LAURENCE IN THE SNOW--DISCOVERED BY CREES--RESCUED--CONVEYED TO THE
CHIEF'S TENT--KINDNESS OF THE OLD CHIEF--ESCORTED TO THE FORT--FEARS AS
TO HIS RECEPTION--KINDLY WELCOMED BY MR. RAMSAY--LAURENCE AGAIN FALLS
SICK--MRS. RAMSAY EXPLAINS THE GOSPEL TO HIM--LAURENCE BEGINS TO
UNDERSTAND IT.
Daylight came again. Laurence, on opening his eyes, found himself
surrounded by a high wall of snow. He was hungry, but he had consumed
every particle of food. His strength was almost gone. He somewhat
assuaged his thirst by eating a little snow, though that gave him but
momentary relief. Again he made an attempt to get out, hoping by
beating down the snow to form steps in the side of the wall up which he
might climb, but the snow came sliding down in vast masses upon him, and
by the time he had struggled out of it he felt so weak that he was
unable to make any further effort. With a cry of despair he fell back
on the heap which had been formed by the snow slipping down, and out of
which he had just made his way. For some minutes he was unconscious.
Then the barking of dogs once more aroused him. The sound of human
voices struck his ear. He listened with breathless anxiety to hear the
language they spoke. They drew near. "I am lost if they find me," he
said to himself. "They are Crees." Directly afterwards, several dogs
poked their noses over the edge of the pit and barked to attract the
attention of their masters. He waited, expecting in a few minutes to be
put to death. Then, casting his eyes upwards, he saw the faces of two
savages looking down upon him. He knew them at once to be Crees. He
tried to speak--not to ask their pity, for that he believed would be
useless, but, after the Indian fashion, to dare them to do their worst.
His tongue, however, refused its office. Presently he saw them
beginning to scrape away the snow; and as they commenced at the top,
they were soon able to form some rough steps in the side of the pit,
down which one of them descended. Laurence closed his eyes, expecting
to have the scalp cut from his head. Instead of that the Cree lifted
him in his arms, and, with the assistance of his companion, soon brought
him to the surface. Making a wide circuit, to avoid the gully, together
they bore him across the plain. They were directing their course
towards some lodges which were erected close to a wood, and under the
shelter of a high hill. On reviving, Laurence found himself in a large
roomy hut, by the side of a fire, near which sat a tall Indian somewhat
advanced in years. A squaw was chafing his feet, while another, bending
over the fire, was cooking a mess of broth. She soon came round to him,
and poured some of the warm mixture down his throat, which greatly
revived him. He tried to sit up, but again fell back on the pile of
skins on which his head had been resting.
"Do not try to move, young pale face," said the chief. "Your strength
has gone for a while, but the Great Spirit will soon restore it. You
shall then tell me whence you come, and how you happened to be where my
sons found you. We are friends of the pale faces, and would gladly aid
you to the best of our power."
These words greatly revived Laurence's spirits. The chief, however,
insisted on not letting him speak until he had taken some rest. The
kind squaw had put on his feet some warm dry socks, and then began
chafing his hands, and in a short time he again fell asleep.
When Laurence awoke there was no one in the tent. This gave him time to
consider what he should say. He would speak truly, and tell the Cree
chief that he wished to make his way to the fort, and would be grateful
to him if he would assist him in reaching it. He soon found, however,
when he attempted to rise, that he was utterly unable to do so. The
chief smiled when he heard his account.
"You speak but partly the truth," he said. "Still, you are a pale face,
and I regard the pale faces with affection. When you are restored to
strength I'll conduct you thither; for it is some way off, and unaided,
without horses, or weapons to defend yourself or obtain food, you would
not have been able to find your way there. I know with whom you have
been, though you have pulled off the ornaments. That dress was
manufactured by the Sioux. However, though you were foolish to consort
with such people, you are wisely making your escape from them. So speak
no more about it."
Laurence felt ashamed of himself at having been so easily detected. He
at once acknowledged that the chief was right in his conjectures.
For several days he was kept in the tent of the friendly chief, and
treated by his squaws as if he had been a son. When he had sufficiently
recovered to sit on horseback, the chief, covering him with a thick
cloak of furs, set out with a party of his people towards the fort.
Even although they formed a strong party, as it was possible that bands
of Sioux might attack them, scouts were sent out in all directions to
feel their way as they advanced.
In what a wretched state is man who knows not God, and loves not the
Saviour! Instead of peace, goodwill, and friendly intercourse existing
in that savage land, every man's hand is against his neighbour, and in
each stranger he expects to find a foe.
