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''IN MAJKSTIC i:iRCLES IT SLOWLY ASl r.NDKD TO IIS lOYKin.

OOWIKAPUN

OK.

|)oto the 6os})cl ic.itluD the frlfiou ililrcr ^a&iaits.

EC^EliTON J{. VOUNG,

Author i,j'
" li'i In not and lh,j-tr(ii,i;' •■hullo a Wnjionnx ami Xorlhtni CWwyy-yZ/cv,'

i-lr.

" IJiinihMias ,n- truth ill Fioli.ni-.s gilded sctliua-. A Nuscg;iy of Fact« tied with liic Uil.bai,
<'t Uoiuauco."

LONDON :
CllAKLES U. KELLY, l>, Castle Street, Citv Koad, E.O.,

AND eC, I'ATEllXOSTKIt ItONV, K.C.

P5 MTl

rriiitcd by lituell, Watson, & Mwy, JaI., Loiuion jiihI Aylesbnvy,

CONTENTS.

(.'IIAPTKR I.

Chapter TI. .

Chapter III.

I^HATTER IV.

Chapter V.

Chapter VJ.

Chapter VI r.

Chapter VI TI.

CHAP'I'KR IX.

(IHAPTEH X. .

Chapter XI.

Chapter X(I.

Chapter XIII.

Chapter XIV.

Chapter XV.

Chapter XVI.

Chapter XVII.

I'Aiii:

107

iif)
1 2;}

(;lossahv ok names.

VMlIOrs DIALKCTS.

India.n.

Oo-wik-a-pun
Astuiiuistao .
Mc-yno-tc-sik
Sa-giis-tr-o .
.Mi'-yoo-acliinm-win
Koo-.saf-ii-liim
Kis-ta-yim-(i(»-win
Moo-k 00-111 is

V\iV,V. T!.ANSLATION.

Ouc irlni is h>n;/i/i// ^'or light.

Our who dirt lis in the sti fish inc.

Hriijht I'l/rs.

Siitn-ifif'.

(Jood nnrs,

77/ r conjiirr:'.

The man 0/ piidi'.

The old siff/r.

LIST OV IIJJJSTI^ATIONS.

"IN M.\.ii;sTic ( IK( i.i;s ir si.owi.v as(i:ni)i:i> to its i:vmi:

'• iiir: \v(ti.i- HAD si: /.i:i) mis i.kii ahm"

'• tKlWIKAITS sI'ltANI, liAt K Tu TIIK NIOAHKST Tl!l:i:' ....

'iiN ms .lont.XF.Y Til HIS KAH-AWAY N< Hflll KUN HOMi;"

'• Tiir. ]>i;i:itsKiN' kxoh ny his i.oDnr. was I'Airii ai.i.v iti t ndiski.kssi.v iti.i.i

" ' IIAVK I MIT SI.KN rilA'l lii: A 'iTl IT !. H1'.A( IM.l.T HF.K< HtK ? ' "

'•HI-; HKirsr.H iiik I'i;(ii'it;ui:ii mi'ai. anu i:vi;n riir i.iciiir.i' i'Iim:" .

''•iiii;y iiM.Y r.ArcHi-.ii at my gi jisikins '"

"it cKi'siir.i) iMiwN THi: i.iiti.k wkav'm imh a hoi'i:i,i:ss whkck " .

" I.K.IT HIM 1(1 STUVli(;I.I-: ami I'IM.I,," KTt

'•hi: srnnK.Ni.Y aitackku thi: camii:"

" I'm: HKAST )!Aisi:ii his iiF.Aii," i:tc.

'• HK ASKKll Hi:il I'd MAItHY IIIM"

"IHI; YiHNn NiKN AMI MAIHKSS UK I'HI: \ II, LACK TAI.KIIH,"' i;i( . .

"'my saik^t i'i.an was id iii:T ii' isro a tuki:'" ....
" * in; SKNT TIIK Hn.T.Ki TiiKiircH iwd (i|- tiii:m"' ....

"Till" iir.n I'Fl.l.nW W.'iS (HdSS AMI siki.y"

'•wiiii.i; si ri'i;i! is iikikin); ihi; 1)(I(;s aim; ■■i;ii" .....

ouli

<pii I'l

n AS

hi;

PAdi;

S
L'O

'JS

:«i
II
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CiO
70
S-2
i\-2

K.O

ins
1 1 i'l
iji
i:m
111
j.ji

CHAPTER I.

Oowikapun disquieted.— Why .'—The wolf hunt and its dan,u:crs, — Severe
wounds. — The mysterious trail. — The wigwam of Meniotas, — The Indiaii
doctor. — Treatment of diseases among the Indians. -Surgical operations.
— Indians' tact in times of emergency.

"THE WOl.F HAD SEIZED HIS LEFT AhM."

^^■

ClIAPTEK 1.

rpifAT Oowikapun was unh.appy, strangely so, was evident to
J. t ery one in tlie Indian village. New thoughts deeply
aflecting him had in some way entered into liis mind, nnd he
could not bnt show that they were producing a great change
in liim.

The simple, quiet, monotonous life of the young Indian huntei*
was strangely broken in upon, and he could never be the snnie
again. There had come a decided awakening — the circle of his
vision had suddenly enlarged, and he had become aware of the
fact that he was something more than he imagined. In his
simple faith he had paddled along the ])eautiful rivers, (»•
wandered through the wild forests of his country, catching the
fish or hunting the game, where at times he had heard the
thunders crash, had seen the majestic tree riv(»n by the
lightning's power, and perhaps in these seasons of nature's wild
commotion, had " seen God in the cloud and heard Him in the
wind." Yet, until lately, he had never heard of anything which
had caused him to imagine that he w is in any way allied to tliat
Great Spirit, or was in any way respoixsible to Him.

What was the cause of this mental disquietude ; of these long
hours of absorbing thought ; why did Oowikapun thus act? To
ai\swer these enquiries we must go back a little and accompany
him on a hunting trip which he made in the forest months ago.

Hearing from some other -hunters of a place where grey wolves

f)f)\\'/h.\rifj\.

• !

wove MunicroiiH, iiiid Iciii^^ iiiiihitions (<> kill sonio of (liosr ticrco
l)rntos, tluit lir nii^'hl atlorn liis wigwam with tin ir warm skins,
lie took his (raps and raiiipiiig onttit and s«'t out for that rr^doii
of coiiiilrv. It was iiiorr than two Imndrcd iriilos awav. He
soon found tracks in ahnndaiici'. and cip h(> made his littlr
liMntini; lodm> in thr midst of a spi'uco irrove, he sot his trans

for tho licrco wolvtvs in a spot which sccnnMl to hr their rallyin^T
place. As tliey rti'o very .suspicions and tdever, he carefully placed
two trai)s cl()s«' toj^ether and sprinkled them over with sikiw,
having' visihle oidy the dca«l rabbits wliich served jis bait, 'riien
scatteiin«; nioi-e snow over his own tracks as ho moved away, in
oi<lei' to leave as little evidence of having,' been there as possible,
lie returned to his ttntdike lod^e, prepared and ate his supper,
smoked his })ipe, and then, wrapping himself up in his blanket,
was soon fast asl<»<»p.

Very ( arly next moi'uin*^ lie was up ami off to visit his trat)s.
His axe was slipped in his belt, and his gun, well loaded, was
carried vt>ady for use if necessary. When he had gotten within
II few hundred yards of the place where ho had set his heavy
traps, he 1h ard the rattling of the chains which were attached
to tht ni. This sound, while it made his heart jump, was very
welcome, for it meant that he had been successful. When he
drew near the traps he found that a fierce old wolf, in trying to
get the rabbit from one of them without s[)ringing it, had been
caught in the other, and although both of his hind legs were
hold by the sharp teeth of the trap, he had managed to drag it
smd the heavy log fastened to it (juite a distance.

When Oowikajnm drew near the wolf made the most desperate
efforts to escape ; l)ut the strong trap held him s( curely, and the
heavy log on the chain njade it impossible for him to get far away.

Oowikapun could easily have shot him, but ammunition was
dear, and the bullet-hole in the skin would be a blemish. Then
the s(mnd of the gun might scare away the game that might
l)o near, so he resolved to kill the wolf with the l»ack of his
axe. Bettei" would it have been for him if he had shot him at

ice. So puttinff down his ijun, he took his axe out of his belt

and cautiously approached the treacherous brute. The sight

TUE WOI.F /ff'xr.

• if tln' njMU so iHvii' s<«oiMO(l 1(» fill liiiii willi lirvy, juhI. miiiliN'
In «'S(M|u\ lio in.idr I lit- most (It'sjM'j'iitc ctVoi'ts to I'cacli liini.

IS ;i ji|K'iiriiii('(' u;is (

Irmoiii.KMl, iiiid iii> howls iiiiii siiiiils uoiiiti

!ijiv«' l('i'i'iti«M| iiny one t'xccpt .111 ONpcricnct'd, cool-liciHlcil liimici'.
Oowiktipiin, st'oiii^ what iiii n;jly (Mislomor hr li.nl fo dfal
willi, vrry cautiously ko|it just bryoud the liinils of (Iw tVartuI

])luu

m 's Nv

liicli tin' oliain would allow (lie wolt" (o make, itnd

keenly watclu'il toi- an ojijxnt iiuity (o strike Idui 011 the head.
So wary and (piick \\as tjie wolf that .some Mows i'ecri\t'd only
nioi'i> maddened without disahlin^' him.

Oowikapun at lon^^th hecomin^' annoyi d that he shouhl have
any dillieulty in killin<; an entrapped wolf, resolved to end the
conflict at once with a derisive blow. So. with upiaiscd ax«' he
placed liims«'lf as near as ho thou,«,dit safe, and waited for the
infjiriated hruto to sprinj^ at liim. Hut so much force did the
enti'apped animal put into that spring that it cariiod the lo;.j
attached to the chain alon^ with him. His shaip, ^dittiM'in^',
fanfj-like teeth sna})pe(l together within a few inches of
()owika))un's throat ; antl such was th<^ force of the collision
that the Indian was luirled backwards, and ore he could assume
the aggressive, the sharp teeth of the wolf had S(M/ed his left
arm, wliich he threw up for defence. They seenied to cut down
to the verv bone, causinff intent'

pni

a brave and cool-headed man, and a few Idows fi'om the keen
(•dgo of the axe in liis right hand soon finisluMl a foe whose only
weapons wen^ his sliarp teeth. lie was Sijon lying dead in the

^ss as a rob(

snow; but his beautiful skin was almost worthh

on account of the many gashes it had receiv«d, much to the

annoyance of Oowikapun, who had not dreamed of having a

vtth^ so severe.
The traps were soon reset, and Oowikapun, with the hea\N

olf on his back, sot out for his camj). As lie ha<l sot some
smallei' tra]»s for minks and martens in a dilVd'ent direction,
he turned aside to visit them. This would cause him to I'oturn
to his camp ])V another trail. While moving along un(U'r his
heavy load, ho was sur})risod to come across the snowshoo tracks
of another hunter, lie examined tliom carefully, and d( cided

OOWIKAPIfW

that tliey wore made by some person wlio must have passed alonj^'
there that very morning, t arly as it was.

As the trail of this stranger, whoever he could be, was in the
direction of the traps which Oowikapun wished to visit, he
followed them up, and when lie reached his traps found a mink
had been caught in one of them. But the stranger had taken
it out and hung it up in plain sight above the trap on the
branch of a tree. Then the stranger, putting on fresh l)ait,
liad reset the trap.

Of course. Oowikapun was pleased with this, and delighted
tliat the straiiger had acted so honestly and kindly toward him.

Fastening the mink in bis belt, he hurried on to his camp as
fast as he could under his heavy load ; for his wounded arm had
begun to swell, and was causing him intense pain. His stoical
Indian nature wouid have caused him to bear the pain with
indifference ; but when he remembered how the wolf, maddened
by his capture, had wrought himself up into such a frenzy, and
that his mouth was foaming with madness when he made that
last desperate spring and succeeded in fastening his fangs in his
arm, he feared that perhaps some of that froth might have
gotten into his blood. He understood that unless some remedies
were c^uickly obtained, madness might come to him, to be followed
by a death most dreadful.

But what could he do ? He was several days' journey from
his own village, and many miles from any hunter of his acquaint-
ance. He had, in his vanity, come alone on this hunting
expedition, and now, alone in the woods, far away from his
friends, here he is in his lumting lodge, a dangerously wounded
man.

F'ortunately, he had taken the precaution of sucking as many
of tlie wounds as he could reach with his mouth, and then had
bound a deer-skin thong on his arm above the wounds as tightly
as he could draw it. While brooding over his misfortune, he
suddenly remembered about the snowshoe tracks of the stranger.
He resolved to try and find his lodge and secure help. To decide
was to immediately act. The few preparations necessary were
soon mad<\ and so taking the most direct route to the spot where

TUPJ MYSTJ^JllIOUS Tit AIL.

he had last seen the trail of the stranger he was soun in it. He
was uncertain at Urst wluther to go backwards or forwards on it
in order reach the wigwauj, for he had not the remotest idea
whether these tracks led tt) or from it. 80 his native shrewdness
had to come in play to solve the question. First, he noticed
from the way tlie snowshoes sank in the snow that the man was
cari-ying a hea\T 1om«1. Next, he observed that the tracks wei c
not like those of a hiuiter going out from his home, moving about
cautiously looking for game, but were rather those of a man well
loaded down from a successful hunt and pushing on straight for
home with his burden. Quickly had he read these things and
ariived at iiis conclusions; so he resolved to go on with the trail.
lie was not disappointed. He travelled only a few miles ere, in
a pleasant grove of balsam trees, on the borders of a little ice-
covered lake, he discovered, by the ascending smoke from the
top, the wigwam of his unknown friend. Without hesitancy he
marched up to it, and, lifting the large moose skin, which served
as its oidy door, he stooped tlown and entered. A pleasant fire
was burning oi\ the ground in the centre, and partly circled
around it was the Indian family. As though Oowikapun had
Ijeen long looked for as an expected, honoured guest, he was
cordially welcomed in quiet Indian style and directed to a com-
fortable place in the circle, the seat of the stranger. The pipe
of peace was handed to him, an(' but few words were spykdu until
he had finished it.

Indian eyes are sharp, even if at times their words are few ;
and it was not many minutes before t\\v owner of the wigwam
saw that something was wrong. He drew from him the story of
the killing of the wolf and his fears that perhaps all tie froth
from the animal's teeth had not been rubbed ott" by the leather
shirt and other covering through which they had pasj,ed as they
pierced into his arm.

If Oowikapun had travelled a thousand miles he could not
have been more fortunate in the man to whom he had gone.
This man was Memotas, the best Indian doctor in all that vast
country. When his hunting seasons were over he always spent
his time in studying the medicinal qualities of the lools and

UOW IKAPIW.

herbs of the country wliich the Great 'Spirit luul cieiited tor some
good purpose. He thin l)eeaiiie a l)enediction to tlie .itHicted
ones, receiving but very little fee or reward, as a general thing.

Quickly did JNIeniotas apply his remedies both external an«l
internal, for he knew the risks the man was running; and he
gently insisted on the man remaining in his wigwam as his guest
for several days, until he was about reco^•ered from his wounds.
He would not even luar of his going to visit his traps for ftar his
blood might become heated by the vigorous exercise, and thus
aggravate his woun<Is. So Memotus himself looked after them,
au<l several times returned with rich spoils of fur-bearing auimals,
which he ghuUy handed over to the grateful man.

These great kindnesses completely woi^ the heart of the wounded
man, who considered himself most fortunate in finding so kind a
friend in his hour of need. The kind-hearted wife of Memotas
was also interested in Oowikapun, and did all she could to add to
his conifort and hasten his recovery. The injured man hatl been
surprised at the kindness and respect which Memotas constantly
manifested toward her, and was amazed that he often asked her
advice. He did not as the married men with whom Oowikapun
was acquainted treat her unkindly and even consider her inferior
to himself, as they treate<l their wives. While Memotas' wife,
whose Indian up.Tne was Meyooachimoowin, wjis very industrious
and ke2)t her wigwam and her children tidy and clean, she was
never considered merely a drudge and a slave, and left to do all
the heavy work. Strange to say, she was not allowed to cut the
wood in the forest anil then drag it home. Neitlier «lid siie have
to carry tlie heavy buckets of water up from the lake, as other
Indian women were accustomed to do. Nor did she have to go
out into the woo<ls, perhaps miles away, and carry home on her
back the deer which her husband had shot. Memotas never
would allow her to do anything of the kind. He did all this
himself, and seemed even anxious to save her fnmi fatigue and
toil. Then when the meals were prepared she was not grufHy
sent away to wait until the men had eaten, but with them and
the childre.: she sat down on terms of perfect ecjuality.

They had two children, a boy and a girl, whom tiiey called

■k

THE INDIAN DOiTOli.

Meyookesik and Sagastao, He iiotict'd that tlie «(irl wms just as
much lovtd and petted as the lK)y, and even as kindly trcattd.
Tliis was a state of att'airs entirely unknown in the wigwams of
the pagan Indians. There the boys are petted and spoiled and
early taught to be proud and haughty, and to consider that all
girls and women, even their own sisters and mothers, are much
inferior to them and only worthy of their kicks and contempt.
The boys get the best of everything going and are allowed to eat
with the men first, while the poor women and girls have to wait
until they have finished and then be content with what is left,
which is often not much. Even then they have to struggle with
the dogs for these fragments. The result is they are often half
starved.

Very few comparatively were the diseases known among the
aboriginal tribes of America before the advent of the white
man. Their vocation as hunters, however, rendered them hable
to many accidents. Possessing no firearms, and thus necessarily
obliged to come in close contact with the savage beasts in their
confiicts with them, they were often severely wounded. Foi-
tunate is it for the injured one if he has companions near,
when the bone is fractured, or the flesh torn.

If the injuries are not considered very desperate, a little camp
is improvised, and with a day or two of rest, with some simple
remedies from nature's great storehouse, the forest, a cure is
quickly eil'ected. If a leg or arm Ls broken, a stretcher of young
saplings is skilfully prepared, interwoven with broad bands of soft
bark, and on this elastic easy couch the wounded man is i-apidly
carried to his distant wigwam by his companions.

When there are but two persons, and an accident happens to
one of them, two young trees that are tough and elastic are used.
Their tops of small branches are allowed to remain, and very
much aid in diminishing the jolting caused by the irregularities
of the ground. No carriage spring ever more successfully accom-
plished its purpose. A couple of crossbars jtreserve the saplings
in position, and the bark of some varieties of shrubs or trees
cut into bands and joined to either side forms an even coucli.
In this way an injured man has often been dragged by his

OOWIKAPUN.

companion tor many miles, and in several instances it has been
found on his arrival that tlie fractured bones were uniting, and
soon the limb was whole again.

With these simple children of the forest wounds heal with
great rapidity, and fractured bones soon unite. This reparative
})ower of the aborigines when injured is only paralleled by the
wonderful stoicism with which they bear injuries and inflict
upon themselves the severest torture. With Hints as substitutes
for lances they will cut open the largest abscesses to the very
b(me. They will amputate limbs with their hunting knives,
clucking the hiemorrhage with red-hot stones — as was done long
ago by the surgeons of Eui-ope. With marvellous nerve many
a wounded hunter or warrior has been known to .'imputate his
own limb. They were familiar with and extensively used warui
fomentations. If rheumatism or other kindred disejises assailed
them, the Turkish bath in ti very simple form was often used.
Sometimes a close tent of deer skins served the purpose. The
patient was put in the little tent, while near him heated stones
were placed, over which water was thrown until the confintd
air was heated to the required temperature and saturated
with the steam. Sometimes a hole was dug in the ground about
eight feet deep. In this the patient was placed, and the same
plan adopted as in the wigwam.

Oowikapun had fortunately broken no bones in his battle with
the savage wolf, but he knew that his wounds were dangerous.
Some of them were so situated in his arm that he could not
I'each them with his mouth, in order that he might suck out
the poisonous saliva of the wolf that he feared might be in them ;
and, it now being in the depth of winter, he could not obtain
the medicinal herbs which the Indians use as poultices for
dangerous wounds of this description.

The following incident also shows the tact and shrewdness
with which an Indian can act in an emergency of great
difficulty.

On one occasion Judge Upham, of New Brunswick, was
travelling in the woods in winter, with an Indian for guide.
The snow was so deep and the difficulty of moving so great

IXDTAX r.\(i\

ls been
[ig, and

a,l with
)arative
by the
1 inflict
jstitutes

,he very

knives,
one long
ve many
utate his
;ed warm
^ assailed
ben used,
jse. The
bed stones

confintd
saturated
ind about

the same

attle with
dangerous,
could not
) suck out
e in them :
not obtain
fultices for

shrewdness
y of great

■ 7i :.lg

tliMt the judgo became exhausted, and sitting down, lie directed
the Indian to go and get help, while lie remained wliere he was.
The Indian positively refused, but after much persuasion he
consented, en coudition that the judge should <*oiitinue to sit
on a siuiiip which h<' pointed out, and if he fell ofV, should
immediately get on again. After some remonstrance the judge
was forced to agree to the strange proposition, and make
the retjuired promise. He mounted the stump and tlie Indian
disappeared. By-and-l)V the judge fell asleep, and, as tlie
natural result, tumbled oft' the stump. Then he understood
why the Indian had made him promise to sit on the stiunp —
to prevent him from going to sleep and heing fro/en to death.
When the Indian finally arrived with help, he found the judge
sitting on the stump, but with great difhculty keeping awake.
Ife owed the preservation of his life to this simple ruse of
the red man.

swick, was
for guide,
ig so great

CHAPTER II.

Happy W life in the wigwa.n of a Christian Indian.-Oowikapun, while
recovering from hus u-nun<ls, l,ears the Bible read, and the ri.lt way
described -Returns to his hunting gronnds.-Close quarters witl a
herce old bear.-Advice to bear-hunters. - Indian woman's bravery

•' MlfcV '''■'"" ^W

"OOWIKAPCN SCHANC HACK TO TllK NKAHIST IKII,.'

^5*

^^"1

I ll i i n m r ■ I If , ,

;LS

,fi;

(JIIArTEU

II.

OOWIKAPI'^N w.'is })e\vil(lere(l at tho iiiarwllous contriist
betwtu'n wlint lie liiul been iurustomod to witness in tlie
wretched wigwsinis of liis own people Jind wliat lie here saw in
this bright little tent of Meniotas. It was all so new and stranj:;e
to him. Everybody seemed so Imppy. No rnde words wert^
spoken by the boy to his mother, and there was no tyrannising;
over his sister. With ecpial affection Memotas treated jNEeyoc-
kesik and Sagastao, and great was his kindness sind attention
to his wife. At first Oowikapnn's old prejudices and defective
education regarding women almost made him bidievethat Memotas
was lacking in brave, manly qnalities. Why shonkl he thus
allow his wife and daughter to be on such terms of equality with
himself and his son 1 But when he became better acquainted
with him he found that thir, was not the case.

Oowikapun could not then solve this question ; neither did he
until ill after years. Then the solution came to him as it had
come to Memotas.

There was one custom observed in the wigwam of jNIemotas
that gave Oowikapun more surprise than any of tliese to whicli
we have referred, for it was something which he liad never heard
or seen before. In tho morning and (Veiling JNIemotas woukl
take out of a bag a little book })rinted in strange characters, and
read from it, while his wife and children reverently and quietly
sat around h:m and listened to the strange words. Then they

■21

OOWIKAPIN.

would sing, in a manner so difVerent from the wild, droninp,
monotonous .songs of tie ronjurns, that 0()wikn})un was tillc!
with a strange feclii.c of awe, wliicli was much increased when
they all knelt . reverently on the ground, and Memotas

seemed to talk with the Great Spirit, and really called Jiini
his Father. Then he thanked Him for all their blessings,
asked His forgiveness for everything they had done that was
wrong, and asked His blessing upon his family and every-
body else — even u[)()n his enemies. And then, before he ended,
he besought the Good Spirit to bless Oowikapun, and not only
heal his wound.^, but take the darkness from his mind and
make him ilis child. And he always ended his prayers by
asking the Good Spirit to do all these things for the sake of
His Son, Jesus.

All this was very strange and even startling to Oowikapun.
He had lived all his life in a land dark with super.stition and
paganism. The gospel had as yet nevtr been theie proclainu d.
The name of Jesus had never been heard in that wild north land.
As none of the blessedness of religion had entered into the hearts
of the people, so none of its sweet, loving, elevating influences
had begun to ennoble and bless their lives and improve their
habits. He pondered over what he witnessed and heard. He
was thankful when the day's hunting was over. Memotas would
talk to him as they sat there on their robes around the fire, often
for hours at a time. From him he learned how it was that they
had so changed in many of their ways. Memotas told him of
the coming to Norway House of the first missionary, the Rev.
James Evans, with the book of heaven, the words of the Good
Spirit to His children, lie told him many of the wonderful
things it speaks about, and that it showed how man was to love
and worship God, and thus secure His Wessing and favour. The
little book which Memotas had was composed of the four gospels
only. These Mr. Evans had had printed at the village himself
in Indian letters which he had invented, and called syllabic
characters. They are so easily learned by the Indians that in
a few weeks those who were diligent in their studies were able
to read, very Huently, those portions of the Word of God already

t I

rrnnsri.[.\ life jx a ii/^jr.i i/.

I when
[oiiiotas
•d lliiii
essings,
at was
( very-

eiiclecl,
ot onlv
nd and
yers ))y
sake of

ikapun.

ion and

:*laiiin d.

th land.

e hearts

thiences

76 their

d. He

would

often

it they

him of

ne Rev.

10 Good

mderful

to love

'. The

gospels

himself

syllabic

that in

re able

already

translato(l for them, as well as a niimher of hcaiitiful hymns,
some of whieh lie had heard ihem sin^'. OowiUajmii Imd nevi r
heard of such tlunus, ami was so ama/( d and confoiiiuit d tlial.
he eould hardly l)eli<ve that he was in his ri/ufiit mind. Men'.otas
tried to give him some idea of tiie syli.ihic eiiai-acters in uiiieli
liis littU^ liook was [)rin(tMl. lie made little sentences with a
[nei'o of coi.l on hirch hai-k. and then handed tliem to his wife or
childi(>n, who ea.sily read (Mit what liad been written. That
hirch bark could talk, as he expressed it, was a mystery
indeed.

When the time came for Oowika^ain to return to his lionif
Memotas wi nt with him (pnte a distance, lb' had heconie very
nnich interested in him. lieing a lia[)py, convei-ted Christian
iiimself, he was anxious that this man, who had comi' to him anti
been benefited phy>ically, should hear about his souls need and
the (beat Physician who could henl all his diseases. Lovin''U
and faithfully he talked to him and urged him to acce})t of this
great salvation. Then he asked him to kneel down with him,
and there, out alone with him anddol, Memotas prayed earnestly
that this dark panar brothel" might yet come into the light of
the gospel. Then he kissed him, and they parted, nf.t to nu el
again for years.

Iia[)py would it have been for Oowikapun if ho had respondi d
to Memotas' intreaties, and even tried to heconu' a t'hristian.
But the heart is hard and blind( d as well as deceitful, and the
• levil is cunning. So long, sad years pasted by ere Oowikapun.
after trying, as we shall see. other ways to lind peace and sou|
comtoit, humbled himself at the cross, and found peace in holievhig
on thf; Lord Jesus Christ.

