LAURENCE LEARNS WHAT IT IS TO BE A CHRISTIAN--GETS LEAVE TO SET OUT IN
SEARCH OF HIS FATHER--STARTS ON AN EXPEDITION WITH PETER, A CHRISTIAN
CREE--DISCOVERS TWO OF MICHAEL'S TRAPS--A PARTY OF BLACKFEET--BLACKFEET
WOUND OLD MICHAEL--BLACKFEET CAPTURED--LAURENCE GOES TO HIS FATHER'S
ASSISTANCE--PETER PREACHES TO THE BLACKFEET, AND INVITES THEM TO THE
FORT--THE BLACKFEET SET AT LIBERTY--HEARING LAURENCE EXPLAIN THE GOSPEL
TO HIM--LAURENCE CONVEYS THE OLD TRAPPER TO THE FORT--NARRATES TO MR.
MARTIN HIS FORMER LIFE--MR. MARTIN TELLS HIM THAT THE QUEEN HAS PARDONED
HIM--THE OLD TRAPPER AT LENGTH BELIEVES THE TRUTH--RETURNS WITH LAURENCE
TO CANADA--LAURENCE RESTORED TO HIS PARENTS--REVISITS THE FORT AS A
MISSIONARY.
Spring was now advancing. Laurence was anxiously looking out for the
return of his father. He would, at all events, have longed to see him;
but his desire to do so was greatly increased by his wish to impart to
him a knowledge of the glorious truths he himself possessed. Having
learned the priceless value of his own soul, he could now appreciate
that of others.
Laurence's faith was simple, and he enjoyed a clear view of the gospel
truth.
From every Indian who came to the fort he made inquiries for the old
trapper, who was known to many of them. At length several brought
tidings of his death. Laurence refused to believe them; and when Mr
Ramsay came to cross-question his visitors, he found that they had only
heard the report from others. Laurence, therefore, begged that he might
be allowed to go out and search for the old man.
"I know all his haunts so well," he said, "that I am sure I shall find
him better than any one else; he may be sick in some distant place, and
unable to come as he promised."
So earnestly did he plead that Mr Ramsay, hoping that his old friend
might still be alive, could no longer refuse to let him go.
A Cree who had become a Christian, and was named Peter, offered to
accompany him; and Laurence thankfully accepted his assistance.
The only provision they took with them was a good supply of pemmican;
but they had an abundance of ammunition, knowing that they might depend
for their support on the animals they might shoot.
"You will come back, Laurence, when you have found your father?" said
Jeanie, as, with tears in her eyes, she wished him good-bye.
"If God spares me, and I have the means to do so, I will come back,
whether I find him or not; I promise you that," answered Laurence.
"That object alone would have induced me to quit the fort. I have no
longer any wish to roam or lead the wild life of a trapper; and when I
return, my great desire will be to go on with the study of that blessed
Book which you first taught me to read and love."
"I taught you to read it, but God's Holy Spirit could alone have taught
you to love it," answered Jeanie.
Laurence and Peter, followed by the prayers of many in the fort, set out
on their expedition. The appearance of the country was now completely
changed from the stern aspect it had worn but a few weeks before. Trees
and shrubs were clothed with a livery of green of varied hues, the grass
was springing up in rich luxuriance, and flowers exhibited their
gem-like tints in the valleys and woods; full streams flowed with rapid
currents, sparkling along; numberless birds flew through the air,
swarmed on the lakes, or perched on the boughs of the forest-trees.
Laurence led the way towards the spot where he and his father had
concealed their traps before they set out to visit the fort, believing
that old Michael would to a certainty have visited them, and hoping to
find some traces beyond showing the direction he had afterwards taken.
Peter agreed with him that this was the best course to pursue. The
journey would take them many days. Although so long a time had elapsed,
from habit Laurence recollected the various landmarks, and was able to
direct his course with great accuracy.
