CHAPTER XXIV.
For thou wert born of woman! Thou didst come,
O Holiest! to this world of sin and gloom,
Not in thy dread omnipotent array;
And not by thunders strewed
Was thy tempestuous road,
Nor indignation burnt before thee on thy way.
But thee, a soft and naked child,
Thy mother undefiled,
In the rude manger laid to rest
From off her virgin breast.
The blood of the bee-hunter curdled in his veins as he listened to
Peter's business-like and direct manner of treating this terrible
subject. Putting the most favorable view on his situation, it was
frightful to look on. Admitting that this fanatical savage were
sincere in all his professions of a wish to save him and Margery,
and le Bourdon did not, nay, COULD not doubt this, after his calm
but ferocious revelations; but, admitting all this to be true, how
was he to escape with his charming bride, environed as they were by
so large a band of hostile Indians? Then the thought of abandoning
his other companions, and attempting, in cold selfishness, to escape
with Margery alone, was more than he could bear. Never before, in
his adventurous and bold life, had le Bourdon been so profoundly
impressed with a sense of his danger, or so much overcome.
Still, our hero was not unmanned. He saw all the hazards, as it
were, at a glance, and felt how terrible might be the result should
they really fall into the hands of the warriors, excited to exercise
their ingenuity in devising the means of torture; and he gazed into
the frightful perspective with a manly steadiness that did him
credit, even while he sickened at the prospect.
Peter had told his story in a way to add to its horrible character.
There was a manner of truth, of directness, of WORK, if one may use
such an expression on such a subject, that gave a graphic reality to
all he said. As if his task was done, the mysterious chief now
coolly arose, and moved away to a little grove, in which the
missionary and the corporal had thrown themselves on the grass,
where they lay speculating on the probable course that the bands in
their neighborhood would next pursue. So thoroughly possessed was
the clergyman with his one idea, however, that he was expressing
regret at his failure in the attempt to convince the savages that
they were Jews, when Peter joined them.
"You tired--you lie down in daytime, like sick squaw, eh?" asked the
Indian, in a slightly satirical manner. "Bess be up, sich fine day,
and go wid me to see some more chief."
"Most gladly, Peter," returned the missionary, springing to his feet
with alacrity--"and I shall have one more opportunity to show your
friends the truth of what I have told them."
"Yes, Injin love to hear trut'--hate to hear lie. Can tell 'em all
you want to say. He go too, eh?" pointing to the corporal, who
rather hung back, as if he saw that in the invitation which was not
agreeable to him.
"I will answer for my friend," returned the confiding missionary,
cheerfully. "Lead on, Peter, and we will follow."
Thus pledged, the corporal no longer hesitated; but he accompanied
Parson Amen, as the latter fell into the tracks of the chief, and
proceeded rapidly in the direction of the spring in the piece of
bottom-land, where the council first described had been held. This
spot was about two miles from the palisaded house, and quite out of
view, as well as out of reach of sound. As they walked side by side,
taking the footsteps of the great chief for their guides, the
corporal, however, expressed to his companion his dislike of the
whole movement.
"We ought to stand by our garrison in times like these, Mr. Amen,"
said the well-meaning soldier. "A garrison is a garrison; and Injins
seldom do much on a well-built and boldly-defended spot of that
natur'. They want artillery, without which their assaults are never
very formidable."
"Why talk you of warlike means, corporal, when we are in the midst
of friends? Is not Peter our known and well-tried associate, one
with whom you and I have travelled far; and do we not know that we
have friends among these chiefs, whom we are now going to visit? The
Lord has led me into these distant and savage regions, to carry his
word, and to proclaim his name; and a most unworthy and unprofitable
servant should I prove, were I to hesitate about approaching them I
am appointed to teach. No, no; fear nothing. I will not say that you
carry Caesar and his fortunes, as I have heard was once said of old,
but I will say you follow one who is led of God, and who marches
with the certainty of being divinely commanded."