Oowikapun returned to his little luilge, rekindle d the fire, and
tried to ent«'r upon his hunting' life where he had loft ofV when
wounded by the wolf, lie stretchi d the furs already secured,
then, early next morning, visited his traps, and spent the rest
of the day hunting for deer. His success was not \ery great.
The fact is, what he had heard and witnessed during the days
of his sojourn in the wigwam of Memotas had given him so
much food for thouirbt that he was not concontratinix his mind

2-1

()(n\ /hA/'f X.

oil Wis work in u inniiiiri" (hut woulil l»riiig tlu" j^rcatrst siiccoHri,
He woiiM soinctiiiH's p«t into ii reverie so absoi'liin^' that he
would stop in tlic trnil and strive to think over and over a«j;nin
wh.Mt he liad Iward ahout tlie j^ood IJook and its teiiehin^ifs. Verv
suddenly <>n«' day he was roused eul of one of these reveries.
He liiid «;on(' out to visit some tiMps which he had sot in a place
where he had noticed the ti'aeks of wild-cats. While ;^oing alon;L,'
through a ilense foi'est, witli his «,niii strapped on his hack, he
got so lost in thought that his natur.illy shrewd instincts i»s a
hunter, shari)encd hy practice, seemed to have desi rted him, and
he nearly stumbled over a huge old she-l»ear anti a coujtie of cubs.
\N'ith a gi'owl of lage at In ing thus distui'brd, the lierci' brute
rushed at him, (juickly broke up his reverie, and brought iiim
hack to a senses of piesent danger. To unstrap his gun in time
for its succes.sful use was impossible; but the ever-ready shai'p.
[Htinted knife was availal)le. Accustometl to such ])attles, althougii
never taken before so unexpectedly, Oowikapun sprang back to
the nearest tree, which, foitunately for him, was near at hand.
With a large tree at his back, and a good knife in his hand, an
( xperienced hulian has the advantage on his side, and can generally
kill his savage antagonist without receiving a wound. But, if
attacked l)y a black bear in the open i)lain, armed with only a
knife, the huntt r rarely kills Ins enemy without receiving a fearful
hug or some dangerous wounds.

One of tlie lirst bits of advice which an ex[)erienccd Indian
hunter gives to a young hunter who got s out anxious to kill a
bear, or who may possibly, while hunting for some other game,
be attacked by one, is to get his back up against a tree so large
that if the bear is not killed by the bullet of his gun, he may be
in th{^ best po8sil)Ie posititm to tight him with liis knife. It is
no clnld's play. A wounded, maddened l»ear is a fierce foe. The
black bear's method of attacking his Jiuman antagonist is (juite
different from that of tlie griz/ly bear of the Rocky Mountain
region. The grizzly strikes out with its dreadful claws with such
force that he can tear a man to [)ieces, and is able to crusli down
a liorse under his powerful blows. But the black liear tries to
get the hunter in his Jong, strong, a.rm-like fore legs and then

rfe

CLOSK i,H' ART Kits Wfllf A /th'AIt.

SlU'COHri,
tIlUt lut

1. Vt'iv

•

rcvcrirs.
I ii pliice

l>iick, lu'
cts Jis n.
Iiiiii, niul
' t)t' cubs,
c' hrutt'
<j;ht him

in time
y slmi'p'
nlt]i(ni;j;li

l)ack to

at luind.

hand, an

jfcncrally

But, if

1 only a

a fearful

1 Indian
o kill a
"i" jy:ame,
so large
may be
it is

Tli(>
is (juitc
ountain
ith such
di down
tries to
nd then

erusli him to d«'ath. 'I'lu» hug of a hoar, as w)me limit* rs know
to theii' cost, is a warm eudnace. Som«'. who. hy tin* <|uick,
skilful use of tlioir knives, or hy the prompt arri\al of a rescue
party, lia\e hecn rescued from the almost deadly luig. have told
mo how their ribs have been bi'oken ami their breast i)onts almost
ci'usheil in by tlie teirible hug. I know of stivera! who have bciui
in sucIj eontlicts, and altliough tlu\v managed to e.scape dtatli ijy
driving tia'ir knives into some vital .spot, yet they liad sulVeretJ so
much from broken ribs an<l other injuries n»ceiv«d tliat they were
never as stiong and vigorous afterwards. But witli a goo<l tree
at his back, his trusty knife in liis hand, and Ins brain cool, the
advantage is all on the side of the hunter.

Among the many stoiies told of such conliicts, tliere is one by
a Canadian Indian, which shows that even the women know
liow to successfully conipicr in thest* encounters. This hunter
was out looking for game, and had succeeded in killing a deer,
which he left in the woods for his wife to skin, while lie r(turne«l
to his wigwam for his sled on which to drag it home, it was in
the sj)ring of the year, and there was still snow on the grouiul.
A great, hungry bear that had just left his den after his long
winter's sleep, while prowling about looking for food, got on the
scent of the blood of the newly-killed deer. Following it up, he
soon reached the spot where the Indian woman was skinning the
animal. She had jii.st time to spring up with the knife in her
hand, and back up against a tree close at hand, ere the half-
famished brute sprang on the deer and began devouring it. See-
ing the woman .so clo.se, he seemed to think it best to get rid of
her l)efore eating his meat, and so, with a growl, he rushed at
hor. lie raised himself up on his hind-legs, and tried to get his
fore-pawa around her and thus crush her to death. She was a
brave woman, and knew what to do. Holding the knife (irmly
in her hand, slu^ waited until his hot breath was in Ikm* face and
he was ti'ying to crowd his paws in between her back and the
tree against which she was pressing herself with all hei* might.
Then, with all her force, she plunged the sharp-pointe*! knif(!
into his body in the region of his heart, and gave it a (|uick,
shai'p turn. So thoroughly did she do her work that the great,

OOWIKAPUX.

fierce brute could only throw \\\) his paws aud fall over dead.
The bravo squaw had killed him without receiving a scratch
herself. When the husband returned with the sled, he found
that not onlv had his wife skinned the deer, but also a biii;
black bear.

■ ■i^i

r dead.

scrutcli

found

-^
^

CHAPTEH III.

His victory.-Thc cubs captured. -Stiirts for humo.-VisiLs the villi.-e of
pagan relativcs.-Urged to join in the wild dance of p.'opitiation to the
devil.- Memories of Memotas at first restrain him. -Yields at last —
Dances until lie falls unconscious. -Left alone in a ])ark wigwam -His
siul condition. -His wonderful dream.

••ON HIS JolUMlV I'D MIS l\U-A\\AV NOjn'llJlKN UDMi:."

'■'li:

CHAPTER III.

OOWIKAPUN was taken off liis guard for onoe. But he was
soon himself again. Before the infuriated beast could get
her paws around hin\. one quick, vigorous thrust of his knife, and
liis antagonist, armed only with teeth and claws, lay dead before
him. So sudden had been the attack, and so quick had come
the deliverance, that for the first time in his life Oowikupun
offered up, as well as he could, words of thanksgiving to the
Great Spirit for his escape. In his own crudt^' ^^''.yj •'•iid with
the Indian's naturally religious instinct and traditions, he had
believed in the existence of a good s])irit which he called Kissa
Maneto. He also believed in a bad spirit, whose name was
Muche Maneto. But in the worship he had engaged in hereto-
fore he had endeavoured to propitiate and turn away the malice
of the evil spirit, rather than to worship the good spirit, about
whom he had had but very vague ideas until his visit to the
Christian hunter's wigwam. Now, however, even before he
skinned the b, ar, he prayed to that good "'pirit, the giver of all
his Idessings, and was grateful for his deliverance. Would that
he had continued trying to pray.

He was very glad to get the meat and skin of the bear, and
also the two little cubs, which he easily captured alive. Bending
down some small trees, he tied the great(U' portion of the meat
in the tops, and then let them swing up again, as he could not
carry much back with him in addition to tJie two friskv little

I I

'-",1

^ffff

OOWIKAPTN.

i\ i i

bears. This plan of cacheing supplies in tbe tops of small trees,
as the Indians call it, is almost the only way that things can
be safely loft in the woods where so many wild animals are
prowling about. If the meat were put up in the branches of
a Lirge tree, the wolverines or wild cats would soon get on the
.«:cont of it, and, })eing able to climb the trees, would make
.short work of it. Tf l)uried in the ground, these' animah would
soon get it. But buried in the tops of the small trees it is
perfectly safe. The animals cannot climb, and they have not
wit enough to cut the tree dow-n with their tteth. So the cachp
is safe until the owner comes for it.

Thus Oowikapun hunted until the season was almost ended.
Then making a long, light sled he packed on it his furs, camping
outfit, and the two young bears, which had become quite tame,
and started out on his jo\irney to his far-away northern home.
Loaded as he was, he saw it would take him several days to
make the journey, and so he resolved to go a little out of his
way and visit a village of Indians at the meeting-place of three
I'ivei's. They \y(jl^ of the same tribe as his own people, and
some of them were distant relatives. Unfortunatelv for him,
they were in the midst of one of their superstitious dances. The
dancts and sacrifices of dogs were a kind of propiciatory offering
to the Muche Maneto, the devil, to put him in good humour, so
that he would not interfere w ith them and prevent their having
great success in the coming spring hunt. Of course Oowikapun
was invited to join in the dance. Much to their surprise he
at first refused. This they couid not understand, as in previous
visits he had been eager to spring into the magic circle and
display his agility and powers of endurance. When questioned
as to his reasons for declining, he told them of his visit to the
camp of Memotas, and what he had luard and witnessed. They
gathered around him, and, Indian-like, listened in silence until
he had told them his story. It was not only received with a
good deal of incredulity, l)ut with scorn. The men were astounded,
and indignantly exclaimed, —

" So he lets his wife eat with him, does he ? cuts the wood himself,
carries the water, and prays to the Kissa Maneto to bless his

J()I.\^ l.\ 1 11 hi SI- l>F. II ST IT 10 IS l)Ai\'CK.

\\\

11 trees,
igs can

lals are

dies of

on the

I make

-^'

y would

es it is

■'

ave not

le cache

ended.

•am ping

e tame,

n home.

days to

; of his

)f three

)le, and

3r him,

Tlie

offering

loiir, so

having

ikapun

rise he

levious

■]e and

istioned

to the

They

e until

with a

•unded,

imself,
ess his

enemies, instead of trying to ])()is()n or shoot them — that is tlu-
white mail's religion, is it, which ^lemotas has iieceptod .' Well,
let him keep it. Ft is not what w<' want. As our fathers lived
and died, so will we. And don't he a fool, Oowikapun. Vou
will he wanting one of onr daiightei's one of tluse days to he
your wife ; then, if you treat lier like Memotas treats his, she
will ])(' coming l)ack and telling our women all about it, : d
there will he a. ])retty fuss. Oh no, this will never do. You
have had bad medicine throwu into your eyes and you do not
see straight."

Thus they answered him, and day after day bantered him.
The poor fellow was anxious to follow the entreaties of Memotas,
hut as yet unconscious of tlie divine power which he might have
had if he had only asked for it, and so, lack'- the strength to
resist these temptations of his heathen friends, es[)e(iMlly when
he heard from the lying conjurers that even the hiack-eyed
maidens were talking about his strange unwillingness to join
in tlie religious ceremonies, he yielded and sjnang into the
circle. Madly and recklessly lie danced to the monotonous
drummings of the old conjurei's and medicine men, who had been
fearful that they Avere al)out to lose th(>ir grip upon him. A
wild frenzy seemed to have entered into him, and he danced
on and on until even his hardened, stalwart frame could stand
it no longer. Suddenly he fell upon the ground in a state of
unconsciousness, and had to be carried to a little wigwam, where
on a bed of spruce branches he was left to recover consciousness
when he might.

Such occurrences among the Indians in their wild state, when
celebi-ating some of their i-eligious ceremonies, such as this devil
worshij) or their sun oi- ghost dances, were not at all uncommon.
Wrought up to a state of freii/y, some of these devotees ceased
not their wild dancings day or night. Tl.ey danced sometimes
for three days continuously. Then, utterly exhausted, they fell
into a deathly swoon, which often continued for many hours. In
this sad plight was poor Oowikapun.

For hours he remained like a corpse. He was in a state of
absolute unconsciousness, and without an apparent movement of

»2

oowihApr.y.

r> '

oitluT muscle or limb. Aftrr a time tho mind 1)0<(au to act. and
strange, distorted dreams and visions Hittcd through his disordei-cd
hrain. At lirsl all was coid'usion and discord. Then there came
to him something more like a vision than a dream, and so vividly
was it impressed upon him that it was nevei' forgotten.

Here it is as told years after: ()()wika[)nn (hvamed that
he was one of a large company of his people who were on a
long joui'ney which all had to take. It led them over higli
mountains and trackless plains, along swift rivers, and across
stormy lakes, through great forests where fierce wild heasts
were ever ready to spring upon them, and where quaking bogs
were in tiie way to swallow up these who were for a moment
off their guard. The company was constantly diminishing
as they journeyed on, for the dangers w^ere so many th.at death
in V. "-^us forms was constantly cutting them off. The survivors,
fall ot sadness and hurried on hy some irresistible impulse, could
not sto}) long in the way. All they could do was to give those
who had fallen a hasty burial, and then join in the onward
march. Darker aiul darker became the sky, and worse and
worse seemed the way. Still on and on they were impelled.
They had to cross the wide, stormy lakes, and in every one of
them some of the party were lost. In every rough portage some
fell fainting by the way, and sank down to rise no more. The
crouching panther and thi' fierce wolves in the dense forest were
ever on the alert, and many a man and woman, and even some of
the little children, fell victims to these savage beasts. A feeling
of sadness and despair seemed to take possession of all. Vainly
they called upon the conjurers and nir-dicine men to get help
from their Manetos to make the way easier, and to find some
information for them why they were tiavelling on this trail,
and the place to which it led. Very unsatisfactory were the
answers which they received. They had no information to give
abo\it the trail. But they reported that they had heard from
their forefathers that there was a place called the " happy
hunting grounds '"' beyond the high mountains. But the way
was long and dark, and they had no guide to lead them in the
gloom, and none to tell them how they could find the passes

THt: WONDEliFUL DREAM.

:?:?

net. ;in<l
^ordei'tnl
ro camo
> vividly

B(l tliat
vo on a
or liiuli
(1 across
1 i)BastK
iiig bogs
moment
linishing
[it deatli
irvivors,
se, could
Lve those
onward
)rse and
mpelled.
one of
ge some
The
est were
some of
feeling
Vainly
jet help
d some
is trail,
ere the
to give
•d from

' ijiippy

le way
in the
[)asses

in the mountains. W'liile thus almost broken-hearted in the
way, the thought came to Oowikapun, in his dream or vision,
that surely there must lu' a better trail than t'lis rough one,
wherein so many of the people were perishing. \\'ith tiiis thought
in his niind he resolved, if possil)le, to bnnik away from tlie
company and try to find a safer path. If he failed in his ellbrts
and perished mist3rably in his search, what did it matter { 'L'iu^y
were dying olf very rapidly where they were, and things could
not be worse.

Then, if he succeeded in finding a better road where the skies
were bright, where storms came not, where [)ortages wen^ short
and easily passed, and the breezes on the lakes only vvaftt d them
on their way, — if he could find a trail where no savages l)L'asts
lurked, and could talk with some one who had been over the
way, or could tell him that it ended well, — if he could oidy
succeed in getting his people in this better path, huw iTJoiced he
and they would be.

Then it setmed in his dream that he made the effort to break
away. But he tohl no one of what was in his htart, or of his
resolves, for he was afraid of being ridiculed by his comrades
if he shouhl try and then fail in his efforts. He found it very
Lard at lirst to get out from the old trail, but he persevered and
succeeded.

He found the way become smoother, and in some way whicli
he could not undtrstand hdp was being given him several times
just when he needed it. C'luering words and sweet songs at
times fell upon his ears, and made him forget that he was alone
and footsore in this trying work. Once, when his way le I him
over a great lake, and he was out upon it alone in a little boat,
in which it seemed impossible for him to reach the fartlier shore,
and he was about giving up in despair, there came a strong,
firm han<l upon the little helm, and soon he was safe at his
landing-place.

From this place the travelling was very nuich easier, and he
journeyed on, ever looking for the safer trail for his people.
Seeing before him a pleasant hill he hurried to its summit,
and there before him in the valley, stretching away in the

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OOWIKAPOX.

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(Ustaiure, on Jiiul on until lost in a golden cloud of biij^iitness,
like the siu\light on the waters, he saw a. brojid trail, smooth
and beautiful, with a great company of hajjpy people walking
in it. As he watched more carefully he observed that some were
Indians, and some were white people, and some of other colours.
But all seemed so happy and bright and joyous, that 0)vvikapun
wept as he thov.ght of the unhappy condition of his own people
in the other trail.

Wearied by his long journey, and charmed hy the sight before
him, he tarried there for hours, and then he thought he fell
asleep, and while in this condition a man with a covered face
came to him and gently aroused him, and, seeing that he had
been weeping, asked in gentle, sympathetic tones why he should
weep while before him there was so much jo}' and happiness.

Touched by the kindly manner o' the sti'anger, Oowikapiui
forgot his usnal reserve and told him all that was in his heart.
While he talked the visitor listened in silence until he had
told his sad story. Then, heaving a sigh that seemetl full of
sorrow, he said, —

" Has not the Great Spirit pitied you and tried to help you ?
Did He not send you to the vvigv.'am of one of His followers to
give you some directions abont getting in the better way? Is
He not waiting and watching to see how you are using what
knowledge you have secured 'I Why have you so soon forgotten
your first lesson ? "

Then he quickly moved to go. As he turned away, the covering
for an instant dropped from his face. Oowikapun got a glimpse
of it, and it vividly reminded him of Memotas.

i^ i

CHAPTER IV.

The sart awakening.— The \ox\<r. dreadful night— Tlie morning sk'ep.— A
mysterious unseen visitor.— The camp-fire hurning.— Food prepare<l. -
Curiosify aroused. -Who could have done it ?- -Journey resumed.—
Alone again on the trail.— Startled by sweet music— The song he
heard.

hi!

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"THE DEKKSKIN DOOH OF UlS LODGE WAS PAKTIALI.Y BUT NOISELf.SSLY PILLED ASIDE.

l\ l'

iiiiin"iii \i 'i UMWo^ ''

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ClfAPTER IV.

WITH a sliU't Oowik.'ipiin awoko from his loii^ slcoj), fonfiisod
jind bowildcrod. So vivid liad been his <h-o;im tliat it w.is
some time before lie could ^MJisp his suiToundings mikI come b.Mck
to life's realities.

It was a iii<;ht of intense darkness. Fierce, cold winds oime
shriekinfi; out of the dense forest and shook the litth^ bark tent
into which ho hnd been thrown. No cheerful lire burned in tlu*
centre, and there was not a ])erson in the wigwam to offer aid or
help Every bone and muscle in his Ixxly seemed to ache, ;i,nd his
mind was so disti'ncted and his nerves unstrung that he was
thoroughly miserable. He was nearly destitute of clothintr, for he
had been carried out from the circle just as he had danced and
fallen, and now here he was nearly naked and shivering with the
cold. Vainly he groped about for his fire-bag in which iio cai-i-ied
his flint and steel that he might strike a light ; but in Ihe iiil:y
darkness nothing could be found. Oidy a visitor in tlu^ village,
he felt, with Indian reserve, that it would be a great l)reach of
decorum and a sign of great weakness if he were to call for help.
So in spite of his aches and shiverings he resolved tliat he would
at least be a " brave," and patiently endure until the morning
brought him light and fri( nds.

Very long, indeed, to Oowikapun seemed that cold, dark night-
The reaction had come, and physically and mentally he was to be
pitied. His dance had cariied him very near to the verge of the

Nil

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(HnVIKAI'UX.

(laiico (>r (l«'iiMi. Ami <ln'ii in irt'cronco lo liis vixid tlicimi,
ulllioii^'h MS yr( lu' could ii(tt. i!»((M|»n't imich of it, still tlirro wiih
tl»o Vii/jfiic idt'M, as !i liMUiilin^' feiir, tiuit it liid come to him to
cliidc liiiii lor liis cowiii'ilico in liillin^' back and takin;^' part in tho
devil dance aftor liavin;^' heard of tlie othei" way. Killed with
sorrow ho sat on his rude bed of hou^dis. hour after hour, with his
lo(!ked hands clas[>in^' his knoos, and his h(>ad ))owed npon his
h roast.

'I'hc, Fcnv sounds which l)roke tho stillness of those hours or
interrupted tho sighin;.; of tho winds were not pleasant. A groat
owl, ensconced in a troo not far away, maintained for a long tinio
its monotonous " hoot-a-hoot a-hoo," while away in tho distant
forest gloom, rising at times shrill and distinct above tho litful
wind, ho heard tho wail of the catamount, or panther, tho
saddest and most moiu'iiful sound that ever broke the silence
of forest gloom. It is a sound so like tlu^ wail of a child in
mortal agony thai, heard close at hand, it has Ciiiised tho face of
many a brave wife of the backwoods settler to blanch witli terror
and to cry out with fear, its despairing wail seemed to poor
Oowikapun as the echo of the fec^ling of his saddened lioart.

I)ut the longest night has an end, and to the patient watchers
day dawn comes again. So it was in this case. As tlie tirst rays
of light l)ogan to ent(U' in through the cracks and crevices of the
wigwam, Oowikapun rojoj.'ed greatly, and then foil into a heavy
sleep.

When ho awoke tho camp fire was burning brightly on tho
giound before him, a warm blanket was over his shoulders, and
food, warm an<l inviting, near the fire, was ready for him.

Oowikapun rublu'd his eyes, rose up and shook himself, and
wondeied whether this was a vision or a reality. His keen
appetite, sharpened by long fasting, came to his help, and
naturally aided in tho settling of the (piestion. 80 he vigorously
attacked the food, and was soon refreshed and comforted.

Just as he was about finishing his meal the deerskin door of his
lodge was partially but noiselessly pulled aside, and bis outer
garments and Indian finery, including his prized iire-bag, all of
which he had thrown off at the beginninij of the dance, were

TirK Mvsr honors \ isiroii.

8!»

• juickly jiIikmmI insi«l«' the (1(m>i'. The tiling was (lono so spccMllly
JiTul <iiii«'tly tliiit it lUMiily «'s('ii|m'«1 his iioticr, shMrp uiul (luick jis
ho wns. A (h'lin^'ht of <iir roinin;; in through tlx^ piirtly optMunl
(1o(»i' (Miiscd hill) to turn ami look, htit he was only in tiiiio to sim>
a hiind nn«l a shM|Ktly nriii, on which was u iM'jiulit'nlly wion;;ht
lu-acch't of Intliiin Iwatl-work, draw close n^'ain thr cm'tjiin-liko
door.

Jt would have Ikjcu considered a «(reat luoach of decoiiun if he
had manifested any curiosity or had arisen to see who tlio poison
was to whom he was indel)ted for this kiuihiess. Ho cuii)in«( all
curiosity lu^ linislu'd iiis bn akfast and put on ins a[)parel. Stran^'e
to say, ho st^emed anxious to he as pn sentahle as possible. Then
j(oin<^ out he was soon ^'reottd by his friends, who all be«;an ur^Lring
him to accept of their hos[>italitios an<i oat with them. When
Oowikapun stated that lie had oaten already a hearty meal they
were all anui/ed, and doubly so when ho told them of what had
been done for him in tlu* wigwam while he slept. Their heartless
custom had over been to h'ave tho luiconscious dancer alone and
uncar«'d for until be emerged from tho tent, and then oiler him
their hospitality. But bore had bt^en a strange innovation, and
the question was immediately raised. Who has done this/ In
spite of many entpiiries everybody seemed to be in ign()ranc(\

Oowikapun's curiosity was now aroused, and lie became exceed-
ingly desirous to find out who this benefactor was. He wanted to
oxproFs his gratitude. Among other plans that werc^ suggested to
his mind was to endeavour to lind out who had taken charge of his
clotbing and tire-bag while he was dancing in tho tent. But even
hero h(^ failed to get any clue. Everybody seemed to have become
so absorbed in the ceremonies of tho dance, or in watching tho
endurance of the dancers, that all such minor things were for-
gotten. When tbe conjurers and medicine men canie to con-
gratulate Oowikapun on his efforts, and called his dances "good
medicine," a sudden feeling of abhorrence and repulsion came into
his heart toward them. As (juickly as he dare<l he turned from
them in disgust, anil resolvetl to got out of tho village and awfiy
from their influence as soon as possible.

His few preparations were soon completed, and saying " What-

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OOWIKAPUX.

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cheer," tlio Tndiiui farewell, he securely fastened his little bears
with his furs upon his sled, and throwing? the strap over his
shouldi'r, he resumed the trail that led to his still distant home.
Soon he was out of the village and in the forest. Hnares and
traps abounded on each side of the path, for the game was plen-
tiful. Especially were the i-abbits and white partridges, the
beautiful ptarmigan, Vcry abundant that winter and spring, and
hundnnl-; were cauglit in snares by the boys and women and girls.
For M time he had the well beaten trail over which these people
travelled as thev diiilv visited tlieir snares.

Oa pushed Oowik.-ipun initil nearly every snow-shoe track of
these hunters hiid disappeared. The sense of being alone again
in the forest, or nearly so, returned to him with depressing results.
Rapidly and vividly did there pass throuoh his memory the events
of the last few days. Especially did his singular dream come up
before him. A feeling of remorse filled his heart that he had
yielded to the importunities of his pagan friends and had been
persuaded to take any part in the dance. Then his thoughts
went fiirther back, and he was with Memotas again, and the
memory of their last walk came up distinctly. Especially did
he remember the loving words about the true way. Then as
he recalled the spot where wath him he bowed in prayer,
and put up his hand on his brow where the good mnn's
kiss had been im})nnted, the very spot seemed to burn, and
Oowikapun could have wept, only foi- his indignation at his
cowardice.

Thus moodily he strode along on the trail, now nearly destitute
of all evidences of travel, when he was startled and amazed by a
strange sound.

It was a- woman's voice he heard. And although the tones
were low and plaintive, yet he could easily make out the ivords
of the song. Jfe had heard them over and over again in the
wigwam of Memotas. They were :

" Jesus not it a ye-moo-win,
Is pe-mek ka ke it oo-tate,
Wo-yn, pi-ko ne mali-me-sin,
Nesta a-we itoo ta-yan."'

T
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THE SOXG HE IIEABD.

To our readers who may not be posted in the Cree language of
the far north we give the EngUsh translation of the verse :

'■ Jesus my all to hcavcm is jjone,
He whom I fix my hopes upon ;
His track I see, and I'll pursue
The narrow way till Him I view."

This hymn, one verse of which we give, was the first one
translated into the Cree. It is a universal favourite, and is
frequently heard, not only in the public religious services and at
the family devotions, but oftc^n the forest stillness is lu-oken by its
cheering notes. Mr. Evans printed in syllabic characters his first
copies of it on birch bark, as he had no paper.

But how did it get out here so far away in the wilderness ?
And who was the sweet singer 1 These were questions now in
the mind of Oovvikapun as he stood still in the trail, uncertain
what to do, but strangely thrilled by the song, which had so
quickly carried him back to the tent of the loving Christian
Memotas.

i^'

CHAT^TER V.

The beautiful singer — The sudden meeting in the narrow trail. — The tell-
tale bracelet. — The candid conversation. — Our heroine's past history. —
One year she had heard of Jesus. — Had known L^emotas, and James
Evans. — Now was persecuted by her pagaif relatives. — Sang her sweet
song in the forest solitudes. — " Astumastao," our heroine.

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IIAVK I NOT SKEN THAT BEAUTtFUT- nUACEI.KT BEFORE?"

CHAPTER V.

OT long had he to wait, for soon there emerged from among
the young l)alsam trees a fair Indian maiden. She carried
a number of snow-white ptarmigan and a few rabbits which had
rewarded her skill as a huntress, as well as her enterprise in
coming so far from the village to set her snares. She was taller
than are most Indian maidens, and her eyes were bi-ight and
fearless. As she stepped into the trail and ti.rned her face
homewards, she gave a sudden start as, lifting up her eyes, she
found herself face to face with Oowikapun. Quickly regaining
her composure, xhe threw her game over her back, in the Indian
woman's style of carrying her loads, and, with the natural Indian
womanly modesty, seemed anxious to at once go on. It a|)pfc'ared
probable that not a word -would have passed between them.
However, just at the moment when the maiden swung her load
of game on her back, the shawl she was wearing fell back for an
instant fi'om her arm, and on it Oowikapiui's quick eye detected
the beautiful bracelet that he had seen that morinng on the arm
that had closed the door of his little lodge.

