” is applied to one who has had +bad luck. “A wad of dough” is simply the money a man +has made, and has nothing to do with pastry. These and +many more are common expressions in the Yukon, and it is +marvellous how soon one gets accustomed to them.</p> + +<p>Through all this excitement Bishop Bompas was living +quietly at Forty Mile. He watched the living stream of +eager gold-seekers hurrying by through the summer and +winter. Many were the wants he supplied, and the weary +men he assisted with food and clothing. But the gold fever +did not possess him. Sometimes we hear about the greediness +of missionaries, and that it is money they are after. But here +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>in the North, at a time when millions were to be made, the +missionaries stood aside. They joined in no stampede, and +they staked no claims. They were there to carry the Gospel +message, and not to dig for gold. It is most interesting to +read the Bishop’s letters to his brother George in England at +this time, and a few extracts will give a vivid picture of what +was going on:</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Buxton Mission</span>, <span class="smcap">Upper Yukon River</span>,<br> +<span style="margin-right: 7.0em;">“<i>April 15, 1897</i>.</span></p> + +<p>“I think I will put on paper for you a few notes about the +sudden change that is taking place in the course of a striking +Providence in this region. From being a poor, desolate, and +neglected country, it is suddenly becoming a rich and populous +one. This is the effect of the new and very valuable gold-mines +discovered last year about fifty miles south of us, at a +place now called Klondyke and Dawson City. These new +mines are said to be as rich as any yet known for their size, +which is at present very limited. Only about 100 claims +are yet found that are very profitable....</p> + +<p>“At the new mines last autumn any claim could be bought +for a few hundred dollars. Now we hear that some have +already changed hands for $50,000, and some are estimated +to be worth $500,000. The owners of the richest claims are +said to be leaving the country in spring, having already as +much gold as they can carry, and being as rich as they care +to be; and they will sell their claims at a high price to others.</p> + +<p>“The miners of Circle City, about 300 miles below us, have +been coming up all winter, hauling their sleds of provisions, +to the number of about 500, till the Yukon has become like +a thronged thoroughfare. They have paid, I think, as much +as $250 for an Indian dog to help haul their sleds.</p> + +<p>“Flour and meal have both been selling during the winter +at from $½ to $1 per pound; and the Indians here loan out +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>their dogs at $1 per day. The Indians, too, get somewhat +rich, but, of course, they squander their money.</p> + +<p>“The temperature has been most singular. The winter +set in very early, being severe in October, and partly so in +November. Then three months, December, January, and +February, were so mild that it was not like winter at all. This +seems quite a providential favour to the numerous travellers.</p> + +<p>“For myself, during the past winter I have enjoyed more +ease and leisure than usual, from having more helpers around +me, and I have devoted my days to digging the mines of +God’s holy Word, and have found, in my own estimation, +richer prizes than the nuggets of Klondyke.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus17" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus17.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">The Golden Lure: a Seven Thousand Clean-up on + Livingstone Creek during the Summer of 1906. The Large Nugget in + the Pan is Worth $470, or nearly £100</span></p> + <p class="p2">A miner’s gold-pan, containing $7,000 of the precious metal. The large + nugget is worth $470, or nearly £100. This amount of gold was obtained + from a “clean-up” on Livingstone Creek in the summer of 1906. The mining + had been done during winter and spring, and when the water came the whole + was washed out.</p> + <p class="p3"><i>Photograph by E. F. Harnacher.</i></p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<blockquote> + +<p><i>May 28, 1897.</i>—“I hear now that the creeks are so winding +as to make the gold streak extend 200 or 300 miles. I +am told £4,000 was washed from the earth of one claim in +one day. Another bought a claim for £10,000, and paid it +all off out of the ground in two or three months. The richest +claims are thought to be worth £100,000 or £200,000. (A +claim is 600 feet of the creek, which each miner is allowed to +pick for himself at the start.) ... From $1 to $2 per pan +is reported to be a common rate there. This is something +like taking your washing-basin, filling it with earth from your +garden, and then, after washing away the earth with a little +water, finding a silver crown or half a sovereign at the bottom. +I suppose, in such a case, you might go again, and so do the +miners. They next proceed to work with sluice-boxes, which is +only a similar process on a larger scale. The earth is thrown +into wooden boxes or troughs with a corrugated or uneven +bottom, so as to retain the gold when the earth is washed out.</p> + +<p>“An Irishman who was here yesterday is said to do his +work so badly that his wife used to make from $4 to $20 a +day by picking up his leavings. She is now gone on a visit +home with her earnings.”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span></p> + +<p>During this mad rush the Bishop was not idle. He was +planning how the Church might be brought to these miners. +He himself was not accustomed to work among white people, +and did not feel equal to the task. But there was a man +upon whom he could depend at this critical time. This was +the Rev. R. J. Bowen, who had recently arrived from England. +To him, therefore, the Bishop stated his plans, and as soon as +possible Mr. Bowen started up the river to plant the standard +of Christ in that excited camp of gold-seekers. It must have +seemed a forlorn hope to the young missionary as he drew +near the new town. Almost two years before he had visited +that place, and on the very site where his camp had then been +pitched large buildings were now erected, and a hurrying +crowd thronged the streets. The great cry was gold; for that +the people had come, and not for religion. Yet among them +Mr. Bowen began to work, and through his earnestness won +the hearts of the miners, and induced many of them to +attend service.</p> + +<p>These men were not miners in the ordinary sense of the +word. Many had never handled a pick or shovel, but had +been reared in ease in comfortable homes, sons of noble +families, who had joined the mad rush to win a fortune in a +short time. Such men were not slow to see the efforts the +mother-Church was making for their spiritual welfare in the +great Northland. They saw the earnest missionary valiantly +standing in their midst, pleading the Master’s cause. Their +hearts were touched, and around him they rallied.</p> + +<p>A log church was at first built, and called “St. Paul’s.” +When Dawson grew to be a large city, this was replaced by a +new frame church which cost $14,000. It is now used by +Bishop Stringer as the cathedral of his diocese.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus18" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus18.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">Prospectors and Miners on the Trail</span></p> + <p class="p2">Horses and dogs are expensive in the North, so when prospectors wish + to take provisions over the trails they must do much of the work + themselves. It is no uncommon sight to see men harnessed up wearily + drawing their load day after day. At times a sail is hoisted to catch + any favourable breeze. This is of much service on crossing an inland + lake, or a low, flat region.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>When the Church work was well under way at Dawson, the +Bishop for a while relieved Mr. Bowen, who returned to Forty +Mile, and was united in marriage to Miss Mellet, who had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>been labouring in the diocese for some time as schoolmistress. +At Dawson the Bishop was out of his element. So long had +he laboured among the Indians that work among the whites +was very hard. In his letters of that time he draws a pathetic +picture of the condition of affairs—the dwindling of the congregations, +and the frank acknowledgment of his own inability +to do much among the miners. “But Christ reigns,” +he wrote, “and the work is His, not mine, and let us trust +and hope.”</p> + +<p>This worry, together with improper food, brought on a +severe attack of scurvy, and when he went back to Forty Mile +in April, he was in a very weak condition. Yet, notwithstanding +his illness, he persisted in conducting the Indian +school and attending to his correspondence.</p> + +<p>“I cannot move,” he wrote, “without losing my breath, nor +walk a few steps without great pain. If I can hold on till I +obtain green vegetables, they may benefit me.”</p> + +<p>After a time “green vegetables” reached him from Dawson, +and at once an improvement took place. To these the Bishop +declared his recovery was almost entirely due.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bompas, during this trying season, was at Fort Yukon, +unable to reach the Bishop. She had been summoned to +England, to the bedside of her sister, who was dangerously +ill. On her return to San Francisco, after a few months’ +absence, she found that wild excitement reigned, owing to +the Klondyke gold discovery.