The corporal was ashamed to oppose so confident an enthusiasm, and
he offered no further resistance. Together the two followed their
leader, who, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, soon
had them out of sight of the castle, and well on their way toward
the spring. When about half the distance was made, the direction
took the party through a little thicket, or rather along its margin,
and the missionary, a good deal to his surprise, saw Pigeonswing
within the cover, seemingly preparing for another hunt. This young
warrior had so lately returned from one excursion of this nature,
that he was not expected to go forth so soon on another. Nor was he
accustomed to go out so early in the day. This was the hour in which
he ordinarily slept; but there he was, beyond a question, and
apparently looking at the party as it passed. So cold was his
manner, however, and so indifferent did he seem, that no one would
have suspected that he knew aught of what was in contemplation.
Having satisfied himself that his friend, the bee-hunter, was not
one of those who followed Peter, the Chippewa turned coldly away,
and began to examine the flint of his rifle. The corporal noted this
manner, and it gave him additional confidence to proceed; for he
could not imagine that any human being would manifest so much
indifference, when sinister designs existed.
Peter turned neither to the right hand nor to the left, until he had
led the way down upon the little arena of bottom-land already
described, and which was found well sprinkled with savages. A few
stood, or sat about in groups, earnestly conversing; but most lay
extended at length on the green sward, in the indolent repose that
is so grateful to an Indian warrior in his hours of inaction. The
arrival of Peter, however, instantly put a new face on the
appearance of matters. Every man started to his feet, and additions
were made to those who were found in the arena by those who came out
of the adjacent thickets, until some two or three hundred of the red
men were assembled in a circle around the newly-arrived pale-faces.
"There," said Peter, sternly, fastening his eye with a hostile
expression on Bough of the Oak and Ungque, in particular--"there are
your captives. Do with them as you will. As for them that have dared
to question my faith, let them own that they are liars!"
This was not a very amicable salutation, but savages are accustomed
to plain language. Bough of the Oak appeared a little uneasy, and
Ungque's countenance denoted dissatisfaction; but the last was too
skilful an actor to allow many of the secrets of his plotting mind
to shine through the windows of his face. As for the crowd at large,
gleams of content passed over the bright red faces, illuminating
them with looks of savage joy. Murmurs of approbation were heard,
and Crowsfeather addressed the throng, there, where it stood,
encircling the two helpless and as yet but half-alarmed victims of
so fell a plot.
"My brothers and my young men can now see," said this Pottawattamie,
"that the tribeless chief has an Injin heart. His heart is NOT a
pale-face heart--it is that of a red man. Some of our chiefs have
thought that he had lived too much with the strangers, and that he
had forgotten the traditions of our fathers, and was listening to
the song of the medicine priest. Some thought that he believed
himself lost, and a Jew, and not an Injin. This is not so. Peter
knows the path he is on. He knows that he is a redskin, and he looks
on the Yankees as enemies. The scalps he has taken are so numerous
they cannot be counted. He is ready to take more. Here are two that
he gives to us. When we have done with these two captives, he will
bring us more. He will continue to bring them, until the pale-faces
will be as few as the deer in their own clearings. Such is the will
of the Manitou."
The missionary understood all that was said, and he was not a little
appalled at the aspect of things. For the first time he began to
apprehend that he was in danger. So much was this devout and well-
intentioned servant of his church accustomed to place his dependence
on a superintending Providence, that apprehension of personal
suffering seldom had any influence on his exertions. He believed
himself to be an object of especial care; though he was ever ready
to admit that the wisdom which human minds cannot compass, might
order events that, at first sight, would seem to be opposed to that
which ought to be permitted to come to pass. In this particular
Parson Amen was a model of submission, firmly believing that all
that happened was in furtherance of the great scheme of man's
regeneration and eventual salvation.
With the corporal it was very different. Accustomed to war with red
men, and most acquainted with them in their worst character, he ever
suspected treachery, and had followed Peter with a degree of
reluctance he had not cared to express. He now thoroughly took the
alarm, however, and stood on his guard. Although he did not
comprehend more than half of that which Peter had said, he
understood quite enough to see that he and the missionary were
surrounded by enemies, if not by executioners.