This discovery filled him with curiosity, and he resolved to find
out who she was, and why she had shown him, a stranger > so
much kindness. But the difficulty was how to begin. His natural
Indian training told him it would be a bi-each ol" decorum to speak
to her, but so great was his anxiety to find the solution of what
even was a mystery to the villagers themselves, that he felt he

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OOWIKAPUN.

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must not let the opportunity p.'is.s by. Man's bluntnoss is his
own poor su})stitute for woman's superior tact, and so, as slie was
sil)out to pass, lie said, '' Have I not seen that ])eautiful bracelet
])ef()re l " lie tried to speak kindl}^, but he was excited and
t't^arful that she would be ^one. So liis voice soiuuled harsh and
stern, and it startled her. Her face flushed a little, but she
(piickly re^^ained her composure, and then quietly said, —

" It was made years ago ; so you may have seen it before."

" Was it not on the arm of the friend who made the fire and
prepai-ed the food and brought the clothing for the poor, foolish
stranger 1 " ho answered.

She raised her piercing black eyes to his, and, as though she
would look intr. his soul, she said, without hesitancy, —

" Yes, it was ; and Oowikapun was indeed foolish, if not
worse."

Startled and confounded at this reply, given in such decided
tones, Oowikapun, in spite of all his efforts to appear nnmoved,
felt abashed before her, and his v ' s fell under her searching
gaze.

Recovering himself as well as he could, he said, *' Will the fair
maiden please tell me what she means ? "

" Yes," she answered : " what she means is that she is very
much surprised that a man who for days has been a guest in the
wigwam of Memotas and Meyoo-achimoowin, and who has heard
their songs and pi'ayers to the Good Spirit, should again be found
in the circle of the devil dance."

" How do you know 1 was with Memotas? " he replied.

" From your own lips," she answej^ed. " I was with the
maidens, with only a deerskin partition dividing us from the
place where you told the men of your battle with the wolf, and
of Memotas' words about the book of heaven and the Good Spirit
to you. And yet," she added, and there was a tinge of sorrow in
her voice, '' after having heard that you went to the old, bad way
again."

Stung by her words, so full of reproof, he retorted with some
bitterness, " And you and the othei' maidens goaded me on to
the dance."

itl

THE BEAVTlh'UL ^TXGER.

With fljtsliing eyes she drew herself up proudly, und said,
"Never ! 1 would have died first. It was a lie of the conjurers
if tliey said anytliing of the kind."

A feeling of admiration, followed by one of almost envy, cause
over him as lie listened to the decided words uttered with such
spirit, and he heartily wished some of it had been his when
temj)ted to join in the dance of sin. With the consciousness of
weakness, and with his proud spirit quelled, he said : '' Why are
you of this mind ? How is it that yoi know so much about the
white man's way? Did I not see you iw the wigwam of Kistay-
imoowin, the chief whose l)rother is the great medicine man of
the tribe? How is it that you, the chief's daughtei and (he
conjurer's niece, should have such different thoughts abotit tliese
things ? "

Her answer, which was a little bit of her family history, was
as follows : —

" While I am the niece of Koosapatum, the conjurer and
medicine man, whom I hate, I am not the daughter, but the
niece, of Kistayimoowin, the chief. My father was another
brother of theirs. He was a great hunter, and, years ago, when
I was a little child, he left the home of his tribe, and, taking
my mother and me, he went far away to Lake Athabasca, where
he was told there was abundance of game and fish. In a great
storm they were both drowned. I was left a poor orphan, about
six years of age, among the pagan Indians, who cared but little
for me. They said they had enough to do in looking after their
own children, so I often was half -starved. Fortunately for me
the great missionary, with his wonderful canoe of tin, which the
people called the ' Island of Light,' came along that way on one
of his gj'eat journeys. He had those skilful canoe-men, Henry
Budd and Hasselton. While stopping among the people and
teaching them the true way, the missionary heard of me and
of the danger I was in of perishing, and so they took me in the
canoe and cairied me all the way to Norway House. It was long
ago, but well do I remember how they cariied me across the
rough portages when I got tired out, and gave me to eat the
best pieces of ducks .and geese oi' other game which they shot

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OOnJKAPUX.

for food. At night they gntliercd old liay from th(^ lieavors'
iiieadows, or cut down a young balsam tree, and with its hrjinches
made me m little bed for the night. When we reached Norway
House Mission I. was adoptei^ into the family of the missionary.
They and Miss Adams, the teacher, were very kind to me. I
joined the Indian children in the school, and went regularly to
the little church. I well remember Memotas and Big Tom, and
Mustagon arid Papanekis, and many others. I learned some of
the hymns, and can distinctly remem])er seeing the missionary and
Mr. Steiidieur printing the hymns in the characters on the bark and
paper. It was the happiest year of my life. Oh that I had been
wise, and tried to gather up and iix in my memory all that was
said to me of the Great Spirit and His Son Jesus, and about the
good way ! But I was a happy, thoughtless little girl, and moie
fond of play with the httle Indian girls and the fun-loving,
ha|)py boys than of listening to the teaclier and learning my
lessons.

" A year after my Uncle Kistayimoowin came down to the
fort with his furs and took me away home with him, and here,
so far away, I have lived ever since. In his way he is not
unkind to me, but my Uncle Koosapatum hates me because I
know these things ; and, as all are in dread of his poisons, even
Kistayimoowin does not wish me to speak about what I heard
that year, or sing what I remember, except when I am far out in
the forest. Because I do not want to have my uncle, the chief,
poisoned I keep quiet sometimes, but most of the women have
heard all I know, and they are longing to hear more. So our
hearts got full of hoping when, as we waited on the chief wdth
his dinner a few days ago, and we heard him talking with t^ome
others who were eating with him, that you had come and had
been cured of your wounds by a Christian Indian by the name
of Memotas, and were going to give a talk about what had
happened to you and you had heard. When I heard him
mention the name of Memotas, I thought I would have dropped
the birch roggin of roasted bear's paws which I was holding at
the time ; for I could still remember that good man so well.
Gladly I gathered some of the women together behind the

TTKU ROM Ayrrr insTonr.

pai'tition to listen and learn more of the p)ofl wnv, if wo could,
from yon.

" We (li'iuik in every word yon said, and when they mookiMl
we were very angry at them, hut we dare not say a word for
fear of a fearful heating. While you stood firm and refusi'd
to join in that wicked dance, we rejoiced. Wii(>n you yielded,
our hearts hecame sad, and we silently got away. I went out
into the woods and wept. When 1 returned, the women had
shut themselves up in their tents, and the men were all olf to
tlie hig dance-house. I found yoiu" clothes and tii-e-bag just
where you had thrown them oil', in danger of being dragged
away or toi'n to pieces by the foolish young dogs. So, unseen
by anybody, I gathered them up and put them away.

" During the days and nights you danced I was angry and
miserable, and at times coidd not keep from weeping that a man
who had known Memotas, and for days had been with him, and
had heard so much about the good way, should then go back to
the old, dark way which gives no comfort to any one. When
you fell senseless in the circle, I watched where they carried
you. I visited the tent in the night, and I heard your sad
moans, and I knew you were unhappy. At daybreak, as you
had fallen into a deep sleep, I built the tire and prepared the
food and carried you your clothing ; and if it had not been for
the breeze through the door when I last opened it you would
never have known anything about me."

Her story very much interested Oovvikapun. As he listened
to her talking, as he had nevei- heard an Indian woman speak
before, he saw the benefit which had come as tlie result of a yeai'
spent among Christians, even if it were only a year in childhood.
When she finished, he said : '' I am glad I. have met you and
heard your story."

" Why should you be glad 1 " she replied. " i am sure you
must have been oifended that a woman should havb dared to
speak so plainly to you."

" I deserve all you have said, and more too," he added, after
a pause.

" In which trail are you in the future going to walk? " she asked.

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OOWTKAPirX.

This sti'iii^'ht, soiircliin^ (jiiostion brouglit vividly It^fore his
vision tlu^ (h'oam Jiiul tlic two ways wiiicli thcro ho saw, and
lie fph tliat a crisis in his life liad come ; .ind ho said, at'tor a

JKIUSO, —

" I shoidd like to walk in tlio way marked out hy iiio hook
of hoavon."

"And so would 1," she repliod, with intonso oarnostnoss.
*' Jiut it seems hard to do so, placed as I am. You think mo
hravo here thus to reprove you, hut I am a coward in the village.
I have called it love for my uncle's life that has kept me hack
from defying the conjui'ors and telling I'veryhody 1 want to.
But it is cowardice, and I am ashjimed of myself. And then
I know so little. Oh that we had a missionary among us, with
the hook of heaven, as they have at Norway House and elsewhere,
that we might learn more about the way, and be bravo and
courageous all the time ! "

This despairing cry is the voice of millions dissatisfied with the
devil dances and worship of idols. The call is for those who can
toll them where soid-comfort can be found, and a sweet assurance
brought into their hearts that they are in the right way.

Hardly knowing what answer to make, but now interested in
tlie woman as never in one before, he asked, —

" What name does your uncle call you ? "

Wishing to find out her name, he put it in this way, as it is
considered the height of rudeness to ask a person his name.
When several persons are together, and the name of one is
desired Dy one of the company, the plan is always to ask some
third party for the desired information.

" Astumastao," she replied. And then, feeling with her keen,
womanly instincts that the time had come when the long inter-
view should end, she quickly threw her game, which had been
dropped on the ground, over her shoulder again, and, gliding by
him, soon disappeared in the forest trail.

> I

CHAPTP]1I VI.

Oowikapnn still on tlu; trail. — Troubled witli many conflictinfj: thoufflils. — ■
Disfijusled with pa<!:aiiisni and yet in the dark as to tin; way to the
Cross. — Increased activity as a hunter. — The choose hunt. — His wise
words at the council finis,

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III', ur.i'tsri) Till" ritOFFr.RF.D Mi:.\t. ami r.vKN the i,icihti;i> riri:.

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CllAFrKU VI.

rriO Uovvikii|»uii tliis iiitcM'viow wjis of <in'iit viiluc ; iirxl while
X ho could not hut led a ct'i'tjiin anioujit of huniilijition at
tho cowardico ho had been forced to confess or admit, and felt
also that it was a now ox{)erionc(> to ho thus talked to hy a
woman ; yet his conscienco told him that she was ri^dit, and ho
deserved tlu! reproofs she had ^dven ; and so, with somethin,i(
more to think about, he resumed his onward jouniey, and when
he stopped that niglit and made his little camp he svas many
miles nearer his home.

As he sat there by hi,-, cheery fire, while all around him
stretched the great wild forest, he tri( d to think over some of
i-he new and strange adventures through which he had [)ass( <\
With startling vividness they came before him ; and above all
the brave words of the maiden, Astumastao, seemed to ring in
his ears. Then the consciousness that he who had been trying
to make himself and others beliew that he was so brave was
really so cowardly took hold of hiiu, and so depressed him that
he coidd only sit with bowed head and burdened heart, and say
within himself that he was very weak and foolish, and all seemed
very dark.

The stars shone out in that brilliant northern skv, and the
aurora danced and blazed and scintillated : meteors flashed across
the heavens with wondrous brightness, but Oowikapun saw them
not. The problem of life here and hereafter had come to him as

II,

-\ !

OOWIKAl'UN.

never Itet'oie. Jle liud t'ouitd out tbut lie Jiad m soul, ami that
thei'B was a God to fear and love, vvlio cared for men and women ;
and that there was reward for right doing and ])unishmen.t for
sin. So with the little light he had, he pondered and thought ;
and the mov^, he did the worse he got, for he had not yet found
the w ay of simple faith and trust. And so he became so saddened
and terrified that there was but little sleep that night for him,
and as there he sat, longing for help, he remembered the words
of Astumastao : *' Oh that we had a missionary among ns, with
the book of heaven, that we might learn more of the way, and be
brave and courageous all the time."

Ho in til 1.3 frame of mind he wf.tched and waited until the first
blush of morn ; then after a hasty meal, prepared on his camp-
fire, Lt) started off, and in due time reached his home in the distant
village in the wilderness ; and in the depressed mood in which we
here first met him, he lived for many a day.

The change in him was noticed by all, and many conjectured
as to the cause. But Oowikapnn unburdened not his heart, for
he knew taere were none among his people who could understand ;
and with latter n: jmories of the cowardice at the village of his
relatives, he thought m his blindness that the better way to
escape ridicule, aT>d even persecution, would be to keep all he had
learned about the (lOod Spirit and the book of heaven locked up
in his heart.

Oowikapnn was one of the best hunters in his village, and as
his father was dead and he the oldest son (now about twenty-live
years of age) he was looked up to as the head of the wigwam.

In his Indian way he was neither unkind to his mother nor
to the younger members of the family. To' his little brothers he
ga\'e the two young bears, and they soon taught them a number
of tricks. They (piickly learned the use of their forelegs, and it
was very anuising to see them wrestling with and throwing the
young Indian dogs, with whom tliey soon l)ecame great friends.

Oowikapnn, to divert attention from himself, and to keep from
being (juestioned about the change in his conduct which was so
evident to all, devoted himself with unflagging energy to the
chase. Spring having now opened, the wild gee^e came in great

fl
f(

THE GOOSE HUNT.

flocks from their southern liomes to those northern lunds, looking
for the rich feeding grounds and safe places where they could
hatch out their young. These times when the geese are flying
over are as a general thing very profitable to the hunters. I
have known an old Indian with only two old fiint-lock guns in
one day kill seventy-five large grey geese. That was, howevei-,
an exceptional case. The hunters considered themselves fortunate
if each night they returned with from seven to twelve of these
birds.

Oowikapun having selected a spot at the edge of a great marsh
from which the snow had melted, and where the goose grass was
abundant, and where the flocks were flying over in great numbers,
hastily prepared what the hunters call their nest. This is made
out of marsh hay and branches of trees, and is really what its
name implies — a nest so large that at least a couple of men can
hide themselves in it. When ready to begin goose-hunting they
put on a white coat and a cap of similar colour, for these ob-
servant Indians have learned that if they are dressed in white
they can call the geese njuch nearer to them than if their
garments are of any other hue. Another requisite for a success-
ful hunt is to have a number of decoy geese carved out of wood
and placed in the grass near the nest, as though busily engagtd
in eating.

Oowikapun's first day at the hunt was fortunately a very good
one. The sun was shining brightly, and, aided by a southern
breeze, many flocks of geese came in sight in tlieir usual way of
flying, either in straight lines or in triangles. Oowika[)un was
gifted in the ability to imitate their call, and so he succeeded in
bringing so many of th3iu in range of his gun that ere the day
ended he had bagged almost a score.

In after years when I visited that land it used to interest me
very much, and added a pleasurable excitement to my trip, to
don a white garment over my winter clothing, for the weather
was still cold, and join one of these clever hunters in his little
nest and take my chance at a shot at \ 1 cse noble birds. I felt
quite proud of my powers when I brouj>lit down my flrst grey
goose, even if I did only break a wing with my ball.

\\\

*!i ill'

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r,()

OOWIKAPUN.

f I

Quickly unloosing Cuffy, one of my favourito Newfoundland
dogs, I sent her after the bird, which had lit down on a great ice
field about five hundred yards away. But although disabled, the
bird could still light, and so when my spirited dog tried to close
in upon her and seize lier by the neck, the brave goose gave her
such a l)low over the head with the uninjured wing that it
turned her completely over, and made her howl with pain and
vexation. Thus witnessing the discomfiture of my dog, I could
easily understand what I had been frequently told by the Indians
of foxes having been killed by the old genie when trying to
ca})ture young goslings from the flocks.

In these annual goose-hunts all the Indians who can handle
a gun take part. The news of the arrival of the first goose fills
a whole village witii excitement, and nothing can keep the people
from rushing off to the different points, which they each claim
year after year, where they hastily build their nests and set their
decoys.

I well remember how quickly I was deserted by a whole
company of Saulteaux Indians, one spring, on their hearing the
long-expected call of a solitary goose that came flying along on
the south wind. I had succeeded, after a good deal of persuasion,
in getting them to work with me in cutting down trees and
preparing the soil for seed-sowing, when in the midst of our toil,
at about ten o'clock in the forenoon, the distant " Aunk ! aunk !
aunk ! " of an old grey goose was heard, the out-skirmisher of
the oncoming crowds. Such was the effect of that sound upon
my good hunters, but poor farmers, that the axes and hoes were
hastily dropped, and, with a rush, they were all off' to their
wigwams for their guns and ammunition, and I did not see them
again for a month.

Success in the goo^e-hunt seems to elate the Indian more than
in .anything else. ■ Why, I could never find out. It may be
because it is the first spring hunting after the long dreary winter,
and there is the natural gladness that the pleasant spring time
has come again. Whatever it may be, I noticed for years more
noisy mirth and earnest congratulations on success in the goose
hunt than in anything else.

AT THE COUNCIL FlllES.

,i \

Loiided down with his game, Oowikapun ivturned to his
wigwam, and instead of cheerily responding to the congratulations
of the inmates on account of his success, he threw himself down
on his bed, silent and gloomy, and refused the proffered meal and
even the lighted pipe which his mother brought him.

Surprised were they all at his conduct, which was so contrary
to his old ways. lie had never been known to act like this
before — just the reverse. He had come to be considered the
brightest young man in the village. lie had more than once
been called the young hunter of the cheery voice and the laughing
eyes. Then, in his serious hours, in times when the affairs of
the tribe were being discussed, at the council fires, so good was
his judgment, and wise and thoughtful, even beyond his years,
were his words considered, that even the old men, who seldom did
anything else but sneer at the words of the young men, gave
respectful attention to what fell from the lips of Oowikapun.
Well was it remembered how that only last year, at the great
council fire of the whole tribe, when the runners brought the
news of the aggressions of the whites on some of the southern
tribes with whom they had been, in years past, in friendly
alliance, and the old men spake with bitterness and talked of
the old glories of t^^e red men ere the pale -face came with his
fire-arms, and what was worse, with his fire-water, and hunted
down and poisoned many of their forefathers, and drove back the
rest of them toward the setting sun, or northward to the regions
of the bitter cold and frost ; and how much better it would have
been, they said, if their forefatli^ers had listened to the fiery
eloquence and burning words of Tecumseh and his great brother,
the prophet, and joined in a grtat Indian confederacy, when they
were numerous and strong, to drive the white man back into
the sea, — then it was, when eyt\s flashed, and the Indians were

wild enough

with excitement to cause great trouble, that

II i:

Oowikapun arose and spoke kindly words. They were also wise
beyond his years.

.i'

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i '■)

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CHAPTER VII.

His words wore all for peace with t)ic pale-face. Now he is unhappy. -
Many conjectures. -Afraid to pray, he seeks advice from the old man
of the village.— His terrible story of the wicked white fur-traders, and
their fire-water.~ How the old man was robbed, and his wife insulted.
—Her flight through the forest, and return home.— Mookoomis tells the
Indian tradition of the origin of the human race, and why all men are
not of the same colour.---And why the white man has obtained the
mastery.

1 i

'THKY t)XLY I.AUUUED AT MY yUIiSTlONrS.'

;^ \

CHAPTER VIT.

t ,

IN his address he urged that tlie time for successful war was
passed ; that Tcciimsoh himself fell hefore the power of the
pale-face ; that his wampum and magic pipe had disappeared, and
his tomahawk had heen buried in a peace ceremony between his
survivors and the paleface ; and, bitter as might be some of the
memories of the past, yet to all it must be clear that, as many of
the w^hite men were really their friends, it was for their interest
and happiness to act patiently and honourably toward them, and
strive to live as the Great Spirit would have them — as loving
l)rothers.

Thus talked Oowika})un last year. Why is it, they said, that
he, who gave such promise of being a great orator as well as a
successful hunter, should act so strangely now? 8ome said he
was losing his reason and becoming crazy. The young ft)lks said
he was in love with some bright-eyed maiden, whom they knew
not; but many of the dark-eyed maidens hoped she was the fortu-
nate one. And so thev wondered why he did not let it be
known. As he still delayed tiiey said it is because he has had so
many to support that he is poor, and is fearful that what he has
to offer in payment for his bride might not be considered sufficient,
and he would be humiliated to be refused.

Even some of the older women, not born in beauty's hand-basket,
when they could 'get away from their exacting husbands, would
pit down under the bank; where the canoes were drawn up, and

(51

i: ; . i|

• •■! I

OOWIKAPUX

\k ;

V% t

\\\

^Miivrly, ill imitation of tlie mon around their council iiros, would
exclianj,'e opinions, an<l, like white folks, ^'ossip a little in n^fercnce
to conduct so extraordinary.

The old conjurci's and niedicino men were at len^'th consulted.
They s.iid, after long drumming and pow-wovving, and the consum-
ing of nuich tea and tohacco at the expense of his relatives, that
the s[)ii'its of the forests and rivers were calling to him to fast and
suffer and prepare to become a great meditane man ; and that
nature would tlien i-eveal her secrets and give him power and
influence over tlie people and make him Good Medicine if he
obeyed her voice.

Oowikapun heard of the surmisings and mutterings of the
people about him, and at first was very much annoyed. Then, no
peace coming to him, for he was afraid to pi'ay to the Good Spirit
since he had taken part in the devil dance, he decided to consult
one of the old men of the village who had a reputation among the
people as being well posted in old Indian traditions and legends.
The young man was cordially welcomed to the wigwam of the old
man. But Oowikapun had not been there very long in conversa-
tion with him before he found out that he was a great hater of
the whites. On Oowikapun expressing some surprise at this, and
asking his reason for having such bitterness in his breast toward
the pale-faces, the old man told him a sti-ange story.

He said that one winter, many years ago, when he was a great
hunter, he had been very successful in the chase and had caught
tpiite a number of bbick and silver foxes, as well as many otters
and other valuable fur-bearing animnls. Thinking he could do
better in selling his furs by going down the rivers and across many
portages far away to a place whei-e he had heard that white men
had come who wished to trade with the Indians, and who had sent
word that they would give a good price for ri(^h furs, he set off for
that place. He took his wife along with him. to help paddle his
canoe and to carry the loads across the portages, which weie very
many. They reached the place after many days' journey. The
white men, v/hen they saw their bales of rich furs, seemed very
friendly, and remarked that as they had come so far they must be
very weary. They gave him their fire-water to drink and told him

IvH

THE UNPJilXCIPLED FUJl-TIiA ItKliS.

<;:?

that it would mako him f<»r<^'ot IIimI l>is liands wore son* witli loii;^'
paddling his canoe, and that his fVet wore weary witli hard
walking in the poi'ta^cs. So, hecauso thov j)rotcss('d to be his
friends, lie drank tluur fire-water and found out that they wore
his emunies. They ^'ave him more and more, tellin«; him it was
good, and ho foolishly drank and drank until he lost all of his
senses, and was in a drunken stupor for days.

When he came to himself he* found he was out in a cold slu d
and very miserable. ITis head ached and ho was very sore. His
coat was gone and so were his beautifully beaded loggings and
moccasins. His gun was also gone, and with it his bales of rich
and valuable furs. His wife was also ^^ iie, and then^ he was,
half-naked and alone.

Alarmed, he cried out, and asked how it was that he was in
such a sad plight. Hearing him calling out, some of those white
men who had pretended to be his friends came to him, and
said, —

" Begone, you poor Indian fool ! "

" Where are my furs? " he asked.

With a laugh, they said, —

" We have taken them for the whisky you drank."

"Give me my furs," ho cried, " or pay me for them."

" But," added the old man, " they were stronger than T, and
had taken away not only my gun, but my axe and knife, and so I
was helpless before them.

'" Where is my wife ? ' I then asked. But they only laughed at
my questions, and it was weeks before I heard that they had
insulted her and would have foully treated her but that she had
pulled out her knife and threatened to kill the first man that
tonched her. While keeping them away with her knife she
moved around until she got near an open window, when she
suddenly sprang out and fled like a frightened deer to the forest.
After long weeks of hardship she reached the far-off home. She
had had a sad time of it and many strange adventures. Foot-sore
and nearly worn out she had been at times, but she bravely
persevered. Her food had been roots and an occasional rabbit or
partridge which she snared. Several times she had been chased

'.I

111

OOWIKAPUX,

l\\

\ w

by wild nninials. Once for several days the savapfe wolves mndly
howled !i round the foot of a tree into wliich she had mana^'ed to
clind) for safety from their fierce attacks. Fortunately for her a
jj^reat moose deer <l.ished along not far away, and the wolves
which had been keeping watch npon her rushed off on its trail,
irunying down she (juickly sped on her way. 'i'hus had sh(»
travelled all alone, her life often in jeopardy from savage beasts.
r>ut she feared them less than she did the rudo white men fiom
whom she had lied."

The man, when kicked out of the place of the white traders,
had, after .a couple of days' wanderings, fallen in with some
friendly Indians, who took pity on him, clothed and fed him, and
sent him hack in care of some of their best canoe men. He thus
reached home long !)efore his bra\e wife did, who had to work her
way along as we have described.

Oowikapun listened to the story of the old man with patience
until he closed. Then in strong language he expressed his horror
and indignation. It was very unfortunate that he should have
heard it in the state of mind in which he was at that time. From
his meeting with Memotasand Astumastao, he had inferied that
all white men were good people, but here was a rude aM^akening
from that illusion. Terrible, indeed, have been the evils wrought
by the white men in these regions where dwell the red men. The
native prejudices, and even their superstitious religions, are not
as great hindrances to the spread of the gospel among them as are
the abondnable actions and rascalities of white men who bring in
their fire-water and their sins from Christian lands.

For a time the old man Mookoomis exerted quite a strong
influence over Oowikapun, and many were the hours they spent
together. Oowikapun was in that state of restlessness that the
only times he could be said to be at peace were when either
engaged in the excitements of hunting or when listening to
Mookoomis' excited woi'ds as he talked away hour after hour of
the old legenfit; and traditions of his people, whose glory, alas, was
now about departed.

One evening, -when a few interested listeners were gathered
around the wigwam fire of the old story-teller, and they liad made

iMHAN 'r/r\/)///o.\ OF nil: oiuaix of hacfs.

(ir»

liiiii li!4)]»y hy tlio gifts ot" v«'iii.s(,n iind toljacco, 0()wika|>iiii !>ai<l to
him, -

'•(Jood Ijitlu'i', you M,n^ wisn in many tliin«;s ultoiit wliicli uc arn
i;j:iioi'ant., and loii^ a.^() tlu! old men of oui* puopU^ liMiidcd down to
you fi'om our rorct'allicrs tin; stories to he k(*pt in re incMuhratu'c^ ;
tell us how tlui white uumi came to he liere. It' you know w»i
shoidd lik<i to hear also of the hlack [)oop!e of whom the runufn-s
from other trihes ha\e toM us, who also exist in ^^^reat nund)ers."

All joined in this re(|iiest. So when the old man had tilled iind
smoked his calumet again, ho told thi^m the Indian tradition of the
origin ot the human races, lie said, —

" JiOng ago, perhaps as many moons aa there are stars in the
sky, the On at Spirit made this world of ours and litted it up as
a dwelling-[)lace for his people. Then he set to work to make
man. He took a piece of white clay and moulded it and worl<e(l
at it until Ik; had formed a man. Then he put him into an <jven
which he had prej)ared, and there he l)aked him to make him tiiiu
and strong. When he took him out of the oven he found that
he had kept him in too long and he was hurnt hlack. At this the
Great Spirit was not pleased, and he said, 'You will never do/ and
he gave him a .great kick which sent him away south to that land
where they hi-.ve no snow, and where it is very hot, and told the
hlack man that that was to be his land.

'' Then the Great Sp'.rit took aiiother piece of clay and moidded
it out and for.ned another man and put him in the oven to bake.
But as he had burnt the first one so badly he did not leave this
second one in long enough. When he took him out he found that
he was still very white, and at this he was not pleased, and he
said, ' Ugh ! You wdll never do. You are too white. You will
show the dirt too easily.' So he gave him a great kick which
sent him across the sea to the land where the white man first came
from to this country.

" Then," waid Mookoomis, " the Great Spirit tried again. He
gathered the finest clay he could find and moulded it and worked
with it luitil he was well pleased with it. Then he put it into
the oven to bake it ; and now, having the wisdom which came
from the experience of the other two failures, he kept this one

I I

('' ' 1 ,

i*;!

