Col. Dickson, who was now at Red River, sent a man for the Sioux, as it was thought desirable that they should be called in and made acquainted with the state of affairs. In the preceding winter, after I had returned to Pembinah, two Ojibbeway women had arrived there, with pipes from the Sioux country, to invite the Ojibbeways to make peace. These women had been prisoners among the Sioux, and their release, as well as the message they bore, was considered as indicative of a disposition on the part of the Sioux to bring about a peace with the Ojibbeways.
One of these women had been married to a Sioux, and her husband had become attached to her. When the common voice of his people made it necessary she should be sent back to her own country, he sent a message to her husband among the Ojibbeways, offering to give him, in exchange for her, whichever of his own wives the Ojibbeway might choose to take. But this man was not disposed to accept the offer of the Sioux, and there was no one to return to answer the messages the women had brought until Mr. Bruce, the interpreter before mentioned, offered his services. These negotiations, though they had produced little apparent effect, had prepared the minds of the Sioux, in some measure, for the message from Mr. Dickson, and they sent, according to his request, twenty-two men, and two Ojibbeway prisoners, that were to be given up. One of these prisoners was a young woman, the daughter of Gitche-ope-zhe-ke, (the big buffalo,) and she also had been married among the Sioux. Her husband, who was one of the twenty two who now arrived, was a young man, and was extremely fond of his Ojibbeway wife. The chiefs of the party, when they were about to return, tried to persuade him to leave her, but this he obstinately refused to do, and they were at last compelled to abandon him, though it was evidently at the imminent peril of his life that he ventured to remain by himself among the Ojibbeways. After his companions had left him, he went out, and wandered about, crying like a child. Seeing his distress, I called him into my lodge, and though, on account of difference of language, I could not say much to him, I endeavoured to console him, and make him believe that he would find some friends even among the Ojibbeways. On the following day, he determined to follow his companions, and to return to his own country. He started out, and followed along their path two or three hundred yards, then he threw himself down upon the ground, cried and rolled about like a mad man, but his affection for his wife getting the better of his wish to return, and his fears for his own life, he came back and would have remained among us. But about this time we heard of other Ojibbeways who had threatened to come and kill him, and we well knew that it would be scarce possible for him to remain long among us without attempts being made against his life. Wa-ge-tote and Be-gwais, our chiefs, interfered to send him away, and having selected eight trusty men, of whom I was one, directed that he should be taken one day’s journey towards the Sioux country. We were compelled to drag him away by violence, nor could we urge him forward in any other manner, until we arrived at the crossing place of the Assinneboin River, where we met a party of two hundred Assinneboins. The young Sioux had taken the precaution to dress himself like an Ojibbeway, and when the chief of the Assinneboins asked us where we were going, we told him our chiefs had sent us to hunt buffalo. This man, Ne-zho-ta-we-nau-ba, was a good and discreet chief, and although the terror of the young Sioux immediately made him acquainted with the deception we tried to practice upon him, he appeared to take no notice of it. He even placed himself in such a situation as to divert the attention of his own people from the young man until the band had passed. He then addressed the Sioux in his own language: “Fly, young man,” said he, “and remember if you are overtaken before you reach your own country, there are few among the Assinneboins, or Ojibbeways, who would not gladly take your life.” The young man started to run accordingly. At the distance of one hundred yards we heard him burst out crying, but afterwards we understood that he overtook his party at Pembinah, and returned in safety to his own country.
Much was said of this peace between the Sioux and Ojibbeways, and Col. Dickson often boasted that the Sioux would not be the first to violate the treaty, as he said they would venture to do nothing without his consent. He was even boasting in this way when a chief of the Ojibbeways with forty men arrived, having in their hands the still bloody arrows they had taken from the bodies of those the Sioux had recently killed at a trading-house belonging to Mr. Dickson himself. This, for some time, checked his boasting. Lord Selkirk, also, about the same time, called all the Indians together, and presenting them a quantity of tobacco, spirits, etc. etc. made one of those long and fatherly speeches so common in Indian councils. “My children,” said he, “the sky which has long been dark and cloudy over your heads, is now once more clear and bright. Your great father beyond the waters, who has ever, as you know, nearest his heart the interests of his red children, has sent me to remove the briars out of your path that your feet may no more bleed. We have taken care to remove from you those evil minded white men who sought, for the sake of their own profit, to make you forget your duty to your great father; they will no more return to trouble you. We have also called to us the Sioux, who, though their skins are red, like your own, have long been your enemies. They are henceforth to remain in their own country. This peace now places you in safety. Long before your fathers were born, this war began, and instead of quietly pursuing the game for the support of your women and children, you have been murdering one another. That time has passed away, and you can now hunt where you please. Your young men must observe this peace, and your great father will consider as his enemy any one who takes up the tomahawk.”
The Indians answered with the usual promises and professions, and being about to leave the fort that evening, they stole every horse belonging to Lord Selkirk and his party. In the morning, not a single horse was left, and the Indians who had most of them disappeared also.
It was now so late that I could not come that fall to the states. Lord Selkirk having, perhaps, heard something of my history, began to be attentive to me. He inquired about the events of my past life, and I related many things to him, particularly the part I had borne in capturing the fort. Judge Codman, also, who remained there, often spoke to Lord Selkirk respecting me. “This man,” said he, “conducted your party from the Lake of the Woods hither in the winter season, and performed a very important part in the taking of this fort, at the expense of great labour, and at the hazard of his life, and all for the sum of forty dollars. The least you ought to do is to make his forty dollars eighty, and give him an annuity of twenty dollars per year for life.” Lord Selkirk did accordingly. The annuity for the five first years has been paid me. The second five have not yet expired.
Lord Selkirk was not able to leave the mouth of the Assinneboin so early as he had intended for fear of the North West. They had sent men, disguised as Indians, among whom was one they called Sacksayre. They had also sent Indians, with instructions to waylay and murder him. Hearing of this, he thought it best to despatch Col. Dickson to the Sioux country for a guard of one hundred Sioux, and it was not until these arrived that he dared venture out. Then he escaped from the fort at night, and joined Dickson at Pembinah.
He took with him a letter which he had himself written for me, and in my name, to my friends in the states, giving some of the most prominent of the particulars of my early history. He had used much persuasion to induce me to accompany him, and I had inclination enough to do so, but I then believed that most of my near relatives had been murdered by the Indians, and if any remained I knew that so great a lapse of time must have made us, in all respects, like strangers to each other. He also proposed to take me to England with him, but my attachments were among the Indians, and my home was in the Indian country. I had spent great part of my life there, and I knew it was too late for me to form new associations. He however sent six men to take me to the Lake of the Woods, where I arrived late in the fall after the corn was gathered. In the beginning of winter, I went to the Be-gwi-o-nus-ko Lake, thence, when the snow had fallen, to the prairie to hunt buffalo.