and who spoke so many different and complicated languages. The buffalo continued to head farther west and many Métis decided to follow them, abandoning the fruitless plots doled out by John A. The land speculators swarmed like locusts, buying up these waterless plots from the Métis in deals that were sometimes fair but quite often crooked. Anti-French and Métis sentiment became so strong next door in Ontario that, for the half-breeds, moving away from it began to feel like a good idea. Red River was swallowed by the booming city of Winnipeg, and many Métis craved the old life of wide-open country and just a neighbour or two. For some, their Indian blood whispered to them to follow the dwindling herds, and for others, the idea of freedom came with isolation. And so thousands of Métis, like the buffalo, went west toward the Rockies, drawn to the homeland of their cousins, finding new homes in the towns of Batoche and Saint-Laurent beside lifelong residents of the area like Gabriel Dumont. This was a chance for so many to start anew.
While Gabriel’s leadership strength is obvious to all, he recedes this first summer of Riel’s arrival. Gabriel isn’t a speechmaker, and maybe he understands implicitly that it’s best to leave the talking to the ones who are born for it. He is a man of action, and so he withdraws and watches and waits to be called.
With the summer waning, the excitement of Riel’s arrival threatens to wane as well. Despite the concerns of the local police and worried bureaucrats like Lawrence Clarke, Ottawa continues to ignore Métis grumblings. A high-ranking federal minister, due to arrive in the North-West in August, ends up a no-show and dashes the Métis’ plans of presenting their list of grievances in person to a real-life representative.
Worst of all, Gabriel sees that the priests refuse to take a stand with the people the way they did in 1870. Men like the local priest, Father André, seem afraid to recognize and to speak about what the Métis all seem to know: that once more they face the loss of their homes and of their way of life, a life that they’ve worked so hard to create. And Gabriel knows that without the support of the priests, the people will be too afraid to make a proper stand. The growing movement is threatened by inaction. Louis’s speeches are a welcome thing, but they aren’t enough to keep the people focused as they prepare to harvest the poor crops of summer. Gabriel understands that the fire of the pulpit, the fire that propelled the movement of 1869 and 1870, needs to be kindled again.
He finally sees a chance to act in September, when he learns of the visit of Bishop Grandin to the nearby community of Saint-Laurent. Even better, travelling with Grandin are government representatives. Gabriel sees the billiard balls lined up in a potentially exciting way. Take the shot so that Bishop Grandin is forced to choose action over silence. At the same time, Gabriel and Louis together will present Métis grievances to a federal representative. This will prove to all Métis that the government is indeed in possession of their written concerns. The government will then no longer be able to claim that they are ignorant of the troubles that are beginning to spill over in the North-West, as they’ve done to date with their silence.
In early September of 1884, Gabriel, although he’s uncomfortable with it, gives a short speech in Saint-Laurent to a gathering that includes Bishop Grandin, Father André, and the secretary of Lieutenant Governor Dewdney. Gabriel makes it clear that he’s unhappy with the way the men of God have chosen not to involve themselves with the troubles of the Métis. In the Manitoba resistance of 1870, men like Father André were key to the Métis’ being not just heard but respected and included in government plans for their country. Gabriel ends his speech, as his biographer Woodcock notes, in a conciliatory manner, asking the priests for guidance. He