Ott

UOW JKAViy.

ill just the ri^'lit tiiiio. When ho took liini out ho w.is of ii
rich red coloiu'. Ho was voiy mucli plousod, and said, ' llo, ho !
you just right ; you stay lioro.' Ho ho gave this countiT to tho
Indian."

'riiis origin of tho liuinan race, \vlii<'h dilVors so oonsidorahly
from that of Mi'. Dai'win, vory much intoiostod Oowikapun and
his conii)anions, and th(\v urged Mookooniis to tell thorn from
Indian traditions liow it was tliat tlie races had gotten into tlio
conditions that thoy now are. When the old man had lilk'd and
smoked his j)ipo again and liad seemed to be lost in thought for a
time, he began again :

" When tiie Groat Spirit had made tliese different men and
given each wives of their own colour, lie wont away to his dwell-
ing place b(>yond tho setting sun, and there abodi'. After a while
he thought ho would come back and see how the men wore getting
on. So he called them to meet him at a certain place, and as h<3
talked with them he found they were nnhap[»y because thoy had'
nothing to do. When the Great Spirit hoard this he told them to
come back to-morrow, and he would make this all right for them.
On the morrow when they had mot they saw that the Groat
Spirit had three parcels, llo laid them on tho ground and told
them they were to choose which they would liavo. As tho parcels
dillored very much in size it was decided that they would cast
lots and thus settle who should have the first choice. When this
was done it was found that the black man was to choose first, the
rod man socond, and the white man would have to take what was
left. So the black man chose the largest parcel, and when he
opened it he found that it contained axes and hoes and spades
and shovels and other implemants of toil. Tho Indian selected the
next largest bundle, and when he opened it he found that it c n-
tained bows and arrows and spears and lances and knives and
other weapons used by the hunter. Then the turn of the white
man came, and he took up the last parcel, which was a small
one, and when he had opened it there was nothing in it but a
book.

" When the black man and the red man saw that the white
man had nothing but a book they laughed out loudly and ridicided

Tin: WiriTE MASS HOOK.

<I7

liiiii very mticli. But tlu^ drout Spirit ivpr()v<^<l them, and siiid,
'W'liita while uiid porliiips you will tiiiiilv (lilU'icntly.' And so
thoy now do, for it l»ns come to piss tliat l)t3cauHo of tllo posst-ssion
of tliat l)Ook, tlu' whit(( iinm lias bocomo so l<3arnfMl and wise that
lie is HOW imicli stiong.-r thfin tlu^ otlu-rs, and s.'enjs al)h) to
uijil<(^ liinisoif master of the oilier races, and to takr possession of
all lands."

^ •!

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\i i|

CHAPTER yill.

Mookoomis' sad advice to unhappy Oowikapnn.-His attempts t.. find ikmoc
tor Ins soul in eommnnion with Nature.— All sad failures.— God in
Nature without Christ ever a mystery.- He looked for peace, and found
everything was just the reverse.-^ The l)cautiful fawn killed ])y the
fierce wolf. -The strife among the hirds.-Cruelty and death every-
where.— The coming thunderstorm arouses his hopes for some answer
of peace, even in her power and grandeur.-Oowikapun thrown heli)less
and stunned to the ground, while his wigwam is completely shattered
—One more attempt.-The wonderful auroras.— A most glorious
display.— The corona of dazzling splendour.— Th(; l.lood-red crimson
terrifies, alarms, and crushes him into the dust.- Something more than
Nature's phenomena necessary to lead to Christ.

1 .

Ill

li «

' IT CKURHED DOWN' THE LITTLK \Vir,\VAM INTO A TIOPFXKSS WRECK.

CHAPTER YTTT.

' I

OOWIKAPUN heard jNEookooinis tell thcsp weird old stories
at the camp-fires, mikI in listening to him he tried to forgi t
his oAvn sorrows and anxieties.

When he thought he had become so well ncqnaii.ted with
Mookoomis that he could make a confidant of him, he tohl him
a little of what he had learned from Memotas ; but he was careful
to hide his own secret feelings. He knew Mookoomis was a
strong pagan as well as a great hater of the whites. Not having
met with anv of the detested race who were Christians, he
thought they were all alike, and btdieved they had only come
across the ocem to rob and cheat and kill the poor Indian and
take possession of all his lands.

One evening when they were alone Oowikapun ventured to tell
him about the book of heaven which the white man had, and
which some Indians had got hold of and were reading with grc at
interest, and that some of them had even accepted its teachings.
This news mnde Mookoomis very angry. Oowikapun was sorry
that he had told him, but it was now too late, and so he had to
listen while the angry man talked and gave his views on these
things. He said that the Great Spirit never intended the book
for the Indian, but that he had made him a hunter and sent him
out into the forests and prairies, and on the great lakes and
rivers, and where he was to listen and hear the Great Spirit's
voice and see his works. " This," said Mookoomis, "is the Great
Spirit's plan, and he Avill be angry with any of his red children

OOWIKAPUX.

who bocjmt' tlissiiHsfieil with this iU'rangement and try to go th«
white man's way or read his book."

Tliest^ talks (Hd not brinjj; comfort to Oowikapun or lift the
burden from his soul. In his desjter.ition he told Mookoomis of
his heart sorrows and dis(juietude of spirit. The old man did not
get angry, but listened to him very patiently, and then advised
him to go out into the woods, away from every human sound, and
in her peaceful solitudes lef: nature speak to him and soothe his
troubled si)irit.

So Oowikapun obeyed the voice of Mookoomis, and, quickly
ai'ranging his affairs, w.nit out into the solitudes, far away from
an}- human beings. He hoped that while there alone with nature
lie might get rest for his soul. In doing this he was only
imitating thousands who, too stubborn or too ignorant to come
to the Great C*omforter in His own way, are trying in some other
way to find that peace which God alone can give. We pity those
who ignorantly do these things, but what can we say of those
wlio have b8e;n taught the plan of salvation through faith in the
Lord Jesus Christ, nnd y.'t will go on talking pertly about God
in nature, and of their ability to find themselves in Him by
studving Him in His works ? God in nature without Christ is a
riddle, a perplexity, a mystery.

We pity poor Oowikapun. Just enough light had come to him
to show him that he was a poor miserable sinner, but he had not
yet received enough to reveal to him the true plan of salvation.
He is still groping along in the gloom, and is much more to be
pitied than the thousands who know in theory what God's plan
of salvation is, but who reject it because of their pride or hard-
ness of heart.

Everything seemed against him. His eyes were opened to see
things now as never before. Not as a skilful hunter, but as a
seeker after peace w. s he out in nature's solitudes. Everything
ai'ound him seemed mysterious and contradictory. This teacher,
n iture, whose lessons he had come to learn, seemed to be in a
very perverse mood, as if to impart just th "; reverse of what he
A uuhi learn, a id seemed to be destitute of the very things he
had hoped she would have imparted to him.

TllYING TO FIND SOUL COMFOliT IX NATURE

Sharp cand rude was liis first awakeniiii; from his ilhision. He
liad not ;:^one very fnr into the wilderness hcforr it came to him,
and it happened in tliis way : As lie was walkini; along in the
forest he heard a short distance ahead of him a, pitiful cry of a
creature in distress, lie hurried (m, and was just in time to see
the convulsive gas[) of a beautiful young fawn that had been
seized and mangled by a fierce wolf, which hal found it where
it had lioen hidden away by the mother deer }>eforr^ she had gone
out into the beaver meadows to feed.

To send tlie deatli-dealing bullet through the brain of the
savagv, wolf was the work of an instant, bnt, alas ! it was too late
to save the innocent little fawn, whose great, beautiful eyes were
alreadv ijlassv in death, and whose life-blood, i)ourinu: out froui
the gaping v.'ounds, was crimsoning the leaves and flowers where
it had fallen.

" Is this," said Oowikapun, with sadness of s[)irit, " the first
lesson nattu'e has for me? To lier I am coming for peace and
(piietness of spirit, and is this what I first see % "

Thus he travelled on until he reached tiie shores of a great
lake. Here he had resolved to stay for a time, at the advice of
Mookoofuis, to try to find, in the solitudes, the commnnion with
nature for which his soul craved. A student of nature he had
ever been, but never before with such an ol)ject in his h(vart as
now fillea it. But he found no happiness in his investigations,
and was appalled at the sights which met him and the mysteries
which sprang np upon every side. Death and discord seemed
to reign everywhere', and the strong seemed ever ready to oppress
the weak.

Such sights as the following were ever before him : One day
while sitting near the shore of the lake, where the sunlit waters
played with the pebbles at his feet, he saw a beautiful kingfislier.
It hovered in mid-air for an instant, and then snddeidy j)luuged
down in the w^ater, rising (piickly again with a, fine fish in his
bill. On the top of a dead tree near the shore a fieire hawk
had seen th'B fish captured, and, with a, hcreani that rang out
sharp and clear, it flew swiftly after the kingfisher, and so
terrified it that it dropped the fish and Inuriedly Hew away to

M r

on WIKA PUN.

I 1

. \

a plnpo of safety. Seizing tlie fisli in its bill with a soroam of
triunn)h, the liavvk was about to return to the shore, when
anotlier aotoi" appenred upon the scene. Away up on the side
of the cliff, which rose up a little bjick from the shore to the
hei|L!;ht of several hundred feet, on a projecting ledge of rocks, n
pair of eagles c.-ime year after year and built their crude, wild
nest. One of these great birds was watching the battle below.
When it heard the shrill scream of triumph from the hshhawk,
it knew that the time for action had arrived. Like a thunder-
bolt, with both wings closed it shot down from the eyrie, and
before the hawk with its stolen plunder had reached its old
storm-beaten tree, the king of birds struck it a Tilow that da/ed
and territied it, and, dropping the fish, it barely succeeded in
getting away. It was not the fishhawk the eagle was after, but
the fish. As the active bird saw the fish drop from the beak of
the fishhawk, it flew down after it and caught it in mid-air, and
then, in majestic circles, it slowly ascended to its eyrie. This
sight, under other circumstances, would have been enjoyable to
Oowikapun, but now, when he was a seeker in nature for peace
and happiness, the greed and rapacity of the stronger over the
weaker only filled him with sadness.

Thus for several weeks he closely studied nature, and tried
hard to learn lessons from her, while, far away from all his
people, he dwelt in a little camp which he had made at the foot
of a beautiful birch tree. But he was no better off*, for all the
^•ights that met his eyes were very similar to those we have
described. It was cruelty and death and destruction everywhere.

Nature unaided does not reveal Christ the Saviour. Since the
entrance of sin, with all its attendant miseries, into this once
glorious world, the study of iiature with all her vagaries, without
the light of revelation to clear up her mysteries, is more apt to
drive men away from God tluin to draw them to Him.

So Oowikapun found out especially one night while tossing
about on his bed of balsam boughs. Lying there utterly miserable
and dissatisfied with himself, he was startled by the far-away
(lull, sullen roar of thunder, which told of an approaching storm.
Such was his mood that this sound was welcomed, and he sprang

rnK FEAUFUL THUXDEnSTOnM.

np rejoicing. There \vm\ suddenly come into liis mind fclie thon<;ht.
tliat perhaps now lie would hear something in nature's voice
from which he could draw comfort and happiness.

With this hope in his he.irt he went out of liis tent and seated
himself on a rock near at hand. One by one the stars dis-
appeared as the thick black clouds came rolling up, covering the
whole expanse of heaven and making the night one of inky
darkness, save when the cliffs and forest, islands and lake, were
illuminated by the vivid lightning's Hash. Soothed by that awe-
some feeling which comes to manv in the brief last moments
which precede the burst of the tempest, Oowikapun was com-
forted, and began to say to himself: "At last I hear the voice
of nature for which I have so long been waiting, and now, so
tranquillized, I wait for all she lias to tell me ' of comfort and of
rest.'"

Hardly had these thoughts passed thi-ough his mind before
there came a lightning flash so vivid and a thunderbolt .-jo near
and powei-ful, followed by a crashing peal of thunder so sudden
and so deafening, that Oowikapun was completely stunned, and
thrown helpless to the ground. When he recovered consciousness
the storm had nearly olied away. A few muttering growls of
thunder could still be heard, and some flashes of lightning upon
the distant horizon told in which direction the storm had dis-
appeared. Oowikapun staggered to his feet and tried to com-
prehend what had happened. That something had struck him
was evident. What it was at first he was too bewildered to
understand. Thinking the best thing he could do in this dazed
condition would be to go back under the shelter of his tent, he
turned to do so, but this he found an impossibility. The thunder-
bolt that had so stunned him had struck, that large birch tree
and shattered it. As it fell it had crushed down the little
wigwam into a hopeless wreck.

Great indeed was the disappointmsnt and vexation of Oowika-
pun. While vainly imagining that at length he was al)out to
hear the soothing voice of nature to comfort and bless him, he
had received from her such a crack that he was knocked senseless,
and, in addition, had his dwelling-place completely wrecked.

I I;'

nowih'APF.y.

? i

(jli'()[)ln^ .'iround in tljc i-uiiis, lu> succet'dcd in finding' Ids blanket,
wincli lio tln-ow over his slionldcrs ns a sli^dit protection a^'iiinst
tlio heavy i-jun wliich continued fal1in<]f nil night.

Oowikapnn still lingered in his lonely forest letin at. Ifis
})rid(5 revolted at the i<h'!i of iiaving to return to tlie village and
confess that all his efforts luul boon in vain, an<l that only defeat
and hunuliation had been his lot.

So a new wigwam was Imilt in a more sheltered }»lace, amidst
the da '■»''■ •Gjreen trees. His depression of spirit was such
that for lo ijL, time he only left his abode when hunger c(mi-
pelled him to huui tor his necessary food. When lus did resume
his wanderings they were generally in the night. The singing
of the birds had no chitrm for him, and the brightness of the
summei' days chased not away his gloom. More congenial to
him were the " watches of the night," when the few sounds that
fell upon his ears were weird and ghostly. Here amidst the
gloomy shadows, whcu-e the only sounds wc^re the sighing of the
winds among the trees, the melancholy hootiugs of the owls, or
th(^ distant bowlings of the wolves, he passed many weary hours.

The Psalmist with adoring love could say, " Day unto day
uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge,"
but to Oowikapun neither the " speech " of the day nor the
" knowledge " of the night gave any responsive answer to his
heart's longings, «. '• led hiui any nearer to the source of soul
comfort. And yet nature spake to him as grandly as it was
possible for her to utttn* her voice, and her last effort was of
the sublimest character, and such as but few mortals are per-
mitted to witness.

It came to Oowikapun one night when he had aindessly
wandered far out from the shadows of the forest gloom, to a spot
where the canopy of heaven, bright with its multitudes of stars,
was above him. P(n'ha[)s in no other land can nature in her
varied aspects of sublimity and grandeur, as regards celestial
phenomena, be better studied than in the wild northland. Hei*
cyclonic storms in summer, and her blizzard blasts in winter, are
at times not only territic in their destructive power, but they are
also overwhelmingly grand in their ap[)earance.

Til E M \ 'ST Kill O US . I Uli Oil . I // (> If K. I A JS.

1 1

Tlien lier ''visions of the Jii^lit" aro at tiiiK's suhliiiirly
lu'iiutit'iil. llcr stai'-dcckcd vault of Ik'mvch, alisoliitely five
from all mists and fo^^s and damps, solmiis (^ , hijL,di and vast. Tiu'
stars ^disten and <\viid<l(' with wonih'oiis ci anu\ss. The llashin;^'
mett oi's fad»' out hut slowly, Mud the moon is so white and hi-i^dit
that her shadows cast are often as vivid as tlatsc' of the sun in
some otlier lands.

But not hi n<,^ iMjuals a lirst-class Held ni;^dit of the mysterious
Aurora liorealis. No other phenomenon of natur(^ in mai^nitude
of (Usplay, in varied hrilliancy of colour, in l>ewilderin<^' rapidity
of movement, in gr; .deur so celestial, in its very existence so
unaccountahlt^, is calcui ^ed to lift man up, and away from
thing's earthly, into ohe very realm and presence of the spiritual,
as does a tirst-class display of the northern lights, as seen in
the far northlam^

Whihi they ai-t ^(^nerally morc^ freipient in the winter months
than at other times of the year, yet they aie vvvy uncertain in
their coming, and sometimes hurst u[)on the world and illuminate
and till up with ceh stial glory thi^ hrief hours of some of the
short summer nights.

To Oovv^ikapun, in his mental darkness and disrpiietude, there
came one of these more tlian eai'thly visions of entrancing beaut^^

If in any one of nature's phenomena she could speak to a
troubled soul, surely it would be in this. For while to Elijah
the answer was in the " still small voice," yet man, unaided by
Divine revelation, prefers the earthquake and the fire, or some
other grand overwhelming manifestations of nature's power,
which appeals to the sensuous rather than to the spiritual. To
these northern Indians the auroras have ever been associated
with the ghostly or spiritual. In some of the tribes the literal
transiation of the northern lights is, " the spirits of their fore-
fathers going out to battle."

The display that Oowikapun gazed upon was one of more than
ordinary sublindty. lie had left his little wigwam, which
nestled among the l)alsams, and had gone out from the forest
gloom, and had seated himself on the shore of the lake wher«^
the little waves made soothing music as they played among the

\':''

I I '.

-$■

OOWJKM'I'.W

[)ol)l)los at liis feet. Tiie sun lunl ^'oim down ;n si>l('ti(l()iir, Iciiviii^
a j;l()i'i()us ladiano*' of sapphiiT and crimson on hills and waves.
(,j!nietly and ini{)er('o|)tibly the shadows of ni<j;ht mantled the long
twili<,dit ^loamin;!;, and then one ))y ono the stars came out from
th(ur hiding-places, until the Avhole liigh dome of heaven was
l)iight with their s|)arkling light. Tlu^ Milky Way brightened
into wondrous distinctness, until it seemed, to OowiUapun, like
a great patiiw y, and he wondered, as held in the tradition of
Jiis people, if on it, hy-and-hy, he should travel to the h!ipl>y
hunting grounds of his fathers. After a time a, brightness
began to dawn in the northern sky, and then from it some
brilliant streams of light suddenly shot up to the heavens above.
Then many ril)l)ons of light quickly followed, and, rapidly un-
rolling themselves parallel with the horizon, quivered and danced
in rhythmic movements, blazing out at times in varied vivid
colours, as thiy gracefully undulated from east to west. Often
had Oowikapun seen these displays, but up to this time lie had
only gazed with languid interest upon these nightly visitants.

This night, however, then^ was a disjJay so glorious that he
stood as one entranced. With a suddenness that can only he
shown by electrical phenomena, there iilmost instantaiu ously
shot up from below the eastern horizon a dazzling bhize of
gorgeous electrical light, which in successive bounds rushed on
and on, until, like a brilliant meteor, a million times magnified,
it spanneil the heavens, and for a time, in ])urest white, it seiimd
to hang an arch of truce from heaven to earth. For a little
while it quivered in its dazzling whiteness, and then from it
fhished out streamers in all the colours of the rainbow. With
one end holding on to the arch of snowy whiteness, they danced
and scintillated and l>lazed until the whole heavens seemed
aglow. Then breaking loose, they seemed to form themselves
into whole battalions of soldiers, and advanced and fought and
retreated, until the heavens seemed to be the battle-field of the
ages, and stained with the blood of millions slain. During all
the ap2)arent carnage great streamers waved continuously above
the contending armies, and seemed like great battle-flags leading
on the forces to greater deeds of valour. Sometimes they seemed

Tin: (iuntiiHs " VISIONS of riii: Minirr

to ('liMii<,'o into jLifHsit fu'i'y swords, rc-idy to .-ulil to tin* apiiarcni
cjini.igt' iiiul (.h'striiftioii tli.it scuiiH'd so iiitcnsoly reul.

Tims ill cvi'f cliim^'iii^ {^lori»'s til.' vision of tlu' licjivnis mI)ovo
coiitiniUMl, \vliil(* ( )o\viki4Miii, awed and siiWdiu'd in spirit, t'clt.
timnkl'nl that Im was only u sju'ctator uiutn sucli scciios of
ijliostly {'arnu^t^ and lilood.

JJiit iiiipj'ossivc an I <iflorioiis us was what had already Itt'cn re-
vealed, tlu' aiiroi'as had yet in ih Sv rve thecliinax ot* tlieir display, and
when it cam.' it nearly froze his hlood in his veins, and thr*nv him
trt'iiiMinjj^ and terrified upon his fact^ upon tlu^ fj^round. SiuhU'iily
did the change eome. With the rapidity of a lightning" flash the
great (piivcring arch of light ti'aiisforuu'd itself into a corona of
such dazzling sph'iidour that no words can describe it. From
purest white, tlu* multitudes of streamers, of which it was now
comi)osed, suddenly changed to pink and bliu; and green and
yellow, all th.' tim(! flitting and scintillating so rapidly that the
eyes were pained in their vain t ll'orts to follow their rapid flights.
Then, in the twhikling of an eye, the whole changeil to a deep
blood-red crimson — so blood-like, so terrible, so dazzling, so
awful, tliat the brave man was crushed down, terrifiMl and
subdued, before this blinding display of the omnipotent power of
the (ilreat Spirit.

The dauntless courage that had made' him exult at the i)ruspect
of meeting thi* fiercest bear in the forest with no other weapon
than bis trusty hunting knife, or tlu* moat hostile foe of his tribe,
was of no avail here, and so, a cruslicd and vanipaished man, as
soon as he could he cowered back to his wigwam, where, wra2)[)ing
himself in his blanker, he long remained. He trembled at the
thought of having been in such apparent contact with the
spirit-land, while his unhappy soul chided liim with a sense of
his unfitness for that unknown life bey<md.

Poor Oowikapun I He was like many who, although they live
iinder happier influences, and amidst the blaze of gospel-day, yet
foolislilv think that if some heavenlv manifestation of the Ldorv
beyond, some glimpse of the land that is afar otl", oi- some sight
of its celestial inhabitants, were given tlu'm to enjoy, very quickly
would they be convinced and converted.

f}fnr/hAi'i/x.

•loliii, llu' hclovtMl disciple, ,sM\v llic Nmv tjrnisiiirm himI its
iiil»!(l>itjiiits. l>n/./l»Ml, ovcrvvlidliiM'il, jukI conhjscd lie fell at tlu'
I't'i't of Olio of <h()s«i ledoi'iiM'd ones, jiinl woi'sliippnl tin) crtsitiire
inst<»Jiil of tlu< ( 'i«'!i(or.

Homothing iiioro (li.iii llm mvn' visioii^df licivni's ^lorii-s oi*
iiortlicni auroras is ncfossjiry to ^ivo jm'jkc to the trouMod
soul. Kwn so found unluijjpy Oowikiipun, foi* win ii tlio cxcitcs-
iru'ut of tlu'so iii^^'lit visions woi'o oil", \io folt iiioio tliMii ever
ciMislifd down with ii sens*' of his own littloncss, while diirker
seenunl his spiiitu.il vision than (!ven hefore thcso auroral «,dorios
iiad l)la/,ed and Hashed around him.

hsgusti (I and disa[)pointed, he packed up his row things an(
J'eturned to his village, more miserable and d(»2)ressKl in spirit
than ever.

Jr«^ liad had many evidenccjs of a ('r(?ator, hut had met with
nothing that told him of a Saviour. The idea of being able to
" look U[> through nature unto nature's (!od " is an utter im[)ossi-
bility, uidess the one looking has some knowledge of (jod in
Christ Jesus. With this knowledgi^ in hif> possession he can
answer as did the devout philosoplur who, when asked the
([Ut^stion, '' What are the latest discoveries in nature '{ " replied,
" God everywhere."

With God revealed in Christ Jesus there is something real in
which to trust. Then mysteries that long [>i'r})lexed are cleared
up, and darkness that long continued is dissipated ; and the
trusting child realises that no longer is he slowly and feebly
feeling his way along on the " sinking sands " of uncertainties,
bnt is built on the " Kock of Ages."

torture. Ilork-c-ji-vum Ti, • '"" '^''^'<'<'- '<» try tlic dial uf

"•' lH'.'ico, no pardon. iMurn hom '" ''^"■-^•* ^"X''' "' '-mlort,
^^^^^.^,^ ^^^^^^^^^ . ..J.t uay.-Non.otlnn,. about her.-Free as a

'•' n

(MIAPTER JX.

SiroirrLN' .-ifter liis return to the village 0()\vikii[)uii found
his way to the tent of Mookooniis, and candidly told him
of Ids complete failure to find comfort or peace of mind in
communion with nature. He said he had faithfully carried out
liis directions, hut that everything that he had hoped wouhl have
in it help or satisfaction seemed to have had just the reverse.
Mookoomis listened intently to all he had to say ; then, perhaps
for the first time in liis life, freelv admitted his own dissatis-
faction and uncertainty of helief in their Indian way. But he
was an ohstinate, wicked old man, and determined, if possihle,
to keep Oowikapun walking, as he again said, " as our forefathers
walked." So he urged him to make tlie great trial of fasting and
personal tortui-e, and see if in the delirium of physical agonies
the voice of comfort for which he was longing would not come
to him.

For a long time the young man hesitated to undertake this
terrible ordeal. It is called by the w^estern Indians the llock-
e~a-yum, and is a ceremony so severe and dreadful that many an
Indian has never recovered from its agonies.

Great indeed must be the wretched disquietude^ that will cause
human beings, who natui'ally shrink from pain, to endure wluit
thousands voluntarily submit to if only they can get peace to

their sovds.

s:]

'11

! ' (-

1 : ■

-i

OOWIKAPrX.

Oowikapun spent wooks in n, st.'ite of indecision, and tlien
resolved to follow tlic advice of old Mookoomis. In liis blindness
and folly he found himself in company with a, \ast multitude,
who in their ignoi'ance and superstition are ho[)in<^ by self-
inllicted torture on their bodies to atone for sin and merit
heaven.

Great indeed is this company of deluded ones. They are found
by the missionaries almost everywhere.

Tlie poor, ignorant Hindoo, on the burning plains of his native
land, seated on a stone pillar, with arm extended until it has
become iixed and rigid, while the growing tinger-nails have
])ierced through his clenched hand, is one of the sad com))any.
Another one is tliat poor fanatic who measures the whole distance
of many hundreds of miles -which stretches from his jungle home
to the Ganges by prostrating Jiis body on tlie ground as a
measuring rod. In this t-Jid procession are millions and millions
of unhap})y ones, without God, and therefore without hope.

Poor Oowikapun is now in this sad company. All his fears
are aroused, and in his vain effort.' ^o quiet them he is about to
go through a most severe ordeal of fasting and acute physical
sufVering. How terrible is sin ! How sad is the fall ! How
dreadful must be the goadings of the guilty conscience when
men, and w^omen too, will so punish themselves, hoping tliereby
they can find I'elief.

When the young Indian had finally resolved on his course of
acti(m h(^ immediately S( t about carrying it out. He joined
himself to a company of "braves" who were also going to pass
through the ceremony of Hock-o-a-yum. Different moti\es were in
the heai'ts of those who were about to undergo the trying ordeal.
Some of them weie ambitious to succeed as great warriors and
as hunters. Others were ambitious to become leaders or great
medicine men among the tribes. To succeed in their ambitious
purposes it was necessary that the ordeal of suil'ering shoidd b<^
pas.sed through.

While the majority were thus 'fired by their selfisfi hopes of
attaining prominence and position as the result of their sullerings,
ther» wove si-'veral likn C)owikapuu who weie unliappy in tiieir

)

oy^TllE TUAIL TO THE PLACE OF TOJlTl'liE.

led

;\ss

in
al.
nd

Jit
lis

souls Miul were going to try this method in tlie lio})e of relief.
Perh.'i])s, like liim, they had been in some [)hi('e where a few rays
of liglit ha,d shone npon their souls. These had revealed to them
the sinfulness of their lives and the hideousness of sin, hut, heing
i^'norant of the (Ireat physician, they were going to see if there
was any ellicacy in these trying ordenis.

