Cree Chief Yellowface
THE STORY OF YELLOWFACE
Elder Glen G. Fisher, former president of the Western Canadian Mission
Improvement ERA MARCH 1952 page 147
https://archive.org/stream/improvementera5503unse/improvementera5503unse_djvu.txt
In the late winter of 1950 a band of Cree Indians living near Rocky Mountain House, Alberta, Canada, sent word to Latter-day Saint mission headquarters that they de- sired to see a representative of the Church. I had heard of this band years ago, and of their noted Chief Yellowface (now deceased), and I was anxious to comply with their request. Spring came late that year, but in May my first counselor, President G. Gordon Whyte, and I met in Edmonton, Alberta, to prepare for a visit to their community.
Our trip took us south a hundred miles and tfceri westward. As we journeyed along in the direction of the setting sun, a feeling of humility came over us, and we stopped to offer a prayer for safety and for wisdom to do the task at hand. We had been advised to talk to an old- timer by the name of Henry Stelfox at Rocky Mountain House, a man who is a true friend to the Indians, and who, it is said, probably knows more about the Indians than any man in Canada. During our visit he told us many of his experiences with the Crees and his old friend, Chief Yellowface, and we were surprised to find that three hours had passed in what seemed to us only a few minutes.
As we started to leave, Mr. Stelfox said: “Gentlemen, I can see that youare sincerely interested in my friends, and I will be pleased to go with you to the reservation and show you the way.”
We had hardly hoped for such good fortune, and as we proceeded that last forty miles, I felt that the Lord had surely answered our prayers.
Mr. Stelfox recalled his last visit with the dying Chief Yellowface, and how the old Indian had counseled: “In all which you do, think of God who gives you life.”
It was six o’clock that evening when we reached the river that serves as a boundary for the reservation. To our dismay we found the stream too high to be crossed with the car. After some discussion we decided to send one of the Indians, who were on the other side of the river, on his horse to summon Yelloweyes, chief of the tribe.
The Indian soon returned with the message that the sixty-year-old chief was ill in his cabin but would be pleased to meet the white men there. This was rather discouraging news, as neither President Whyte nor Mr. Stelfox rode horseback. Finally I borrowed a horse, and leaving my two companions with the car, I set off to meet the chief. A number of Indian men were already assembled in his cabin when I arrived. (Their womenfolk remained outside.) My invitation consisted of one word, “Come,” and I stood in their midst.
Yelloweyes made a lengthy oration in his native tongue. Finally, the chief’s son-in-law, acting as inter- preter, said: “Word has reached us that you are an oil man from the great city of the north —Edmonton. What is your business with the Cree Indian?”
I hastened to explain that I was not an oil man but a Mormon missionary. I was not prepared for what followed, but it shall always remain with me as one of the great spiritual experiences of my life. As the Chief heard the word Mormon, he arose from his bed and walked to where I was sitting and held out his hand. Most of the Indians who had sat so silently before now stood and crowded around me, and my heart was filled with thanksgiving as I shook hands with each of them. The hour that followed was truly a wonderful experience.
Chief Yelloweyes immediately said: “For many years we wait for Mor- mons to come and help our people. Chief Yellowface told us to wait, for said he, ‘The Mormons have true religion, and they can be trusted.”
It seemed that Chief Yellowface must have been highly revered by these Indians. His sayings and coun- sel had become their law. His in- fluence was a real factor in their lives and as we talked I thought, surely, this fine old chief was a modern Moses.
I realized the true reason behind the welcome I had received dated back forty years to the trek made by a part of this band to southern Alberta, and so I was not surprised when Chief Yelloweyes referred to this experience.
He seemed very proud of the fact that he, as a young man, was among this group, and, although only eighteen years of age, the impressions that he received at that time have remained with him and, as he
told me the story, I was thrilled beyond words of expression with the accuracy of his account as compared with my own knowledge of this oft-repeated experience. I questioned him carefully on numerous details and his sincerity and directness left no doubt in my mind whatever as to the actuality of the story that follows.