"We have fallen into a sort of ambush here, Parson Amen," cried the
corporal, rattling his arms as he looked to their condition, "and
it's high time we beat the general. If there were four on us we
might form a square; but being only two, the best thing we can do
will be to stand back to back, and for one to keep an eye on the
right flank, while he nat'rally watches all in front; and for the
other to keep an eye on the left flank, while he sees to the rear.
Place your back close to mine, and take the left flank into your
part of the lookout. Closer, closer, my good sir; we must stand
solid as rooted trees, to make anything of a stand."
The missionary, in his surprise, permitted the corporal to assume
the position described, though conscious of its uselessness in their
actual condition. As for the Indians, the corporal's manner and the
rattling of his arms induced the circle to recede several paces;
though nothing like alarm prevailed among them. The effect,
nevertheless, was to leave the two captives space for their
evolutions, and a sort of breathing time. This little change had the
appearance of something like success, and it greatly encouraged the
corporal. He began to think it even possible to make a retreat that
would be as honorable as any victory.
"Steady--keep shoulder to shoulder, Parson Amen, and take care of
your flank. Our movement must be by our left flank, and everything
depends on keeping that clear. I shall have to give you my baggonet,
for you're entirely without arms, which leaves my rear altogether
exposed."
"Think nothing of your arms, Brother Flint--they would be useless in
my hands in any case; and, were we made of muskets, they could be of
no use against these odds. My means of defence come from on high; my
armor is faith; and my only weapon, prayer. I shall not hesitate to
use the last on this, as on all other occasions."
The missionary then called on the circle of curious savages by whom
he was surrounded, and who certainly contemplated nothing less than
his death, in common with those of all his white companions, to
unite with him in addressing the Throne of Grace. Accustomed to
preach and pray to these people in their own dialect, the worthy
parson made a strong appeal to their charities, while supplicating
the favors of Divine Providence in behalf of himself and his brother
captive. He asked for all the usual benedictions and blessings on
his enemies, and made a very happy exposition of those sublime
dogmas of Christianity, which teach us to "bless them that curse
us," and to "pray for those who despitefully use us." Peter, for the
first time in his life, was now struck with the moral beauty of such
a sentiment, which seldom fails, when duly presented, of producing
an effect on even the dullest minds. His curiosity was touched, and
instead of turning coldly, as had been his intention, and leaving
the captives in the hands of those to whom he had delivered them, he
remained in the circle, and paid the closest attention to all of the
proceedings. He had several times previously heard the missionary
speak of this duty as a command of God's, but never before had he
deemed it possible to realize such a thing in practice.
The Indians, if not absolutely awe-struck by the singular spectacle
before them, seemed well disposed to let the missionary finish his
appeal; some wondering, others doubting, and all more or less at a
loss to know what to make of an exhibition so unusual. There stood
the corporal, with his back pressed closely to that of his
companion, his musket at "make ready," and his whole mien that of a
man with every nerve screwed to the sticking-point; while the
missionary, the other side of the picture, with outstretched arms,
was lifting his voice in prayer to the throne of the Most High. As
this extraordinary scene continued, the corporal grew excited; and
ere long his voice was occasionally heard, blended with that of the
clergyman, in terms of advice and encouragement.
"Blaze away, Mr. Amen," shouted the soldier. "Give 'em another
volley--you're doing wonders, and their front has given ground! One
more such volley as the last, and we'll make a forward movement,
ourselves--attention!--prepare to march by the left flank, as soon
as there is a good opening!"