They arrived at length at the spot where the white wolf-skin had been
concealed. It was gone; and from the tracks near it, which an Indian
alone would have observed, Peter was of opinion that Michael must have
removed it. On they went, therefore, over hill and dale, camping at
night by the side of a fire, the warm weather enabling them to dispense
with any shelter, towards the next spot where the wolf traps had been
concealed. These also had been taken, and Peter found the tree to which
the old man had tied his horse while he fastened them on their backs.
They soon reached the wood within which Laurence had assisted to hide
the beaver traps. They also had been removed.
"Now I know that my father intended to begin trapping as soon as the
spring commenced," observed Laurence. "See, he took his way onward
through the wood towards the north, instead of returning by the road he
came."
Laurence and Peter's keen eyes easily distinguished the twigs which the
horses had broken as the old trapper led them through the wood.
Probably he intended to spend the remainder of the winter in a wigwam by
himself, as he often had done, or else in the lodges of some friendly
Crees.
Laurence and Peter now went confidently on, expecting before long to
meet with further traces of the old trapper. The borders of all the
neighbouring lakes and streams were visited, but no signs of his having
trapped there were discovered. Many leagues were passed over, till at
last an Indian village was reached. It consisted not of neat cottages,
but of birch-bark wigwams of a sugar-loaf form, on the banks of a
stream, a few patches of Indian corn and some small tobacco plantations
being the only signs of cultivation around; fish sported in the river;
and the wild animals of the forest afforded the inhabitants the chief
means of subsistence. They welcomed the travellers. Peter was of their
tribe. They gave them tidings of old Michael. He had been seen to pass
just before the snow had begun to melt in the warmer valleys.
Peter did not fail to tell his red-skinned brothers of the wonderful
tidings the white-face missionary at the fort had brought.
"The great God of the white-faces loves us as much as He does them," he
exclaimed. "He wishes us to go and dwell with Him in a far better land
than the happy hunting-grounds we have hitherto heard of. He says that
we are wicked, and deserve punishment; but He has allowed another, His
own well-beloved Son, to be punished instead of us; and all He wants us
to do is to believe that His dutiful and well-beloved Son was so
punished, and to follow the example which He set while He was on earth."
"These are wise things you tell us," cried several of the Crees; "but
how do you know that it is so?"
"Because it is all written in a book which He has given to us. He sends
His Holy Spirit to all who seek for His aid to understand that book."
Laurence assured the Crees that he had thought us they then did a short
time ago, but that now he knew that all Peter said was true. So
earnestly did Peter plead the cause of the gospel, that many of the
Crees promised to visit the fort, to hear from the missionary himself
further on the subject.
Several of the inhabitants offered to accompany Laurence and his friends
to assist them in their search, and to spread the strange tidings they
had heard among others of their tribe whom they might fall in with.
For several days they journeyed on, lakes and streams being visited as
before. At last they found a broken trap. Laurence, on examining it,
decided that it belonged to his father. Still he must have gone further
to the west. Laurence began to fear that he might have wandered into a
part of the country frequented by Blackfeet and Peigans, among the most
savage tribes of the Sioux.
"He is friendly with many of the Sioux, among whom, indeed, I was
brought up," observed Laurence, "and fears none of them. Still, I know
how treacherous many of them are; and he may, I fear, have fallen into
their power. This will account for his not returning to the fort."
"He may, however, have escaped them, and be still trapping about here,
as it is a rich country for the beaver," observed Peter. "We may then
hope ere long to find him."
The party now advanced more cautiously than before. They had certain
proof that old Michael was in the neighbourhood; for Laurence
discovered, by the side of a beaver pond, another of his father's traps.
Why it was deserted he could not tell. Peter was of opinion that he
had hurried away from the spot, probably on account of the appearance of
enemies, and had been unable to return. This increased Laurence's
anxiety. They now advanced according to Indian custom, concealing
themselves behind every bush and rock, and climbing each height or tall
tree whence they could obtain a view of the surrounding country.
