Rescue of the White Women.

For the conduct of those splendid fellows, John Pritchard and Adolphus Nolin, who saved the white women from treatment that will not bear dwelling upon, there can be only the warmest admiration. They acted, these simple men, from no sinister motive, with no hope of reward (happily, for they got none), but from the most worthy of human impulses-pity and solicitude for fellow mortals in dire distress. It might have been argued with truth that the fate of the women was no concern of theirs, that they would have been justified in this desperate crisis in thinking only of themselves. But, to their eternal honour be it said, to this view they gave hardly a thought, for they went without hesitation at the earliest possible moment and at no slight personal risk to the rescue of the anguished and distraught unfortunates in their dreadful need. The story of that rescue is not one to be dismissed in a paragraph and it is my duty and pleasure here to record what I know of the manner in which the release of the helpless captives was effected and the steps subsequently taken by Nolin and Pritchard to protect them during the perilous weeks that followed their arrival in the Indian camp. It is a tale that should endure. That the rescuers were natives and only in part white is all the more to their credit and clear proof that, contrary to what seems a popular impression, a man need not be wholly white to be human. Moreover, in the last analysis, they were Canadians, as good Canadians as any, and Canada as a country has reason to be proud of them.

An hour or two after the massacre Pritchard and Nolin sat in a tent in Big Bear's camp on the Oneepohayo reservation, swallowing strong black tea in great gulps to steady their ravelled nerves. The hands holding the cups shook as they spoke in low tones of the appalling scenes of which they had been stunned and impotent witnesses. Said Nolin:

"I wonder what's happened to the women. It will be terrible for them with those savages. Do you think, Johnny, there's anything we can do?" There was a grim set to Pritchard's swarthy features, purpose in his black eyes.

"We must They can't be left in the hands of those bloody ruffians." He looked searchingly at Nolin. "Now, this is how I see it: I'm Scotch, what's white in me, and you know what that means. These devils are looking today with suspicion on anyone whose tongue is English. I'm in the government service, too, which makes it worse. Only this morning I was doing my work beside poor Quinn. I don't know yet whether I'm to be allowed to live or not, I wish I did. My wife's half French, of course; that may be a help. But you, 'Dolphus, are part French and not in so much danger. They'll be afraid to kill you - think Riel might be mad. Find out who has the women. Then we'll see if we can't get them away from these muchastimuk, somehow."

Nolin left the tent. From other Indians, he learned that one of the women was in the lodge of Manichoos, a murderer of the morning, with his Cree wives. Nolin lifted the lodge flap and entered. He barely glanced at the captive cowering there, dazed by shock and grief, her face deadly pale, her wide eyes mirroring the horror that had overwhelmed her when her beloved husband had fallen dying at her side. It would not answer for the half-breed to appear as the friend of the stricken moonias isquayo. That might jeopardize them both. Instead, he said casually in Cree:

"I see you have a white wife now." The Indian nodded. "Uh-huh." He tried hard not to show his elation.

"You are lucky," Nolin remarked. "Now, look at me, a man part white yet I have no white wife, nor could I get one. No wonder you feel proud."

Manichoos continued to dissemble; he raised a deprecating hand. "No; it is nothing; I am not proud. What is a wife, more or less, to me? If you want a white wife, buy this woman here."

Nolin shook his head. "No. I could not buy your woman. You would ask too much. I am poor." "She is not young, neither is she pretty," Manichoos commented. "I would not ask much for two horses, maybe."

Nolin clapped a hand over his mouth. "There! I knew I could not buy her. Two horses! That is a fearful price. I have only one horse. I will pay that for her." Manichoos was not in the mood to haggle. "Two horses," he insisted stolidly.

Nolin rose. "Tesqua. Wait a little. Perhaps I can get another horse." Leaving, he spoke for the first time to the captive. "Take courage! You shan't be harmed. I'll be back and you'll be taken away from this cur." He hurried back to Pritchard. "It's Mrs. Delaney, Johnny. Manichoos has her. He wants two horses for her and won't look at my pony."

Pritchard's answer was prompt. "Take one of mine; I've two. And don't lose any time getting her over here. He might change his mind. Or one of the other swine might buy her."

Earlier in the day Pritchard had somewhere secured a large 'A' tent and it now housed his numerous family. Nolin returned in a few moments with Mrs. Delaney and with unutterable gratitude she found a home and safe custody with the interpreter's brood.

The two men next turned their attention to the case of Mrs. Gowanlock. They took into their counsel Pierre Blondin, a young half-breed who had worked for her husband and managed to persuade him to go to the aid of his dead employer's widow. He bought the poor woman for a horse and thirty dollars. She was lodged with her companion in misfortune in Pritchard's tent. Blondin's subsequent conduct eliminates him as deserving of the praise due to the others.

For two months these two faithful and intrepid natives, Pritchard and Nolin, guarded the afflicted and helpless white women day and night and kept them safe from the Indians.

Nolin slept across the door of the tent. One night he was just dropping off to sleep-he awoke suddenly, vaguely conscious that someone had stepped over him in the dark. He sat up and struck a match. Two Plains Indians, Nacotan and Naneesoo, squatted between him and the captives. In the momentary flare, Nolin noticed on the ground beside Nacotan a Winchester. The match flickered out and in the succeeding blackness, he stretched out a stealthy hand and slid the rifle over to that side of him farthest from the Indian.

A lamp was lit. Genevieve, a half-breed girl, roused by the startled voices, came in from an adjoining tent. "Shame on you!" she cried in Cree. "Leave these two poor women alone, you skunks!"

Nacotan took no notice of the stinging rebuke. He dropped a hand to pick up his gun. It was disconcerting to Nacotan to find it wasn't where it should have been. He discovered it presently some distance away with Nolin's knee clamped firmly down upon it. Here was another case of bad faith-always the Indians were being tricked by their treacherous kinsmen, the half-breeds! He observed, too, that to reach the gun he would have to pass in front of Nolin and that was the last thing that Nacotan at the moment wished to do. In fact, he preferred for the time being just to sit still. This was because Nolin, in the unlighted interval, had drawn the heavy Colt at his belt and the bore of the thing as he gazed into it seemed an incredible size. All around Nacotan felt the situation was one in which caution rather than impulsiveness promised the best results.

In the end, there was a compromise. The Indians agreed to leave. The fact that Nacotan wanted his gun and couldn't recover it on any other terms was the main inducement. The other was a gift of clothing and tobacco.

This was but one of the numerous occasions upon which only the bravery of the two determined natives stood between the white women and harm.

I do not know in the custody of what Indian Blondin found Mrs. Gowanlock, or how his purchase of her was arranged. These details are lacking. But I believe the story fully enough to make plain that the names of Pritchard and Nolin are worthy of being added to the roll of those Canadians whose inspiring deeds are held in grateful remembrance by their fellow countrymen.