That good opening, however, was never made. The savages, though
astonished, were by no means frightened, and had not the smallest
idea of letting their captives escape. On the contrary, Bear's Meat,
who acted as commander-in-chief on this occasion, was quite self-
possessed, and so far from being impressed with the missionary's
prayer, he listened to it only in the hope of hearing some admission
of weakness escape. But the excitement of the corporal soon produced
a crisis. His attempts to make a movement "by the left flank,"
caused his column of defence to be broken, and obtaining no
assistance from Parson Amen, who was still pouring out his soul in
prayer, while endeavoring to bring things back to their original
state, he suddenly found himself surrounded and disarmed. From that
instant, the corporal changed his tactics. So long as he was armed,
and comparatively free, he had bethought him only of the means of
resistance; now that these were denied him, he submitted, and
summoned all his resolution to bear the penalties of his captivity,
in a manner that might not do discredit to his regiment. This was
the third time that Corporal Flint had been a prisoner among the
Indians, and he was not now to learn the nature of their tender
mercies. His forebodings were not of the most pleasant character;
but that which could not be helped, he was disposed to bear with
manly fortitude. His greatest concern, at that fearful moment, was
for the honor of his corps.
All this time, Parson Amen continued his prayer. So completely was
his spirit occupied with the duty of offering up his petition, that
he was utterly unconscious of what else had passed; nor had he heard
one of the corporal's appeals for "attention," and to be "steady,"
and to march "by the left flank." In a word, the whole man was
intent on prayer; and when thus employed, a six-pounder discharged
in the circle would hardly have disconcerted him. He persevered,
therefore, uninterrupted by his conquerors, until he concluded in
his own way. Having thus fortified his soul, and asked for succor
where he had now so long been accustomed to seek and to find it, the
worthy missionary took his seat quietly on a log, on which the
corporal had been previously placed by his captors.
The time had arrived for the chiefs to proceed in the execution of
their purposes. Peter, profoundly struck with the prayers of the
missionary in behalf of his enemies, had taken a station a little on
one side, where he stood ruminating on what he had just heard. If
ever precept bore the stamp of a divine origin, it is this. The more
we reflect on it, the clearer do our perceptions of this truth
become. The whole scheme of Christ's redemption and future existence
is founded in love, and such a system would be imperfect while any
were excluded from its benefits. To love those who reciprocate our
feelings is so very natural, that the sympathies which engender this
feeling are soonest attracted by a knowledge of their existence,
love producing love, as power increases power. But to love those who
hate us, and to strive to do good to those who are plotting evil
against ourselves, greatly exceeds the moral strength of man,
unaided from above. This was the idea that puzzled Peter, and he now
actually interrupted the proceedings, in order to satisfy his mind
on a subject so totally new to him. Previously, however, to taking
this step, he asked the permission of the principal chiefs,
awakening in their bosoms by means of his explanations some of the
interest in this subject that he felt himself.
"Brother medicine-man," said the mysterious chief, drawing nearer to
the missionary, accompanied himself by Bear's Meat, Crowsfeather,
and one or two more, "you have been talking to the Great Spirit o!
the pale-faces. We have heard your words, and think them well. They
are good words for a man about to set out on the path that leads to
the unknown lands. Thither we must all go some time, and it matters
little when. We may not all travel the same path. I do not think the
Manitou will crowd tribes of different colors together there, as
they are getting to be crowded together here.
"Brother, you are about to learn how all these things really are. If
red men, and pale-faces, and black men are to live in the same land,
after death, you will shortly know it. My brother is about to go
there. He and his friend, this warrior of his people, will travel on
that long path in company. I hope they will agree by the way, and
not trouble each other. It will be convenient to my brother to have
a hunter with him; the path is so long, he will be hungry before he
gets to the end. This warrior knows how to use a musket, and we
shall put his arms with him in his grave.
"Brother, before you start on this journey, from which no traveller
ever returns, let his color be what it may, we wish to hear you
speak further about loving our enemies. This is not the Indian rule.
The red men hate their enemies, and love their friends. When they
ask the Manitou to do anything to their enemies, it is to do them
harm. This is what our fathers taught us: it is what we teach our
children. Why should we love them that hate us: why should we do
good to them that do us harm? Tell us now, or we may never hear the
reason."