It was towards evening, and they were looking out for a sheltered place
for their camp. Peter had gone to the summit of a hill and gazed around
for the purpose mentioned, when he came hurrying down.
"There are Blackfeet at the further end of the valley," he said, "and by
their movements they are evidently watching for some one. If it is your
father, we have no time to lose. We outnumber them, and may hope easily
to come off victorious."
"Oh, let us not delay a moment, or we may be too late to save him,"
exclaimed Laurence; and they and their allies pushed on as before in the
direction where Peter had seen the Blackfeet. By carefully keeping
among the thick underwood and trees they hoped to take their enemies by
surprise.
"Remember, my friends," said Laurence, "that though we conquer them, we
are to endeavour to spare their lives, and by no means to injure them."
With stealthy steps Laurence and his friends advanced towards the
Blackfeet, of whom they now discovered there were but five, while his
party numbered eight. They were so eager in tracking whatever they were
in pursuit of that, notwithstanding their usual wariness, they did not
discover the approach of Laurence and the Crees. Presently the
Blackfeet were seen to draw their bows, and several arrows winged their
flight through the air. At the same time Laurence caught sight of the
figure of a man, who sprang up from where he had been seated near a fire
to seek shelter behind a rock, firing his rifle as he did so. Laurence
recognised his father, and to his horror saw that two arrows had pierced
his body. The moment he fired, one of the Blackfeet fell to the ground.
The old man stood as if uninjured, calmly reloading his weapon; while
the Indians, with their bows ready drawn to shoot should he reappear,
sprang towards the thick trunks of some neighbouring trees to escape his
fire. They were thus separated from each other, and brought nearer to
where Laurence and his party lay concealed. Peter now made a sign to
his companions, and in a few bounds they were up to the Blackfeet, who,
thus taken unawares, were pinioned and brought to the ground before they
could turn round and shoot their arrows or draw their hatchets from
their belts.
Laurence, leaving his companions to guard their prisoners, who,
expecting instant death, had assumed that stoic indifference of which
Indians boast, hastened to the assistance of his father. He shouted as
he ran, "Father, father, I am coming to you."
The old man, who had sunk on one knee, with rifle ready prepared to
fight to the last, fortunately recognised his voice. "What have become
of the Blackfeet, boy?" were his first words. "I saw the Crees spring
from under cover to attack them. Have they killed the treacherous
vermin?"
"No, father," answered Laurence. "Our friends made them prisoners. We
will spare their lives, and pray God to soften their hearts."
"What is that you say?" asked Michael. "The Crees will surely kill
them, and take their scalps, unless they wish to carry them to their
lodges, that their wives and children may torture them as they deserve.
But I feel faint, Laurence; their arrows have made some ugly wounds in
my flesh; help me to get them out."
Laurence saw with grief that his father was indeed badly hurt; and as he
supported him, he shouted to Peter to come to his assistance. Peter,
having helped to secure their prisoners, soon appeared. The old
trapper, notwithstanding his hardihood, had fainted from pain and loss
of blood. Peter's first care was to extricate the arrows, which, though
they had inflicted severe injuries, had mercifully not reached any vital
part. He and Laurence then, having bound up his wounds, carried him to
his little wigwam, which stood close by. Within it were a large supply
of skins, several traps, and articles for camp use, to obtain which
probably the treacherous Blackfeet had attacked old Michael. In the
meadow hard by his horses were also found. Laurence sat by his side,
supporting his head, and moistening his parched lips. He soon
sufficiently recovered to speak.
"I was about to return, Laurence," he said, "but I wished to bring a
good amount of skins to pay for your charges, should you wish to remain
longer at the fort, and learn the ways of the white man; or if not, to
fit you out, that you might come back and trap with me. We might have
had some pleasant days again together, boy; but had you and our friends
not appeared the moment you did, the Blackfeet would have put an end to
all my plans."