I would like to acknowledge, with gratitude, the source of my informa- tion: Mrs. Olaf Olson, now living in Picture Butte, Alberta; the late Bishop James S. Parker of Salt Lake City; and Chief Yelloweyes, chief of the Cree Indians who live near Rocky Mountain House, Alberta. Much of the story will be told in their own words.
TVJestled in the foothills of the Rockies in southwestern Alberta is a large ranch owned and operated by
the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This ranch is from three to seven miles wide, and some thirty miles in length, including in all 66,000 acres.
In late September 1908, a band of Cree Indians pitched their tepees on the banks of the Belly River a few miles below the ranch buildings. They were tired and anxious, for they had journeyed far and had met with much abuse from the white settlers who had driven them from camping grounds with curses and with insults to their wives and daughters. Three hundred miles they had traveled from the north in search of a people whom the Great Spirit had shown in a vision to one of their young men, of a people who had a book that would tell them of their forefathers and of the Great White Spirit.
There was only a part of the tribe camped on the river, with about thirty tepees and possibly two hundred souls. The rest of the tribe were back in their camping grounds in the north, a little over one hundred miles east of Edmonton.
The Crees are a tribe of Indians of higher intelligence and moral character than the average in northern
Alberta. During the signing of treaties by the various tribes with the government of Canada, they maintained their independence and refused to accept the dole and be
confined to a reserve. Their chief and wise counselor “Yellowface,” a man of rare ability and spiritual in- clinations, having complete control over his people, replied to the many offers made by the government, “We are a free people; our liberty is not for sale.” When offered treaty money by the government, he said: “Any time you get something for nothing you surrender your freedom or a part of your liberty.” They maintained their independence until only a few years ago when the government finally forced them to accept a tract of country or lose their hunting grounds.
The year 1908 was a difficult year for this little band. Because of their refusal to sign a treaty they were forced back into the foothills. Hunting was scarce and, as winter approached, Yellowface and his band
spent much of their time in search of wild game to be cured for the long months of winter. It was during one of these hunts that a miraculous experience occurred. Yellowface had taken a number of his braves, leaving his young son in charge of the camp. A few days after Yellowface had left, this young man took suddenly ill and seemed to grow steadily worse. He told the people who waited upon him that he knew he was going to die and begged them not to bury him until his father returned, or until every spot on his body was cold.
He apparently died, and they kept him in his tent for three days. There was still a spot of warmth over his heart and under his left arm. At the close of the third day Chief Yellow- face returned. He viewed his son’s body and felt of the warmth over his heart. He then took a vessel of oil and moistened the boy’s lips, letting a few drops pass between the lips. He offered a prayer and, as he stood and watched his son, the nerves in the boy’s face began to twitch, and he gradually regained consciousness. The old chief raised him up, putting blankets under his head; they fed the boy some broth, and finally he was able to speak to his father.
He told his father that he had been to the Happy Hunting Ground and, as he was walking along, a man came toward him carrying a book in his hand. He held the book up and said, “This book is a record of your forefathers. Tell your father to take some of his people and travel south until they find the people who have this book.” The boy asked how they would know when they had found the right people and the messenger replied: “They will allow you to camp, fish, and hunt on their land; they will not seek to destroy the virtue of your wives and daughters; they will invite you into their homes and make you welcome, and treat you as sisters and brothers; they will give you food and clothing.” The messenger then gave a description of the man to whom they must go, and to none other, and cautioned the young boy to tell all of these things to his father. Soon after the boy delivered this message he died and was buried.
Chief Yellowface wasted no time. He called his people together and plans were made to go in search of the people who had a history of their forefathers.
And so it was not by mere chance that this little band finally reached the Church ranch, and camped on the Belly River within a short distance of the raneh house. They
were guided by the Lord, and their great faith was soon to be rewarded, for on the following morning four cowboys riding from the ranch spied the camp and, out of curiosity, rode down among them. The Indians at first were afraid that they had come to order them to move on, but to their surprise these men were unusually friendly. They bought some moccasins, gloves, etc., from the Indians and paid no undue attention to the women, and on leaving, invited them to come up to the house.
Here, with joy, Yellowface witnessed a partial fulfilment of the signs. Had not these young men manifested a spirit of kindness and honor? Their faith was renewed, a council was held, and two of the women were sent over to the ranch house, apparently on a friendly visit, but possibly to make sure that the sign was certain.
