The Messenger
From early dawn Tom, the Indian, had been on the trail. Dusk was
settling over the land as he paused on the brow of a hill and looked
anxiously down into the valley below. His eyes were keenly alert,
his ears attentive to the least sound, and he sniffed the air for
the camp-fire scent. He was weary, and longed to rest. But he had
an important mission to fulfil, so he could not stop until that was
accomplished. He was old and unaccustomed to hard travelling. His
trips of late had been to the hills surrounding The Gap for mountain
sheep, grouse, and ptarmigan. Only a great incentive had induced
him to undertake this venture. He had his doubts as to how he would
be received by the Indians scattered over the hunting-grounds. They
had acted in a strange and rebellious mood of late, so the hope of
influencing them was not very encouraging. But the vision of a wronged
girl and the wounded Gikhi animated his soul, and inspired him with an
overmastering determination. If what had recently happened at The Gap
would not open the eyes of the Indians and give them a change of heart,
nothing else would. He felt that the time was opportune, and that he
must make the most of it.
Leaving the brow of the hill he descended into the valley, and ere long
had the satisfaction of seeing a light among the trees not far ahead.
That Indians were encamped there was certain, and in a few minutes
he came in sight of a big log lean-to where a number of natives were
gathered around a cheerful fire. Several dogs heralded his approach,
while a number of men leaped to their feet and ordered the animals to
be still. In another minute Tom was in their midst, and accorded a
hearty welcome. All were glad to see him for his sake alone, if for
nothing else. They concealed their curiosity, for they were well aware
that only a matter of extreme importance would bring the old man so far
from his home in the dead of winter.
About a dozen people, men, women, and children, were encamped here.
They were a hardy lot, well enured to the cold, and living the simple
life. This was their natural domain, and here they were free from the
vices of the frontier towns and mining camps. Could they have been
kept here, all would have been well with them. But the attractions
and temptations of lighted streets, gaily-bedecked stores, and warm
saloons, were hard to be resisted. Such things formed the principal
topic of conversation during the long winter evenings, and all looked
eagerly forward to spring when they could once more gratify their
desires.
Tom knew of all this and how hard it would be for them to be drawn away
from such allurements. He felt that he might influence the older ones,
but had little hope of doing anything with the young men and women.
He did not at first explain the purpose of his coming, but after he
had eaten the food which was set before him, he sat near the fire and
talked about many things except that which was nearest his heart. He
heard also how the Indians were getting along with their season’s hunt,
as well as bits of gossip from other encampments.
After a while, however, Tom laid aside the pipe he was smoking, and
took a little book from a pocket inside his buckskin jacket. This he
opened, and then looked around upon his companions.
“You all know what this is,” he began. “It was given to us by the
Gikhi at The Gap. Some of you remember when the Gikhi first came to
live among us. His body was strong then, his eyes bright, and his hair
black. We opposed him, and the medicine men stirred us up against him.
Several times we tried to kill him, but the Great Spirit always saved
the Gikhi. He was good to us, and when a plague came upon us, he cared
for us, nursed us when we were sick, and saved many lives. When we
were hungry he always shared with us his food. But he did more than
that. He started a school for our little ones, taught them to read and
write, and how to do many useful things. Above all, he gave us the
Great Message which changed our lives, and lifted us from the level
of the brutes. Before he came, we treated our wives like slaves, and
worse than dogs. Now it is altogether different. Our wives are our
companions, and we use them right. Before the Gikhi came, baby girls
were badly treated. Mothers often let them die rather than permit them
to grow up to lead hard lives. Now our little ones are well cared for.
Before the Gikhi came, we were always waging war upon neighbouring
tribes. We thirsted for battle and slaughter. Now we are all living
in peace. And before the Gikhi came we allowed our old Indians to die
without any care. We would abandon them on the trails, and let them
perish. That is all changed now, and our old men and women are well
looked after. Before the Gikhi came we had no knowledge of Him who came
on earth and died that we might be saved. We know now. The Gikhi did
all that for us. He gave us this book, and taught us how to read it.
Here we find the Great Message of life and Eternal Hope, hope which we
never had before. Our little ones have been taught to sing hymns, and
you all remember what wonderful services we had in the church which the
Gikhi built. We were very happy then, and all looked forward to coming
back to The Gap to hear the Message from the Gikhi’s lips.”
Tom paused, while a sad expression overspread his face. He noted how
intently all had listened to his words. He believed that he was making
some impression upon them.
“A great change came,” he continued, “which broke up the Gikhi’s work.