"Tell you I will, Peter, and the Lord so bless my words that they
may soften your hearts, and lead you all to the truth, and to
dependence on the mediation of his blessed Son! We should do good to
them that do evil to us, because the Great Spirit has commanded us
so to do. Ask your own heart if this is not right. If they sound
like words that are spoken by any but those who have been taught by
the Manitou, himself. The devils tell us to revenge, but God
commands us to forgive. It is easy to do good to them that do good
to us; but it tries the heart sorely to do good to them that do us
evil. I have spoken to you of the Son of the Great Spirit. He came
on earth, and told us with his own mouth all these great truths. He
said that next to the duty of loving the Manitou, was the duty of
loving our neighbors. No matter whether friend or enemy, it was our
duty to love them, and do them all the good we can. If there is no
venison in their wigwams, we should take the deer off our own poles,
and carry it and put on theirs. Why have I come here to tell you
this? When at home, I lived under a good roof, eat of abundance, and
slept in a soft and warm bed. You know how it is here. We do not
know to-day what we shall eat to-morrow. Our beds are hard, and our
roofs are of bark. I come, because the Son of the Manitou, he who
came and lived among men, told us to do all this. His commands to
his medicine-men were, to go forth, and tell all nations, and
tribes, and colors, the truth--to tell them to 'love them that
sought to do them harm, and to do good for evil.'"
Parson Amen pausing a moment to take breath, Ungque, who detected
the wavering of Peter's mind, and who acted far more in opposition
to the mysterious and tribeless chief than from any other motive,
profited by the occasion thus afforded to speak. Without this pause,
however, the breeding of an Indian would have prevented any
interruption.
"I open my mouth to speak," said The Weasel, in his humblest manner.
"What I say is not fit for the wise chiefs to hear. It is foolish,
but my mind tells me to say it. Does the medicine-man of the pale-
faces tell us that the Son of the Great Spirit came upon earth, and
lived among men?"
"I do; such is our belief; and the religion we believe and teach
cometh directly from his mouth."
"Let the medicine-man tell the chiefs how long the Son of the Great
Spirit stayed on earth, and which way he went when he left it."
Now, this question was put by Ungque through profound dissimulation.
He had heard of the death of Christ, and had obtained some such idea
of the great sacrifice as would be apt to occur to the mind of a
savage. He foresaw that the effect of the answer would be very
likely to destroy most of the influence that the missionary had just
been building up, by means of his doctrine and his prayers. Parson
Amen was a man of singular simplicity of character, but he had his
misgivings touching the effect of this reply. Still he did not
scruple about giving it, or attempt in any manner to mystify or to
deceive.
"It is a humiliating and sad story, my brethren, and one that ought
to cause all heads to be bowed to the earth in shame," he answered.
"The Son of the Great Spirit came among men; he did nothing but
good; told those who heard him how to live and how to die. In return
for all this, wicked and unbelieving men put him to death. After
death his body was taken up into Heaven--the region of departed
spirits, and the dwelling-place of his Father--where he now is,
waiting for the time when he is to return to the earth, to reward
the good and to punish the wicked. That time will surely come; nor
do I believe the day to be very distant."
The chiefs listened to this account with grave attention. Some of
them had heard outlines of the same history before. Accounts
savoring of the Christian history had got blended with some of their
own traditions, most probably the fruits of the teachings of the
earlier missionaries, but were so confused and altered as to be
scarcely susceptible of being recognized. To most of them, however,
the history of the incarnation of the Son of God was entirely new;
and it struck THEM as a most extraordinary thing altogether that any
man should have injured such a being! It was, perhaps, singular that
no one of them all doubted the truth of the tradition itself. This
they supposed to have been transmitted with the usual care, and they
received it as a fact not to be disputed. The construction that was
put on its circumstances will best appear in the remarks that
followed.