</p> + +<p>“The whole of the great city,” so she writes, “was gathered +on the wharf to witness the departure of the first steamer for +Klondyke. On the boat itself the crowd was no less conspicuous. +Men and women seemed locked together in frantic +excitement. Shouts and cries were heard on all sides. Parting +gifts were thrown on board, hats and handkerchiefs waved +with enthusiasm, and in a few instances with wild sobs of pain. +Then the anchor was raised, and the vessel started for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>St. Michael. Such a motley crowd is not often seen gathered +together in one vessel. The Company did its best to accommodate +all, but the attempt was but partially successful. +Seven men were often the occupiers of one state-room, and the +chief number of passengers were of the roughest kind of miners. +On reaching St. Michael, the same number of passengers were +moved on to the smaller steamer. Here our discomforts were +considerably increased.”</p> + +<p>After a tedious voyage up the river, Fort Yukon was reached. +It was a memorable day on which they arrived at this place.</p> + +<p>“The miners,” continues Mrs. Bompas, “were looking +eagerly forward to the gold-mines of the Klondyke, when the +whole load of passengers were set ashore, and the captain +announced that he was not going a step farther. Prayers, +entreaties, and remonstrances were unavailing. He gave no +excuse for his conduct but that he was going back immediately +to St. Michael—it was supposed, to lay in a cargo of +whisky.”</p> + +<p>And at Fort Yukon Mrs. Bompas was stranded for eight +long months, thirty miles within the Arctic Circle. Fortunately, +the Rev. John Hawksley and family were stationed +here, who did what they could for her comfort. But to the +Bishop at Forty Mile, in feeble health, disturbing news +arrived of the riotous times among the miners at Fort Yukon, +and their desperate efforts to overpower the American soldiers. +Such information caused him much anxiety, and most thankful +was he when at length the ice ran out of the river, and Mrs. +Bompas was able to continue her way after the long delay.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus19" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus19.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">The Rush to the Klondyke. One of Many Strange Craft</span></p> + <p class="p2">“From one point on Lake Bennett,” wrote Colonel Steele, Superintendent + of the North-West Mounted Police, “I counted on an eight-mile stretch + of water over eight hundred boats under full sail; and, for forty-five + miles, at no point were the boats more than two hundred yards apart.”</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>The following summer the Bishop turned his attention to +the southern part of his diocese. Word had reached him of +stirring towns on Lake Bennett and Lake Atlin. Thinking +them to be in his jurisdiction, he made the long and difficult +journey up-stream to view the land. Reaching Bennett +during the summer of 1899, he was astonished to see a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>flourishing city containing thousands of people. But greater +still was his surprise to find that Bennett and Atlin were in +British Columbia, and that he had gone several miles beyond +his diocese. His stay was very brief at Bennett, and on his +return trip down the river he spent two days among the +Indians at Tagish, gaining much information concerning +these natives and their language. One week later Bishop +Ridley arrived at Bennett, and, writing of the visit of his +brother-Bishop, he says:</p> + +<p>“Dr. Bompas has the full tide of civilization forced upon +him to his sorrow.... A week before my arrival he stood +where I now write. Would that he had waited the few days, +that I might have had the honour of welcoming him to my +diocese. He thought Bennett and Atlin were within his, and +therefore ventured so far. Arriving here, he found that he +had trespassed beyond his jurisdiction no less than fourteen +miles. The newspaper-man who reported an interview with +him states that he hurried northwards and buried himself +once more in the frozen north, that no other man loves but +for the sake of its gold. This report, copied into an American +paper, added striking glosses to the account. What would +the dear Bishop think if he saw himself described as the most +devoted of Catholic (meaning Roman Catholic) Bishops in +the wide world? This gloss was evidently by a Roman newsman, +who covertly hit at the snug and comfortable lives of +Protestants who assumed episcopal authority. Bishop Bompas, +says the paper, was so modest that he would not talk of the +countless hairbreadth escapes from awful peril and death, +treating them as phases of everyday life, not to be counted +worthy of notice.”</p> + +<p>The following winter Bishop Bompas remained at the +Indian village of Moosehide, and, amidst school labours and +diocesan cares, formed plans for important extension of the +mission-work.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII<br> +<span class="smaller">THE MOUNTED POLICE</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>Who has not heard of the Royal North-West Mounted +Police, that devoted little band of men, about one thousand +strong, who guard an empire? What magic lies in the title! +What visions rise before the mind of lonely detachments, +long, bleak trails, deeds of heroism, constant watchfulness, +unswerving devotion and loyalty to the Sovereign of the +Realm!</p> + +<p>We have seen in former chapters how helpful they were to +the Bishop in bringing in mails in the early days, and of their +rescue of him and his household from the flood at Forty Mile. +It therefore seems right that some account should be given +here of these noble men, who patrol these great Northern +regions, and how they have aided not only the miners and +frontiersmen, but the missionaries as well.</p> + +<p>There was a time in the history of Canada when the great +North-West Territory belonged to the Hudson’s Bay Company. +At length the British Government purchased the land +from them for a large sum of money. Settlers began to pour +into the country. All kinds came, bad as well as good, took +up land, brought their families, and built homes, many of +them out in lonely places. Liquor-dealers, horse-thieves, and +desperadoes began to flock into the new country, thinking it +a good place to carry on their illegal business. The Indians, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>inflamed by whisky or hatred of the new-comers, were always +a source of trouble. It was never known at what instant an +uprising would take place, when thousands of dusky warriors +would sweep over the land, carrying destruction and death in +their train.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus20" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus20.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">Breaking Trail: the Mounted Police taking the + Mail from Dawson to Fort McPherson</span></p> + <p class="p2">It is a most trying task breaking down the trail for the dogs to bring + along the sleds, loaded with provisions and camping outfit. The snow is + generally light, and even after the snow-shoes have crushed it down the + sleds draw hard, and the poor dogs make slow progress.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>It was at this critical time, 1873, that a little body of +men, known as the North-West Mounted Police, entered the +country to preserve law and order. What could a mere handful +of men do in such a vast country, against such a host of +redskins and evil white men? It was like the stripling David +going forth to meet the giant Goliath. But as David had +right on his side, and a mighty Power behind him, so had +these few dauntless men who took up their gigantic task. +Every man, as he went forth to make an arrest or settle some +dispute, knew that he had the power of a great Empire +behind his back. The renegade white men knew it, and the +Indians soon knew it, too. They were well aware that if they +shot down one of these prairie riders, thrust a sword through +his breast, or injured him in any way, they would have to +face the wrath of the whole British Empire.</p> + +<p>Going, therefore, to his work clad with such an authority, +one man, even a stripling, was a match for a horde. The +lifting of his gauntleted hand was sufficient to quell a mob; +the appearance of a red coat in a drinking and gambling +house, where six-shooters were lying all around, was as if an +army had appeared at the door; and a mere speck on the +prairie caused the lone frontiersman and his wife to breathe +more freely, for they knew a rider of the plains was on his +long patrol of watchfulness.</p> + +<p>They became the sleuth-hounds of the trails, and the +watch-dogs of life and property. Woe to the man who had +committed any crime! there was no region or country which +could free him from the grip of the alert Reds. There was +only one door of escape, and that was death. On snow-shoes +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>and with dog-teams, through vast forests, over sweeping +prairies, across barren grounds, they would track their man +until they found him, either dead or alive.