The ranch foreman at this time was Bishop James S. Parker of Mountain View who, because of his ward
duties and other interests, was absent from the ranch a great deal of the time. A man and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Olaf A. Olson, were living on the ranch in charge while Bishop Parker was absent.
When the two squaws arrived at the house Mrs. Olson made them welcome. In her own words she tells of the incident. “I was very pleased to see them, and I had been taught as a child to be good to them, and we had many good Indian friends among the Indians on the Blood Reservation. And so I prepared a lunch for them as I knew this would please them very much. Before they left, without really knowing why, I fixed some parcels of food for them, bread, beans, sugar, and dried fruit. Perhaps it was because my heart went out to them, they seemed so tired and lost and poor.
“The next morning the same two women came to the ranch house, this time they had a very old lady with them. This old lady had a very young baby in her arms. I think it would be about three weeks old; she was its grandmother. The child’s mother had died, and they wanted milk for the baby.
“Just a few months before this time we had lost our beautiful, nine- months-old-baby boy of pneumonia. This was a great trial and heartbreak for us to go through, and so when I saw this little baby, and these people so poorly dressed and with winter- so close, I could not help wondering why my little one had to be taken and this child left without a mother? This was a lovely baby and the old lady let me take it in my arms. I held it to my heart, walking the floor, and turned and asked the old lady, in the language of the Blood Indians, how much she wanted for this papoose. The old lady waited for a second, and then she pointed to Oliver, my son, who was then about five years old, and asked, how much for your papoose. I felt my face grow red to the roots of my hair. I thought of my baby’s clothes that I had put away. I went and got some of them. I will never forget how my heart yearned and ached for that baby while I put on a warm little shirt, pinned up the stockings and put on the warm little booties. Nor
will I ever forget the look of thank- fulness and happiness in their faces when I put on a little sweater and bonnet and wrapped the baby in a warm shawl and gave it back to them.”
Another sign was fulfilled.
Within a few days Yellowface and some of his braves came over to the ranch and asked for permission to hunt and trap. Olaf Olson gave them permission, subject to the approval of the foreman, who as yet was not aware of the arrival of the Indians. Still another sign was fulfilled, and Yellowface and his band were satisfied that they had found the people they were looking for.
It was now necessary for them to find the man to whom they were to go, and so a young brave by the
name of Johnny Bushy, who was the official interpreter, was sent to the ranch house to tell Mrs. Olson of their mission. He related in detail all that had happened. When he finally gave a description of the man whom they were seeking, Mrs. Olson knew at once that their search was ended. There could be no mistake: Bishop Parker fitted the description perfectly. Before leaving, Johnny Bushy swore her to secrecy.
When this news was taken back to camp, the Indians rejoiced, for surely it would not be long until the
“Big Boss,” as he was now called, would return to the ranch. But disappointment was once more to try their faith and patience, for Bishop Parker’s visits were always hurried ones. The ward and home were seven miles from the ranch, and the fastest means of going and coming was horseback, so, although he had been told the Indians were very anxious to see him, he had supposed they were only wanting permission to hunt and trap, or some other of the many favors that the other Indians were always asking, and he had made no special effort to see them. They had moved their camp up the river a mile away from the ranch house, and when they came to the house he was not there, for, while at the ranch,
he did not stay at the house but was out on the range with the cattle. At last they made known to Mrs. Olson that they had a very important message for him. Several weeks passed.
One day in November there was a blizzard so severe that to ride the range was useless. The snow fell so thick and fast that only a few feet around could any object be discerned. Bishop Parker was at the ranch, and after lunch he proposed to Mr. Olson that they go down and see what it was that the Indians wanted. Mr. Olson was only too glad to go, for he and Mrs. Olson had witnessed the anxiety of the Crees and had been curious to know what it could mean.
