330 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 28, 1909. 
true sportsman puts all thought of cost out of 
mind when he enters the wilderness. That was 
all figured out and taken care of before he left 
the savages of the city, and his calculations are 
now limited to the number of trophies of his 
skill with rod or rifle, and their size or weight. 
Such memories cannot but be pleasant, and notes 
taken on the spot prove substantial aids and 
checks; aids to the proper sequence of events, 
and checks on the after growth of the fish or 
game. The trout you hooked and lost may 
have survived, and now weigh six pounds, but 
you cannot truthfully tell a six-pound trout 
story, for it was only a two-pounder that you 
lost. We all look into the past and boast to 
admiring youth of what we did when youngsters. 
We wonder if the wary old trout could not tell 
the fingerlings of how he outwitted the man and 
his hook, when not longer than the fingerling. 
And like man, he would omit any mention of 
his having been taken in by the feathered cheat 
in the adventure. 
Sunday is a day of rest in that North coun¬ 
try and accordingly we had a quiet, leisurely 
day. Wonder where Toma is to-day? How 
thick must the ice be on that stream, a thou¬ 
sand miles north of our snow and cold? We 
had been two days on the trip, and had only 
reached the spot I have in mind the evening 
before, setting up our tent between showers. 
Enough trout had been taken to last over until 
Monday, so we put the camp in good shape for 
a permanent home and added the one touch to 
make it complete—a big fireplace, constructed 
in a half circle, the open side facing the tent. 
Boulders were plenty all about, and we built 
a generous background for our fire. As high 
as the shoulder and six feet across from side 
to side, we were able to have a backlog of 
goodly proportions, and, in fact, our fire never 
once went out during our stay at Island Portage. 
It had been an ideal day, bright, with white 
fleecy clouds almost motionless in the blue of 
the sky. But as night came on we built up a 
glorious fire from the wealth of fuel all about— 
a fire which burned bright and steady, sending 
its shower of sparks straight into the night to 
join those other points of light, fixed high in the 
darkness, and its warmth and glow to the fur¬ 
thest corner of the tent. Before the fire sat two 
men, representatives of two races—the domi¬ 
nant Anglo-Saxon and the transient Indian, both 
assenting to a belief in an All-wise Being, one 
with eyes fixed on the benefits of an advanced 
civilization, the other realizing practically noth¬ 
ing from the changed conditions which sooner 
or later will extinguish him and his race. Re¬ 
alizing that he is no longer the lord of the 
forest; that where once he was master, now he 
is the servant; that where once the white man 
came and counciled with him, the Juggernaut 
car of our modern civilization now rolls on and 
over him and all his rights, no matter how well 
covered by musty treaties. 
Did you ever hear a sermon with the red man 
as a theme? Did you ever search the book for 
a text that would fit his case and give you a 
peg on which to hang your thoughts? Did you 
ever find his place among the varied conditions 
covered by the Bible? No, it is doubtful if 
it can be done. Such primitive conditions as 
the old chroniclers recorded were not those of 
the Indian, and knowing nothing of his kind, 
they wrote not one word to bring hope to this 
fast dying race. Even the Master, familiar as 
he showed himself with every phase of life then 
known, and using this knowledge of everyday 
conditions to point some lesson, never once gave 
utterance to anything that we can carry to the 
Indian as his. And yet the church reached the 
Indian ahead of our boasted civilization. Only 
one phrase in the New Testament seems appli¬ 
cable to the Indian’s case, and it is this: “And 
the last state of that man is worse than the 
first.” Of course the context gives the phrase 
its own peculiar meaning, and entirely different 
from that here used, but the phrase alone will 
serve our purpose at this time. 
No one recognizes the changes that have come 
to his race better than the Indian himself, but 
he now seldom gives voice to his protest, philo¬ 
sophically regarding it as ineffectual, and ac¬ 
cepting his present condition as inevitable. If 
the church had practiced without preaching; if 
it had shown its faith by its works alone; if its 
advice had not naturally been biased in favor 
of its own race, the whites, we might have had 
a different Indian, a different Western civiliza¬ 
tion, and a different story to tell. 
For one I have never considered that the 
Indian has had a fair show. Forced to recede 
step by step, compelled to accept conditions new 
and humiliating, restricted to certain sections of 
country, deprived of his land, game and fish, 
his last state (condition) is certainly worse than 
his old free life, and no honest, fair-minded 
man could but have had conviction borne in 
upon him had he listened to the simple, unim¬ 
passioned tale told by the Indian that night be¬ 
fore the camp-fire. 