</p> + +<p>No more thrilling instance is given of their coolness and +courage than during the building of the Canadian-Pacific +Railway right across Canada from the Atlantic to the Pacific. +It was in 1883 that out on the prairies the work of construction +was being rushed ahead. At one place a wily +Indian chief, Pie-a-pot by name, and his numerous tribe had +pitched their tents, and refused to allow the work to go on. +Pie-a-pot had hundreds of well-armed braves, anxious for a +fight, and only waiting for an opportunity to begin their +deadly work. Here at last was the time, and their hearts +beat high at the thought of sweeping away the pale-faces +who had invaded their country.</p> + +<p>The Mounted Police never considered numbers. When +word reached them of what the Indians were doing, two +smart members of the force, a sergeant and a constable, rode +into Pie-a-pot’s camp. Just think of it—two against so +many! It seemed like the sheerest piece of madness. The +sergeant at once ordered the Indians to leave. This command +was received with shouts of laughter. The braves gave +vent to savage threats, and the women made the air resound +with their shouts of derision. Then the sergeant calmly +pulled out his watch, and told Pie-a-pot he would give him +just one-quarter of an hour to obey his order and strike +camp. At this the excitement became more intense. The +braves jeered, discharged their rifles under the horses’ noses, +and jostled the riders; but the two policemen remained as +calm as if nothing unusual was going on.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus21" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus21.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">The Royal North-West Mounted Police</span></p> + <p class="p2">When a strike is made in a new region, and the prospectors and miners + rush to the place, the Mounted Police at once pitch their tents there. + If the strike prove of importance, and the camp is likely to be permanent, + the Police erect good log-houses for themselves.</p> + <p class="p3"><i>From a photograph by Muirhead.</i></p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>At the end of the fifteen minutes the sergeant placed the +watch in his pocket, threw the reins to his companion, and +walked deliberately over to Pie-a-pot’s tent. The coverings +of the tent are spread over a number of poles, tied together +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>near the top. These poles are so arranged that the removal +of a particular one, called the “key-pole,” brings the whole +structure down.</p> + +<p>The sergeant did not say a word, but very quietly, so as +to impress the Indians, kicked out the key-pole of Pie-a-pot’s +tent, and brought the whole affair down upon the old man’s +head. Howls of rage went up at this insult to the chief, and +all rushed for their arms.</p> + +<p>It was a critical moment. The least sign of weakness on +the policemen’s part, or a motion from Pie-a-pot, would have +been fatal to the two brave men; but they were as cool as +ever. The sergeant then walked around, and kicked out all +the key-poles of the other tents.</p> + +<p>“Pie-a-pot,” says W. A. Fraser, the Canadian author, +writing about this, “had either got to kill the sergeant—stick +his knife into the whole British nation by the murder of this +unruffled soldier—or give up and move away. He chose the +latter course, for Pie-a-pot had brains.”</p> + +<p>At this time the Mounted Police had not advanced into +the Yukon territory; but as the miners began to arrive, +Bishop Bompas longed for some authority to protect his +dusky flock, and to quell the disturbances which sometimes +took place. It was partly due to him that at last a body of +these men were sent to Forty Mile. Just across the little +Forty Mile River they built their post, at a place known as +Cudahy. From here they patrolled the creeks, and settled +any turbulent spirits who were bent on making trouble.</p> + +<p>One night a man and a woman came to the Bishop’s house +and asked him to marry them. This he at once did, never +suspecting anything wrong. Just at the conclusion of the +service a knock sounded upon the outer door. There the +Bishop found a policeman, who at once asked to see the man +he believed to be in the house.</p> + +<p>“But he is engaged,” remarked the Bishop, “and cannot +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>very well see you just now.” When, however, he heard that +he was needed for some mischief he had been doing, the good +missionary became very uneasy. He took the policeman into +his study, where the newly-married man was standing with +his back to the door. The policeman noticed that a revolver +was sticking out of the man’s hip-pocket, and knew he would +have to act without delay. Quickly crossing the room to +where the man was standing, he seized the murderous weapon +in one hand, and clapping the other on his shoulder, told him +that he was a prisoner.</p> + +<p>This sudden arrest surprised him, and he turned angrily +upon the Bishop, thinking he had informed upon him. But +the policeman soon explained everything, and that the woman +standing there was the wife of another man living at Forty +Mile. “In that case,” said the Bishop, sternly looking +toward the prisoner, “the marriage I have just celebrated is +null and void.” Then the humour of the situation seemed +to strike him, and he added, with a merry twinkle in his eye, +“And I have got the fees!”</p> + +<p>The policeman then took the prisoner away, and driving a +log into the ground in the centre of the largest of the shacks, +handcuffed the man, and fastened him to the log with a trace-chain. +They gave him several blankets, in which he rolled +himself up and went to sleep. Finally, the man was expelled +from Forty Mile. He was packed into a boat in the middle +of the next night, given a piece of bacon, and pushed out into +the current, with strict orders never to return. He was +never heard of again—or the woman he had married—or the +fees!</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus22" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus22.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">The Mounted Police Cooking a Meal</span></p> + <p class="p2">On the trail the mid-day meal is eaten in the open, in some sheltered + place if possible, where there is sufficient fuel for a fire. The dogs + remain in harness, and are not fed until their day’s work is done. It + is a very trying experience to light a fire and prepare a meal on a + cold day.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>When, several years later, so much gold was found on the +Klondyke River, and thousands of men poured into the +country, many more men of the Mounted Police were sent to +the Yukon. If you were to go to-day to a little place called +Tagish, on the head-waters of this great Northern river, you +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>would see a number of tumble-down log-buildings; and +going farther still down that stream, other deserted houses in +lonely places would be seen. These ruins once throbbed with +life and energy. The Yukon River was the great highway of +traffic, and as the living stream moved by, summer and +winter, ever-watchful eyes from some detachment noted the +procession; willing hands were ready to uphold some weary +wayfarer, and chafe his poor, numb body; active feet were +always in readiness to track the miscreant to earth and bring +him to justice. Only on the final day of account will it be +known how many lives were saved, how many bands of lawless +men held in check, and how much good done by that little +body of men.</p> + +<p>That was several years ago, and since then changes have +taken place. Now there are two great nerve-centres, Dawson +and Whitehorse. As the telegraph operator feels the beat of +a city’s pulse many miles away, so the commanding officer +knows what is taking place in the most remote portion of his +huge district. Now, all along the trail which leads from +Whitehorse to Dawson, a distance of 320 miles, policemen are +stationed at regular intervals. A hold-up is an unknown +event, and one travels as safely as along some quiet village in +Eastern Canada.</p> + +<p>If you go to the barracks at Whitehorse, you will see a +pile of old registers, with thousands of names recorded there. +Every man who goes down the river in an open boat must +give his name, and have his boat registered. Sometimes +three or four men go together. Then, upon reaching Dawson, +if any are missing, the police at once begin to inquire. They +know who were in the boat, and they at once ask what has +happened to the others. In this way criminals have been +found out and punished. Many are the stories those old +registers could tell of the early, stirring days.</p> + +<p>The writer has travelled 1,000 miles by dog-team in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>Yukon, and everywhere he went he met members of the force, +no matter how desolate the region. One Saturday night he +and his Indian arrived, cold and tired, at a police post. Here +they were kindly sheltered and fed. The next day being +Sunday, the police-team was harnessed to a sled, and a drive +made to a road house some distance away. Here service was +held. No one could sing, but a big gramophone served +instead, and rolled off several old, familiar tunes.