As the ceremonies were only held in the Far W( st, where the
devotees gathered from various trihes, Oowikapun and those
with him had to travel for many days ere they reached the
place.

Far In^yond the limits of the hunting grounds of his people
did he and his deluded comrades jourmy. They had to work
up the swift current, and make many portages around the rapids
of tlie Nelson lUvc^-. Then across the northern part of treacherous
Lake Winnipeg they ventured in their frail canoes, and only their
consummate skill in the management of these frail boats saved
them from going down to watery graves.

Up the miglity Saskatchewan for nearly a thousand nn'les they
hurried on. If their minds had not been troubled at the prospect
of their coming sulferings, they would, as hunters, have been
delighted by that trip through that glorious western country,
which then teemed with game. IVIultitudes of buffalo, coming
down to the great river to drink, first gazed on them with
curiosity, and then, when alarmed, went thundt^ring over the
plains. The great antlered elks were seen in troops upon the
blutfs and hills, and bears of different kinds went luml)ering
along the shores. Beautiftil antelopes, with their large luminous
eyes, looked at tl;em for a moment, and then went flying over the
prairies like the gazelles in the desert.

Tlu'y land* d at Edmonton, wliere now there nestles in beauty
on its picturesque^ l)lui}'s a flourishing little town. Oowikapun
an<l his comrades in those days, however, found only the old
historic fort, even then famous iis the scene of many an exciting
event bet Wren the enter[)rising fur tradi-i's and tlu; [)roud,
warlike Indians of flie plains.

Jlere they left their canoes, and after exchanging some ftu's
for needed supplier, they started south-west on the long trail

■I^.-

I I

""T*

ini

()()]] IKA /'(/A.

of many days' toilsome tnivclling, until at ieii^th tbe place of
the fearful oi'deul was reached.

Into all th(^ dtitails of the s"enes and events of tlie Indian
Ceremony of torture T am not i;oin<j; to entei*. Catlin has with
pen and brusli descri));'d it in a mux to chill tlie blood and iill
our sleeping houi's with horrid dreams. Suflice 't to say that
Oovvikapun at once put himself in the hands of the torturers.
First of all they kept him for four days and nights without
allowing him a mouthful of food or drink. Neither did they

d off

3 a moment

his upper garment, and cutting long parallel gashes in his breast
down to the bone, they lifted up the muscles and tied to the
quivering muscles ends of iiorse-hair ropes about three-quarters
of an inch in diaineter. 'J'he other ends of these two ropes were
fastened to a high pole about fifteen feei from the ground.
At first the upper ends of the ropes were drawn through rude
pulleys, and poor Oowikapun was draggCMl up six or eight feet
from the ground, and held there for several minutes by the
bleeding, lacerated, and distendeil muscles (?f his breast. Then
the ropes were suddenly loosened fiom abo\'e, and he fell with
a sickening thud to the ground. Quickly they raised him up on
his feet and made fast M"> rop(*s to the upper end of the pole,
and left him to struggle and i)ull nntil the muschs rotted or
Avere torn away and he was free. Four days passed by ere he
succeeded in breaking away, and during that time not a morsel
of food or a di-op of water was given him.

Weeks passed away ere Oowikapun i-ecovered from those
fearful wounds. After all, what did they accomplish for liim?
Nothing at all. He was, if possible, more wretched in mind
than in body. No voice of comfort had he heard. No dispelling
of the darkness. No lifting of the heavy load. No assurance
of pardon. No peace. Is it any wonder tliat he was about
discouraged, and that his sharp-eyed neighbours looked at him
at times and said one to another that something must be wrong
with him in his hea,d?

'^J\) conxince them that liis mind was not disordered or his
reason affected, tbe vouna' Indian attended tlie councils of the

_.,V^A.

UlStrVSTED WITH TII^ i'O \J LIlLit,

ti'ibo, and (i\t'i' showod himselt' cleiir-lieaiJ'Hi in discusHiori and
d(d)ato. lie applied himself wit li renewe<' ali^j;orn.-e to his work
as a lunter, and remembering Memotas' 1- ve t'.;- his household,
strove to imitate him in Ins conduct toward his mother and the
younger members of his family.

Disgusted and annoyed that nothing but disappointment and
suffering had come to Inm from following the advice of
Mookoomis, he shunned his society anil would have none of
his counsel.

So passed the summer months. When the winter came again
there arose in the h^art of Oowikajuin a peculiar desire to go
and see Astumastao, the brave maiden who had been his leal
fi-iend, and who had told him words which had done him more
good than anything else he had heard since he had parted from
Memotas. About her he had never spoken to any one. But her
bright eyes had burned themselves into his heart, while her brave
words had fixed themirelves in his memory.

So making up some excuse about import :nt business with his
relatives in tlie distant village where dwelt the youn;r girl, he
prepared for the journey. lie a ^ayeil himself in new nnd
pictures(pie apparel. With his liti'c out'it packeil on a light
sled, his gun in his hand, and his ■::j and knife in his belt, he
set off for tlu> villagd where lu^ had made such ;i sad fall after
all his resolves to have nothing more to (!•> vith devil worshi[).

Visions of that forjuer visit came fiesh to his mind. All that
had since trans^ared seemed like a horrid dream.

Fs it thought sur])rising when we say that as he hurried along
he forgot much of his sorrow aiid was filled with pleasurable
excitement at the [)rospect of meeting Astumastao again ' True,
he would check himself and say that he was acting or thinking
foolishlv. Astumastao miy^ht be married, or tlie bridle selected
l»v her uncle for some one else, for all lie knew. Why, then,
should he think so eon.stantly about her ;' True, she had l)een
very kind to him in his sorrow; but then he had only mci In r
onci'. Thus he reasoned with himself as he kept hurrying along,
never trying very hard to banish her from his mind. And
fortunate it was for Astumastao that Oowik;tpun was on the way.

.!■!'■

■M^l

OOWIKAPVN.

II U

When Astuiiiastfio retui-ned to the village at'tiT hei* coii-
versatioii with (Jovvikapun, she found the people excited by his
story of the fire burning in his wigwam and the nu^al prepai'ed
an<l I'eady for hiui. J low these things could have been done
without any one linding it out when they are all so alert and
quick-witted amazed them. Then it was to them such a. breach
of the rules or usage of such occasions. Who, they said in their
excitement, could have been so presuming as to break tlie long
established custom and take in food and tire to one of the
dancers?

Some said on(^ of their number nuist have done it while
the others slept so somidly alter the exciting days through
which they had been passing. Others were tinged with
superstiticn, and declared with bated b-eath that the gods must
liave ]iad special love for him, and had themselves come and
suj)plitd his wants.

Tt) all ot tluse things Astumastao listemd and, not being
suspected, ke}>t what sh knew in her heart. She was an active,
br ve girl, and knew how to handle both the paddle and the
gun. Kiy^ayimoowin, her uncle, was pleased with her prowess
and industry, and while [)ossessing tlie pagan ideas about women,
so that h( would nt ver allow himself to show them any par-
ticalai' idtection, yet ever since she had been brought as a, little
child into his w igwam he had treated her not unkindly. With
his siiperstitio.is nature he had lieen strongly inliuenced by the
w'lrds of the missionarv when he handed the orphan child over
to }>is care, and had t;'3d him that if he wanted the favour of
the V ireat Spirit he must treat her kindly and well.

And r>o it happened that as Kistayimoowin had no children
of hir owu, this bright, active girl was always with himself and
hi> wife as they, Indian like, moved fi'om one hunting ground to
another in quest of the different kinds of game. As she was so
(piick and observant, her uncle had taught hei many things about
the habits and instincts of the different aninuils, and the best
methods known for their captiu-e. Tlie result was she had become
a very Diana, skilful and enthusiastic in th<» chase.

Thus the years rolled on and she grew to beautiful young

%^0

AS'/rMA.STAO OfJ{ JIHUOIXE.

woniaiiliood. More tluni oiio p.-iir of <.y(.s looked iowanl licr as
tlit^ ojie they would like to woo mimI win, or, as tliey thou^dit of it
in tlieir way of putting it, be al)le hy .•il)undji,nt or valuable gifts
to i)urch.'ise her from her uncle. Up to this time, how«>ver, he had
r(^[)elled most decidedly all advances made to him for hei-, and had
acted in so harsh a, manner toward all would-be suitors that (hey
had been obliged to keep at a respectful distance. So Astumastao
was still as free as a prairie breeze.

4 I

OHArTEK X.

The .Slimmer hunt. -S;i(l accident to Kistayimoowin. The exphxled nim.—
Astumastao's l>mve rescue.— Tlie dying man. " Sing ! "— >• Whols this
Jesus .' ■'— " It is getting so (hxrk I cannot see tlie trail!"— 'I'he sad funeral.
— Fndusti'ious Astumastao. - -A successful huntress.— Plucky Indian
girls killing reindeer in the lakes.— The sudden attack by 'the fierce
catanionut.

; i:
I; '

u
c

o
<

CIIAJTKK X.

rpil K simmior foll()\vin<,' tln^ visit of < )()wikMpun, KistMyimoowiii
X \\tu\ taken Ills \vii'»' and niece and ^i^one out to an island in
one of the lar<i;o lakes to liunt ami fish. Theirs was the only
wigwam that suninier on the island. While ont in a small
oanoe on the Like shooting ducks, one day liis gun, which was
an old tlint-lock, nnfortunately burst. It not only wounde<l him
severely, but caused him to upset the canoe v/hile ont about half
a mile from the sliore. Ills wife and Astumastao heard his Avild
whoop of danger and (piickly realised the sad position he was in.
Unfortunately, they had no other canoe, and no friendly helper
was within range of their voices. Astumastao, however, like all
Indian gii'ls, could swim like a duck. So, without hesitancy,
she sprang into the lake and as i-apidly as possible swam ont
to the rescue of her wounded uncle, who so sorely needed her
assistance. The explosion of the gun had nearly l)lown off (me
of his bands, and some pieces of the barrel had entered his body.
The resnlt was he was very h(ilpless and weak from tlu' loss of
bkxxl.

Astnmastao reached him as soon as possible, and, finding it
impossible to right the canoe, resolved to try and swim with him
to the shore. it was a desperate undertaking. Ihit she knew
just what to do to sncceed. The wounded man could do nothing
to help himself, so she placed him where he could keep his un-

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\)\

OOWIKAPUiX.

wonndod hund upon lier back, and thus keep afloat. Tlion she
bravely struck out for the distant shore.

Only those who have tried to rescue a lielpless person in tie
water can have any correct idea of the fearful task she had to
perform. But, buoyed up by hope and her naturally brave heart,
she persevered, and, although at times almost exhausted, she
succeeded in reaching the shallow water, out into which her
feeble aunt had ventured to assist her. As well as they could
they heli)ed or carried the almost exhausted man to the wigwam,
and immediately made use of every means at tlieir disposal to
stop the wounds from which his life's blood was ebbing away.

The poor man was no sooner laid on his bed, weak and ex-
hausted, than he turned his eyes toward Astumastao and startled
her, although he spoke in a voice that was little a})ove a whisper.
What he said was :

'' Nikumootah ! " [English, " 8ing ! "]

Astumastao hesitated not. Choking back her emotions, she
began in sweet and soothing notes the song we have ab-eady

heard her sing ;

" Josus my all to heaven is gone,
lie whom T fix my hopes uptm ;
His path I sec, and I'll pursue
Tlie iiano'v way till Him I view."

ii! >

\k\

When she had siv-g two or three verses, the sick man said,-- -

" Who is this Jcsi.s ? "

Not much was it that was remembered through all the long
years that had passed away since Astumastao had received her
last Sabbath -school lesson ; but she called up all she could, and
in that which still clung to her memory was the matchless verse :

" For God so loved the woi-ld that He gave His only begotten
Son, that whosoever believeth in Him sho\dd not perish, but have
everlasting life."

The sick man was thrilled and startled, and said, — ■

" Say it again and again ! "

So over and over again she repeated it.

"Can you remember anything more?" ho whispered.

ifl

riAT nrn rau say was //rs xami:."'

!•:»

''Not imich," slio replied. "Only T romonilxM- tliat I wms
tnu<,']it tliiit this Josus, the Son of the firent Spirit, said sonic-
thing like tins, ' Him that cometh nnto Me T will in no wise
cast out.' "

" Did they say," asked the dyin.ij: man, " that that included the
Indian? ^Mav he, too, go m the white man's way ?"

" Oh, yes," she answered ; " I renieniher ahout that very well.
The missionary was constantly telling us that the Great S])irit
and His Son loved everyhody, Indians as well as whites, and that
we were all welcome to come to Him. Indeed, it must he so, for
these are the words I have learned ahout it out of His great
book : ' Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.' "
Sing again to me," he said, and so she sang :

" Lo, jj^lad T coiiio. and tliou, 1)lost TiMiiil*,
Shalt take me to 'J'liec as I am.
Xothinfj: but sin have I to ^nve.
Nothing but love shall I receive."

u m;

i > M

" What did you say Ilis name was ? " said the dying man.

" Jesus," she sobbed.

" Lift up my head," he said to his weeping wife.

" Take hold of my hand, my niec(%" he said. " It is getting so
dark, I cannot see the trail. I have no guide. What did vou sav
was His name ? "

" Jesus," again she sobbed. And, with that name on his li[)s,
he was gone.

Call not this picture overdrawn. Hundi-eds of these Indians
have long lost faith in paganism, and in their hoin's of peiil, or
in the presence of death, even those who have learned but little
about Christianity cling to those who have some knowledge of
the great salvation and strive to grope into the way.

The two women were alone on the island with their dead, and
with no canoe by which they could return to the distant main-
land. But Indian women are rjuick at devising plans to meet
emergencies, and Astumastao speedily resolved on a scheme to
bring help. What she did was this: she cut a long pole from
a clump o^" slender trees which grew near their wigwam, and then,

^i ' ml

OOWIKAPUiW

iji I

se^ciirely fustoniiii; her sliawl to it, lioistecl it up as a si«,Mi.'»l on a
})(»iiit wlien^ it was visilde from tlu' shore. Soon it was ohserv( <l,
ami help came speedily.

There was Ji <;oofl ileal of •^enuiiu^ sori'ow expressed l)y the
Indians in their own (]uiet way. After many cpiestions had heen
asked and answered, they wrapped up the body in biroh hjirk
and conveyed it to the mainlan«l, and there buried it with their
usual Indian })a«i(an rites, much to the regret of Astumastao.

l^eft alone with her aunt, who was fpiite feeble, upon Astu-
mastao fell the chief work of siipplyin«i^ food for both. Bravely
did she a[)ply herself to the task, and such was her skill and
industiy that a good degree of success crowned her ettbrts. Very
seldom, indeed, was their wigwam destitute of food. Often had
she Fome to spare for the old an<l feeble ones, wdio, according to
the heartless custom of some of the tribes when they reach the
time of life when they can neither snare rabbits nor catch fish,
are either thrown out of the wigwams in the bitter cold and left
to freeze to death, or they are deserted in the forests and left to
be devoured by the wild beasts.

When a poor orphan child, Astumastao had been iescu( d an<l
kindly cared for, and she never foigot those early days and kindly
(It eds performed for her haj)piness.

During the remaining part of the summer which followed the
sad death of her uncle, she succeeded in killing quite a number
of reindeer, winch are at times very numerous in those high
latitudes. Annoyed by the numerous Hies, these reindeer fre-
quently rush into the great lakes and rivers, and, as the Indians
can paddle their light canoe much faster than the animals can
swim, they easily overtake and kill them.

Astumastao, with a couple of other Indian girls, succeeded in
killing a number of them. Their plan was to lash a sharp knife
to the end of a pole, and then, when they had paddled near
enough, they stabbed the deer and dragged it ashore. All the
deer do not give up without a struggle. This Astumastao found
to her tost one day. She and a couple of young maidens about
her own age had hurritd out after a famous deer whose many-
pronged antlers told that he was one of the great monarchs of

TTTE lynusmrors irrnvrPESs.

the forest. When they tried to ^et near enoii«,'h to stab liim.
he suddenly attacked tlie CMno.' witli such fury tliat, alt]i()U«;li
Astnmastao sucoeede*! in moi'tally woundin<:f him, yet lie so
smashed it tlmt it was rendend useless, and the girls had to
spring out and swim to the sho!'e, which was a long way ofl".
However, they reached it in safety, amidst the laughter of the
people, wlio hnd o))seivcd their (liscomtiture. Nothing daunted,
however, the plucky girls (piickly secured another canoe, paddled
out, and brought in their splendid deer.

When the long, cold winter set in again, Astnmastao applied
herself very diligently to the work of trapping and snaring i-abbits
and some of the smaller fur-bearing animals. In her hunting
excursions she followed her plans of the preceding winters, and
often plunged farther into the dense forests to set her traps and
snares beyond those of any other woman-hunter.

Here, in the solitude of nature, she could sing to her heart's
content, while deftly weaving her snares or setting her traps.
On one of these trii)s she caught a glimpse of a black fox, and,
suspecting him to be the thief who had been robbing her snares
of some rabbits during the last few days, she resolve*!, if possibl«»,
to capture the valuable animal. His rich and costly fur woidd
buy lot herself and aunt some valuable blankets and other things
much required for their comfort. Returning quickly back to her
wigwam, she succeeded in borrowing a fox-trap from a friendly
hunter. Then, making all preparations, she started very early
the next morning for the spot where she intended setting her trap.
The distance was so great that she had to tramp along for several
houro on her snow-shoes ere she reached the place. But the air
was clear and bracing, and, hoping for success in her undertaking,
she felt but little fatigue. Skilfully she set the trap, and then,
walking backwards, with a heavy balsam branch she cai-eftdly
brushed out her tracks. She reti-aced her steps to the ordinary
trail, and began collecting her rabbits and partridges from the
snares. Although the fox had robbed her of several, yet she was
more than ordinarily successful, and gathered suliicient to make
a heavy load.

Atone place the path led her through a dense, gloomy paifc

"ill

OOW'IKAPUX,

of thf forost, where tho ^i-eat luMiiclies of tlio tveos spomcd to
ititoi'loek jiuove Ikm* head niul sliut out tlu' li;,'ht and sunsluMe.
But sli',! knew .n> >U(.*li tliiiii,' as feai-. Thi-owiu^'' licr liea\ v load
o\>M lipr .shoulders, and sup[>oi'tin^' it witli the carrvin/^stt-aj) from
liec forehead, she elioerily moved jilon;Li:, tliinkiuij liovv happv she
would 1h' if she captured that fox on the morrow. Suddenly the
shiiek of a wild beast ran^ in lier ears, and she was instan-
taneously hurled on lier faee to the ground.

^%
I'

CHAPTER XI.

Oowikapun on the trail.— Discovers the tracks of the fierce catamount, or
mountain-lion. -Detects it following up a snow-shoe trail. — His excite-
ment and alertness.— The terrible spring.— The well-sent bullet.— The for-
tunate rescue.— Our hero and heroine, Oowikapun and Astumastao, face
to face.— Their glad words of thankfulness at her e8cap(\— The woun-ls
dressed.— The meal in the forest.— The journey to the village.— Oreat
excitement of the people.— Oowikapun a hero in the eyes of all.— His
frequent visits to the tent of the aunt of Astumastao.- He hears much
of the good iiook and of the true way.— And still he lintn-i-s.

.(ij
4

jiisSi

\ •
{
I.

I''

,THR BFAST BAISF.D HIH ITEAP, ' KTf!.

c'liAiTFJi xr.

l!i M

lii^''

WVt L4't Oowikapu.i |liiirryiti<^ alonu^ oil willim» feeb iit tli(3
place in tho t'oiv^st wliere he had first observed tlio snow
shoe tracks oF tlie hnnters oF tlio villaij^e ho was appr()aclnn<jf.
Observing that the tracks were those c t' a woman, he could not
help hoping that they were those of the fair m liden whom he luul
met very ne.ir that same spot two winteis before. This hope
filled him with pleasant anticipation ; so on and on he hurried.

As be strode swiftly but (quietly along, an object caught his
attention that filled him with excitement. Cronching down, and
yet hurrying rapidly along in front of him, not three hundred
yards away, was an enormous catainonnt. This was not a mere
lynx, or wild cat, but one of those great, fierce brutes more allied
to the mountain lion of the llockies, or the panther of the western
and northern part of thi■^ contiiient.

As Oowikapun watclnd the graceful, dangerous brute gliding
along before him, the thought came into his mind that perhaps
this nas the verv one wliose wild, weird shrieks had sounded in
his ears so dolefully as he shivered in the little wigwam of the
village he was now a])proaching. Knowing the habits of thtse
a'.jimals, he supposed this one, from its rapid, persistent, forward
movements, and the absence of that alert watchfulness which they
generally possess, was on the track of a deer.

Oovvikapun dropped to the ground and carefully looked for the
tracks of the game that the catamount was pursuing. But to his

101

i: i

nil

102

oon IKAPI N.

sur[ni.s(' Ih» i'ould not discovor tlio footprints of uiiy niiiniiil. All
at onci' the tiiitli HmsIkmI upon liiiii. TIk' lirrco hnito was on the
trjiil ot the woniiUi, iind, niatldtncd l>y liun^'cr, was nsolvtid 1(»
attack luT. As lie liastcnod on lio lu'canjo nioro tlior«>nj,'ldy con-
\inc('dof this, as lie ohsn-Nrd liow, likii a ^'lout slcntldiound, it
<,did((l aIon«if in tlu' sn«)NV-slioo tracks lirforc hiui. (.Quickly did
Oowikapun prcpui'o for action. His tiusty «^un was loadcil witli
))all. His knife and axe were so fastened in his lu-lt tliat tlu»y
wcn^ ready for instant nsc, if needed. The sti'ap of liis sKmI was
dropped from his slionhlers, and thns disencuniherecl, witli all a
hunt(n''s excitement in snch a position, ho followed cautionsly and
ra[»idly. Indian trails arc^ very crooked ; 80 it was that he only
now and then can<,'ht a «,dim[»so of tlu^ hloodthirsty hrnte. Bnt
when he «lid, h« observed it was intent on its one pnrpos.', as it
iiardly tnrned its liead to th(^ right or th(» left, as it crouched or
boun«le<l alon^'. Soon, however, the trail led from the open fort st,
where the trees wer(^ not chistered t« gothei* very closely, into a
dense, gloomy place of venerable old trees, whose great limbs
stretched and interwined with each other for (piite a distance.
This was the same gloomy part of the forest into which we had
seen Astnmastao go as she was returi-ing with her heavy load of
game.

When Oowikapiin reached the entrance to this part of the tiail
he was surprised to notice the sudden disappearance of the tracks
of the catamount, llapidly did his eyes scan every spot within

distj

and still

of a, f(

sil)ie.

footstep was

But he was not to be deceived. Knowing the character of these
animals, he carefully examined the trunks of the trees close at
hand, and on one he found the marks of the creature's claws, as it
had sprung from the trail into it. This discovery added to the
excitement of Oowikapun, and caused him to be still more alert
and cautious. These animals can climb ti-ees like stjuirrels, and
glit'.e along from branch to branch with amazing celerity where
the trees are lai'ge. They seem to prefer to make their attack by
springing upon their victims from a tree rather than from the
ground, as their aim is to seize them by the throat. Oowikapun
was aware of this, and it added to his anxiety and alertness.

77/ A" WOyDKIirrr. JfRLIVF.RAyCK.

loa

OiH'c oi- t w ice lie cini^'lit sijiilit of tlio ('iciidiio us, likf ii South
AiiicricMii iMiiiiii, it ^li(I«'(l !il<)n<; iVoin trroto troo. Sodii lir saw
it puiisc tor an instant, iiml Ixhoimi' ;;it'!itly .i^itjitrd. It appeared
U) (piivrr with ox('it(Mnont. It was still ;i Inn;; shot from him, as
lie had only a smooth-hor*', llintliu'k nfun. Tlu^ tempt.-ition to lir(<
was ^rent, hut, wishing' to hr sure of his aim, lu^ rcsDlvrd to follow
on and ^'ot so near that no sicond lall would Ix' nci dod. <hi
ji^ain glided thehcast, and was soon lost to view, wliih Oowikajtun
followed MS ijipidly as h(^ thouirht it was West in tho crooked trail,
wluin siiddi idy he heard the wild shriek that seemed toti^ll of tho
triumph of the savii^'e hcast. As he dashed on, a sharp turn in
the trail showed him tho bloodthirsty IxNist tisarin^ at the hack of
a prostrate woman, upon whom ho had sprung from tho tree, and
thrown to the ^'round.

With ah an Indian's coolness and prt sence of mind Oowikajtun
knew that while he must act (piickly, he nuist also guard against
aeci«lentally injuring ihft woman. So, raising his gun in position,
he shouted out the Indian word for'* Keep still I "and as the
beast laised his hea«l at the uiujxpected sound, the bullet went
crashing through his brain and h " fell dead as a stone.

To rush forward to the woman he had rescued and ascertain tlu^
extent of her wounds was but the work of an instant. Antl that
instant was all the woman re([uired to s[)ring up and see who it
was that she had to thank for her suddyn deliverance from such a
terrible death.

Thus, face to face, they met again — Oowika[)un and Astumastao.
Reaching out her hand, whiles her bright eyes spoke more elo-
quently than words, she said, —

" I am very thankful for your coming, and for my speedy
rescue ; and not less so when I see it has been by Oowikapun I "

" Oowikapun is gla.d to 1h> of any servici to Astumastao," lie said,
as he took the protiered hand and held it ; while h?' ad<led, " IJut
aiv you not badly wound( d '{ "

" Only in my arm do I feel hurt," she replied.
On inspection it was found that the wounds there were made
by the claws and not by the teeth, anil so did not appear- \( ry
serious.

lul

onwiKAPiri^.

As tlu'H»» v«'ry pnH'tical y«nin^ ])r'0|)l*' iHsnussod tho attack and
oscapc, it wjis mianiiiiniisly a;L,'n'('<l that it was vcM'y t'ortimato tor
Astmnaslao that slic iiad tlio li«'avy load of rahliits on hur l>ack,
and si'Vt^ial In act' of |»attiMd<jf('s about her nock. When the bruto
spian^' upon hci- lie had only plun^'cd his tocth and claws into tho

^'anic.

We nc<'d not hero ^'o into thi^ particulars of all the beautiful
<hin;,'s which W(4'e said by these two veiy interesting' yo^'i'^'
people. Human natur(> is about the same th(^ world over. This
is not a romantic love-story, even if it (urns out to be a lovely
stoiy. HulUco it here to say that at lirst a lire was kindled, and
tlu^ wounded arm was di'essj d and bandaged. Some balsam fi'om
the trees was easily obtained by Oowikapun for the piu'pose, and
a warni wrapping of rabbit skins taken from the newly-caught
animals sulKced to keep the old from the wounds. These j)rompt
and thorough Indian methods for curing wounds were most
successful, auid in a few days they were com[)letely healed.
When the dressing of the arm was attended to Oowikapun
returned for his sled, which he had left at the spot where he tirst
caught sight <^f the catamount, while Astuniastao busied herself
with cooking some of the game which she had caught, and which
she had about ready when he )'eturned.

Perhaps some of my mor*' fastidious readers wouhl not have
cared much for a meal thus prepared and eaten without the use
of plates or forks. But there are others who have dined in this
way, and the remembiance of sucli meals, with the glorious
appetite which forest or mountain air has givt n, is to them a
delicious memory. This one, any way, was very much enjoyed
by these sensible young people. Wh -n it was over, Oowikapun
tpiickly skinned the catamount, lie left the head attached to the
skin, and placed it on his sled that it might be shown to the
villagers when they arrived. The body he left behind as worth-
less, as it is never eaten by the Indians, although they are fond of
the wild cats and some other carnivorous animals. Astumastao's
load of game was also placed upon his sled, and then together
they resumed their journey to the village.

