On the Indian Trail | Page 2

order to make money by
trading with the Indians put up with the hardships and privations
incident to such a life, we could make equal sacrifices for Christ's sake,
to carry the Glad Tidings of His great love to those who had never
heard the wondrous Story.
After about three weeks journeyings, we had travelled as far as we
could by steamboat and railroad, and were at the extreme limit of these
splendid methods of civilised locomotion. From this point onward there
was nothing before us but the prairie trail. On and on it stretched for
hundreds of miles, away and away to the land of the north wind. Over
its winding undulating course, long years ago, the hardy pioneers of the
new world adventured themselves; and as they bravely pushed on they
were filled with amazement and awe at the vastness of the great and
illimitable prairies.
Following closely in their trail, and even sometimes themselves the
pioneers, came those early heroic priestly followers of Loyola, eager
and anxious to meet and to make friends of the wild Indians of the
plains and forest, that among them they might plant the cross, and,
according to their belief, by the simple rite of baptism induct them into
the bosom of Mother Church.
In later years much of the romance of the great Trail had worn away.
Commerce and Trade with their multiplied activities had so taken
possession of it that when first we saw it in 1868, the long trains of
noisy creaking Red River carts, and the great canvas-covered wagons
of the adventurous immigrants, were the most conspicuous sights on its
dusty stretches. Occasionally bands of Indian warriors, plumed and
painted, were seen upon it, dashing along on their fiery steeds, out on
some marauding adventure, or more likely, on the lookout for the vast
herds of buffalo that still swarmed in the regions farther west, like "the
cattle on a thousand hills."
It was one of those perfect days in the lovely month of June when we

left the thriving young city of Saint Paul, and with our canvas-covered
wagons, and fourteen picked horses, really entered on the trail. As we
left the frontier city, thus severing the last link that bound us to
civilisation, we realised most vividly that now we were entering upon
our missionary work.
Thirty days were we on this Prairie Trail. Not all of them were of that
rare beauty of the first. Fierce thunderstorms several times assailed us
when it was not always possible to protect ourselves from the terrible
downpour of rain. One night a genuine cyclone wrecked our camp;
tents and wagons with their varied contents went careering in erratic
courses before its irresistible power.
Our way was beset with dangers: bridgeless streams had to be crossed;
prairie fires had to be fought, or wildly run away from treacherous
quicksands sometimes spread most invitingly on either side of the
miserable looking trail, lured the unwary traveller to trust himself on
their smooth and shining surface. But woe to the foolish ones who left
the trail for the quicksands: unless speedily rescued by the united
strength of friends, horses and travellers would soon be swallowed up;
so the warning cry of the guide was ever: "Keep in the trail!"
Thus we journeyed on, sometimes in the sunshine, and sometimes in
the storm. Every morning and evening we had our family prayers. The
Sabbaths were rest days for all--sweet and precious days, when out in
the sunshine on the glorious prairies, we, a little company of
missionaries and teachers--worshipped God: they were as the days of
the Son of Man on earth.
Thirty days on such a trail could not pass without some strange
adventures, and we had our share of them with white men and with
Indians.
A talkative parrot in our party nearly frightened the lives out of some
very inquisitive and superstitious Indians and French half-breeds. They
had stopped their ox-carts one day at the same spot where we, coming
in the opposite direction, were resting for the dinner hour. Hearing
about the wonderful parrot, they crowded around to see her. Polly stood

their inquisitive gazings for awhile, then, apparently somewhat
annoyed, with wings ruffled, sprang forward as far as she could in her
large cage, and shouted out:
"Who are you?"
The effect upon the superstitious half-breeds, and Indians, was about as
though His Satanic Majesty had suddenly appeared among them. They
rushed away, and nothing that we could do would induce any of them
to look at the bird again.
Another adventure, most unique and startling, occurred on this trip ere
we had proceeded many days on the trail.
"You had better keep a sharp eye on those splendid horses of yours, or
you may wake up some fine