</p> + +<p>Everywhere the missionary goes he is sure to find a hearty +welcome and assistance from these men. Living in the +shadow of the big log barracks for about five years, the +writer has seen much of these men. Many of them are from +England, Ireland, and Scotland. They are, as a rule, a gentlemanly +class of fellows, some having been bred in homes of +comfort and luxury. Here they are all equal, unless they +obtain the much-coveted stripes on the sleeves which lift +them to the rank of corporal or staff-sergeant. Their scarlet +uniforms, with the well-polished buttons, are often seen on +the streets. They have their own skating-rink, near the +barracks, toboggan-slide, and a fine library and recreation +room. It is certainly pleasant to hear all through the day +the sweet bugle-calls, summoning the men to their various +duties. The present bugler, who is the son of an English +clergyman, has kindly supplied the notes and words of some +of the bugle-calls.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="music1" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/music1.jpg" alt="[Music]"> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1">MEN’S MEAL: SECOND CALL.</p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse indent0">Pick, pick ’em up, pick ’em up, hot po-ta-toes,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">hot po-ta-toes; pick ’em up, pick ’em up, hot po-ta-toes, oh!</div> + </div> + </div> + <p class="p1 x-ebookmaker-drop">[<a href="music/music1.mp3">Listen</a>] | + [<a href="music/music1.mxl">MusicXML</a>]</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp72" id="music2" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/music2.jpg" alt="[Music]"> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1">STABLES CALL.</p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, come to the sta-ble, all ye that are a-ble, and</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wa-ter your hor-ses, and feed them some corn;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wa-ter your hor-ses, and give them some corn;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wa-ter your hor-ses, and feed them some corn.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, come to the sta-ble, all ye that are a-ble, and</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wa-ter your hor-ses, and feed them some corn.</div> + </div> + </div> + <p class="p1 x-ebookmaker-drop">[<a href="music/music2.mp3">Listen</a>] | + [<a href="music/music2.mxl">MusicXML</a>]</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="music3" style="max-width: 25.0em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/music3.jpg" alt="[Music]"> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1">LIGHTS OUT.</p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse indent0">Lights out! lights out!</div> + </div> + </div> + <p class="p1 x-ebookmaker-drop">[<a href="music/music3.mp3">Listen</a>] | + [<a href="music/music3.mxl">MusicXML</a>]</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="music4" style="max-width: 37.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/music4.jpg" alt="[Music]"> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1">REGIMENTAL CALL (R.N.-W.M.P.).</p> + <p class="p1 x-ebookmaker-drop">[<a href="music/music4.mp3">Listen</a>] | + [<a href="music/music4.mxl">MusicXML</a>]</p> + <p class="p2 tn x-ebookmaker-drop"><b>Music Transcriber's Note:</b> The + triplet in the second bar is printed using quarter notes (crotchets). + In the transcription, these have been changed to eighth notes (quavers) + to fit in the bar, and after comparison with other sources.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span></p> + +<p>It was mentioned in another chapter how the police carried +the mails along the river with dog-teams before the stage-road +was built from Dawson to Whitehorse. They still do +much work in this line, carrying mails to lonely outlying +creeks. But the great task is that of carrying the mail over +the Rocky Mountains to Fort McPherson, 475 miles from +Dawson. Away up there in that desolate region, at Herschel +Island and other places, are Hudson’s Bay Company’s men, as +well as missionaries, hunters, and trappers, eagerly longing +for news from the outside world. About Christmas-time a +patrol starts from Dawson to carry the mail to these people +afar off.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus23" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus23.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">The Dawson—Fort McPherson Mail Route</span></p> + <p class="p2">The dogs used by the Mounted Police, in harness and on the trail, are + the best that can be obtained, and even then some of them give out + beneath the fearful hardships of the trail.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>It is a Herculean task to break trail through a desolate +wilderness and over the wind-swept Rocky Mountains. Only +the hardiest men and dogs are chosen for this task. Usually +there are about four policemen and two Indian guides, with +five dog-teams and toboggans. If you look into a police +report, you will read there the events which happen day after +day, for it takes about three months to make the round trip +of 950 miles in all. How careful is the man in charge not to +tell too much about what that march means! But anyone +who has been on the trail can easily read between the lines, +and he sees hardships endured and difficulties overcome of +which Arctic explorers might well be proud.</p> + +<p>Suppose we pick out a few of these matter-of-fact entries +of the trip of 1905:</p> + +<p>“<i>January 1, 1906.</i>—Roads very heavy. Distance travelled, +twenty miles. Snowing all day. Thirty-five degrees below +zero.”</p> + +<p>“<i>January 8.</i>—Followed McQuesten Lake to the end, and +then followed the edge of the hills for about seven miles. +Weather, 48 below. Strong wind all day.”</p> + +<p>“<i>January 9.</i>—Four men went ahead to break trail.”</p> + +<p>“<i>January 10.</i>—Weather very windy, and 61 below.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span></p> + +<p>“<i>January 16.</i>—Snow very deep, with water on ice. +Weather 18 below in a.m., and 38 below in p.m.”</p> + +<p>“<i>January 18.</i>—Had a very hard day on the dogs, and +they just played out. Braine Creek is nearly all glacier. +Nearly all of the party got wet, and we had a narrow escape +from freezing. Distance travelled, eighteen miles. Weather, +54 below.”</p> + +<p>“<i>January 26.</i>—Left camp at 8 a.m., with a blizzard +blowing.”</p> + +<p>“<i>January 27.</i>—Dog John had to be turned loose on +account of frozen feet.”</p> + +<p>“<i>February 1.</i>—Had to turn dog Ping loose, and neither +he nor John turned up at night.”</p> + +<p>“<i>February 2.</i>—Dogs did not turn up, and I reckon their +feet are too bad for them to travel.”</p> + +<p>“<i>February 8.</i>—The mountain we crossed is a very bald +one, and we could not see much of it on account of storm.”</p> + +<p>“<i>February 14.</i>—Left camp at 7.30 a.m., and followed the +portage two miles to Peel River, and then seventeen miles +down the Peel to a native cabin, and camped there at 8 p.m. +We had eaten the last bite of food for breakfast, but fortunately +came to an Indian camp, where we obtained twenty-four +rabbits, and gave the dogs each half a rabbit. Distance +travelled, nineteen miles. Weather, 52 below.”</p> + +<p>“<i>February 15.</i>—Followed the Peel River down to Fort +McPherson, where we arrived at 4.30 p.m. On our arrival +all of our dogs were just about played out; in fact, one of +them, Sandy, dropped about a mile above the fort.”</p> + +<p>And so His Majesty’s mail was carried over that desolate +waste. The bare words, “dog’s feet frozen,” “broke trail,” +“52 below zero,” “wind blowing,” “snow very deep,” and +such-like—what pictures rise before the mind as we read +these laconic words! They are typical of the North, where +men shrink from enlarging on their hardships, lest they +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>should seem like boasters. It was the same with Bishop +Bompas. Read the accounts of his journeys, and you will +find them, as a rule, long, dry statements of his many +journeys.</p> + +<p>These pictures of the carrying of the mail from Dawson to +Fort McPherson will prove interesting. They were given to +the writer last summer by one of the men who made the long +journey. As far as is known, they have never yet been given +to the public.</p> + +<p>And so far up in this Northern region these noble men +carry on their great work. Well it was that King Edward +lately bestowed upon them the additional regal name, and +now they are known as the Royal North-West Mounted +Police. Their motto is, <i>Maintien le droit</i>. And well do +they follow it out. One more closing incident is typical of +them all:</p> + +<p>A young man was sent to hunt up some horses that had +strayed. It was winter, and a blizzard struck him. He +never returned, but the next spring, in a cut-off <i>coulée</i>, an +officer on patrol found a uniform by the side of a skeleton. +A piece of paper arrested his attention. Picking it up, he +read the pathetic words which had been scrawled there by the +young man, on a leaf torn from a pocket-diary, the winter +before: “<i>Lost. Horse dead. Am trying to push ahead. +Have done my best.</i>”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX<br> +<span class="smaller">“FAINT, YET PURSUING”</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>When on a visit to one of his mission-stations during his +later years, the Bishop was asked to write a few lines in an +autograph album. He at once complied with the request, +and wrote the words, which he felt applied to him as they +did to Gideon and his 300, “Faint, yet pursuing.”