My Birthday Present by Francois Abany - Northern Tribune July 21, 1923
The 23rd of January, 1923, I was travelling toward the big bend of the Peace River. It was one of the coldest days I have ever known.
Between Lake Otter and Lake Bison I came to an empty cabin. Joe was ahead. I called on him to stop his toboggan and to look in the house to see if there was a stove. There was one, so I gave the order to Joe to cut wood & kill rabbits for the dogs.
Next day the weather had not moderated. It was my birthday, and I felt like taking a rest, so I repeated my order to Joe. Finding an old magazine on the floor, I stretched myself out on the bunk and proceeded to read it. Toward the middle of the afternoon four halfbreed trappers came to the cabin - one old man, one middle-aged & two young bucks in their twenties.
Indian fashion, they crowded around the stove, bending over it and stretching their joints. After awhile three of them squatted on the floor with their backs against the wall and the middle-aged one took a block of wood and sat on it facing the stove.
At first I didn't pay much attention to their conversation, for I was interested in my reading. Then I heard the old man say in Cree: “Go to it, there can be no mistake: I know him by the big scar on his nose. Suddenly I was all ears to find out what was coming.
The middle-aged one, turning sideways towards my bunk, said “I am 34 years old.”
Looking at him, I said: “Well, that’s about the age I would give you.”
Then he asked me: “Did you ever know Minnie Larondelle?” “I surely did.” I said. “She was living at the Carcajou Point. Where is she now?”
“She went off with the ‘flu’ four years ago.” “Oh! I am sorry to hear that, because I knew her pretty well.” “She never forgot you neither. She told me once that you were my father.”
I was so dumbfounded that I didn't know where to look, what to say. I pulled out a five dollar bill and gave it to him. The next day, driving astride on the load of my toboggan, I was wondering if the Holy Ghost has played a trick on me - the same as on St. Joseph. Certainly I had known Minnie pretty well; she had made for me the nicest buckskin coat I ever had, but still I had never been close enough to her to get such a result.
It puzzled me during the remainder of my trip, until I cam back to where I met the fellow. There he was again, I suppose he expected to touch me for another five bucks but before going further I decided to clear up the matter. So I said to him: “I think you made a mistake in what you told me on my way up.”
“Oh no,” he said, “that couldn't be. My name is Francois, the same as yours.” The mystery of his incarnation was getting deeper. I was getting excited. And at all hazards I shouted at him; “How is that?”
“I will tell you,” he answered, “the very words of my mother: The winter I was born you came from Dunvegan to the camp of my mother. With you was Father Grouard later on Bishop Grouard. All the men were on their trap lines and when Father Grouard gave me my baptism you had to stand father for me.:
What a relief: I never felt such a weight dumped from my shoulders. Anyway, It was a queer birthday present.