"If the pale-faces killed the Son of the Great Spirit," said Bough
of the Oak, pointedly, "we can see why they wish to drive the red
men from their lands. Evil spirits dwell in such men, and they do
nothing but what is bad. I am glad that our great chief has told us
to put the foot on this worm and crush it, while yet the Indian foot
is large enough to do it. In a few winters they would kill us, as
they killed the Spirit that did them nothing but good!"
"I am afraid that this mighty tradition hath a mystery in it that
your Indian minds will scarcely be willing to receive," resumed the
missionary, earnestly. "I would not, for a thousand worlds, or to
save ten thousand lives as worthless as my own, place a straw in the
way of the faith of any; yet must I tell the thing as it happened.
This Son of the Great Spirit was certainly killed by the Jews of
that day, so far as he COULD be killed. He possessed two natures, as
indeed do all men: the body and soul. In his body he was man, as we
all are men; in his soul he was a part of the Great Spirit himself.
This is the great mystery of our religion. We cannot tell how it can
happen, but we believe it. We see around us a thousand things that
we cannot understand, and this is one of them."
Here Bear's Meat availed himself of another pause to make a remark.
This he did with the keenness of one accustomed to watch words and
events closely, but with a simplicity that showed no vulgar
disposition to scepticism.
"We do not expect that all the Great Spirit does can be clear to us
Indians," he said. "We know very little; he knows everything. Why
should we think to know all that he knows? We do not. That part of
the tradition gives us no trouble. Indians can believe without
seeing. They are not squaws, that wish to look behind every bush.
But my brother has told too much for his own good. If the pale-faces
killed their Great Spirit, they can have no Manitou, and must be in
the hands of the Evil Spirit This is the reason they want our
hunting-grounds. I will not let them come any nearer to the setting
sun. It is time to begin to kill them, as they killed their Great
Spirit. The Jews did this. My brother wishes us to think that red
men are Jews! No; red men never harmed the Son of the Great Spirit,
They would receive him as a friend, and treat him as a chief.
Accursed be the hand that should be raised to harm him. This
tradition is a wise tradition. It tells us many things. It tells us
that Injins are not Jews. They never hurt the Son of the Great
Spirit. It tells us that the red men have always lived on these
hunting-grounds, and did not come from toward the rising sun. It
tells us that pale-faces are not fit to live. They are too wicked.
Let them die."
"I would ask a question," put in Peter. "This tradition is not new.
I have heard it before. It entered but a little way into my ears. I
did not think of it. It has now entered deeper, and I wish to hear
more. Why did not the Son of the Great Spirit kill the Jews?--why
did he let the Jews kill him? Will my brother say?"
"He came on earth to die for man, whose wickedness was so deep that
the Great Spirit's justice could not be satisfied with less. WHY
this is so no one knows. It is enough that it should be so. Instead
of thinking of doing harm to his tormentors and murderers, he died
for them, and died asking for benefits on them, and on their wives
and children, for all time to come. It was he who commanded us to do
good to them that do harm to us."
Peter gave the utmost attention to this answer, and when he had
received it, he walked apart, musing profoundly. It is worthy of
being observed that not one of these savages raised any hollow
objections to the incarnation of the Son of the Great Spirit, as
would have been the case with so many civilized men. To them this
appeared no more difficult and incomprehensible than most of that
which they saw around them. It is when we begin to assume the airs
of philosophy, and to fancy, because we know a little, that the
whole book of knowledge is within our grasp, that men become
sceptics. There is not a human being now in existence who does not
daily, hourly see that which is just as much beyond his powers of
comprehension as this account of the incarnation of the Deity, and
the whole doctrine of the Trinity; and yet he acquiesces in that
which is before his eyes, because it is familiar and he sees it,
while he cavils at all else, though the same unknown and
inexplicable cause lies behind everything. The deepest philosophy is
soon lost in this general mystery, and, to the eye of a meek reason,
all around us is a species of miracle, which must be referred to the
power of the Deity.