The party, however, reached the neighbourhood of the fort without
meeting any enemies. Laurence had left his friends, proud of his
recovered strength, and fancying that he was about to enjoy the liberty
of a savage life. He was now returning sick and weak, and a feeling of
shame and doubt of the reception he might meet with stole over him. He
kept behind the chief and his party, and hung down his head as they drew
near the gates. They were recognised from the fort, and several of the
garrison came out to give them a friendly greeting.
The old chief related how his sons had found and rescued the white-skin
boy, and Laurence was brought forward just as Mr Ramsay, followed by
his wife and daughter, appeared from their house. Jeanie recognised him
in a moment, and running forward, took his hand, exclaiming, "Oh,
Laurence, is it you? I am so glad you have come back. We all thought
harm would befall you among those savage Sioux. You look pale and ill.
Oh papa! mamma! it is Laurence," she added, looking towards her parents,
who were advancing.
Laurence was silent. It was so long since he had spoken English that he
could not for some seconds find words to express himself. Mr Ramsay
warmly shook him by the hand, and his wife welcomed him with the same
cordiality, while not a syllable of reproach did they utter.
"He does indeed look ill," said Mrs Ramsay. "Come to the house, my
poor boy," she said. "Your old room shall be prepared for you, and you
can tell us all that has happened by-and-by."
Laurence burst into tears. The reception he met with was so different
from what he had expected that it overcame him. He had borne up during
the journey, but his strength now gave way; and he required almost the
same attention and care that he had before received.
"I was indeed wicked and foolish in choosing to go and live with my old
savage friends, instead of remaining with you, good Christian people,
who are so kind to me," he said at length to Mrs Ramsay, as she sat by
his bedside. "Can you forgive me?"
"Yes, indeed we can; and we are very thankful that you have been brought
back to us," she answered. "God himself shows that we ought to receive
those who have done wrong when they repent and desire to return to the
right way. He himself in His mercy is always thus ready to receive
repentant sinners who desire to be reconciled to Him. I'll read to you
the parable of the prodigal son, and you will then understand how God
the Father, as He in His goodness allows us to call Him, receives all
His children who come back to Him, acknowledging their sins and
transgressions. He not only does this, but He has pointed out a way by
which the sinner can be reconciled to Him, and have all his sins
completely blotted out, or put out of remembrance and done away with.
That way is by simple faith in the atoning blood of Jesus; in other
words, God desires us to believe that Jesus, His own well-beloved Son,
pure and holy and sinless, became man, and was punished by death on the
cross instead of us; and thus His justice, which can by no means
overlook or forgive sin, is perfectly satisfied with that punishment,
and He considers the debt we owe Him fully paid. Can you understand
this, Laurence?"
"I will try to do so," answered the boy. "But I do not understand it
yet."
"Then you must pray for the aid of God's Holy Spirit to enable you to
understand it; for He alone has the power of doing that. All that one
person can do for others is simply to explain the truth to them, and to
read God's Word to them, or urge them to read it if they can. You,
Laurence, must learn to read it without delay."
"Oh, yes, I will try now," he said, "if you and Jeanie will teach me. I
was very idle before."
"That we will gladly," answered Mrs Ramsay. "But, recollect, you must
not only try to read, but you must ask God's Holy Spirit to enable you
to understand it also. It is not sufficient to know that Christ died on
the cross to reconcile sinners to God; but you must believe that He died
for you, and to reconcile you to God; for without that, whatever you may
do or profess, you are still in your sins, an outcast from God, and
deserving, as you will assuredly receive, punishment for your sins."
"Tell me, Mrs Ramsay, how am I to believe that Christ died for me? I
feel that I am wicked, and very unlike what you, and Mr Ramsay, and
Jeanie are, who are Christians; but I cannot think that the Son of God
should have suffered death for a poor miserable boy like me."
"It's very simple. God does not give us a very difficult task,"
answered Mrs Ramsay. "All He requires of us is to take Him at His
word: `God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that
whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting
life.' You understand, Laurence, that God does not say, only people who
have have been generally well behaved, and are supposed to be good, but
_whosoever_, which includes every human being, however bad and abandoned
they may have been. The prodigal son had been very ungrateful and very
wicked, but his father received him as soon as he came back. That
parable was told by Christ himself, to show that His Father in heaven
gladly receives all sinners returning to Him. When God says, `He so
loved the world,' He means the people in the world, and we know that the
world lies in wickedness. Oh, trust God, for He is loving and merciful,
and without doubt or fear accept His offers of reconciliation."