So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not
return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please,
and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.--_Isaiah_.
Thy word, Almighty Lord,
Where'er it enters in
Is sharper than a two-edged sword
To slay the man of sin.
--_Montgomery_.
A peculiar wireless telegraphy has ever been in vogue among the
aborigines of many lands. The interior tribes of Africa have it and
use it to perfection. The plains Indians and those of the mountains
know its use, and messages are sent which cause much wonderment to the
white man.
In 1899 the ghost-dancing was in progress among all the Indians of the
United States. All Indiandom was excited to the highest degree.
Disturbances among them were watched and feared by the government. The
Bannocks and Shoshones of Fort Hall were nerved to a high tension and
quickly athrill to any new movement. Hearing that an unusual interest
was being displayed among the Nez Perces of the north, a committee of
the Fort Hall men was sent to ascertain what it was. It proved to be a
revival of religion conducted by the Presbyterians. The committee was
composed of heathens, but they saw, were conquered, and came home
reporting it was good, and requested that there be similar meetings
held among them. It was so planned and arranged. A Nez Perce
Presbyterian minister was to be their visitant evangelist.
The various Protestant churches in Pocatello had been by turns
supplying preaching to the people of Fort Hall's tribes, and to the
whites who were the residents at Ross Fork, the seat of the Agency. On
the particular evening when the special meetings were to begin it was
the turn of the writer to preach. The Rev. James Hays, a full-blood
Nez Perce, was there as evangelist. But he could not speak a word of
the Bannock-Shoshone mixed jargonized dialect. He had been educated in
English and could understand me so as to interpret, rather translate
into Nez Perce, but who could reach the people to whom we had the
message? There was present a renegade fellow, Pat Tyhee (big Pat, or
chief Pat), _not an Irishman_. He was a Shoshone who years before had
gone to live among the Nez Perces and had married a woman of them. He
could interpret Hays, but could he be trusted? He was a very
heathenish heathen. The missionary teacher, Miss Frost, consulted with
Mr. Hays and myself as to the wisdom of asking Pat to play interpreter
for the momentous occasion; after fervently praying we concluded to
take the risk and trust to God's leading. Pat, the heathen, was
chosen. It was a queer audience. There were some whites, some Indians.
It was odd to see Gun, the Agency policeman, there with his only
prisoner. There were Billy George, the tribal judge; and Hubert
Tetoby, the assistant blacksmith, as well as others of local
importance. To add to the excitement of the evening, it was the night
before ration day at the Agency, when all the Indians from the entire
Reservation were present--fifteen hundred of them--for their share.
It was a wild time--the raw blanketed man was there for a Saturnalia.
He knew no law but his desires. The unprotected young woman had no
security from him. Indeed, while we were gathering in the mission
house for this service, I noticed a slight stirring at my feet, and
looked, and there was Mary, a young widow, who had scuttled in silent
as a partridge and was snuggling down on the floor just back of my
feet, successful in getting away from some red Lothario who had
pursued her to the door.
The service began. I preached from the words of Martha to Mary, "The
Master is come and is calling for thee." It was an attempt to show
that Jesus needs us as living agents to work with him. Mr. Hays, I
suppose, and always have believed, translated to Pat in Nez Perce what
I said. Pat in turn interpreted to the assembled band of mixed
Indians. To be sure, I understood not a thing either said: but when I
looked at the earnest, love-ridden, and sweat-covered face of the
yearning Nez Perce, I believed that what he was saying was all I said
and more. And Pat--he was a sight! Had his hands been tied, I really
believed he could not have expressed himself at all. He is about six
feet six in his moccasins, and those long arms accompanied the lengthy
guttural expressions in an intensely effective manner. At the close of
the three-cornered sermon the question was asked, "How many of you
from this time forward are willing to follow Jesus and be known as his
assistants?" Among the most prominent and enthusiastic replies that
came were those of Hubert Tetoby, Billy George, _and Pat Tyhee, the
heathen interpreter_. Looking me straight in the eyes, swerving
neither to the one side nor the other, these madly-in-earnest men of
the mountains held their hands up high as they could reach them. And
in six weeks from that date there was a Presbyterian church there
composed of sixty-five members, of whom only one, the teacher, Miss
Frost, was white; and Pat Tyhee was made one of the elders. There had
been no Christians there at all before those meetings. It was an
Indian Pentecost.