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perfectly round sloughs with a stone in the centre. They were formed by the buffalos rubbing on the stone in hot weather. The dirt around the stone got kicked out in a hollow which filled with water during a rain. The stone kept working down as the buffalos stamped, rubbed and wallowed in the water.

There was ample evidence of the Indians and their doings in those days. One day John Baskerville, who homesteaded the east half of 6-3-20, was walking home from Latimer's place when he came upon an Indian camp. They had a fire going and were eating skunks which they had roasted on the ends of long sticks. It was a common occurrence for the Latimers to have Indians stop at the homestead for a meal. The Indian would say, "Bockety, bockety," meaning hungry. The pioneers never turned a hungry Indian away.

Many Indian stone mallets have been picked up on the prairies.

Around the centre of the stone was a groove, in which a wooden handle was held by a thong. One of the important uses of these mallets was in the making of "pemmican." Buffalo meat was sliced into strips and spread on the grass to dry, then pounded into a powder to be mixed with wild fruits and fat. It formed a staple supply of food for the Indian and some white men as it would keep for months. Many of these Indian mallets can be seen imbedded in the Cairn at the Peace Garden.

The women in those days had as hard a time as the men. They gathered hops in the bush and boiled them down to make their own yeast. They made their own soap, baked their own bread and made most of the clothes for the family. At harvest time they often cooked for threshing gangs of twenty-five men. They had no phones, electric lights or appliances, radios or cars. There was no hospital near them and no nurses. When a doctor was needed, someone had to ride miles to get him. It was a survival of the fittest, and the back was made for the burden.

The buffalo are gone; the herds of antelope are gone; the trumpeter swans are gone, and the whooping cranes and upland plovers are almost gone. It will be only a few years tin the last of the pioneers are also gone.


As related by A. A. Patterson

William Cumpstone, Sr., was the eldest son of John Cumpstone, a farmer and contractor of Montgomeryshire, Wales, where William was born December 9, 1834. He married Mary Poston at Hope Church, Shropshire, April 25, 1867.

After William had worked on a farm until he was eighteen, he apprenticed himself to a wheelwright. After serving his apprentice­ ship, he went to a lead mine as a millwright until 1876 when he rented Santley, a 350-acre farm, from the Earl of Tankerville in Shropshire. In the early days it was an old stage coach inn on the