North Dakota State College of Science - Agawasie Yearbook (Wahpeton, ND)

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THE A G A W A S I E • . O- O Wa hp e ton A Story of Fur Trading in the Northwest -o I. SOUTH FROM PEMBINA Taking a brief glance this evening from the Science School tower, we look clown upon Sixth Street, broad, smoothly paved, leading through compact rows of houses into the center of town. Yonder is the roof of the Armory; to the right the trim outlines of the Post-office and the Great Northern station; to the left, rows of houses again—smoke from the railroad yards at Breckenridge—roofs of stores—church spires—a water tower—the white dome of the courthouse. Beyond and around are groves and farmlands. The fields are smooth, newly-planted. Farmlands again to the north, smooth also, newly ploughed, black. After Easter they will be richly carpeted with velvet green. New groves surround the houses. Toward the northeast we can trace the winding course of the river, with its narrow fringe or old trees. Across the river are farms again, prairie farms extending toward a dimly visible, blue range of hills. Can imagination bring us back one hundred years, back to a time when these groves—except the river-fringe—were not; when the houses were not; when the whole plain was a vast sea of tall waving grasses. Now and then a party of Indians, less often a few white fur-traders camping along the river, or penetrating adventurously inland. If you can bring yourself back to that time you may fill in the descriptive outlines which time does not permit us to include in our little story. Fort Pembina had long been known as the largest fur-trading post in the Northwest. There was a hut built there as early as 1799, made of logs, plastered with mud and white-washed with a clay brought from the Pembina Mountains. Trying under numerous difficulties to maintain the camp-fort at Pembina, there was a motley crew of adventurous traders—French. English, American. One of the foremost of these, settled at Pembina with his family, was an American whom we shall call John Vanston. Vanston, because he dealt justly with the Indians was well liked

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The Small Pica Staff The Small Pica is a three column tour page paper published weekly. The Pica is set up and printed by the trade students in printing. Frederick Jones is the editor, Evelyn Burbank the associate editor. The rest of the staff and the departments they cover are as follows: Music Social Athletics Personals Exchange “The Hell Box- Hazel Burnson Harry Davis David Larin Marcella Morris Evelyn Stimson Angeline Schmitt

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THE A G A W A S I E by them, and was therefore more free than many of his companions to go on adventurous and profitable journeys. Recently, while somewhat hard pressed by the competition of his rivals he had heard that there was good trading to the south. A tribe of the Sioux, the Wah-petons, had moved north from the country beyond Lake Traverse and located in a territory which had for its center the junction of the Red River and a small stream called the Bois-de-Sioux. Few white men had visited this people. Once long ago the Sieur Duluth had gone far west from the Mississippi and “set up the King's Arms in a village of the •Huatbetons'.” But John Vanston himself in one of his former journeys had become friendly with their chief and thought now to profit by that friendship. Several years before, Vanston’s wife had died leaving him with an only daughter, Marie, now about twenty-two years old. In spite of his objections Marie insisted on going with him on this proposed journey to the south. Preparations were short. Vanston sold his present stock of furs to a group or traders just about to set out for St. Paul, gathered just what was necessary for camping equipment and started south. For his main subsistence he must depend on his skill as a hunter or on barter with Indians whom they might visit on the journey. If they followed the river, the journey must be a matter of about 400 miles. Sometimes, where the river almost “met itself” they could gain several miles by easy portages. The trip was not as dangerous as one might think. Dangerous beasts were rarely met with and the Indians up to this time had experienced more of friendliness and justice from the white man than they had of his malice. Vanston often had reason to be glad that he had yielded to Marie's entreaties. He had taken most of his baggage in his canoe; and she. being used to the plains and the river, was able not only to manage her own craft, but often to help him in times of difficulty. As the journey was up stream they had to be careful to avoid the full force of the current, now availing themselves of the quiet water along one shore, now taking to the other. There were many evenings when the two sat together at the edge of a friendly grove and watched the great red moon rise over a rustling sea of undulating grass, when Vanston. smoking contentedly, told of his early days in New York; of cities and great buildings; of vast crowds of white men; and of a great tossing sea at times more peaceful, at other times so wildly different from this whispering expanse. And Marie, who had been born in the Canadian west and knew only the silent prairies, listened, as she had listened before, to these stories which seemed to her like accounts of an unattainable fairyland. “Father, are we never going to that eastern land. So many times you've promised.” “Perhaps, perhaps—some day. But some day, I think that east will come here.” Marie looked at John Vanston as he spoke. He stood looking east-