</p> + +<p>Years of strenuous work were telling upon his gigantic +constitution, and he began to realize that ere long he must +lay down the staff of office. For some time he had his +attention turned towards the southern portion of the diocese, +to the Indians who were gathered at Caribou Crossing, which +had become quite an important railway centre. In August, +1901, he and Mrs. Bompas bade farewell to all at Forty +Mile, and started on their journey up the river. Whitehorse +was only in its infancy, and the Rev. R. J. and Mrs. Bowen +had just returned from England to take charge of the Church +work. In their little tent they received the venerable couple, +and did all in their power to minister to their comfort. +The welcome at Caribou Crossing was most meagre. A tent +which belonged to Bishop Ridley gave them shelter for a few +hours, when, hearing of a bunk-house across the river, they +at once rented it, and afterwards purchased it for $150. It +was dirty and uncomfortable, but the Bishop placed a rug +and blanket on the big table for Mrs. Bompas to rest while +he went to explore. The house was infested with gophers, +which ran along the rafters, causing great annoyance. But, +notwithstanding the toil of the day, evening prayer was held +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>in Bishop Ridley’s tent. Here services were conducted till +the fall, when the weather grew so cold that Mrs. Bompas’s +fingers became numb as she played at the little harmonium +which she brought with her. After that, services, morning +and evening, were held at the mission-house, “which,” as +Mrs. Bompas tells us, “had been used as a road-house and +post-office, and possessed one good-sized room, over the door +of which there still exists the ominous word ‘Bar-room’ +(now hidden behind a picture); and in this room we had to +gather—Indians and white people—for Sunday and weekday +services, for baptisms, marriages, and funerals, for school-children +and adult classes, etc.”</p> + +<p>In 1903, Bishop Ridley, of Caledonia, paid a visit to +Caribou Crossing on his way to Atlin. The description he +gives of the episcopal residence and the life of the venerable +occupants is most interesting, a few extracts of which must +be given here:</p> + +<p>“There on the platform stands the straight and venerable +hero of the North, Dr. Bompas, the Bishop of Selkirk. I +jumped from the train and, though I had never met him +before, I grasped his hand and exclaimed, ‘At last! at last!’ +We knew each other well by letter only. He was as placid +as the mountains and the lakes they embosom.”</p> + +<p>Then a glimpse is given of the “Bishop’s house, built of +logs, on the sand. The flooring-boards were half an inch +apart; so shrunken were they that it would be easy to rip +them up and lay them down close together. Then the roof: +it was papered, with battens across the paper. I was anxious +to see inside less of the light of heaven through the rents. +Ventilation is carried to excess. Everything around is as +simple as indifference to creature comforts can make it, +excepting the books, which are numerous, up-to-date, and as +choice as any two excellent scholars could wish.</p> + +<p>“The question that has often sprung from my heart has +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>been this: if this poor thirty-pound affair is by comparison +delightful, what of the contrivances that have sheltered them +in the past forty years?</p> + +<p>“Never in my life did I value hospitality so much, or feel +so honoured, as here, under the roof of these grand apostles +of God. Two septuagenarians of grace and broad culture, +whose years have been spent nobly in God’s eyes, have +deliberately chosen an austere type of service, not for +austerity’s sake, but for Christ’s sake, under circumstances +the average citizen of the Empire would feel to be past +endurance. They are as happy as heroic. She, accomplished +far beyond the standard one meets with in London drawing-rooms, +unless among the most cultured circles; he, a fine +scholar, steeped in Hebrew and Syriac lore, as well as in the +commoner studies of the clergy, live on, love on, labour on in +this vast expanse, little trodden but by the Indians for whom +they live and will die.</p> + +<p>“If such lives fail in Christ’s cause, that cause is doomed. +Let those who criticize cease their cackling, and try to +imitate by self-sacrifice such lives as those I have just touched +on; and they, too, may have some share in the betterment +of mankind—the expansion of Christ’s kingdom and the +eternal welfare of humanity.”</p> + +<p>Anxious days followed the Bishop’s removal to this place. +The diocese was scarce of clergy, and when Mr. Bowen left +Whitehorse earnest appeals were sent “outside” for men. +Then it was, upon the Bishop’s earnest request, that the +Rev. I. O. Stringer arrived in November, 1903, to take up +the work laid down by Mr. Bowen. Much pleased was the +Bishop to have Mr. Stringer so near, and at once marked +him as his successor.</p> + +<p>Then followed the death of his old friend Archbishop +Machray, and as senior Bishop of the province of Rupert’s +Land, he was summoned to Winnipeg. A message reached +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>him from Mr. John Machray, nephew of the late Primate, +telling him of the Archbishop’s death, with the addition: +“As senior Bishop, it is important that you should attend a +conference of Bishops in Winnipeg to select a successor.”</p> + +<p>Though the Bishop shrank much from leaving the North to +mingle with the bustling world, yet, after a few minutes’ +thought, he sent back the following answer:</p> + +<p>“I will try to be with you by Easter.”</p> + +<p>And on Easter Eve, April, 1904, with Mrs. Bompas and +Susie, a little deaf and dumb girl,⁠<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> he was met by several of +the clergy at Winnipeg, and was present at St. John’s +Cathedral on Easter Day, though only as one of the congregation, +being too much overcome by the crowd and bustle +of the city to take any active part in the service. What +thoughts must have surged through his mind as he looked +upon the great prairie city, which had changed so much +since last he saw it thirty long years before!</p> + +<p>On the following Sunday he was able to preach in +St. John’s Cathedral. “His sermon,” so Mrs. Bompas tells +us, “was in his usual earnest and unembellished style, referring +to the last time he had officiated in that church, nearly +thirty years before, alluding with pathos to the many who +had left the busy whirl of life during that period, and +expressing his great pleasure that, among the many changes +that were taking place in the Church, the services of +St. John’s Cathedral still retained something of their old, +almost austere, simplicity.”</p> + +<p>The Bishop’s time was fully occupied during his stay in +Winnipeg. There were old friends calling upon him, reporters +seeking interviews, meetings to attend, and addresses to +deliver, which wearied him very much. His voice was feeble, +and could not be distinctly heard at the gatherings where he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>told of his Northern diocese. But what did that matter? +The people thought more of the man—the man of whom they +had heard such wonderful things—and cheered him heartily.</p> + +<p>The Archbishop of Rupert’s Land, in an address at the +107th Anniversary of the Church Missionary Society, at +Exeter Hall, London, April, 1907, thus referred to the visit +of Bishop Bompas to Winnipeg:</p> + +<p>“Dr. Bompas, that splendid veteran missionary, who came +down at the time of my election—he was as humble as a little +child—when he stood on the platform at a great missionary +meeting, and when I, introducing him, spoke of the hardships +he had gone through, corrected me thus when he started to +speak. He said: ‘It is you men at the centre, with your +telephones and your telegrams, who have the hardships. We +have a soft time in the North. Nobody ever worries us.’ +That is all that he said about his hardships. Then he told +the story of his work in a simple, childlike way.”</p> + +<p>The city life did not agree with him. He longed for his +Northern flock and the quietness of his little log-house at +Caribou Crossing. A doctor was consulted, who strongly +advised him not to return to his diocese for some time. +Before this the Bishop was uncertain when he would return; +but after the doctor’s verdict had been given, he hesitated +no longer, but fixed a date for his departure. Only three +weeks did he stay in Winnipeg, and then started northward. +Acts of kindness were showered upon him on every hand. +All delighted to honour the noble missionary in their midst. +As he stood on the platform before leaving Winnipeg, an +unknown friend, knowing that the Bishop would not afford +himself the luxury of a good berth, slipped into his hand a +ticket for one in the Pullman car.</p> + +<p>When once again in his own diocese, the longing grew +stronger for rest, and he became impatient for the time when +his successor would be appointed. Then, the delay in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span>election of the new Archbishop gave him much concern. He +felt it was his duty to go once more to Winnipeg to hasten +matters, and many were the letters written and received +before everything was finally arranged. His annual trip +down the river to visit the various mission stations became +more and more of a burden, and he wished to stay quietly +in one place to carry on his desired work.