Great was the excitement amt)ng the people when the story

OOWJKAVaX MADt: A '\JtltAVKr

10.".

iHHfaiiic known, and in tlicn* ln<liiin way (liry at oiicm proinotctl
Oowikiijum to tho ranks of (ho ^'loat •* l»rav«'s." He was hy all
considered quitci a Ihm'o, iind inadr wrlconm in iiil of tin* wi<;wanis
ho chose to visit. 'I'iie aunt of Astiiniastao welconieil him most
coiiHaliy. Kissin*; him a^'ain and a^^Min, she call(>d him her son,
wliih' kIio tliaiiked him most },'i'at( fully for his nohle deed. (JIadly
accepting h(»r invitation, \\i- repeiilMl his visits to hor wigwam as
often as Indian elicpuHie wouM sanction.

One day, when only the three of theiu were pre.s.'iit, ()owika|>iiii,
who had h((ar«l from some of tiie p«'(H)le of the heroic way in
which Astniiiastao had re.-cu(!d her unch' Ivistayimoowin from a
wat(M.'y giavo, asked her to tell him the stoi*y.

Ah a genoi'al thing, little reference is maile among the Indians
to the dead. Without any light to ilhnnino the valley and
shadow of death, the whole thing is so drea<lful, that they never
mention the word death. When obliged to speak of those who
have gone, they say, " non pimatissit," which means, '* lie is no*
among the living."

Jlowever, Astuniastao and her aunt had none of these fooli.sh
notions, (S[)ecially as since the sad event the aunt had t'agerly
drinik in all the information she could get from her niece, who
now had none in the wigwam to crush her song or (iui«*t \\vv
speech.

As Astumastao liad a double object in view, she willingly
<lesci'ihed the scene as we have already done. She dwelt fully
upon his calling for her to sing, and his longing to learn all
he could about the name of Jesus. Tlie recital produced a deep
impression upon Oowikapun, and brought up all the memories of
his own darkness and mental dis([uietude, while month after
month he had been groping along in liis vain attempts to find
soul happiness.

During this interview she told him how she and her aunt had
tried, ever since her uncle's d( ath, to live in the way of the l)ook
of heaven, but that they knew so little, and there were so many
mysteries ami ])erplexities all around them, that they wen^ at
times much discouraged. But there was one thing tlu^y had
resolved upon, and that was never to go back to the old i)agau

10(;

OOlVIKAPfA.

religion of tiicir forcfiitliors. Tlicy won; happior in their minds
now, with tlie ghniniering liglit of tlu; wliite man's way, tlian ever
tliey Iiad been in their lives hefoie.

Oowikapun listens (1, and was (^neoi, ,iged. lie told them fully
of his own troubles, for he felt he had, for the iiist time, symi)a-
thetic listeners. When he described his various methods to get
peace and (juiet for his anxieties, and referred to the ceremony of
torture througli which he had gone, Astumastao's eves flashed
with indignation and then filled with tears. Strong words seemed
about coming from her lips, but, with an ell'ort, she controlled
herself and r«'mained quiet.

Very frequently did Oowika[)un find his way to the wigwam
when; dwelt these two women, and doubtless many were the
things about which they talked. For a time he visited the snares
and traps and brought in the game. One diiy he returned with
the splendid black fox, which Astumastao had tried so hard to
capture. For this they gratefully thanked him, as well as for the
great, tawny skin of the catamount, which he had carefully
prepared as a splendid rug and spresul out for them in their

wigwam.

The wounded arm was now completely healed, and the business
which Oowikiipun had used as his excuse for coming to the viUage
was long ago arranged. And still he lingered.

(CHAPTER XI r.

! I

The same old story. — Oovvikai)un is in love with our heroine. — Indian court-
sliip generally very short. — He seems to make but slow ])rogress, —
Astumastao's reserve. -" All things come to him who waits."— He tells of
his affection for her. — His suit urged in vain. — She tells him of her brave
resolve to go for a missionary for her people. -Vainly Oowikapun pleads
for her to marry him, and for, them both to go. Her refusal.- A dan-
gerous undertaking. — Vainly Oowikapun expostulates. — His own brave,
sudden resolve. — He secretly leaves the village.

ill

ilK ASKKD IJEK Tu.^MAKUY lll.M.'

/>/•■

n. 1

CITAKrER XTI.

TO tlie villagers the cause was very evident, but why tiiere
should be any trouble or delay in his courtship they could
not make out. Of course he would take Astumastao's aiuit to
live with them, and therefore there was no price to pay for the
maiden. So quickly and promptly do the Indians attend to these
things, that when mattei-s have gone between their young folks,
as they evidently imagined they had between the.se i.wo, a decision
one way or another is cpiickly reached.

These simple people do not believe in long courtships with a
mitten at the end. So they began to wonder why this matter
was not settled. They were nearly all very favouiably inclined
toward Oovvikapun, and were pleased at the prospect of his
marrying a maiden of their village. Even some of the young
men who had hoped to have won her, when they heai'd the story
of her wonderful deliverance by the fine young hunter of anotlu r
village, and observed how he had set his heart upon her, retired
from the field, saying that Oowikapun's claims to her were greater
than theirs, and that for th<>mselves they must look elsewhere.
But while Astumastao's eyes brightened when Oowikapun entered
the wigwam, and her welcome was always kindly, yet she skil-
fully changed the conversation when it seemed to be leading
toward the tender sentiment. Women are more skilful than
men, and she, for some reason, would never let him see that she
appeared to think of him as a suitor. By her tact she kept him

109

I ■"

lie

OOWIKAPUX.

,i 1

! 1

,i !

from saying what was in his hcnrt. And yet she was no mere
coquette. In her great loving heart was a purpose nol)le and
firm, and a resolve so high, that foi- the present all other senti-
ments and feelings must hold a suhordinat > place. Ho, while she
ilid not ie)»el him, or ofl'end his sensitive s[)irit, siie made him feel
that he must defer n matter to him so important, and talk on
other suhiects. There was one theme on which she was alwavs
eager to talk, and to her it never grew :,tale or threadbare. It
was about what he and she had learned of the book of heaven,
and the good white man's way.

She sang her hymns to him, and called up happy memories of
the year which she had spent in the home of the missionary.
She made him tell her, over and over again, all he could remember
of Memotas and Achinioowin, and, as well as she could in her
quiet way, let him sea how solicitous she was that he should try
to find out liow to get into this way.

Oowikapun was thankful for all this kindness, and was very
Lappy in her presence. But he was all the time getting more
deeply in love with her, and, while anxious to learn all he could
from her, had come to the sage conclusion that if she would marry
him he could learn so much the faster.

It is said that " all things come to him who waits," and so the
opportunity which our Indian friend had so long desired came to
him at last.

Astumastao had been telling him one day when they were
alone of the persecutions she had met with from her uncle,
Koosapatum, and others, and then stated how hard it was for
her alone to remember about the Good Book, and live up to its
lessons. Then she added, if there had only been some one among
the people who knew more than she did to stand firm with her,
they might have helped each other along, and been ^o firm and
brave.

When she had finished, Oowikapun saw his opportunity, and
was quick to avail himself of it. He replied by deeply sympathis-
ing with her, and then, referring to his own difficulties and
failures in the past, stated how fearful he was of the future
unless he had some true, brave friend to help him along. Then,

jxniAX covuTsinp.

Ill

lure

sudd Mily faciui; lier, in stron^tf ;intl l()\ini; words lit; ur^'cd licr to
Ix' liis tcaclicr and lielpcr, his counsellor — liis \viF(\

So quickly luid the convo'sjition cliangcd. and so snddoidy had
come this diclanition, tiiat Astnniastao was thrown oil' her ,i,'nai'd
and nioi'O dccjtly a<;ilal(Ml than perhaps she had ever heen het'oro.

However, she soon regained her conii'.osiir;', and repliid <o hiui
not unkindly, hut candidly and unniistakahly. She said she was
very sorry he had made such a recjuest, fo" she had set her licarfc
ui)on some work which would perha{)s make it im})()ssihle for her
to think of mari'lajye foi- y( ars to come.

Vainly he uj-^'ed his suit. She was iirm. He had the t-a<is-
faction of getting fi-om her the information that at some future
interview slie would t dl him of the great object she had set her
heart upon, and he had to have the wigwam feeling that his
chances of winning Astumastao were not (piite so Itright as he
vainly imagined.

As we may well suppose, Oowikapun was very anxious to know
the reason which had so strong a hold upon Astiunastao, and so,
just as soon as fndian eticjuette would allow another Visit to her
wigwam, he went there.

When some Indian maidens who had been leai'ning from
Astumastao some new designs in b(Mid work, at whi(;h she was
very skilful, had retired, and the two young people and the aunt
were now left alone, in a straightforward manner she told what
was uppermost in her lieart. It was of .a purpose which had been
growing there for years, but which she had only s; en the
possibilities of carrying out since her uncle's death. She said
she believed they ought to have a missionary to teach them the
truths in the book of heaven. Pe-pe qua-napuay, the new chief,
was not unfriendly, as he had himself decl -ed that he had lost
faith in \\w old pagan way. And Koosapatum, the conjurer,
had lost his power over the young men, who now feared not his
threats ; and at Tapastanum, the old medicine man, they even
laughed when he threatened them. So she had resolved to go
all the way to Norway Ifousi', to ])lead with the missionary
there, to send away to the land of missionaries, and get one to
come and live among them and be their teach' r. She knew it

' i

l^''

112

OOWIKAPUN-

was far away, and lior luimls and arms would often got woary
wifli piiddiin<,' her canoo, and lier foot would ^ot soro. PerliaMs
tho moccrasins would wear out in the porta^ es, whore tlie stones
were sharp and the rocks many ; but they liad talked it all over
and they had resolved to <^o. Two women were to go with her.
One, who was a widow, w.as to be the guide. She had gone over
the way years ago with her husband, and thought that she rould
remember the trail. The other was a young woman and a com-
panion of Astumastao. From being much with her she longed
for more instruction. These two women, she said, were anxious
to go with her. They were sick of the way tliey wei'e living,
and longed for the better life, and a knowledge of what was
beyond.

They had been ma-king their preparations for a long time, she
said. A friendly family would keep the aunt in her absence,
and look after her little wigwam. They had been making bead
work, and some other things to sell at Norway House, so that
they would not be dependent upon the friends there while they
pleaded for a r issionary.

Thus talked this noble girl. As she went on and described the
blessing that would come to her people if she should succeed,
she became so fired up with this noble resolve, which had taken
possession of her, that poor Oowikapun felt himself very guilty in
having dared to m.ake a proposal of marriage, which would in
any way thwart a purpose so noble, and which might be followed
by such blessed results.

And yet when, alone and in cool blood, Oowikapvin pondered
over the nature of the task she had decided to undertake, and
thought of the p?rils and difficulties in the way, he resolved
to try to persuade her to abandon the perilous undertaking.
Patiently she listened to all he had to say, but would not be
persuaded to abandon the scheme on which her heart was set.

Seeing this, he tried to arrange some compromise, oi* some
other plan. First he asked her to marry him and let him go
along in place of the young Indian maiden. This plan, which
seemed so agreeable to Oowikapun, she quickly dismissed, saying
that she did not intend to be marviecl until she could be married

! II

77/ /; NO n L E It h\S L vi:.

ll.-i

ivoary

lll.lMS

atones
1 ovex*
1 her.
e over

co\ild

com-
loDged
nxioiis
living,
it was

ne, she
bsence,
g bead
so that
le thev

jed the
cceed,
taken
Ity in

)uld in
lowed

ndered
e, and
^solved
aking.
not be
et.

some

lim go

which

Isaying

liarried

ill the beautiful (.'hristicin way she rememhcrod liaving soni wlien
a child, and by a Cliristian missionary.

Failing in this scheun^, Oowikapun suggested tliat he sliould
select so>je strong young fellow, and that together they sliould
.set off as soon as the ice di.sappeared from the rivers, and present
her recjuest.

To this Astumastao re[)liod, and there was a little tinge of
banter, if not of sarcasm, as well as a good deal of seriousness,
in her voice, '• And suppose in one of the Indian villages through
which you might pass, a sun or ghost dance, or even the ceremony
of the devil worship or dog feast might be going on, who knows
but you might be persuaded to jump into tlie magic circle and
dance yourself senseless ? Or if you did not succeed, might you
not in your discouragement go ott' again to the tortures and
miseries of Hock-e-a-yum ? "

Thtse words made him wince, but he could only feel that they
were true, and that he deserved them all. He realised tliat until
lie did something to redeem him.self in the eyes of this brave,
true woman, he was only worthy of her reproofs.

Seeing that her words had so hurt him, the generous-hearted
girl, who, while grieved at the failures he had made, could also
appreciate his noble qualities and sympathisL- wit't him in his
struggles for the light, quickly turned the conversation, and tlien,
as though making a confidant of him, told him of jiil the })lans
of their contemplated journey.

One day while Oowikapun was pondering ovei- the words of
Astumastao, and thinking of the risks she and her companions
were about to run, and the dangers they woidd have to encounter
in their great undertaking, and contrasting it with the listless,
aimless lire he had lately been leading, there suddenly oame to
liim a noble resolve. This took such possession of him and so
enthused him that he appeared and acted like another man.

To carry it out was quickly decided upon, and so, letting no
one know of his {)urpose, he very early, one crisp wintry morning,
tied his little travelling outfit, with his axe and gun, upon his
sled, and, without saying " good-bye " to any one, even to Astu-
mastao, he secretly left tlie viUage.

til'

*'S '11

CHAPTEIl XllL

with whom to iulvisP H..r f K, ^;^^— ^'"'s : IK) wi«(> counsell,.r

' '"ivi.se.— Hor feeble aunt's sad histoi v — - VVl.v fli.l i,«
not at least come and say ' Good-bve ' ' " sh-.. . • ^ ^

alloat. -Hunters brin.Mn woid th^t ^ "^tninge and exeitu.^rumom.s
n.av 3hortly be exneeted A f V T"'""''''^ ^^'^ ^^'^ ^'''^' ^^^^
of Oovvikaimn "^^"^'^^-^^tumastao hopes that it may be the work

I I

ij i

" Till:; YULNU MEN A} .» MAlDKNti UK THE Vll-LA(iE TALKED," ETC

f(?D£.^.

cirAPTiMi xrrr.

IFF] iiiystorions (lisjippeMrniK'o of ()(>\vikii])un fi'oiii the villii^jfo
of his frienilH caused a go^tl deal of oxcitonuMit and innocent
gossij).

Tluit he was deeply in love with Aslnniastao was evident to
all, and while she did not allow even her most intimate friends
to hear her say that she intend d to iimrry liim, yet her conduct
very plainly indicated that ni stood hij^diei' than any one el.«(!
in her este 'm. That she Lad positively rejected him, none of
them could believe. Why. then, hiid he thus shown the white
feather, and so ignominiously and so suddenly left the field when
it seemed so evident that a little more perseveiance would have
suiely resulted in his success. In this way the young men nnd
maidens of the villiige talked, \viiile the (»ld nwn giavely smoked
tluir caluniets, and mourned that the times were so changed
that a youn* brave should have so much trouble in capturing
a squaw.

When Astumastao wfis informed of the sudden disappearance
of Oowikapun she was troubled and perplexed. Not the slightest
hxut had he given her of his intended movements, when, like a
Hash, there had come to him the great resolve to be the one
who should go on the long journey to Hud the missionary. She
was a maiden not beautiful, but she was a comely Indian girl,
attractive and clever in her way, and she well knew that many
a young hunter had sat down beside her wigwam door, or luul

117

'■j.i

!jl

lis.

OffW /A.I/T.V

<•

«lr()|))tO(l tlir sliiiiiii<; wliilr |M'lil»i(' iM'Torc lici- in (lie pjilli, (Ims
plainly iiitiinntiii^ (licir tlcsiir to win lu'i* notice jiiid rstiTin.
Hut to ill 1 of tiioni she liiid tniiHMl a (ImF car, and liud treated
theni, without exception, with pei't'ect indil1"(M<'nce. As shy and
timid as a yoiui;; fawn of the forest, she had lived under t ho
watchful antl somewhat jealous care of her uuch- and aunt, until
()()wika])un had appeared in tho village.

His coming, however, and his ref(»renc(* to Memotas, had
strangely la-oken the (juipt monotony of years. Then what
Kho ha<l done for him in t he wigwam, tin ir conversation in tho
trail, and, above all, his gallant rescue of her fiom tho terrihle
catamount, had aroused new (Muotions within Imm- and o[tened up
her niind (o a wider virion, un*il now she saw that, sho was no
longer the young free Indian girl, with no thoughts hut those
of hor childhood, hut a woman who must now act and decide
for liorself. IJut^with the chai'act eristic icserve of he!* |»eopl(>,
she kept all tliese new-hoiMi emotions aiul aspirations hid in
lu'i' lie;irt.

The powei' to control the feelings and {)assions among tho
Indians is not (onlined to tho sterner sex. Schooled in a lifo
c)f hardship, the women as W( 11 as the men can put on tlu^ mask
of apparent indillei-ence, while at the sauio time tho heart is
rack((l by intensest feeling, or the body is suffei-ing mo.st horiid
torture. Death in its most dreadful form may be staring them
in the face, and yet an outsider may look in vain for the
blanching of the cheek, or tho quivering of a muscle. Very eai-ly
in life does this stern ediication begin.

" That is my best child," said an Indian father, as he pointed
out an apparently hap])y little girl of seven or eight yeais old,
in his wigwam.

" Why should she l)e your favourite child?" was asked him.

" Why ? because she, of all my chihh-en, will go the longest
without food without crying," was his answer.

To suffer, but to show no sign, is the proverb of the true
Indian. And yet Astumastao would not admit even to herself
that she was so deeply in love with Oowikapun.

She had treasured the fond conceit in her heart, that the one

:' ' lj>

//.!/> A///; UEMJA lUJiu riih iidl

111)

iill-al)S()ilmi<; passioii with Iter w.is tluit wliicli >lii' IimiI I'lM-iy
rt'vonlnl to liiiii, iinl slu^ in lior simplicity liiul liuiu'sdv ))fli»«vt d
tlmt IK) other l()V(» could tiikt' itsplMcr, or v\v\\ slum' ihc nxnii in
hor hiMirt.

Hut h(»i'«( was ji imkIh M\viilv«'niii''. Sii(» was ii iiivstrrv to
horsclt". Why thrso sighs, luid tears, whni iilonc and iiiiwati'hcd
))y Iwr hright eyed, alort, yoimj,' associates t WiiV did the image
f this ono young Indian hunter intiude itself so persistcnliv
het'ore h"i- in her waking lioiu's ^ It is ti'iie he came not
freijuently to her in lu»r <h('ams, tor we dream hut little of those

N\<' love

le most, and who are in oin- memories and on oui

hearts eontinuallv during the waking hours of uctive lift

Unt-aught
lus'irtltss co(

xyy sciiools.

an<

1 free from all the <'uiles of

luetry

an oi'piian gn*! ni an

hid

lan \ulag(

Wltll

neither piaidence on the one hand nor premature hot hous(<
tea/'hing on the ot Ikm", which turns the leads of so many girls,
Astumastao was to Ik rself a riddle which sIh« could not solve- —
a prohlem the iiM)st ditlicull of any she had evei- tried to under-
stand.

Her maideidy modesty seemed first to tell her to ]»ajn'sh his
image from her heart, and liis name t'i'om her lips. To accom-
plish this she threw herself with lenewecl diligence into the (hities
incident to her simple yet lahorious life, and l>y her very
activities endeavouicd to bring herself hack to the sweet sim-
plicities of hei" earlier days. I Jut fruith'ss were all hei' efVorts.
The heart transfixed was too strong for the liead, and the
new love, wliich liad so iniconsciously come to her, would not Le
stilled or })anished.

A true daughter of Kve was this forest maiden, even if she did
live in a wigwam, and had never I'cad a novel oi' a romance ; and
because she had these feelings, and was passing th.rough these
hours of disquietude ami conflicting enioti(»ns, we thirds none the
less of her. Our only regret is that she had no wise, judicious
friend of her own sex, to whom in her perplexity she could have
gone for wise and pnulent council. Hapj)y are those daughters
in civilised lands who have their precious mothei's, or other safe
counsellors, to whom they can go in these crucial hours of their

\ '.

,.,:l

'* II

WKl

' r^

120

nOWIKAPI'N.

history, when their fiitnro weal or woe mny turn upon the
decisions then marie. And happy nie those fair maidens who,
instead of impulsively and recklessly rejecting all counsel and
warning fi-om their truest friends, listen to the voice of experience
and parental love, and, above all, se;^k aid from the infinitely
loving One who has said : "If any of you lack wisdom, let him
ask of God that givetli to all men liberally and withholdeth not ;
and it shall be given him."

AstumRstao, unfortunately, had no one to whom she could go
in her p rplexity. Her feeble aunt liad been a purchased wife,
bought in the long ago by her husband, whom she had never
seen until th( day when he had come from a distant village, and,
being impressed with her appearance — for she was then a fine-
looking young woman — had quickly spread out at her father's
feet all the gifts he demanded for her. His first words to her
were to inform her that she was his wife, and that very shortly
they would set out for his distant home. Crushed out of her
heai't were some fe<dings of affection for a handsome young huntei",
who had several times met her on the trail, as she was accus-
tomed to go to the bubbling spring, in the shady dell, for water
for her father's wigwam. Few, indeed, had been his words, but
his looks had been bright and full of meaning, and he had let her
know that he was gathering up the gifts that would purchase
her from her stern and avaricious fjither. But alas ! her dreams
and hopes had betii blasted, and her heart crushed by this old
pagan custom ; and so for long years she had lived the dreary,
monotonous life to which we have referred. Such a woman could
give no advice that would be of much service to such an alert,
thoughtful girl as Astumastao ; and so, unaided and undisciplined,
she let her thoughts drift, and her heart became the seat of
emotions and feelings most diverse. Sometimes she bitterly
upbraided herself for her coldness and indifference to Oowikapun,
as she thought of his many noble qualities. Then, again, she
would marshal before her his weaknesses and defects, and would
vainly try to persuade herself to believe that the man who had
been in the tent of Memotas and had heard him pray, and had
then gone into the devil dance and ha<l voluntarily suffereil the

" \rrrr nm iff xor come axd say aoon.nYEr' 121

ler's

tortures of Hoek-e-a-ynm, was unworthy of lior not

WV'

ilderib

til

e \\\

>t hi

iHor(»(l

til

len

oniory of wliat he i
terrible ordeals eanie before her, her bri<;ht eyes would till u[)
with tears, and she found herself impulsively lon^yfing for the
opportunity to drive the reeolleetion of such sutte'ings from his
mind and heart, and to be the one to save him from their
repetition.

Amidst these contlicting emotions there was one thought that
kept coming up in her mind and giving her much trouble, and
that was—" Why had he left so abruptly '. Why did he not at
least come and say 'Good-bye '? or why had he not left at least
some little message for her ? "

Over these queries she pondered, and they were more than once
thrown at her by the young Indian maidens, as with them she
was skilfully decorating with beads some snow-white m(;ccasins
she had made.

Thus pondered Astumastao through the long weeks that were
passing by since Oowikapun left her ; while he, brave fellow, little
dreaming that such conflicting feelings were in lu r heart, was
putting his life in jeopardy, and ( nduring hardships innumerable
to save and benefit the one who had become dearer to him than
life itself.

Thus the time rolled on, and all of her eflbrts to banish him
from her mind proved failures, and it came to pass that, like the
true, noble girl that she was, she could only think of that
which was brave and good about him; and so, when some startling
lumours of a delightful character began to be circulated among
the wigwams, our heroine Astumastao, without knowing the
reason why, at once associated them with (Jowikapun.

News travels rapidly sometimes, even in hinds where telegraphs
and express trains are unknown. It does not always require tlie
well-appointed mail service to carry the news rapidly through
the land.

During the terrible civil war in the United States there was,
among the negroes of the South, what was known as the grape
vine telegraphy, by which the coloured people in remote sections
often had news of success or disjister to the army of " Uncle

! I

If 5

I ' 'I ',

OOWIKAPUX.

Almihaiii," as tlicy loved to call President Jjineoln, long before
the whites had any knowledge of what had oecuri-ed.

So it is among the Indian tribes. In some m ystt rioiis, and,
to the whites, most iinaceountabh^ way, the news of success or
disaster was carried hundreds of miles in a marvellously short
period of time. For exam[)le, the defeat and death of General
Custer, at the battle of the Hosebud, was known among the
Sioux Indians near St. Paul's for several hours before the military
authorities at the same place had any knowledge of it, although
the whites were able to communicate more than half of the way
with each other by telegraph. An interesting subject thi^.
might prove for some one, who had time, and ])atience, to give it a.
thorough investigation.

The rumours of coming blessings to the [K'ople kept increasing.
At length they assumed a form so tangible that the people began
to understand what was meant. It seems that some hunters mt^t
some other hunters in their far-oH' wanderings, who had come
across a party of Norway House Chiistian Indians, who informed
them that a visit might In^ soon expected from the white man,
with the great IJook, about which there had been so many strange
things circulating for such a long time. When Astumastao
heard these rumours, she was excited and perplexed. While
hoping most sincerely that they were true, and would speedily
be fulfilled, vet she coidd not but feel that she would have
rejoiced if she had ))een able to have made the Icmg journey for
which she had been so industriously preparing, and had had
something to do in bringing the missionary and the Book among
her own peo[)le. And then she let her thimghts go to some one
else, and she said to herself : " 1 will so rejoice if it turns out to
be the work of dear Oowika})un."

CHAPTER Xiy.

Missionary work among th(! Xortheni Indians.— Xovway House oiu« of tlie
earliest and most sncccssfiil.-OtluT tribes longing for the same bless-
ings.— Many deputations from other places.— Pleadings of the old
man, -"My eyes have grown dim through long watching."— humeiise
mission-fields. ^-Hardships and privations of the woi'kers.-Two \velc(.uic
visitors at tl'C mission house.- Memotas and Oowikapun.— Our hero in
the presence of the missionary.— How had he reached that place .'—The
story of his trip. -Many adventures.- One supper (m marrow-bones left
by the wolves.— Kescuid an old man deserted by his Criends and left to
be devoured by the wolves. - Welcomed in the home of Meiuotas.

]*•

iipi

! <

ii , '

I *

V -

"'MV HAKi:s'r (TMN WAS TO GET VV INTO A TRKK,"

fi^i^^^-'ic^..

v**^*

CHAPTER XIV.

rpHE success which has attended the etibrts of thi> i. ; -.ionaries
X in preaching the gospel among tlie most northern tribes of
Indians has been very encouraging. For a long time they Jiad
been dissatisfied with tlieir old paganism. They had in a measure
become convinced that their religious teachers, their medicir.e
men, and conjurers were impostors, and so, while submitting
somewhat to their sway through fear, were yet chafing under
them. When the first missionaries arrived among them, tlit v
were soon convinced that they were their true friends. Not only
were they men of purest character, but they were men who
practically sympathised with the people. To the full measure
of their ability, and often beyond, they helped the sick and
suffering ones, and more than once divided their last meal with
the poor, hungry creatures, who came to them in their hours of
direst need.

The result was, that the people were so convinced of the
genuineness of these messengers of peace and goodwill, that large
numbers of them gladly accepted the truth and became Christians.
The story of the founding of these missions went far and wide
throughout all these northern regions, and at many a distant
camp-fire, and in many a wigwam hundreds of miles away, the
red men talked of the white man, and his book of lieaven.

Occasionally some of these hunters or tra})pers from the still
remote pagan districts, would meet with some of the Christian

125

i2<;

OOWIKAPUX.

5, I

l.iiiitors from the missions, mikI from tliem would learn somethinjjf
of the great Siilvution revealed in the book of heaAeii, and would
return more dissatislicd than ever with their old sinful pagan
ways.

Then it sometimes happened that a missionary, full of zeal for
his Master and of symj)athy for these neglected souls in the
wilderness, ^^•')uld undertake hmg journeys into their country to
preach the gospel. Many w^ere the hardships and dangers of
those trips, which were often of many we^^ks' duration. They
were made in summer in a birch canoe, in company with a couple
of nobh' Christian Indians. They were not only able to skilfully
paddle the canoe and guide it safely down the swift, dangerous
rapids and carry it across the portages, but were also -of great
help to the missionary in spreading the gospel, by telling of their
own (?onversio. ^id of the joy and ha2)piness which had come to
them through the hearty acceptance of this way.