The two men arrived at the camp. Smoke was rising from the tepees. These people, too, were not venturing; far from shelter. Outside one of the tepees two fur buyers were bartering with Yellowface and the men for some furs and hides, and no one noticed the approach of the visitors until Mr. Olson spoke, telling Yellowface that he had brought the “Big Boss.” Yellowface turned; an expression of joy covered his face as he shook hands with the men. He then gave two shrill yells which startled his visitors. He dismissed the fur buyers without ceremony and led the men to his own big tent in the center of the enclosure. They noticed, as they went towards the tent, that everybody was hurrying in the same direction. At the tent door they noticed quite a commotion going on inside. Several dogs, which had been enjoying the shelter and warmth of the tent, were being driven out by the chief’s squaw with a big stick and with so much force behind it that they were losing no time in making their getaway. The chief’s two daughters were cleaning up the tent, and they arranged the seat by spreading a robe on the floor and placing a box upon it, then spreading over this a beautiful robe of mountain lion skin. When all was ready, Yellowface took Bishop Parker by the arm and invited him to be seated, placing his interpreter at one side of the tent, standing, and he himself standing opposite where he could sec the faces of both. Mr. Olson squatted down by the side of Brother Parker, and, at a signal, all of the others crowded into the tent and sat upon the floor. The two daughters of Yellowface sat directly in front of Bishop Parker with their beadwork. All was done with wonderful order, and then all was still. Yellowface spoke, nodding to Brother Parker: “You talk,” he said, Brother Parker had not dreamed of the nature oi their mission, and he had felt a peculiar feeling all during the time they had been gathering themselves about him. What did it mean? Why all this honor? Then he answered, “No, I came to hear you, to see what you want. They said you had a message for me.” “No,” said Yellowface, “you have a message for us.
Tell us about our forefathers.”
Bishop Parker was so surprised and so thrilled at the experience that he hardly knew what to say or where to begin. His life and work had been in the frontier. He had never been a student of scripture nor given to study to a great extent of any books. He had read the Book of Mormon, knew its truthfulness and worth, and he had studied it in some classes in Sunday School; but, to tell it as he was now expected to do, he felt wholly unable. Offering a silent prayer to his Heavenly Father for help, he began the story of Lehi and his family leaving Jerusalem. He spoke a few sentences then waited while the interpreter repeated the story to the Crees in their own language. It was a never-to-be-forgotten sight — those dusky faces upturned to him, watching every movement of his lips, drinking in with, oh, such interest, every word he spoke! No one moved. They seemed like statues. For five hours they listened
to the story of their forefathers. Yellowface stood raised to his full height. He was tall and straight as an arrow, his arms folded across his breast. He did not move. He asked a question now and then or offered an explanation as to why they had come and of their trials and the signs which they had received. His daughter, with needle in hand and bead in the other, sat for the whole five hours without so much as moving a muscle of her face, it seemed.
The story progressed with wonderful success, for the Lord did indeed help with his spirit and power to bring to the memory of the relator things long forgotten, to give him power when he had waited for the interpreter to repeat his words to the Indians in their own tongue, and his interest had been diverted in watching their expressions and interest, to take up the story again without hesitation and to make the story impressive to the ones to whom it meant so much — who they were, where they came from, why they were dark- skinned and what the future held for them.
When Brother Parker had told his story, Yellowface turned to his people and, in their own tongue, talked
for an hour in very serious tones, and, although Brother Parker could not understand the words, he felt the spirit and knew he was teaching them and exhorting them to live good lives. Then, speaking again through the interpreter, he held his right hand up and said he knew what had been spoken was true. “For the Great Spirit has told me here,” he said, laying his hand upon his breast. Then he told many things of the legends of his forefathers of the Great White Spirit ministering to his people. He also told of experiences his own father had had with visitations from the spirit world, things which he considered so sacred that he begged him not to repeat them for fear they might not be told as they really were. Brother Parker has never revealed these things to anyone. Night comes early in that country in November, and it was with regret that they had to stop and return to the routine of life. But they were
happy, all of them, in the blessings of the day.
The Book of Mormon was placed in the hands of the Crees and there were some among them who could read. Many of them, however, could not and so Mr. Olson invited them to the ranch and, during the long winter evenings, Mrs. Olson read to them.