</p> + +<p>And that desired work filled him with gladness. “The +daily round, the common task” was all that he asked for. +Praise might go to others; he wished for none for himself. +The Indian school occupied much of his time, and part of +each morning was given up to it. The building over the +river, which at first had been used for the school, was +exchanged for the log police-barracks, quite close to the +mission-house. It was an interesting sight to observe the +venerable, grey-haired teacher among a number of stirring +young Indian pupils. Gladly did he leave his beloved translations +to be awhile the teacher.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Freely the sage, though wrapped in musings high,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Assumed the teacher’s part.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Though the Bishop used to say that to teach Indians was +a very difficult task, “like writing in the sand, instead of +graving in the rock,” yet he never gave up, but went bravely +on till the last.</p> + +<p>A portion of his time was devoted to letter-writing and +translation work. He was always an early riser, and his letters +were written in the early morning in the quietness of his study. +Letter-writing he seemed to love, and seldom did he pen less +than six or seven missives a day. It was in this manner he +could express himself most freely, and sometimes, when wishing +to convey a message to a member of his household, he would +do so by letter, at times leaving it at the post-office to be +delivered later in the day.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp56" id="illus24" style="max-width: 23.4375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus24.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">An Indian Boy at Play</span></p> + <p class="p2">When the Indians come into town the dusky lads are + fond of imitating the ways of the white people. Too often + they copy the worse side. But this little fellow is certainly + engaged in innocent sport.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp56" id="illus25" style="max-width: 23.4375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus25.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">An Indian Boy at Work</span></p> + <p class="p2">Indians on the Yukon dislike work. Around the towns + they will beg for food and clothing. At the Whitehorse + Rectory a pile of unsplit wood was kept ready, and the + able-bodied natives were made to earn their food and + clothing.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Rarely did he miss meeting the train on its arrival at the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>settlement, that he might be at hand to receive his mail as +soon as possible. His tall, erect figure, with the leather +travelling-bag⁠<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> slung across his shoulder, walking up and +down the platform, was a most familiar sight. Strangers +would gaze with curiosity upon the veteran of the North, of +whom they had heard so much, and often snapshots were +taken, to be reproduced in books, magazines, or newspaper +articles. This latter the Bishop bore with good-natured +tolerance, considering it a necessary evil, and one of the discomforts +of modern civilization. He told one of his clergy—him +who now wields the episcopal staff—who was busy taking +a number of pictures of the Bishop and his Indian school, +that he did not wish to see <i>him</i> go, but he would like to see +the <i>camera</i> make a hasty departure.</p> + +<p>For some time the Bishop wished to change the name of +Caribou Crossing, as his letters often went to other places of +a similar name, and thus caused much delay and confusion. +After careful consideration, he chose the name of “Carcross.” +Many objected to the change, and strongly-worded articles +were written in the local paper condemning the “mongrel +name of Carcross.” The Bishop remained silent, replying to +none of these attacks. At length a letter appeared, addressed +to the Bishop, from the Secretary of the Geographic Board +of Canada, stating that at a meeting of the Board “the name +‘Carcross’ was approved instead of ‘Caribou’ or ‘Caribou +Crossing.’” The Bishop smiled, but said nothing. Since +then the new name has steadily won its way.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the school-work and study, ample time +was found for other duties which devolved upon him. There +were Indians calling at most unseasonable hours for advice +over some perplexing question. The advice thus freely given +was often interpreted in most unexpected ways. On one +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>occasion he had a long talk with an Indian who had taken a +young woman as his second wife, having wearied of the first. +The Bishop told him it was wrong to have two wives, and +that he should only have one. The Indian seemed much +surprised with these words, and promised to obey; but, to +the astonishment of all, he put away his old, faithful wife +and kept the younger.</p> + +<p>Once, at a wedding of two Indians, the Bishop repeated +very carefully the words, “for better for worse, for richer for +poorer, in sickness and in health,” etc., and told the groom to +repeat them after him. The Indian was much puzzled. He +could not repeat the words, neither could he understand their +meaning, and looked vacantly around. After a time a light +illumined his face, and, turning to his passive, dusky bride, +he said: “Me sick, you take care me; you sick, me take care +you—eh?”</p> + +<p>The building of the new church at Carcross was a great +comfort to the Bishop. Services had been held in the mission-house, +which was too small to accommodate all who attended. +The cost of the building was met almost entirely by kind +friends outside the diocese. In 1904 Mrs. Bompas visited +Eastern Canada, and addressed the Women’s Association at +Montreal, Toronto, Ottawa, and Quebec on mission-work in +the North. Great was her surprise when, at the annual +meeting of this noble handmaid of the Church at the +Cathedral in Toronto, she was presented with the generous +gift of $800 towards the church building fund for St. +Saviour’s, Carcross. Other gifts came steadily in, and the +success of the church was complete.</p> + +<p>In the erection of this little building the Bishop was most +active, not only superintending the work, but doing much +manual labour himself. With his own hands he made a little +gate for the church-door, to keep out the numerous Indian +dogs which were always prowling around during service. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>This specimen of the Bishop’s handiwork remained for some +time after his death, a curiosity to all who looked upon it, +especially to tourists.</p> + +<p>It was a happy day when at last the church was opened +for service. It was consecrated on August 8, 1904, after +Mrs. Bompas’s return to the diocese. The services were of a +very simple nature, for the Bishop seemed to have an almost +complete disregard for external things. Seldom did he wear +his episcopal robes—not even when visiting the different +mission stations in his diocese—being content to use the long +white surplice with the black stole, minus his Doctor’s hood. +This was a cause of worry to Mrs. Bompas, who rejoiced to +see all things done “decently and in order.” Once, on the +Mackenzie River, when starting to hold a Confirmation service +some distance away, he was urged by Mrs. Bompas to +take his episcopal robes. He refused to do so, saying that +the surplice was sufficient. On that trip his boat was swamped, +and everything was lost, and only with difficulty were he and +his companions saved.</p> + +<p>Anxiously the Bishop awaited Bishop Stringer’s return +from Winnipeg to take charge of the diocese. No jealousy +came into his heart at the thought of handing over the work +to another. It was his own wish, for he knew a younger and +stronger man was needed. For himself, he did not wish to +leave the Yukon or to retire. He resolved to still carry on +his Master’s work as a humble missionary much farther down +the river. He was eager to be away among his dusky flock, +free from all the cares of the huge diocese, which were +becoming a great burden.</p> + +<p>At length Bishop Stringer arrived, and at once he handed +over the affairs to him, and discussed his own plans with the +enthusiasm of youth, little thinking that the Master of Life +was about to call him to a higher service.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX<br> +<span class="smaller">LIGHT AT EVENTIDE</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>In a famous picture an old warrior, scarred in many a fierce +battle, is seen hanging up his sword; his work ended, he +could afford to rest. But not so with Bishop Bompas, the +faithful soldier of the Cross. No thought of ease entered his +mind, but only more work for the Master. As St. Paul of +old handed on his commission to his son Timothy, so did +this veteran apostle of a later day pass on the torch to a +younger son in the faith, that he might be free for other +work. Then came the end, the last scene in the life of +this noble man, for “God’s finger touched him, and he +slept.”