Gold was discovered, and the white men flocked into our country, and
you know what they did. They brought in hootch which ruined our young
men and women, and many of the older ones, too. Our girls were led
astray, and the school broken up. The influence of the Gikhi was gone,
for the Indians nearly all left him. His wife died, I believe through
grief. She loved the Indians, and she was always a friend to them. The
Gikhi was left alone, but every night he rang the little bell and held
service in the church. He always prayed that the Indians would come
back, and he said that he wanted to be there when they came. But now I
am afraid it will be too late, and that the Indians will never see the
Gikhi again.”
Again Tom paused, and for a few seconds he sat very still, his head
bent forward. That he was in deep grief, the Indians were well aware.
“Has Tom bad news to give?” one of the natives asked. “Is the Gikhi
sick?”
“Ah, ah, the Gikhi is more than sick,” Tom replied, as he lifted his
head. “An enemy came at night and shot the Gikhi.”
At these words the men sprang to their feet and a babel of voices
ensued. Tom was plied with questions, so he told all he knew, and also
about what had happened to Zell. Deep, burning indignation filled the
hearts of all present, and they vowed vengeance upon the one who had
committed the dastardly deed.
“Where is Bill now?” was asked.
“Somewhere in the mountains,” Tom explained. “The Police are after him.
They will catch him before long, and take him back to The Gap.”
“The Indians will help to catch Bill,” a stalwart hunter announced.
“They will track him down.”
“Let the Police do that,” Tom replied. “The Indians must go back to The
Gap. They must show their love for the Gikhi. They must give up their
bad ways. They have wandered too far already, but it is not too late.
Will the Indians do that?”
The critical moment had at last arrived, and Tom anxiously waited for a
reply. He knew how much these Indians had been stirred by what they had
just heard. But would it affect their actions? And while he waited, the
oldest hunter present lifted his hand for silence.
“We have just received very sad and important news,” he began. “It
is a great grief to us to learn what has happened to the Gikhi. Our
hearts are all the more sad because we have left him and neglected
his teachings. I have been thinking much this winter while out in the
mountains. I have seen our young men and women wandering into strange
trails, and leading lives far worse than before the Gikhi came into
our midst. It is not good for them, and unless a change takes place
the Indians will all be ruined. I have been reading the little book
that Gikhi gave us, and on many nights when alone by my camp-fire I
have studied the Message of the Great White Chief who came to die for
us. If we follow His trail all will be well. The Gikhi has told us what
to do, and he himself has set us the example. He did not come among
us to cheat us in trade. He did not use hard words, but was always
gentle. He did not bring hootch among us, but he brought us the Living
Message to save our souls. He became as one of us, sharing our joys
and sorrows, and healing our bodies. And what have we done in return?
We have been false to him who did so much for us. We have followed the
trails of the enemy, and now one of their number has stricken down the
Gikhi. Let us call all the Indians together, go back to The Gap, and be
once more with the Gikhi. He may die, as Tom says, but let us be there
when he starts on the Long Trail, and it may be that he will see and
understand. Around our beloved Gikhi let us gather, old and young, and
promise to be true to the teaching of the Great White Chief in Heaven.
All who agree with what I have said let them now speak.”
For a few minutes there was silence when the old Indian had finished.
At length one by one the hunters expressed their views, and all with
one consent agreed to return to The Gap, and renew their allegiance. It
was an impressive scene to behold those husky natives give voice to the
strong conviction which animated their souls. Tom’s eyes glowed with
pleasure, and when the men ceased speaking, he lifted up the book he
had been holding in his hand.
“Let this be our guide,” he said. “What it contains will do us more
good than the words of the bad white men. I am now going to read a
Message from the Great White Chief.”
Then in a clear voice he read in the rhythmical native tongue the story
which can never grow old, of the Good Shepherd seeking the sheep which
had gone astray in the wilderness until He found it. He read the words
with intense pathos, and when he had ended, he closed the book, and
lifting up his voice, he began the hymn of “Nearer My God to Thee,” of
which the Indians were very fond.
“Ndo nyet nyakkwum Ttia
Ndo nyet nyakkwum,
Kwizyit nititae,
Guselshit chi.
Tthui sih chilig telya
Ndo nyet nyakkwum Ttia,
Ndo nyet nyakkwum.”
The hymn ended, Tom dropped upon his knees, his companions doing
likewise, and offered up a few simple prayers, one of which was an
earnest appeal that the Gikhi might be spared, and that the Indians
might once more return to the right way. He concluded with the Lord’s
Prayer, in which all joined. As their voices rose as one, all of Tom’s
fears were removed. He believed that these Indians would remain true,
and that never again would they be induced to go astray.