Concerning this experience Mrs. Olson said: “My husband invited them to the ranch, and many evenings I read to them the Book of Mormon. The living room was not too large, the furniture was meager; there were not enough chairs, but they would crowd into the living room as many as could and seemed happy to sit on the floor or wherever they could. I would sit at the end of the table with the Book of Mormon. Johnny Bushy would stand beside me. I would read a few sentences and then he would explain it in the Cree language. There was one old man I remember in particular, he was gray and bent and walked with a cane, he wanted to know how it was that his people had always been driven from their hunting grounds by the white people. When explaining over again how ruthless his forefathers had been and how God had cursed them with a dark skin, he made a strange moaning sound and the tears ran down his face.”
Yellowface and his band camped for the winter months on the Church property and in the spring returned to their camping grounds near Rocky Mountain House. The following fall they again made a trek to the south and were welcomed back on the Church ranch.
Chief Yelloweyes told me that during this second winter a number of the tribe visited, on occasions, ward services in Mountain View. He said thev were made welcome both in the homes of the Saints and in ward functions, religious and social.
Regardless of obstacles, problems and conditions, it seems to me that our duty today is clear. The Lord
led these Indians to our doors forty years ago and it is my faith that he will do it again if we do our part.
A Chosen People- 1960 LDS Church Video
THE DREAM OF YELLOW FACE
http://emp.byui.edu/davisr/121/Dream%20of%20Yellow%20Face.htm
By President Edward J. Wood President of the Alberta Temple
About the year 1910, a very fine looking Indian, calling himself Yellow Face, called in Cardeton, and said he had with him 20 families of the Cree nation from Eastern Canada, and that they were wandering over the country to find a good trapping country. As they liked the look of this corner of Alberta, they requested permission to camp on some of the vacant lands in our vicinity.
Yellow Face had fairly well educated young men in his company who could talk pretty good English. These acted as interpreters. They had a written language the characters resembling very much the characters seen on the facsimile cuts shown in the Pearl of Great Price. Yellow Face had rather sharp features, a well-shaped forehead, with deep-set eyes. His color was a lighter brown than that of our Blood Indians, he was nearly six feet tall, was very dignified and seemed highly intelligent.
We directed him and his company to the west section where there were lands with many lakes and plenty of grass for their horses. In a few days, Yellow Face sent word to me that they preferred the upper parts of the Cochrane Ranch lands, and that his company had encamped on the Belly River near the bridge, waiting to hear from me as to their trapping on our Church lands. I sent word that if they would go on the hay lands and do some work in grubbing out a lot of low willows, they might earn a little money that way and also earn the right to do sonic trapping; to which proposal they willingly assented.
They wasted no time, and soon went to the store at Mountain View, a town five miles from their camp, and brought some fine muskrat hides to sell and also some finely beaded moccasins, well tanned rugs, and Indian curios. They did a lot of buying and selling in the Mountain View stores and some trading in Cardston during the trapping season.
While in Mountain View, they seemed very curious about our meetings and asked to attend public services, and also ward reunions of any kind; but while in attendance they would talk very little. When the season was about over for trapping, they came and very politely said Goodbye, and seemed to appreciate our allowing them to use the Church lands.
They came back the next year, and again the third year, and traded and acted much as they did before and never seemed to wish to get acquainted with us, until one day near the close of the season, Yellow Face and his Council of Chiefs, comprising the head of each family, making 20 Chiefs, sent to Mountain View for the Church Chief Bishop to come at once to their camp and meet with their Council.
The Bishop went and found them all seated around the edge of the tent, and wondered what they might desire of him. When the Bishop entered, Yellow Face stood up and asked the Bishop to stand in the center of the circle and address them. The Bishop hardly knew what to say, but tried to explain, through their interpreter, the first principles of the Gospel, and other truths he thought they would understand about our revealed Gospel. He spoke over half an hour, and realized they did not seem much interested, so he sat down and talked briefly on local matters, invited them to come to Mountain View to the meetings, and left feeling he had not made much of an impression.
About a week after, they sent for him to come among them again and talk to them once more. He wondered more than ever at their inviting him to talk to them so soon for he knew he had done very little good before. But as he entered the tent he noticed a fine looking Indian woman, whom Yellow Face introduced as his daughter.