</p> + +<p>Far away in dear old England, 7,000 miles from a quiet +grave in the great Canadian northland, the following +account of those last days has been beautifully written as +a loving tribute by her, the faithful wife, who for long +years bore with the devoted Bishop the burden and heat of +the day:</p> + +<p>“The storms on Lake Bennett, on the shores of which +Carcross is situated, are at times pretty severe. The winds +blow in gusts down the steep mountain gullies, and toss into +fury the waters of the lake. The depth of that lake between +Carcross and Bennett is very great. It has often been sounded, +and no bottom reached. Many a hastily run-up scow, full of +brave, enterprising miners, has been wrecked on these waters, +and many a nameless grave in the white man’s territory +marks the resting-place of some poor fellow who was strong +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>to venture, but had not learnt to realize the many dangers +and vicissitudes of a miner’s life. But the lake has its periods +of calm no less than those of turmoil and unrest. Mark it +on some evening of summer, when scarcely a ripple stirs its +surface. The reflection of the mountains on the water is so +clear and vivid that one is tempted to doubt which is the +reality and which is the shadow.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="illus26" style="max-width: 29.6875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus26.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">On the Trail</span></p> + <p class="p2">The writer’s last trip into Livingstone Creek, seventy miles from + Whitehorse. The scene is on a large mountain lake, with towering + rocks on every side. The Indian, Jimmy Jackson, is at the rear of + the sled.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“Such a calm, such a change from turmoil into peace, +marked the evening of the life we have been considering. We +believe that God’s servants have been given a premonition of +the approach of death. The Bishop had laid his plans some +months ahead, and made necessary preparations for a winter +down the river. He had always been remarkable for physical +strength and energy. For his winter travelling he was always +seen running, with the jaunty pace of the Northern tripper, +ahead of his sledge. He was ever ready to help the men +hauling up a boat at some of the portages, or in pushing it +down the bank into the river. Among our party it was +always the Bishop who insisted on charging himself with the +heaviest articles, and it was only within the last two years +that he abstained from hauling water from the lake for the +whole of our household. But symptoms of some diminution +of strength and vigour in this strong man were beginning to +show themselves. The eyes that had pored so long with imperfect +light over the pages of Hebrew and Syriac, in which +he so delighted, were failing, and had to be strengthened by +glasses stronger and yet stronger still. Since his last attack +of scurvy he had lost all sense of smell or taste. No one +could be with the Bishop many hours without observing an +expression of weariness and dejection in his countenance, +which was as intense as pathetic. He was often heard +whispering, ‘Courage, courage!’ To more than one of his +friends he had given his impression that he had not long to +live. To his brother he wrote just a year before his death: +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>‘For myself, I am most thankful to be in this happy retirement. +When the time comes, I hope for as tranquil an +earthly ending as that of our brother George, though +perhaps mine may be more sudden, and possibly not even +in my bed.’</p> + +<p>“The Bishop’s burden of responsibility had of late years +been greatly increased by the advent of the white men. The +population of the diocese had increased sevenfold and at rapid +strides. The problem of providing for the spiritual needs of +these people, and especially of keeping the Indians from the +allurements of the whisky traffic and the snares of the +gambling-table, was weighing heavily upon him. But the +darkest hour is the hour before the dawn; the labourer’s task +was nearly accomplished. The Rev. I. O. Stringer had been +nominated by the Bishop and approved by the Church +Missionary Society and the Canadian Board of Missions as +successor to Bishop Bompas in the See of Selkirk (now called +the See of Yukon). He was a good man and an earnest +Churchman, and had had some years’ experience of mission-work +among the Indians of Peel River and the Eskimo of +Herschel Island, at the mouth of the Mackenzie. Mr. Stringer +was consecrated Bishop in St. John’s Cathedral, Winnipeg, +December 17, 1905, and his arrival in Selkirk Diocese was +ardently looked for. With him was expected the Rev. A. E. +O’Meara, of Toronto, to be placed in charge of the newly-started +mission at Conrad, twelve miles from Carcross, the +centre of a new mining camp.</p> + +<p>“And so, with the mission staff a little better equipped, +with the work of the diocese passing into younger and less +toil-worn hands, our Bishop could now turn his thoughts to +his own plans for the coming months. The Church Missionary +Society had suggested to him a retiring pension, but this +he declined to accept, unless he continued in some department +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>of the work of the mission. His great desire now, and +one which had for a long time past occupied his thoughts, +was to start a new mission on Little Salmon River, where +there are often congregated together 200 Indians who have +seldom come within sound of the Gospel. But Bishop +Stringer and others dissuaded him from the new venture, +thinking that the work of starting a new mission, with the +prospect of having to build a house and get in supplies for +the coming winter, was one for which neither the Bishop +himself nor his wife, at their advanced age, were fitted. Accepting +this disappointment as God’s will, Bishop Bompas +prepared to go down the river to Forty Mile, below Dawson. +Now was there bustle and unrest on the mission premises at +Carcross preparatory to the departure.</p> + +<p>“A passage for the Bishop and Mrs. Bompas and two +Indian girls had been secured on one of the river steamers to +sail on Monday. This was Saturday, June 9, a day calm and +bright, as our summer days in the far North mostly are. The +Bishop was as active as ever on that day. Twice he had +walked across the long railway bridge, and his quick elastic +step had been commented on as that of a young man. Later +on he had been up to the school, and on to the Indian camp +to visit some sick Indians. Then he went home, and remained +for some time in conversation with Bishop Stringer, into +whose hands he had already committed all the affairs of the +diocese. Then the mission party dined together, and at eight +o’clock they all reassembled for prayers. After prayers the +Bishop retired to his study and shut the door.</p> + +<p>“Was there, we wonder, any intimation of the coming rest +in the breast of that stalwart warrior, whose end of life was +now so near as to be reckoned, not by hours, but by minutes +only? Was there any consciousness of having fought a good +fight, and finished his course? We know not. Sitting on a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>box, as was his custom, he began the sermon which proved to +be his last. Presently the pen stopped; the hand that so +often had guided it was to do so no more. Near him was one +of his flock, an Indian girl, who needed some attention, and +as he arose he leaned his elbow on a pile of boxes. And +while standing there the great call came: the hand of God +touched him, and the body which had endured so much fell +forward. When Bishop Stringer reached his side a few +minutes later, the Indian girl was holding his head in her +lap. Nothing could be done, and without a struggle, without +one word of farewell, the brave soul passed forth to a +higher life.</p> + +<p>“And so the tale is told, the chapter ended, of that life +begun seventy-two years since. A suffering, uneventful life, +and yet, we hope, not all unfruitful of God’s glory, and of +souls won for the fold of the Good Shepherd. Most aptly +do the words of the poet apply to him:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“O good grey head which all men knew,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O voice from which their omens all men drew,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O iron nerve to true occasion true,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O fallen at length that tower of strength,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Such was he whom we deplore.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The long self-sacrifice of life is o’er.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>“The awe and silence which overspread the camp, and +school, and mission that night and the following day were +very striking. By the morning of Sunday tidings of the +Bishop’s death had been flashed to Ottawa, and London, and +all down the river. On Tuesday morning notices of the +Bishop’s life and work were in many American and Canadian +newspapers, with his portrait.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus27" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus27.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="p1"><span class="smcap">The Body of Bishop Bompas taken in a Boat from + the Church to the Graveyard</span></p> + <p class="p2">Mrs. Bompas and Mrs. Cody are sitting in the back part of the boat. + As there was no team available on the Mission side of the river, the + boat was the only means of conveyance.</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“The funeral had to be on Monday, June 11, Festival of +St. Barnabas (the Son of Consolation). Messages came from +the Indians down the river, as well as from friends elsewhere, +expressing deepest sympathy with Mrs. Bompas in the terrible +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>shock she had sustained. The Indians heard with extreme +satisfaction that their friend and Bishop had once expressed +a wish to be buried among them. Two of them came and +offered to dig his grave, adding, ‘You no pay me.’ In the +Indian cemetery, therefore, beautifully situated less than a +mile from Carcross, was the grave made ready. The mountains, +clad with their dark pine-woods, looked down grave +and solemn on the Indians’ burial-ground. There were not +many graves, but they were well and carefully kept and +tended, for they were all friends who lay there, and we knew +the life and history of each one. Below the cemetery were +the waters of the lake, in summer ever studded with swift +canoes, or white man’s row-boats, or the steamer <i>Gleamer</i> and +smaller vessels. But on this day there was no movement on +the lake. All vessels had their flags half-mast high, and +deferred their sailing that their captains and men might +attend the funeral. It took place at five o’clock. On account +of the distance, only two of the Bishop’s clergy were able to +take part in the solemn service, Mr. O’Meara, of Conrad, and +Mr. Cody, of Whitehorse.</p> + +<p>“The little church of St. Saviour’s was now filled with all +the white population of Carcross and all the Indians who had +come to do honour to the great man who had fallen in their +midst. The two hymns chosen from the Hymnal Companion +were most appropriate. One, ‘For all the Saints,’ telling of +the triumph of the saints of God after earth’s hard fight; +the other, ‘Jesus lives,’ breathing forth the blessed hope of +victory over the grave and a glorious resurrection. The +service was conducted by Bishop Stringer, assisted by the two +clergymen; and then the dear Bishop’s body was lifted into +a boat waiting at the foot of the bank, and rowed by two +natives over water as smooth as glass to the cemetery. Three +white men and three Indians carried the body from the shore +to the grave; and after the beautiful service had been read, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>the children of the Indian mission-school came one by one +and dropped into the grave their little offerings of wild +flowers, which had been gathered for the occasion.</p> + +<p>“There is a humble grave in one of the loveliest and most +secluded spots in the Yukon territory. Dark pine-forests +guard that grave. During the winter months pure, untrodden +snow covers it. It is enclosed by a rough fence made of fir-wood, +which an Indian woodman cut down and trimmed, +leaving the bark on, and then fixed strong and stable around +the grave. But none will disturb that spot: no foot of man +or beast will dishonour it; the sweet notes of the Canadian +robin and the merry chirp of the snow-bird are almost the +only sounds which break the silence of that sacred place. +The Indians love that grave; the mission children visit it at +times with soft steps and hushed voices to lay some cross of +wild flowers or evergreens upon it. There is a grey granite +headstone with the words, ‘In the peace of Christ,’ and the +name and age of him who rests beneath. It is the grave of +Bishop Bompas.”</p> + +<p>“On the night of the Bishop’s death,” says Bishop Stringer, +“one group of Indians after another came to the Bishop’s +house with sorrow depicted on each face as they asked at first +if the sad news were true, and then other questions, showing +their deep concern. In the morning they came one by one +to look for the last time on the face of him who was always +their friend. Never more could he listen patiently to all +their troubles; never again would he get up from the midst +of his work and tramp off half a mile to their camps to see a +sick person, and give all the relief possible in medicine, food, +and clothing, and, above all, advice in their many adversities +and, oftentimes, complicated troubles.</p> + +<p>“The day after the funeral an Indian and his wife arrived +on foot from Skagway. As Mrs. Bompas went out to shake +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>hands with them as old friends, she said, ‘Bishop has gone.’ +The woman looked interested, thinking she meant he had +gone to visit some of the other missions. Mrs. Bompas tried +to explain. ‘Bishop dead three days,’ she said. Then the +truth seemed to dawn on the Indian woman, and she repeated, +with rising inflection, ‘Bishop dead? Bishop dead? Bishop +dead?’ at the same time giving vent to such a wail as I +scarcely ever heard from a human being. I then realized +more than ever how much the loss of our dear Bishop meant +to his own people, the Indians.”</p> + +<p>All men had a profound respect for Bishop Bompas, +especially the hardy prospectors. They had endured so +much on the lonely trails that they looked upon the Bishop +as one of themselves, who had not spent his life in ease +and luxury, but struggling with Nature at her sternest. +In speaking of the late Bishop, a prospector at Carcross +said:</p> + +<p>“I feel as if I had lost my best friend. Sometimes some +of us were hard up—no funds and no food; but we always +felt we could turn to the Bishop for help. We knew that to +knock at his door and ask him if there was any odd job we +could do meant always, and especially if the Bishop knew we +were hard up, that he would find something for us to do—now +some wood to get, or, again, some stove-pipe to fix, or a +few nails to drive for Mrs. Bompas, or some other work that +would give him the opportunity to pay us sufficient to keep +body and soul together.”</p> + +<p>Bishop Stringer, who records this conversation, also mentions +that on the Mackenzie River he once met a miner who +had been in Dawson in the early days. “When asked if he +knew Bishop Bompas, he said he thought he had seen him. +When he was described as a pioneer in the land, he suddenly +exclaimed: ‘Oh yes; that’s the man who wrote the book. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>I have often seen him and spoken to him. Many of us have +read his book. The miners know him as “the man who +wrote the book.”’ He referred to the ‘History of the +Mackenzie River Diocese,’ which contains much matter of +interest to the miner about the North.”</p> + +<p>The letters received by Mrs. Bompas were full of the +sincerest sympathy. Some were from the men of the “Old +Brigade,” who had stood shoulder to shoulder with the +Bishop in his great fight against the powers of darkness. +Beautiful as well as pathetic are the words of the Venerable +Archdeacon McDonald, from Winnipeg:</p> + +<p>“He was a man dear to me, and I thank God for the +abundant grace that was bestowed upon him, enabling him +to labour patiently and persistently among the natives, for +whose sake he became a missionary. I cannot forget that it +was to replace me he first came to the North, when, as it +was thought, my earthly course was nearly run, and I would +have to lay down the Banner of the Cross. Nobly has he +borne the standard; he has fought the fight of faith, he has +finished his course, and has gone to receive, with the Apostle +Paul, and all who love the appearing of our sweet Saviour +Christ, the crown of righteousness which shall be bestowed +upon them.... Thus another landmark has gone. Bishop +Bompas achieved a great reputation for devotedness and +saintliness and the most heroic courage. Like our great +pattern, he constantly went about doing good. He counted +not his life dear unto him, but exposed it many times in his +great Master’s cause. He has left a splendid record and +example for all Bishops and clergy. You and the Bishop +have done a magnificent work in that Northern region—a +work that has blessed not only the Indians, but, in an indirect +way, the entire Church of God.”</p> + +<p>Thus lived and died this noble missionary in the great +Northland, among his dusky flock. Though he is dead, the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>results of his noble life cannot perish. With him will always +be associated thoughts of mighty rivers and great inland +lakes, snow-capped mountains and sweeping plains; thoughts +of heroism and devotion to duty; but, above all, thoughts of +gratitude for countless unknown natives of the North, on +river, mountain, and plain, who have been lifted out of darkness +and brought close to the Great Shepherd’s side, through +the light of the Gospel carried by a faithful herald of +salvation—this noble Apostle of the North.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="footnotes"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Sitka, until recently the capital of Alaska.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> “Pathfinders of the West,” by A. C. Laut.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> This girl was placed in the Deaf and Dumb Institution at Winnipeg. +She died on February 26, 1897, of tuberculosis, aged ten years.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> This travelling-bag was exhibited in 1909 at the Missionary Loan +Exhibition held in Montreal, and attracted much attention.</p></div> + +</div> + +<p class="titlepage">THE END</p> + +<p class="center smaller">BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD</p> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78770 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/78770-h/images/cover.jpg b/78770-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8103ef9 --- /dev/null +++ b/78770-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/78770-h/images/illus01.jpg b/78770-h/images/illus01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 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