]n winter, the missionary could only make these long journeys
by travelling with dogs, accompanied by a faithful guide, and
some clever dog-drivers. Sometimes they travelled for three
hiuidred miles through the cold forests, or over the great frozen
lakes, for many days together, without seeing a house. When
night overtook them, they dug a, hole in the snow, and there they
slept or shivered as best they could. Tlieir food was fat meat,
and they fed their dogs on iish. The cold was so terrible that,
sometimes, every part of their faces exposed to the dreadful cold
was frozen. Once the nose and ears of one of the missionaries froze
in bed. Often the temperature ranged from forty to sixty degrees
below zero. It was perhaps the hardest mission-field in the
world as regards the physical sufferings and privations endured.
IJut, fired by a noble ambition to preach the gospel " in the regions
beyond," these men of God considert d no suffering too severe, or
difficulties insurmountable, if only they could succeed.
They were among those of whom it is said :

'• FikhI with ii zoal peculiar, they defy
The rage and rij^ovn- of a northern skv.
And plaiit suecessfully sweet Sharon's rose
On icy fields amidst eternal snows."

THE JJEPUTATIO.XS PLKADIMI FOR M ISSIOXA lUES, Vl'i

Diiiethiiig
id would
111 pagan

/eal for
^ ill the
)iiiiti'y to
Liigeivs of
1. They
M couple
skilfully
imgerous
■of great
\ of their

come to

journeys

lide, and

jv three

t frozen

When

ere they

it meat,

)le that,

Fill cold

ies froze

'■ degrees

in the

nidured.

> i-egions

jvere, or

Wherever they could gather the wandei-ing Indians logother

litth

tliev did

even ii

l)iinks ot the lakes or rivers, in the forests, at then- cani]> liios, or
in their wigwams, they ceased not' to speak, and to preach .Jesus.
The result was a s[)irit of eiupiiry was abroad, and so in s[»ito of
the ol<l conjurei's and mediciiu' www, who wci-e determined, if
possil)le, not to lose tiieir grip u[ton them, (here was a longing
to know more and more ahout this better way.

Norway House Mission was the spot to which many eyes w. re
directed, and to which (le[)iitations asking for missionary help
often came. It was the lai-gest and most nourishing of those
northern missions, and for years had its own printing-pi-ess and
flourishing schools. Very pathetic and thrilling w(U'e some of
the seems in connexion with some of these ini[)ortiinate Jndiaii
deputations, who came from remote regions to })lead with the
resident missionary that they might have one of their own, to live
among them and help th(>m along in the right way.

One deputation consisting of old men came year after year,
and when still refused each successive year, because there were
none to volunteer for a life so full (f hardshi[)s, and no money
in the missionary treasury, even if a man could bt^ found, became
filled with (Uspah*, and even bitteriuss, and said: "Surely, then,
the white men do not, as tluy say, consider u.-s as their brothers,
or they would not leave iis without the book of heaven, and one
of their number to show us the true way."

Another old man, with bitterness of soul and tremulousness of
speech, when leplying to the i-efusal of his recpiest for a missionary
lor his people, said : " My eyes have grown dim with long watch-
ing, and my hair has grown grey wliile longing for a missionary."
These important api)eals, transmitted year after year to the
missionary authorities, at length aroused the churches. More
help was sent, but not before the toilers on the ground liad
almost killed themselves in their work. Vast, indeed, was the
area of some of tliose mission fi(dds, and wretched and toilsome
were the methods of travel ov(>r tlunii. Ueorge McDougall's
mission was larger than all France, Henry Steinhaur's was larger
than Germany, the oneof which Norway Hcusc was the principal

' I

i i'

f !■:

12S

now IK A PUN.

stiitioii WHS ()V(M' live hiindnMl mih s loiijjj arid three hundriMl wide,
and there wiu'e otliers just as lar^'e. No wonder men ({uickly
l)r()ke down and had to retire from such work. Tlie [>risoners in
the jails and penitentiaries of the land I've on much better fare
than did these heroic men and their families. The groat staple
of tlie north was fish. Fish twenty-one times a week for six
months, and not nnicli els(* with it. True, it was sometimes
varied })y a put of boiled musk-rat, or a roasted leg of a wild-cat.

Yet amidst such hardships, which tried both so.ds and bodies,
they toiled on bravely and uncomplainingly, and as far as possible
responded to the pleading Macedonian calls that came to them
for help from the distant regions still farther beyond, and gladly
welcomed to their numbers the additional helpers when they
arrived.

With only one of tlit se deputations pleading for a missionary
have we hei'e to do.

It was a cold, wintry morning. The fierce storms of that
northern land were howling outside, and the frost-king seemed
to be holding high carnival. Quickly and quietly was the door
of the mission house opened and in there came two Indians.
One of them was our beloved friend Memotas, who was warnily
greeted by all, for he was a general favourite. The little children
of the mission home, Sagastaookemou and Minneluiha, rushed into
his arms, and kissed his bionzed but handsome face. When their
noisy greetings were over, heintroduced the stranger who was with
him. He seemed to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years
of age, and was a handsome-looking man ; in fact, an ideal Indian
of the forest. Very cordially was he welcomed, and Memotas
said his name was Oowikapun.

Thus was our hero in the mission house, and in the presence
cf the first missionary he had ever seen. How had he reached
this place, and what was his object in coming ? These questions,
which excite our curiosity, we will try to answer.

The last glimpse wti had of Oowikapun was when he was quietly
s[)eeding away from the far-off" village, where dwelt Astumastao,
and, according t(» the hunters who were returning, not in the trail
leading to his own village. His presence here in the mission

WITH M/'JMOJ'AS /.y TJfK .^USSWX IIOIISK

1 29

liouse, hniidiods df miles in the opposite! dii'cct ion, now expluins to
us tho way in which ho must have travolled.

From his own lips, long after, the story of his adventurous trip
was told.

Oowikapun said that when he left Astumastao afte" .hat last
interview, in which he so completely failed to divert her from her
determination to undertake, with the other women, the lon^,
dangerous journey, and in which she had shown him how little he
was to he dei>ended upon, he went back to the wigwam of his
friends feeling very uncomfortable. His relatives had all gone*
off hunting or visiting, and so, there he was, alone in his tent.
He kindled a tire, and there })y it he sat, and tried to think over
what h.ad ha})pened, and was full of regret at what Astumastao
had resolved to do. While almost frightened at the dangers she
was about to face, he could not but be proud of her spirit and
courage.

Then the thought came to him, " What are you doing ? Is
there not man enough in you, to do this work, and save these
women from such risks? Is it not as uuich fo you as anybody
else the missionary is needed 1 Are you not about the most
miserable one in the tribe ? Here is your opportunity to show
what you can accomplish. As Memotas was always doing the
hard work for his wife, here is your chance to save from danger
and serve that one you are longing to call your wife."

"While I thought about it," said Oowikapun, " the thing took
took such hold upon me, that it fairly made me tremble with
excitement, and I resolved to set about it at once. So I quickly
gathered my few things together, and when all was still 1 left the
village. Some falling snow covered up my snowshoe tracks, and
the little trail made by my sled, and so no one could tell in which
direction I had gone."

Continuing, Oowikapun said : " I had many adventures. The
snow was very deep, but I had my good snowshoes and i)lenty of
ammunition, and as there was considerable game, I managed very
well. One night I had a supper of marrow bones, whiih I go;
hold of in a strange way. I was pushing along early in the fore-
noon, when I heard a great noise of wolves, not very far oft".

130

OOWIKAPU.W

Quickly I unstrapptMl my ^un and jjreparod to drfcnd myself, if
I shoidd be attacked. Their liowlin^'s so iiici-oascd, I iMM-aine
convinced that they wore so numerous that my siifest plan was to
get up in a tree as ([uickly as |M)ssihle. 'J'his 1 did, and then drew
my sled beyond their reach. Not vei'V long after I had succeeded
in this, I saw a <ifreat moose deer plunging through the deep snow,
folU)wed by fierce gn^y wolves, lie niade the most despei'ate (^IVorts
to escape, but, as they did not sink deeply in the snow while
he broke through at (^very plunge, they were too nnich for him.
Although he badly injured som(^ of them, yet they succeeded in
pulling him down and devoured him. It was dreadful to see the
way they snarled and fought with each other over the giHNit body.
Th(^y gorged themselves ere they went away, and left nothing but
the gr«^at bones. When they had <lisa,]»peared, I came down from
the tree, in which 1 had been obliged to remain about six hours. T
was nearly frozen, aiul so 1 quickly cut down s(mie small dead
trees, and make up a good fire. I then gathered the large
marrow bones, from which the wolves had gnawed the meat, and
standing them up against a log close to the fire, I roasted them
until the marrow inside was well cooked. Then cracking them
open with the back of my axe, I had a famous supper upon what
the wolves had left.

" I had several other adventures," said Oowikapnn, " but the
most interesting of all, and the one most jdeasing to me, was that
I reached Beaver Lake in time to rescue an old man from Ix injr
eaten by the wolves. His relatives wer<! some very heartless
people of the Saulteaux tribe. They were making a long journey
through the country to a distant hunting ground, and because tins
old grandfather could not keep up in the trail, and foo<l was not
very plentiful, they deliberately left him to perish. They act( d
in a very cruel and heartless way. They stuck some poles in the
snow, and then over the top they threw a few pieces of birch bark.
This, in mockery, they called his tent. Then seating him on a
log in it, where he was ex^josed to view on every side, they left him
without fire or blankets, and gave him only a small quantity of
dried meat in a birch dish, which they call a roggan. There, when
he had eaten his meat, he was expected to lie down and die.

THK OLD nVDlA.y ItESf'U/CD F/fO}f WOLVES,

131

rself, if

was to
(11 dr«'W

p snow,
» oH'orts
' while
)r Inm.
3(le(l in
see the
it body.
in<,' but
rn from
)urs. I
ill dead
e large
'at, and
d them
g tlieni
n what

"When r found him," said Oowikapun, "he was nearly dead
witli tiie cold. He hati eaten his meat, and was sitting there on
i\\v log, brandishing his old tomahawk to keep ofl' several wolves
who w<'r(i sitting around him just outside of the circle (tf his
weapon, patit-ntly waiting until he would beconui wearied out,
when they would s[)ring in u[)on him and spee<lily devour him."
So intent were they on watching him, that Oowikapun said he
was able to get up so close to them tliat he sent tlu^ bullet
through two of them, killing them instantly. The others,
frightened by the report of the gun, (juickly rushed away. "I
cheered up the oM man," said < >()wika[)iui, " and speedily made a
lire and gave him some warm soiip, which I })r»'p:ired. i liad to
stay there with him a day l)efore he was strong enough to go on
with me to Norway House by dragging him on my sled most of the
way. I took him to tlie house of Memotas, where he was kindly
treated and cared for, as are all who couu^ under the roof of that
good man."

)ut the
as that
1 Ining
eartless
journey
use this
vas not
Y acted
in the
h bark.
|m on a
eft him
itity of
B, when

Ihi

«ii^

(JHAPTEH XV.

Oovvikaimn cordiully welcorruMl in the Cliristiiin village— His plciidinjrH
for a missionary.— His rapid prnf,'ress in reli^'ious trutii. — H(! tolls
Mcniotas of Astuniastuo. - The missionary resolves to '^o back with him.
—The preparations for the six weeks' journey.— The do.i^'s, the sleds, the
guides, the supplies.— The journey begun.— Oowikapun's <j;rt>at joy.—
Ei^''ht nights they eamp in the snow in the forest with the tempi-raturo
from forty to sixty degrees below zero.—" Only six miles farther."

I t

//fe^. I',

" HE 6ENX THE BULLET TUUOUOU TWO Ol' THEM.

■/

uC'a

A ''

ijBSf?

' v\

ClIArTER XV.

DURING tlie (lays iind weeks following, Oowikjipuiipleiuled for
a missionary, sind had a great lielper in Meniotas, who had
become much interested in 1dm. This devoted man had often
thought about the young wounded Indian who long ago had
come to his hunting lodge to be cured of the injuries inflicted by
the savage wolf.

Since his arrival, he had drawn from him many of the events
that had occurred in his life since they two had kntseled down in
the woods together. He had opened to Memotas his heart, and
had told him of his feeble efforts to live the better life, and of
his complete failure.

He told him of Astumastao, and nuule the heart of Memotas
and others glad, who remembeied the little black-eyed girl from
the far north, who had dwelt a year in the village. Thty all
rejoiced to hear that she still treasured in her breast so much
of the truth, and w,*is vso anxious for a missionary. Tliese were
happy weeks for Oowikapun. Undt r the faithful instructions
of Memotas he was being rapidly helped along in the way to a
Christian life. Perplexities and mysteries were being cleansd
avvav, and light was driving the darkness and gloom out of his
nnnd. Fre([nontly did the faithful missionary, who had also
become nnich interested in him, have long ci-nversations ^^ith
him, and gave him much assistance, as well as arranging for the

1^5

130

OOWIKAPUX.

comfort of the ol<l Salteanx whom ho luid I'escued from S'lch a
dreadful death.

The plan of salvation hy faith in the Lord Jesus was unfolded
to Oowikapun, and the necessity of a firm and constant reliance
npon God for help in times of need was so explained to him that
he saw where his failures liad heen. In his own strength he
had tried to resist temptation, and thus had sadly failed.

The k^abbiith services intensely interested him, and soon in
them he took great delight. The Sunday-school was to him a
revelation, and he gladly accepted the invitation of Memotas, and
became an interested member of his class. He seemed to live
in a new world. When lie contraste<l what he had witnessed
nearly all of his days amidst the darkness and evils of the pagan
Indians with what he siw among these hi-ppy Christian people,
his dream came up vividly before him, and had a new meaning.

Here, in this Christian village, were the people of his own
race in the bright and happy way, with Jesus as their guide,
and the beautiful heaven beyond as their destination.

As he studied them, the more importunate and anxious he
became to have the missionary of this mission go and visit his
people, and thus prepara the way for their own missionary, when
he should come to live among them.

Oowikapun's anxiety for light, and his intense interest in
everything that pertained to the progress of the people, and,
above all, his resolve to succeed in getting the missionary, created
a great deal of interest among the villagers. With their usual
open-hearted hospitality, they invited him to their comfortable
little homes, and from many of them he learned much to help
him along in the good way.

So marvellouslv had Cliristinnitv lifted up and benefited the
people that Oowikapun, w:th his simple forest ways, at times
felt keeul}' his ignorance, as he contrasted his crude life with
what he now witnessed. A genuine civilisation had come to
many of these once degraded tri})es, and now comfortable homes,
and large and happy family circles, are to be found where not
a g.^neration ago all was dark and degraded, and the sweet word,
home, was utterly unknown.

THE JOURNEY JfY DOGS TO THE FAR-OFF LAND. 137

Tlie conversion of some of these Indijins wms very rein.'trkahle,
and tlie i-ecital of liow tliey luiil come out of tlie diirkness into
light was lielpfiil to liim. Wiien tl»er(^ is a (Hsjtosition to
surrender, w;' are e;isily ('on(|uered. Sueh was tli • condition of
mind of i\\v missionary, to whom Oowikapun l»ad come witli liis
earnest appeals.

He resolved to go. Tliis decision was no sooner reached than
preparations l)egan for a journey whicii would occu])y at least a
month. Four dog-trains had to he taken, A train consists of
four dogs harnessed up in tandem style. I'he sleds are about
ten feet long and sixteen inches wide. They are made of two
oak boards, and are similar in construction to, but much stronger
than, the sleds used on toboggan slides.

There are various breeds of dogs used in that country, but the
most common are the Es<|uimaux, They are strong and hardy,
and, when well trained, are capital fellows for their work ; but
they are incorrigible thieves, and unmitigated nuisances. Other
breeds have been introduced into the country, such as the St.
Bernard and the Newfoundland. They all have the good
qualities of the Esquimaux, and are happily free from their
blemishes. Some few Scottish stag-hounds, and other dogs of
the hound varieties, have been brought in by Hudson Bay
officers ; but, while they make very swift trains and can be
used for short trips, they are too tender to stand the bitter cold,
and the long and difficult journeys through those desolate

regions.

The various articles for the long journey were speedily gathered
together, and the sleds carefully packed. Preparing for such a
journey is a very different thing from getting ready for a trip
in a civilised land. Here the missionary and his Indian com-
panions were going about three hundred miles into the wilderness,
where they would not see a house or any kind of a human
habitation from the day they left their homes until they reached
their destination. They would not see the least vestige of a
road. They would make their own trail on snowshocs all that
distance, except wlu^n on the frozen lakes and rivers, when snow-
shoes would be exchanged for skates by some, while the others

138

OOMTKAl^riX,

,; I

iiserl tJieir moccjisins. Every ni^lit, when t^o toilsome day's
travel was over, tlioy would have to sleep in the snow in their
own bed, which they carried with tlu^in. Their meals they
must cook at camp-tires, which they wovdd build when retpiired,
as they hurried alon^^. So we can easily see that a variety of
things would have to be packed on the four dog-sleds. Let us
watch the experienced guide, and the dog-drivers, as they attend
to this work.

The heavie.-^t item of the load is the supply of fish for the
dogs. As this trip is to be such a long (me, each sled must carry
over two hundredweight of fish alone. Then the food for the
missionary and his Indians, which consists principally of fat
meat, is the next heaviest item. Then there are the kettles and
axes and dishes, and numtrous robts and bhinkets and changes
of clothing, and a nund)er of other things to be ready for every
emergency oi accident. They are going to live so isolated from
the rest of the world, that they must be entirely independent of it.
One thing more they must not forget, and that is a liberal supply
of dog-shoes ; and so on this trip they take over a hundred.

In selecting his Indian companions, the missionary's first
thought is for a suitable guide, as much depends on him. The
(me chosen for this trip was called Murdo, a very reliable man,
who h.'id come originally from Nelson river. Very clever and
gifted are some of these northern guides. Without the vestige
of a track befoi-e them, and without the -laik of an axe upon
a tree, or the least sign that human bein^is had ever passed that
wa}' before, they stride along on their big snowshces, day after
day, without any hesitancy. The white man often gets so
bewildered, that he does not know east from west, or north from
south ; but the guide never- hesitate.^, and is very seldom at
fault. To them it makes no difference whether the sun shines
or clouds obscure the sky, or whether they journey by day or
night. Sometimes it is necessary to do much of the t^-f^velling
by night, on account of the reflection of the dazzling rays of the
sun on the brilliant wastes of snow giving travellers snow-blind-
ness, which is painful in the extreme. The sleep secured when
thus travelling is during the hours of sunshine.

Tni'J WONDERFUL (HIDES.

IHI)

' duy's
I their
s tliey
(juired,
liety of
Let us
attend

for the
;t cany
for the
of fat
les and
'hanges
r every
?d from
nt of it.
[ supply

's first
The
e man,
ver and

vestige
ce upon
ed that
»y after
gets so
th from
dom at
shines

day or
svvelUng
s of the
vv-blind-
ed when

Yet the experieneed guide will lead on just is well hy night
as by day. To him it makes no ditference wliat may he tlu*
character of the night. Stars may shiiu>, auroras may flasli and
scintillate, the moon may throw her cold, silvery beams ov<'r the
landscape, or clouds may gather, and wintry storms rage and
howl through the forest, yet on and on will the guide go, with
unerring accuracy, leading to the desired camping-ground. With
this guide, three dog-drivers, Oowikapun, and sixteen dogs, the
missionary commenced his first journey to Nelson river.

Th«^ contemplated trip had caused no little excitement. This
was not only on account of its dangers, but also because it was
the pioneering tri}) for ninv evangelistic work an:ong a, p(K)ple
who had never seen a missionary or heard the name of Jesus.
And so it was that although the start was made very early in
the morning, yet there were scores of Indians gathered to s<m^
tlie missionary an<l his [>arty off, and to wish them 'M J()d-s[)eed "
in their glorious work. The hasty " farinvells " were soon said,
and, parting from liis loved ones, whom he would not see for a
month, the missionary gave the word to start, and they were off".

Murdo, the guide, ran on ahead on his snowshoes. The
missionary came next. He had with him Oowika[ n, the
happiest man in the crowd. When the missionary could ride,
which was the case where the route lay over frozen lakes or
along stretches of ilie rivers, Oowikapun was his di'iver, and
rejoiced at l)eing thus honoured. Following the missionary's
train came the other three in single li^e, po that those following
had the advantage of the road made by the sleds and snowshoes
in front. Where the snow was very dee{), or a fresh supply had
recL^ntly fallen, it sometimes happened that the men had to
strap on their snowshoes, and, following in the tracks of the
guide, tramp on ahead of the dogs, and thus make a roiul over
which those faithful animals could drag thtir heavy loads.

When our travellers ])egan to feel hiuigry a fire was kindled,
a kettle of tea, prepared, and a Jiearty luni'h of cold meat or
pemmican was eaten and washed down with the strong t( a„ So
vigorous are the appetites in that cold land that often five times
a day do the travellers stop for lunch. Then on they go until

:
i.

140

(XnVlKAPUN.

the setting sun tells thcni it is time to ])ro[»ar(> for the wintry
camp where t\w niglit is to he spent. If possihU^ to find, tliey
si^lei't a place where there are f^reeii halsani tre>'s, and plenty of
dry, (lead ones. The green ones will fiunisii the bed, while the
dry ones will make the lire. When such a place is found, a halt
is called, and everybody is busy. The dogs are (piickly un-
harnessed, and gambol about close to the camp, and never
attempt to desert.

From the spot selected for the camp, the snow is quickly
scraped by using the great snowshoes as shovels. Then a roaring
fire is made, and on it the kettles, filled with snow, ari' placed.
Jn the larger kettle a piece of fat meat is cooked, and in the
other one tea is mi.de. While supper is cooking, the dogs are
given their only daily meal. Two good whitefish constitute a meal.
These are thawed out for them at the fire. After eating they
curl themselves up in their nests, and eleep or shiver through
the cold night as best they can. The supper, which consists
principally of fat meat, is then eatei and, after prayer, pre-
parations are made for retiring. A layer of balsam boughs is
placed on the ground ; on this the robes and blankets are
spread, and then the missionary, wrapping himself up in all the
garments he can well get on, retires first, and is well coveied
up by additional blankets and fur robes. So completely tucked
in is he that it is a mystery why he does not smother to death.
But somehow he manages to survive, and after awhile gets
so that he can stand it like an Indian. Persons unacquainted
with this kind of life can hardly realise how it is possible for
human beings to lie down in a hole in the snow, and sleep com-
fortably with the temperature everywhere from forty to sixty
below zero. However, difficult as it is, it has to be done, if the
gospel is to be carried to people, so i-emote, tliat there is no
better way of reaching them. 8uch travellers are always thank-
ful when a foot or eighteen inches of snow falls on them. It is
a capital comforter, and adds very much to their warmth.

One of the most difficult things in connection with this kind
of travelling is the getting up. TJie fire which was burning
brightly when they retii-ed was 1)ut a fiashy one, and expired very

SLEEPING EiaiiT xKurrs i.\ THE syow.

lil

wintry
1(1, tliev
leiity of
liile the
, ii halt
ily un-
l never

quickly
roMriiig
placed.

in the
ogs are
a meal,
ng they
h rough
consists
I'r, pre-
ughs is
Bts are

all the
covered
tucked
I death,
le gets
uainted
ble for
p com-
3 sixty
, if the
! is no
thank-
It is

soon, and did not long juM to tlu-ir comfoi t. And now when
mornir.g hns come, and they have to spring up from their warm
robes and blankets, the cold is so terrible that they suller very
much. No wonder they shiver and quickly get to work. Soon
a roaring fire is l)urning, and breakfast prepared and enjoyed.
After morning prayers, the sled^; are packed, the dogs are
harnessed, and the journey is resumed.

Eight times was the wintry camp made on this long trip
which was full of strange adventures, and many hardships, to
every one of the party. Glad, indeed, were they, when Murdo
and Oowikapun told the others, on the ninth day, at about noon,
that they were only six miles from Nelson rivei'.

s kind
urning
id very

: :i

CHAPTER XYI.

The trip ended. — A cordial welcome l)y the great majority of the people. —
In from their hunting-grounds. — The missionary visits the tent of the
savage old conjurer Koosapatum. — A surly welcome.— Won at last. —
Astumastao's joy at the arrival of a missionary. — The meeting of our
hero and heroine. — The picturesque assembly. — The first sernuMi.— The
rapt attention. — The hearty reception of the truth. — The response of the
chief and the people.

■
i

" TlIK OLD FELLOW WAS (,'KOrtS AND SUKLY."

II i

■it

ciiArTEU XV r.

rpniS was vvclt'ome news to all. It was osprcially sii to tlio
X iiiissioiiaiv. He had not had the severe pliysical training'
which naturally falls to the lot of an Indian. Tine, he had his
own dog sled, and was supposed to ride when }K)ssil)le, but there
were whole days when he had to strap on his snowshoes and
march along in single file with his Indians. As Oowikapun put
it in his broken English, '''. Jood missionary help make um
track."

The result of this " make um track " business, was that he was
about worn out, ere the journey was ended. Several times had
the cramps seized him in such a, way that the muscles of his legs
gathered up in knots, and he suffered intensely for hours. Then
his feet were so tender, that tliey chafed under the deei-skin
thongs of the snowshoes, and the blood soaked through his
moccasins, and in many places crimsone*! the snow, as he bravely
toiled along. xVIore than once, as he had to stop and i-est on \\
log covered with snow, did he (piestion with himself whether he
had don(^ right in undertaking a journey so fraught with sufferings
and dangers.

Cheering, then, was the news that the journey was so nearly
ended. A halt was called, a good kettle of tea was prepared, and
lunch was eaten with great pleasure. The dog-drivers put on
some extra articles of finery of l^eautiful beadwork, that they might
appear as attractive as possible.

iti;

onn/KA/'f'N.

V 'it:.

Very coidiiilly was (lir iiiissionuiy jiikI his party wrlcoiin'tl l>y
tho great imijority of the jM'oplc. They were very imu'li inU^rested
and (^\('itKl when they found thut the fh'st missionary with the
hook of he.iven was anion^' them. As many of the j)e()|»le w(uo
awuy hMntin«jf, runners were jhspatched for tiiose witliin reaeh.
All of these northern Indians live by huntinji^. They are heyond
tlu' agricultural regions. Their summers are very Liiort. 'I'he
result is they know hut little of farinaceous or vegetable food.
There are old p 'Ople tluM'e who never saw a potato or j. loaf of
bread. Their food is »Mther the iish from the waters, or the game
from the forests. The result is they have to wander aiound
almost eontinuallv in search of these thinjLrs.

Tlie

nnssionaries

have learned this, and endeavour to arrange their visits so as to
meet them at their gatherings, in places where they assend)le on
account of the proximity of game. While these meeting places
are called villages, they do not bear much resemblance to those of
civilisation.

As soon as the missionary had rested a little he paid a visit to
the tent of Koosapatum, because he had (piickly heard of the dire
threats of the old sinner. So gloomy was tha interior of the
wigwam that, as the visitor pulled back the dirty deerskin which
served as a door and entered, he could hardly see whether there
was anybody in or not. No kindly word of greeting did he hear.
However, his eyes soon got accustomed to the place, and then he
was able to observe that the ohl conjurer and his wife were
seated on the ground, on the opposite side of the tent. With some
tea and tobacco in his left hand the missionary extended his right,
saying, "What cheer, mismis? " the Indian for "How are yon,
grandfather ? "

The old fellow was ctoss and surly, and most decidedly refused
to shake han<ls, while he growled out some words of annoyance,
and even threatening, at the coming of a missionary among his
people.