While thus disposed to receive the pale-face traditions with
respect, however, the red men did not lose sight of their own policy
and purposes. The principal chiefs now stepped aside, and held a
brief council. Though invited to do so, Peter did not join them;
leaving to Bough of the Oak, Ungque, and Bear's Meat the control of
the result The question was whether the original intention of
including this medicine-priest among those to be cut off should, or
should not, be adhered to. One or two of the chiefs had their
doubts, but the opinion of the council was adverse.
"If the pale-faces killed the Son of their Great Spirit, why should
we hesitate about killing them?" The Weasel asked, with malicious
point, for he saw that Peter was now sorely troubled at the
probability of his own design being fully carried out. "There is no
difference. This is a medicine-priest--in the wigwam is a medicine-
bee-hunter, and that warrior may be a medicine-warrior. We do not
know. We are poor Injins that know but little. It is not so with the
pale-faces; they talk with the conjurer's bees, and know much. We
shall not have ground enough to take even a muskrat, soon, unless we
cut off the strangers. The Manitou has given us these; let us kill
them."
As no one very strenuously opposed the scheme, the question was soon
decided, and Ungque was commissioned to communicate the result to
the captives. One exception, however, was to be made in favor of the
missionary. His object appeared to be peaceful, and it was
determined that he should be led a short distance into the
surrounding thicket, and be there put to death, without any attempt
to torture, or aggravate his sufferings. As a mark of singular
respect, it was also decided not to scalp him.
As Ungque, and those associated with him, led the missionary to the
place of execution, the former artfully invited Peter to follow.
This was done simply because the Weasel saw that it would now be
unpleasant to the man he hated--hated merely because he possessed an
influence that he coveted for himself.
"My father will see a pleasant sight," said the wily Weasel, as he
walked at Peter's side, toward the indicated spot; "he will see a
pale-face die, and know that his foot has been put upon another
worm."
No answer was made to this ironical remark, but Peter walked in
silence to the place where the missionary was stationed, surrounded
by a guard. Ungque now advanced and spoke.
"It is time for the medicine-priest of the pale-faces to start after
the spirits of his people who have gone before him," he said. "The
path is long, and unless he walks fast, and starts soon, he may not
overtake them. I hope he will see some of them that helped to kill
the Son of his Great Spirit, starving, and foot-sore, on the way."
"I understand you," returned the missionary, after a few moments
passed in recovering from the shock of this communication. "My hour
is come. I have held my life in my hand ever since I first put foot
in this heathen region, and if it be the Creator's will that I am
now to die, I bow to the decree. Grant me a few minutes for prayer
to my God."
Ungque signed that the delay should be granted. The missionary
uncovered his head, knelt, and again lifted up his voice in prayer.
At first the tones were a little tremulous; but they grew firmer as
he proceeded. Soon they became as serene as usual. He first asked
mercy for himself, threw all his hopes on the great atonement, and
confessed how far he was from that holiness which alone could fit
him to see God. When this duty was performed, he prayed for his
enemies. The language used was his mother tongue, but Peter
comprehended most of that which was said. He heard his own people
prayed for; he heard his own name mentioned, as the condemned man
asked the mercy of the Manitou in his behalf. Never before was the
soul of this extraordinary savage so shaken. The past seemed like a
dream to him, while the future possessed a light that was still
obscured by clouds. Here was an exemplification in practice of that
divine spirit of love and benevolence which had struck him, already,
as so very wonderful. There could be no mistake. There was the
kneeling captive, and his words, clear, distinct, and imploring,
ascended through the cover of the bushes to the throne of God.
As soon as the voice of the missionary was mute, the mysterious
chief bowed his head and moved away. He was then powerless. No
authority of his could save the captive, and the sight that so
lately would have cheered his eyes was now too painful to bear. He
heard the single blow of the tomahawk which brained the victim, and
he shuddered from head to foot. It was the first time such a
weakness had ever come over him. As for the missionary, in deference
to his pursuits, his executioners dug him a grave, and buried him
unmutilated on the spot where he had fallen.
