This was the autumn of my wonderful crop of potatoes and
barley. In the spring I said to myself, "I don't know much about farming,
but I believe in this country I can make no mistake about potatoes and
barley;" so I went to work and hauled out all the manure about the place,
and then ploughed deep, for I had a good team of work horses that had been
trained on a farm. Then I sowed my potatoes and handled them in my own way, in
the summer weeded and tilled them, and in autumn the promise was rich. But a
large camp of Plain Crees came in and settled for a couple of weeks just
outside and above the mission field, and presently it was told me, "John,
they're stealing your potatoes," and I said, "Ke-yam"
("Never mind,") and my very indifference stopped the stealing in a
large measure. Presently I thought I would ask this whole camp to help me dig
up my crop. Accordingly I said to the chief, Big Bear, and some of his head
men, "To-morrow I want to take up my potatoes; will you tell the people
to help me?" and they promised to do so. I made my arrangements, team,
wagon, bags, etc., and the next day we went at it, men, women and children.
Soon the potatoes, in piles, and heaps, and bags, were all over the ground. I
selected some young men to load and unload, and did no more work myself than
drive about superintending the work. The way those potatoes were dug and
picked and cleaned and dusted and bagged was a caution, also the way my
loading crew worked was splendid. The whole thing was new to these
buffalo-eaters; the wonderful crop, this strange four-wheeled iron-bound cart,
this most obedient team of horses. Some of them had never taken part in such
sport all their history, and all day I took the fertility of the soil, and the
response to agriculture, industry, and the beneficence of the Creator as my
texts, and from the vantage ground of the wagon, with reins in hand and
rushing things, I lectured and preached every little while to listening
crowds. This was a first-class object lesson; every little while someone would
say, "John, look!" and there going for camp would be a woman or girl
bending under the weight of potatoes inside her blanket, and I merely said,
carelessly, "Ke-yam, ke-yam." Indeed there was no need to worry over
a few potatoes - the ground was full of them.
All day we hauled in that short distance. The Mission
was in possession of a huge cellar which some miners
had made as an expression
of gratitude to father, and into this we sent the potatoes like a deluge. All
day the sneaking of back-loads off to camp went on, and in the evening there
still remained fully one-fourth of the field undug. Then I sent for the chief
and told him I was grateful for the helped his people had given me, and that I
was satisfied that he might now dismiss them home to camp and tell them that I
would give his camp the balance of the field to dif for themselves. There were
loud acclaims at this announcement, and the chief sent the people home on the
jump, promising a fair start for all in the morning. And I can assure my
reader that in the morning that field was a sight, and further, I will venture
to say that no spot in the British realm had any better pulverizing and
cultivating than that one during that season. I once and for all time
demonstrated that potatoes could be grown on the Saskatchewan.