First came the independent trader, voyageur, 
free lance, adventurer for the most part, ready 
to take advantage of his simple hosts. From 
him the Indians got their first acquaintance with 
the deadly fire water. The Indians were still 
in the ascendant, and hence gave freely and hos¬ 
pitably to those lone and solitary travelers who 
killed game with fire sticks, and who promised 
so much next time they came. The Indians 
wanted two things most of all that these ad¬ 
venturers brought them—whiskey and guns, and 
feeling no suspicion of what would follow, they 
gave many furs and promised any concessions 
for firearms. These obsolete guns, furnished by 
the traders, and hence known as trade guns, 
were old smooth-bore muskets of little accu¬ 
racy, but had great favor where a better weapon 
had never been known. 
Next came the trained servants of the fur 
companies, planting their trading posts wherever 
the section promised much fur, and with them 
came law and order. The independent traders 
contrived to furnish the Indian with fire water, 
but it can be said to the credit of the surviving 
fur-company that the Indian cannot now get 
liquor from its stores. Those were the halcyon 
days of the fur trade. All about were the fur¬ 
bearing game, and skins were money. With 
them as a basis the Indian could open an ac¬ 
count at the local trading post, an account which 
was never closed except by death, and which 
could not be avoided. A bondage of debt, and 
one of the white man’s burdens placed on a red 
man’s shoulders-—a burden for which many a 
white man spent a good part of his life behind 
prison walls. With the Indian it meant, and 
still means, buy in one place only, whatever the 
price, and bring all he has to sell to that place 
and receive whatever price is offered for it. No 
matter how honorable the trader, the question 
of profit would be against the Indian; a simple 
system, but a dangerous one for the Indian. 
The fur company administered its own laws 
in a country where no other white man’s law 
was known, often wisely and well. But how 
was a red man to look upon matters from a 
white man’s viewpoint? Differences there 
naturally were, but the white man came out 
victorious in each final accounting, no matter 
who was the aggressor, and the Indian learned 
here first to accept this result as a certainty. 
The church with its influence also came, gain¬ 
ing step by step, preparing these forest people 
to accept the inevitable, and to caress the hand 
that smote them; a doctrine old as Christendom, 
but one to do disastrous work in this case. No 
people were ever made strong by such an appli¬ 
cation of Scripture, and while we prate of the 
survival of the fittest, still there is no doubt 
but that the Indian, before the advent of the 
white man, was a better custodian of the game 
than any of the latter day sportsmen. The 
primitive conditions were complete enough with¬ 
out our system of sale and barter. The forest, 
the stream and the chase supplied the daily 
wants of the Indian, and he was content. Am¬ 
bition found vent in the chase and petty tribal 
wars, and so we had our true woodsman, en¬ 
tirely self-sufficient and able to take care of 
himself in his primitive surroundings. 
Finally the Indian brought up against the 
Government and treaties, each asking or claim¬ 
ing more of the Indian’s land and rights than 
the last, until he found himself restricted to 
a reservation, and with all the balance of his 
hunting ground thrown open to lumbermen, 
miners, settlers and towns. The forests were 
cut down by the lumbermen, the game disap¬ 
peared before the settlers, and the every vice of 
civilization was brought him by the cities. 
Silent by nature, he has grown morose from 
so long having to suffer his wrongs in silence 
and know they can never be righted. The In¬ 
dian is out of place in our midst. Our boasted 
civilization has been the ruin of the most pic¬ 
turesque race on the face of the globe. It has 
brought him no benefit that he could not profit¬ 
ably relinquish, and has fastened on him every 
vice and disease that flesh is heir to. Step by 
step he has lost place until his last dwelling 
place is threatened, and his last state is with¬ 
out doubt the worst. 
All this came over me while the Indian made 
his sample protest in short, terse sentences be¬ 
fore the night camp-fire. The Indian had lived 
most of his life at the Mission. It had no other 
name. When asked if it was a Jesuit mission 
he replied, “No, ee was Cat’lic.” Afterward it 
was learned the mission was under the care of 
the Obligat Fathers. Looking fixedly at the fire 
he began: 
“De Gov’ment gat all lan’ ’cep’ i’lan’s een 
lak. ‘Bout thirt’ year ’go, b’fo’ me born, Gov’¬ 
ment an’ Indian male treatee. B’fo’ dat Chip¬ 
pewa own all lan’ ’roun’ hare. Good countree 
moose; good countree caribou; mooch feesh een 
riv’; mo’ feesh een lak. Gov’ment say Indian 
no manee now, no need all lan’. Gov’ment wan’ 
lan’ fo’ white man’s leev on. Eef Indian sign 
treatee and go leev i’lan’s een lak he keep eet 
! 
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