Glacier County chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1931-1940, 1939-05-12
Story of Angelique Begins
With Poison Ferry i'm 1864

/ lake will build us a cabin of logs and
the new boat that the white men call
ferry so that when our people come
| from the Occur d'Alene and the Spo-
kane, country to cross. the Big River
on their way to hunt buffalo, their
papooses and squaws will not have to
be pulled across on the cowhides as
has been the custom. The agent of the
white men in Washington has sent me
to build the big boat of cedar, and this
land will be ours and perhaps in time
some of our people may come and build
cabins. since there is much pasture
and fine hunting"
and said nothing. but the little girl
bounced out of the wagon and ran
beside her father.
"Ah. mon PEREZ" she said delighted
ly. 1.-The big water, will it be there al
ways, and what are those trees out
there in the middle?"
Those. ma petite, are islands where
We will have a canoe and paddle across
and see what we shall find there.
Had Noble Blood
The little girl was about seven years
old-a delicately formed child Her
small feet were encased in beaded
moccasins and her dress was of tanned
deerskin. Many beads hung around
her neck and black braids of hair
framed an eager little face with cheeks
rosy and soft, and sparkling black
eyes. Angelique did not know it then.
put her grace and animation came
from a Seigneur of France who had
come to the new Canadian wilderness
and met and wooed for a while the
affections of an Iroquois maiden. His
sons and his sons sons stayed in the
forests and one of them, Baptiste
Eneas, came west and married a Pend
D'Oreille woman.
The wagon drawn by the clumsy oxen
came to stop by the edge of the
their tent and made a fire while the
man turned the cattle loose to Craze
and unloaded the blankets and cook
ing pots. Angelique ran down to play
with the white pebbles in the sand. She
loved this new home, but tomorrow
her father would take her back to the
Mission where the good nuns were
shoes like the white women.
Il do not want to leave you, Maman,"
she wept.
Nor do wish you to go, my little
one, but your father thinks you should
learn these things. The white people
come and tell us what to do, but we
are not made to live as they do. They
should leave us to ourselves"
As darkness fell, the little camp was
quiet, only the gentle tapping of the
water against the shore and the soft
breaking the silence. The last ember
died out and they slept. for they must
be away with the dawn on the ponies
that had been led behind the wagon.
Angelique rode her pinto for the last
time for several years. The child was
left with the Sisters and her father
returned to build his home on the
waters edge and with the help of two
other men the cedar logs were whip
sawed and ferry was built that
winter.
The next summer many Indians
came and camped on their way to the
hunting ground. Long rows Of tepees
sprang up along the shore, and the
light from their cooking fires cast
Pickering shadows on the water as
the ferry strained against the ropes
until far into the night.
For seven years Angelique stayed at
the convent. She no longer wore her
buckskin dress and moccasins. Her
dresses were Of calico, long and ugly,
and she wore shoes, clumsy buttoned
affairs, that disguised her dainty feet
She learned to sew, as all Indian wom-
en- are clever with needle.
Sne VINO nad been Tree was made
to conform to what seemed like prison
rules. She marched to church and
marched to meals. She prayed to the
Virgin Mary to make her good girl
and let her get away as soon as pos
stble, for she hated every minute OF
it with an intensity that would have
greatly surprised the good nuns. She
wanted to sit by an open fire at night
with . piece Of roast venison and q
hammock in her greasy hands. She
wanted 70 pick huckleberries In sum-
mer and f1sh for trout In . mountain