The Bishop states that as soon as he saw this woman, the feeling came upon him to talk on the Book of Mormon. Before he began to speak to the assembled Indians, Yellow Face asked him if he had anything new to tell them, saying that they did not care to hear again what he had told them before. When he said he would tell then about a book, every eye was on him and the young woman seemed very nearly white. They all paid marked attention as he spoke and interrupted so frequently through the interpreter, that it was difficult for him to finish. They were much enthused, and pointed for him to be seated where Yellow Face had been sitting, then Yellow Face in his dignified way said he would now tell his story. As he did so every eye was upon him:
“The year before our tribe first came here, I was taken very sick. Some of my Indian friends who had been dead for many years came and told me that I would soon be better, but would get sick again someday, and that I would die, but my family must not think I was dead and bury me, for I was not to be buried until my body was cold all over.
When I woke up, I called my family together and also the Counsel of Five Chiefs (of which I was a member) for our tribe that then lived in Manitoba was large, and I told them of my dream, and they laughed at me and did not believe it. But, nevertheless, I feared my dream was true.
Time went on, and one day sometime afterward, I was taken very sick, and I at once feared my dream would come true, so I warned my family not to be in a hurry to bury me, even though I died, until they were sure that I was cold all over.
I got weaker and weaker until I left my body, and I went away among a lot of Indians that I knew were dead, some I knew and some I did not know, as they had been dead so long. But they were not dead at all, and told me to die was only to leave the body for your people to take care of, and to come where they were.
As for me, they said that I had to go back and use my body again for several years. THEY SAID I WAS TO GO AMONG THE WHITE PEOPLE UNTIL I FOUND A BOOK THAT TOLD OP THE HISTORYOF THESE DEAD INDIANS WHO WERE NOT DEAD.
I asked them how I would know the people who had the book that would tell my live Indian friends all about who they were and about their dead relatives; and they gave me these five keys:
- They will let you camp on their own lands, and trap and hunt.
- They will treat you like one of them in your business dealings with them.
- They will invite you to their meetings and ask you to speak.
- They will invite you to sit with them at their tables to eat.
- They will visit you in your camp, and their men will not bother your women nor molest any of you.
When you find this kind of people, have them meet in your Council, and have them tell you what they believe, and they will tell you about this book.
I then woke up and found my wife and my friends had about decided to bury me as I had been dead several days and was cold all over, except a small place over my heart, but when I came back to life and told them where I had been and that our Indian relatives were not dead at all, they wondered at me. And when I told them that I would pick about 20 families and travel until I found the Book, they again wondered, but as they all believed in a God, they said they would follow me.
So in due time we formed our company and started. We made many camps, and traveled many seasons. But there are not many people who are true friends of the Indian; and it was hard to find a people who answered to the five keys until we landed among you.”
Yellow Face had grown quite eloquent in telling of his wonderful experience among the dead-yet-living Indians, as he termed them, and before he sat down, he asked for the Book. The Bishop went and got a Book of Mormon and gave it to him. He took it as though it had always belonged to him, and said to the Bishop that it was his Book because it was the history of his people, both of the dead and of the living.
After this very interesting experience of the Bishop, I met Yellow Face at the home of the Bishop and he told us of how he had watched us and of his sitting by my side at a certain reunion of the ward the year before, and of how he had taken note of our treatment of him, and of his great surprise when I told him his company could camp on the Church lands, and of his object in camping on the main road, so that all of our people going to and from several of our main wards, had to pass through this Indian village, and of his coming the three times—a year apart—as he wanted to see if we would change in our treatment of his company. He also told us of many principles of religion that he said his tribe believed in, which were very interesting to us.
He then took the Book of Mormon, calling it their long lost Book, and wrapped it among their valuables, which they always carry in a separate buckskin sack, and hang it apart from any other belongings on a tripod in front of the head Chief’s lodge. These articles are held sacred by the tribe and are exhibited only on rare occasions.
Yellow Face and his company now seemed satisfied, and having no further desire to stay among us, soon left. We heard many times afterward of how they would camp along the highways, and Yellow Face would take his own interpreter and call upon a family, and would hand “His Book” to the family and ask them to read it for him. We heard of this being done and the Book being read to him by many people who wondered at what the book contained, and seemed quite interested when he would tell them it was the history of his people.