The missionary, however, was not to be so easily rebutted,
lleaching down he took hold of his hand and, in a pump-handle
sort of style, gave it quite a shaking. Then taking up the tobacco
which with the tea he had dropped upon the ground, he quickly

THE ii\TEnyjE\y with the olu cusjiheh. iir

^fused

plai'tMl it in tli(> Iiniid (»t' the nioro.st^ old man. At first ho rofiist'd
to tak(< it. Ihit th«' iiiissionnrv spoko kiiidlv to iiiiii, and Jittt'r a
little, as h(< had Iuhmi out of thr stnlV for d.i ys, his Hii^mts ('l()s<'d on
it ; and then tho ndssionary knew that h»^ had coiKinercd in tho
iirst skiniiisii. Tohacoo aiiion^' tlnvsji Indians is like salt among
the Arabs. Knowing this tlu^ missionaiy, 'vho ncv^T used
it himsflf, adopted this [)lan to make friends with the oM
conjui'(U".

After he lind taken tlu^ tobacco, the visitor took up the package
of tea and, looking at the dirty strips of meat which hung drying
over a stick, said : " You have meat, and I have tea. if you will
furnish the meat, I will the tea, and we will have supper
together."

The tirst thought of the old sinner, as Im glanced at his
medicine bng in which he kept his poisons, was, " What a good
chance 1 will now have to poison this man who has come to check
my power." But the missionary saw that wicked gleam, and,
being well able to read these men by this time, (piickly sidd
"Never niind your medicine bag and your poisons. i aiii your
friend, even if you do not believe it. I have come into your
wigwaaj, and you have taken my tobacco, and I offer to eat and
drink with you ; and poison me you dare not ! "

Thoroughly cowed and frightened that the white man had so
completely read his th(>ughts, he turned to his wife, and, in im-
perative tones, ordered lier to (puckly prepare the meat and the
tea. So expeditiously was the work accomplished that it was not
very long ere the conjurer and missionary were eating and (hink-
ing together. The old fellow said the meat was venison ; the
missionary thought it was deg meat, and still thinks so.

Perhaps we cannot do better here than to anticipate the work a
little, and say that, at some later visits, this old conjurer waa
induced to give up all of his wicked practices and become an
earnest Christian.

He so highly prized the visits of the missionary that he followed
him like his shadow. He attended all the services. When
wearied out with the day's toil and he prepared to rest, Koosapa-
tum was not far off; and when the missionary kneeled down to

Itl

I" —

148

00 W IK A PUN.

3,r •

FMi

say liis evening prayer alone, the now devout old man would
kneel beside hini and sny, " Missionary, please pray out loud, and
pray in my language, so that I can understand you."

Thus the gospel had come to the heart, and was influencing the
life, of the conjurer of the Nelson lliver Indians. The service at
Avhich a. gr^at majority of the people d 'cided for Christ was a very
memorable one. It began at about (nght o'clock in the morning.
The majority of the Indians in all that vast district were gathered
there.

Oowikapun's people were among the crowd, nuich to his delight.
Astumastao and her aunt had heard of the gi.thering, and required
no second in vita, ion to be on hand. Gi'eat, indeed, was her joy to
airain look into i;he face, and lu'ar the voice, of a missionarv. Very
much surprised and bewildert-d was she at having been anticipated
by some one who had succeeded in bringing in the missicmary,
before she had begun her journ'fy for this purpose. And great,
indeed, was her joy and delight, and deeply was she moved, when
she heard of the naj't. Oowikapun had played in the important
work.

The meeting between the two was genuine and natural. The
dream of her youtl was now accomplished, for here, ready to begin
the religious service, wp,s the missionary with the Good Book. His
coming was the result of the etTorts of Oowikapun. That she
really loved him, the conflicts of the last few weeks most satis-
factorily answered. His bronzed, weather-beaten appearance
showed something of the hardships of the long journey, while his
bright, happy face revealed to all, how amply repaid he felt for
all he had endured and suffered.

As he entered the gathering assembly, and gr^'eted friends and
acquaintances, it was evident to all that his (juick eager eyes were
on the lookout for some special friend.

Not long had he to look. Astumastao, and her aunt, had come
in from another wigwam, and were not very far behind him, and
so were able to see how eagerly he was scanning the faces of those
who had already assembled. So absorbed was he that the noise-
less moccasined feet of others coming in behind him, were
unnoticed.

THE MEETIXa OF OUU HERO AND TIEIIOIXE. \Vd

For Ji iiioineut slie wjitclied his wistful looks, uiul then, iulvjiiu*-
iii*( towards him, witli lluslied hut r.'idiaut face, slio cordially
t'xelaiined, —

" My hra ve Oowikapun ! "

Startled, overjoyed, and unconscious or careless of the
hundreds of bright eyes that were on him, he seized the extended
hand, and (h-awing her towards him, he imprinted upon her brow
a kiss of genuine and devoted love, and exclaimed, —

" My own Astumastao ! "

Tucking her arm in his, as he had lately seen the white
Christian people do, he proudly marched with her \\\) to a
prominent place in the audience, where they siated themselves,
while the aunt for the present judiciously looked out for
herself.

It was a very picturesque assembly. Indians dress in an
endless variety of fashions. Some in their beautiful native
costumts looked as statuesque and imposing as the ancient Gn eks ;
others, as ridiculous .as a modern dude. All were interested and
filled with suppressed excitement. The first hour was sp. nt in
singing and prayer, and in reading the Word of God, or, as the
Indians love to call it, the book of heaven.

Then the Ineliaiis who had come from Norway House witli the
missieniarv, and who were earnest- Christians, told of how thev
had founel the Saviour. Very clear and definite are many of the
Christian Indians on this point. And as Paul loveeltotalk about
how the Lord Jesus had met him while on the way to Damascus,
so it is with many of these happy converted red men, they love lo
talk of their convei sion.

To the great joy of the missionary, Oowika[)un asked for the
privilege of saying a few weu-ds. Of course it was grantid. At
first he seemed to falter a little, but he soon re)se abe)ve all fear,
and most blesseelly anel convincingly diel he talk. We need not
go over it again : it was the story e)f his life, as in these chapters
it has been recoreled. Because of the words and resolves of
Astumastao, he said, he had gone for the missionary ; anel from
this man, and fre)m Memotas ajid e)thers, he had found the way of
faitli in the Son e)f God. Now he was trusting in Him with a

15Q

OOWIKAPUN,

sweet belief that even he, Oowikapun, was a child of God, like
these other happy Christians who had spoken.

After such an hour of preliminary service, it was surely easy
for that missionary to preach. He took as his text thd sixteenth
verse of the third chapter of John's Gospel.

Here is how it looks in Cree, which we give that our readers
may see what this beautiful language looks like : —

" Aspeeche saketat Kesa-Maneto askeayou kah ke ooche maket
oopay ye-koo-sah-ke aweyit katapua yaye mah kwa akat keche
nese-wah nah-tee-sit maka kache at ayaky ka-ke-ka pimatisse-

wm.

It was a long sermon that was jireached that day. For long
hours that prccicher talked without stopping. He had so much
to say, for here was a people who had never heard the gospel
before, and were now listening to it for the first time. Every-
thing had to be made plain as he went along. He had to take
them back to the creation of the human family, and tell them of
the fall, and of the great plan of salvation to save the poor
sinning race who had wandered out of the right trail, and are
wandering in darkntss and death, and bring them back again into
the right way, which has in it happiness for them here, and
heaven hereafter.

Thus the missionary talked, hour after hour, wishing to bring
them to a decision for Christ at once. He dwelt upon the great-
ness and impartiality of God's love ; and urged them, that as His
love was so real and blessed, they should accept of Him now, at the
first great invitation.

The Spirit carried home to the hearts of these simple hearted
people the truths uttered, and deep and genuine were the results.
After more singing and prayer, the preacher asked for some of
them to candidly tell what was in their hearts concerning these
truths, and what were their wishes and resolves, in reference to
becoming Christians.

To write down here all that was said that day would require
several more chapters. Suffice it to say, that from the chief, who
spoke first, through quite a succession of their best men, they were
all thankful for what they had heard, andlsaid that these things

ir,i

THE GOSPEL'S MARVELLOrS TIlIUMPllS.

and, jis one put

about the Great Spirit '^satisfied their lon^nu
it, " filled up their hearts."

Thus the gospel reached Nelson river, and rapidly di.l it find a
lodgment m the hearts of the p-.ople. At the close of the secon<l
se«-vice about forty men and women came forward to the front of
the assembly and professed their faith in Christ, and d( shed
Christian 1 aptism, whicli had been explahied to them And thus
the good work went on day after day, and many more deci.l. d
lully for Christ.

I>o not, my dear reader, say this work Avas too sudden, and that
these baptisms were too soon. Nothing of the kind. It was onlv
another chapter in the Acts of the Apostlts, and in perfect
harmony with what is recorded by infallible wisdom. There it is
recorded of the multitudes after one sermon by Pet;>r that ''then
tliey that gladly received his words were baptized, and tlie same
day there were ad led unto theni a))out thi-ee thousand souls."

m T

h ir <

ii-r

CHAPTER XVI r.

^Marriage of Oov/ikapun and Astumastao. — A happy pair, — Longing to again
see Memotas. — The way to go opens up. — The long trip. — Joy or Astu-
mastao at visiting the spot where that one year of her ehililliood was
spent. — Memotas, the saint ripening for heaven, often visited. — Oowi-
kapnn tells him his dream. — Many lessons of encouragement and trust
are learned. — Memota's triumphant death. — A benediction and a levela-
tion.— Astumastao's anxiety to learn all she can that will be helpful in
theyeais to come. — Some quick, agreeable marriages. — The leturn to
Nelson river.— ^Kestful Sabbaths on the way. — Happy wigwam home-
life with the church in the wilderness. — Thus was the Gcspel carried to
Nelson river.

WIIII.E SlI'fEU IS COOKING THE DOGS ARR OIVKV TUEIK ONLY T'AILY MEAL.'

w^^

''/,

'K^;j)£5

\i..

CHAPTER XVII.

F course Oovvikapim and Astiinuistao were man-ied. Every.

body-

was lllVl

ted,

aiu

1, of

course, evei

yl)0(ly

came

to tl

wedding, and to the great feast that followed, and there was
plenty of music, v

il. Very kind and devotiid

d instrument!
was he to her, even like as Memotas had been to his wife.

The excitement of the arrival of the missionary after a time
died away, but the good results continue to this day. xMthough
at times slowly, yet constantly has the good work gone on, and
none who at the beginning decided for the Christian life have
ever gone back to the old pagan religion of their forefathers. So
much had Oowikapun to say about Memotas, that he resolved, it'
possible, to see that bU.ssed man once again. And to Astumastao
also there came a longing desire to visit the i-pot to which now,
more than ever, her memory turned, where that period, all too
brief in her childhood days, had been spent, \\ here in the home
of the missionary, and in the liouse of God, she had li arned the
sweet lessons which had never entirely been forgotten, and which
had, " after many days," produced such glorious results.

The longed for opportunity came the next si'.mni m-, and was
gladly accepted.

So successful had been the fur-hunters in their trapping the
fur-bearing animals, such as the silver foxes, beavers, otters,
minks, and others whose rich pelts are v*. ry valuable, that the
Hudson Bay Trading Company resolved to semi up to N rvvay

Ififl

(K)\VII<APUy.

{ !

I \

ITousc a socrond hiigiido of boats lo take up tlie surplus cargo
left by tbe first brigade, and also to bring down a cargo of sn[)pli<'s
for the extra trade, wliich was so rapidly developing.

OowikapuH was appointed steersman of one of the boats, and
his wife was permitted to go with him.

With great d( light were they both welcomed at Norway House
Mission. They had had a long and dangerous trip. Many rapids
had to ))(' run, where tlit^ greatest skill was required in safely
steering the little boats, but ()ovvikapun was alert and watchful,
and did well. Tuenty-tive or thirty times did they have to make
j)o)'tai/('s around the dangiu'ous falls and lapids.

The joy of Astumastao on reaching the place wheie she had
spent that eventf(d year, so long ago, was very great indeed.
Absorbed in l)ringing uj) the memories of the psist, she seemed
at times like one in a dream. To find the playmates of that
time, she had to search among those who now, like herself, had
left the years of childhood far bidiind. Many of them had gone
into the spirit land. Still she found a goodly luimber after a
time, and great indeed was their mutual joy to renew the
friendship of their earlier dajs. And g-eat indeed was the
pleasure of all to meet the wife of that Indian who had visited the
mission in the depth of that cold winter, to plead for a missionary
especially when they learned that it was because of her earnest
resolve, that he had undertaken the long, cold, dangerous journey.

They were welcome visitors at the ML'-sion House. Sagasta
ookemow and Minnehaha seemed intuitively to love them, much
to their delight, and as gravely listened, as did the older people.

to the recital of some of the thrilling incidents of their lives,
services of the sanctuary were

The

'' Seasons of sweut delight."

and in them much was learned, to be helpful in times to c(mie.

Of course the little home of Memotas was visited. Their hearts
were saddened at finding the one who for years had not only,
as the missionary's most efKcient helper, often ministered to the
mind diseased, and brought comfort to the sin-sick soul, but had
often, as in the case of Oowikapun, when bitten by the savage

.k; i/.n av 77/ A' no MI': of MKMor.\s.

•*i

iijiplics
3s, and

wolf, skilfully I'cstiti'tMl to liraltli and vi^'oiu" many siilU'i-inn' «>ih's,
now rapidly liiiiisclf liastunin*^ to tlir tonili.

But iilthon<.di lu' was feeble in body he was joyous in spirit, and
had the ha))py ^dft of inal<in<; evcM-yhody happy who came to
see hiui. Kven in his last illness this reniarkahle man was a

I an

"son of {'ousolation. " Kor months ere he left us, he li\ed ii
atmosphere of lu'aven, and longed for his eternal liome. < )idy
once after the arrival of ()()wika[»un and Astuniastao did he have
suflicient streni'th to i(o with them to the house of (lod. Kvei'v
Indian within twenty iinles of the sanctuary was thei-e that
bright Sabbath morning. Wan and pale, '.ind, ynrifffc/. looki d the
saintly man who seemed to have, just by the strength of his will,
kept the soul in the frail earthen vessel, that lie mi<rhtonce agrdn
worship in the earthly sanctuary, ere he entered into that whicli
is luavenl}'. When, with an ettbrt, he raised himself up to speak,
the plac ' was indeed a liochim, for tlie weepers were everywhere.

One illustration used by him has lingered with me thiough
all these years. He said : *' I am in body like the old wigwam
that has been shaken by many a storm, Kvery additional blast
that now assails it only makes the rents and crevices the more
numerous and larger. /iiU the houjer the hreak.s and opeiiini/s, the
7)iore the sunshine can entf.r in. So witii me. K\'ery }>ang of
suifiring, every trial of patience, only ojiens the way into my
soul for more of Jesus and His love."

How he did rejoice as they talked with him, and r<'hear.sed the
story of how the Lord had so wonderfully led them out of tiie
darkness of the old way into the blesstd light of the new I

At Astumastao's request, Oowikapun told ]Memotas of his
wonderful dream, and of the deep impression it had made upon
him. Memotas listened to its recital with the deepest interest,
and stated what many others have said, that they believed that
still, as in ancient times, the Good Spirit in loving compassion
speaks in dreams to help or warn those who have not yet
received enough of the Divine revelation to be completely guided
by it.

At his feet sat these two happy c(mverts, and, as did many
others, learned from his rich testimony many bU ssed truths.

|!#

ir.H

OOn/hA/'f'N.

Jliijipy Meiiiotas! only a little vvhilr loii^'er did lie tai'ry with
iiH. A littlo additional cold was all that was notxlcd to finish the
woik in a coustitntion so nearly shattcn'cd. When he felt it
assailin*,^ him, there canie very eh^arly to him the presentiment
that the end was ne.'ir ; and never did a weary tiaveller wi^lcomo
his home, and l)ed of rest, with ^n'eater delight than did Memotas
welcome tlu> grave, and the bliss lu^yond.

The })rospect of getting to heaven seemed so glorious that he
could hardly think of anything else. This was now his one
absorbing thought.

Like all the rest of these northern Indians, he was very poor,
and had nothing in his home for focd of his own but fish. But
there wi-re loving hearts iit th(^ Mission House, and so willing
hands carried supplies, as needed, to his little liabitation.

On one occasion, when that dear, good missionary, the Rev.
John Semmens, who v^as then with us and who had gone with
me, as together we had lovingly sui)plied his wants, said to him :
"Now, beloved Memotas, can we do anything else for you? Do
you want anything more? " " Oh no," replied Memotas, " I want
nothing but ( *hrist — more of Christ." •

When we administered to him the emblems of the broken body
and tspilt blood of the dear Redeemer, he was much affected, and
exclaimed, '• My precious Saviour, I shall soon see Him ! "

h'eeing his intense longing to go sweeping through the gates
of the celestial city, I said to him, "Memotas, my brother
belovt d, why are you fo anxious to leave us ? I hope you will be
spared to us a little longer. We netd you in the church and
in the village. We want your presence, your example, your
prayers."

He was a little perphxed at first, and seem((l hardly to know
how to answer. Tlun he looked uj) at me so chidingly, and gave
me the answer that outweighs all aiguments, " I want to go
home ! "

And Home he went, gloriously Jtnd triumphantly. His face
was so rndiant and shining, that it seemed to us as though the
heavenly gates had swung back, and, from the glory land, some of
its brightness had come flashing down, and had so illumined

HIS rllllMPIIAM' hhiyin A liESEhK'TlOS.

I .V.t

the [(Dor lM)<ly, that still iicid in its falt»'i'iii«^' «,M'jisj» tli«* pncious
Koul, that we could almost iiuagiuo that iiiortal itself was putting
on innnortality.

f The triumphap* (hvith of INleniotas was not only ji ivvcliilion
and a, benediction to Oowikapun and Astuuiastao, and many
other ('hri4iui Indians, but it caused a full and coinpleU*
surrender of niiny hard, stubborn hearts to ('hrist.

Ho short a time had our hero and heroine been in the wav that,
happy as they were in theii- present enjoynu^nt of the faNoui-of
God, they had had their fears, as they thoui^ht, of (he last enemy,
which is Death. In the cpiietude of their wi<:^wani home, tlun'
had asked themselves and each other the so'emn ouestion : Will
this ivlifrion sustain ns in the Valley of tlu^ Sjiadow of i)eath ?
or, How will we do in the Hwellin<j;s of -Jordan? Natuial and
solemn are these questions, and wise and prudent are they, in all
lands, who thoujiii^htfully and reverently ask them.

Comforting and suggestive were the answeis which they and
others had learned at the bedside of the trium[)hant Memotas.
" As thy day so shall thy strength be " had a new meaning to
them from that time forward, and so, as they reconsecrated
themselves to God, they resolved, in the Divine strength, to
obtain each day sufficient grace for that day's needs — and who
can do any bettt r ?

Very anxious was Astumastao to learn all she could about
housekeeping, and other things, which w\,.dd more fully tit her
for helping her less fortunate Tndian sisters at the distant Indian
village, who, now that they had become Christians, were also
trying to attain to some of the customs and comforts of
civilisation.

Thus very <piickly sped the few weeks away during which the
brigade of boats waited at Norway House for their return cargo,
which had to come from Fort Garry. When this arrived, all
was huriy and excitement. Two or three days only were requii-ed
to unpack from the large cases or bales the su})|)lies and repack

them

countr

hundred

.y-

" pieces,
Thesy
pounds.

as they ai'e called in the language of the

piec

;es " will each weii^h from eigflitv t

The cargoes are put up in this way on account

100

00 w /hAru.s,

of tlu^ many poitii^'s vvliicli liasc (•> lie made, wlicii tli»' ulioh*
oiitlit lias to iio carritMl on tlu' luon's shonldci'S, snppoi'lcd hy a
strap tVoni \\\v t'orclioad. I( is laliorions work, l)nt tlu^sc Indians
aro stalwart t'ollmv-i, and now, ht'ini,' liominvard Uonnd, tlu\v
workod with a will.

]\lost of them wcrc^ at tin-; tinio ( 'liristians. So tlxjytan'ind
at tlu' mission for a little tinu' U) say *' Kurcwcdl," and to tako
on Ijoard Astnmastao, and two or three other Indian women, who
liad I) 'en wooed with such lapidity, that, ere the short visit of a
fow weeks rolled round, all arran;,^enjents had hoon made, and
some pleasant litth- marriaije c'ei'emoni(>s had taken [dace in our
little chui'ch.

These marria<j;es wei'(( a <;r<'at joy to Astumastao, as luu' intensely
practical character saw that the cominj^ to la r distant country
of some <,'enuine (christian youn<i; womcMi, would he vei'V helpful
in the more i'a|)id extension of t'hi'istianity. Indeed, "Dame
Kumour,' who lives there, as (dsewhere, said that she had a ^'ood
deal to do in introducin<i; some of the shy, timid haclu^lor Indians
of the Nelson river brigade, to somc^ of th(f hlushing damsels,
whom she had, in her judgment, decided would make good wives
for them, and also be a blessing in their new homes. Various
amusing stories were Hying about for a long time in reference to
some of the queer misadventiues, and mix'ug up of the parties
concerned, ere eveiything was satisfactorily arranged and every-
body satisfied. Among a people so prinutive and simple in their
habits, this couh- ([uickly be done, as no long months were
required to arrange jointures, or mai-riage settlements, or a
pi-ying into the state of tlie bank accounts, of either of tlu^
parties concerned.

But all these things had been attended to, and the lonjj
journey began. It was a matter of thankfulness that no boats
were smashed on the rocks, or lives lost in the I'aging waters.
The women looked well after the cooking of the meals, and the
mending of gai-ments torn in the i-ough portages. Every morning
and evening they read from the Good Book, and had prayers.
Often in the long gloaming of those high latitudes, when the
day's work was done, they clustered around the camp tire on the

77//; HOME t.V/i (111- 11(11 J.\ 77//; W ILD/JfM'SS. Kll

i»reat siiKwjtli «rrMnite rocks, with tlit* si»ai-kliii;4: wiitcis of I;ikf
or rivfi* in fi'ont, ami tin* dpiisc, dark forest ms tlu-ir It.nk^'rouiitl.
luul sweetly simp some of tlie sweet songs of Zion which they
had hitely hyuMuni, or were learning from thes- young Cliristiaii
'vives, whom the wise Astumastao had introihieed anion*.'
them.

Tlio thi'ee Salj})atl»s v.hieli had to 1h» spent on the journey were
days of (juiet restfalness and religious worship. It is a delightful
fact that all of our northern Christian Indians rest from their
huntings and journeyings on the Lord's Day. And it has been
found, hy many years of testing, that the (christian Indians who
thus rest on the Hal)bath, can do more, and better work, in these
toilsome trips for the Hudson liay Company, than those brigades
that know no Sabbath.

The longest journey has an end. The far-away home was
reached at last. The goods, in capital order, were handed over
to the otlicei' of the trading port. The men were paid for their
work, and supplies were taken u}» for the winter's hunting, and
one after another of the families dispersed to tiieir ditlerent
hunting grounds, stmie of which were liuntlreds of miles away.

Oowikapun, with Astumastao and her aunt, went with a
nundier, whose wigwams were so arranged on their hunting
grounds, that they could meet frequently for religious worship
among themselves. Very blessed and helpful to them was this
little church in the wilderness.

And now we must for the present leav^' them. They had their
trials !ind sorrows, as all have. Even if their home was but a
wigwam, it was a happy one, with its family altar and increasnig
joys.

They have never become weary of talking about the wondei-ful
way in which their loving Heavenly Father has led thtm out of
the dark path of the old life into this blessed way.

The only question on which they differed was, which had had
more to do in bringing in the gospel to their people. Astumastao
said it was the visit of Oowikapun ; while ho declared that if it
had not been for her true brave life and faithful words, and her
endeavour to live up to what light she Lad received when a little

I(i2

OOWJKAPUX.

cliild, they might all have been in darkncas still. And I think
my readers will believe with me that Oowikapun was right,
when he so emphatically argued that to Astnmastao, more than
to any one else, was to be given this high honour.

So, while in oin' story we have given Oowikapun such a
prominent place, yet to Astumastao, we think our de.ar readers
Avith us will say, must be given the first place among those who
have been instrumental in having the gospel introduced among
the Nelson River Indians.

Piiute.l l>v H.i/.ell, Watsnn, i^- Viiiey. T.d.. Luiulnii ainl Aylesbnrj'.

Flft^WHiiM^J«WmtMg"iSi*fe^--.

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

BY CANOE AND DOG-TRAm AMONG THE
CREE AND SALTEAUX INDIANS,

Introduction by Rev. MARK GUY PEARSE.

FIFTEENTH THOUSAND,

With Woodburijitype Povtraitit af the Rev. E. R. Young and Mrs. Yorxct.
Map^ and Thirty'tico Illu.st rations. 3s. 6d»

" As we turn p?ige after page of this book, wc meet with oris]) and even,
bumorous incidents, thrilling escapes, privations patiently borne, graphic
sketches of native life and character, and, best of all, evidences on sdl hands
of the power of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ." — Illustrated Mhsioiun'if
Xeim.

" Young and old will read this amazing story with delight. His heroic
joiirneys through the snow are described in a way that will secure the
attention of aWr— Sword and Trowel.

"A more interesting and delightful book I have not read for many a
day."— ^'tw^Z Company.

" One of the most fascinating volumes of Missionary adventure published
in our time." — Methodist Free Churches Magazine.

" One of the most thrilling narratives of Missionary life and adventure
ever published." — Birmingham Daily Gazette,

"Even readers who have not the smallest 'iyra|>athy with Foreign
Missionary work may follow with interest thi^ simple, straightforward,
unvarnished narrative of a life of thrilling adventure and heroic endumnce."
— Literary World.

" Ought to be almost as fascinating as ' Robinson Crusoe" itself, to su^h
as like stories of wild, and sometimes dangerous adventure, to enliven tlieir
evenings by the fireside." — Seots Magazine.

'* The boys, especially, will have a ready ear for the adventures witli
canoes and dog-trains, whilst all the time they will be within sound of the
Uospel music with which the book is filled." — Divine Life.

' It is a marvellously interesting story of heroic adventure." — Methodist
New C'nnej'ion Magazine'.

London:
CHARLES H. KELLY, 2, CASTLE STLEET, CITY ROAD, E.C.,

AND

0(5, TATERNOSTER ROW, E.''.

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

STORIES FROM INDIAN WIGWAMS AND
NORTHERN CAMP FIRES.

SEVENTH THOUSAND.

Forty4hree J llui^f rations. Inqyenal \Qma, 3s. 6<L

)

'* Mr. Yonng here gives another happy combination of adventurous nar-
rative, graphic description, humour, detailed information about tlie Indians,
and a record of earnest, self-denying missionary work ."—London Jflssionary
Chronicle.

" The stirring tales of adventure in the wild north land contained in this
handsome volume will interest all the boys, and many who have outgrown
boyhood. . . . Romance and travel combine to make the narrative an
enthralling one." — Manchester Courier.

*' Mr, Young's stories are not only smartly written, but they are exciting
to a degree, and far more entertaining than many a popular novel." — '■
Lincolnshire Free Press.

" A more entertaining record of travel is not easily found. . . . The stories
of wild life, the folk-lore of vanished tribes, the stirring incidents of the
hunter's or trapper's career, make up an eminently readable book. It
conveys a vivid impression of a wild life, which year by year loses some of
its peculiar characteristics." — Leeds Mercury.

" A unique book of Missionary adventure. Storie«, hairbreadth escapes,
and adventurous journeys, in all seasons and amid all kinds of scenery, are
here recorded, with a modesty, a humour, and a spiritual earnestness, that
will delight young and old. Truly an instructive and delightful book." —
Scottish Geographical Magazine.

" We can speak of this book with unqualified approval. The idea given
of the Indians — their life, warfare, oratory, the kind of Christians they
make — is unusually vivid and interesting." — The Presbyterian,

" One of the most fascinating, instructive, and stimulating of modern
Missionary books.'" — Dr. A. T, Pierson.

London :
CHARLES H. KELLY, 2, CASTLE STREET, CITY ROAD, B.C.,

AND

G(>, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.

ous nar-

Indians,

issionarij

^ in this
>utgrown
ative an

exciting
lovel." — '■

he stories

ts of the

•ook. It

some of

escapes,

nery, are

ness, that

book."—

:ea given
an 8 they

: modern

, E.G.,