"Father," said Laurence, "I never wished to desert you; but it would
have been a sore trial to me to leave the fort; and if God in His mercy
spares your life, I pray that you may return there with me, and that we
may employ our time in a better way than in trapping beaver."
"No, no! God cannot have mercy on such a one as I am," groaned Michael;
"and it's hard to say whether I shall ever get back to the fort."
"Oh, but God is a God of love and mercy," cried Laurence. "He delights
in showing mercy and forgiveness. You must hear what Mr Martin, the
missionary, will tell you about Him; then I am sure you will wish to
stop and hear more, and to serve and love Him."
Peter now came back with the old trapper's horses to the camp, near to
which his friends had dragged their prisoners. He had had much
difficulty in persuading the Crees not to put to death the Blackfeet.
He had still a harder task to perform.
"Friends," he said, "according to Indian custom you might kill them; but
I have learned a new law, which is just and true--given me by an
all-powerful, kind, and merciful Master, who commands His servants to
forgive their enemies, and to do good to those who injure them. Our
prisoners were doing a wicked thing, and have been severely punished,
for one of their number lies dead. I would that he were alive again,
that he might hear what I have to say. I must pray you, therefore, to
let these men go. We will take their arms, that they may do us no
further injury; but we will give them food, that they may return to
their friends, to tell them about the love of our great Father; that He
desires all His children to serve Him, and to be at peace with each
other."
Peter then, in a simple way, suited to the comprehension of his hearers,
unfolded to them the gospel plan of salvation. The Blackfeet listened
with astonished ears, and could scarcely believe the fact that they were
allowed to go free and uninjured. Peter then invited them to the fort,
and promised to receive them as friends, and to tell them more of the
wonderful things of which he had spoken. The coals of fire which he
heaped on their heads appeared really to have softened their hearts.
Having, with the assistance of the Crees, buried their companion, by
Peter's desire their arms were unbound, and they were set at liberty.
Uttering expressions of gratitude such as rarely fall from an Indian's
lips, they took their departure, promising ere long to pay him a visit
at the fort.
A night's rest sufficiently restored old Michael to enable him to
commence his journey on one of the horses to the fort, while the other
carried his peltries and traps. Laurence walked all the way at the head
of his steed, endeavouring by his conversation to keep up the spirits of
his father, and never failing, at every opportunity, to introduce the
subject nearest his heart. The old man listened to what he said; but he
seldom made any answer. He offered, however, no opposition to his
remarks. Frequently Laurence feared that he would sink from the effects
of his wounds; but his life was mercifully preserved, and at length the
fort was reached.
There was sincere rejoicing as Laurence was seen leading his father's
horse up to the gate. The old trapper was carried into Mr Ramsay's
house, and there received that watchful care he so greatly needed. He
gradually recovered his strength. One of his first visitors was Mr
Martin. His object, as may be supposed, was not to talk of temporal
affairs, but to unfold to him, as he perceived that his mind was capable
of comprehending it, God's merciful plan of salvation.
The old man's heart, unlike that of his young son, appeared so hardened
and seared, from having long rejected Divine truth, that some people
might have given up the attempt in despair; but Mr Martin had too much
knowledge of the human heart, and too firm a faith of the all-powerful
influence of God the Holy Spirit, to relax his efforts. From no idle
curiosity, he endeavoured to draw from Michael some account of his early
life. He was, he found, an Englishman, and that he had been for some
time married and settled in Canada, when he had joined the rebellion
which broke out many years ago against the authority of the British
Government. Having acted as a leader in some of the more desperate
enterprises in which a few of the misguided inhabitants engaged at that
time, a price was set on his head. He escaped, however, to the wilds of
the Far West, where, both from inclination and necessity, he had taken
to the pursuit of a trapper. He quickly learned the language both of
the Crees and Sioux, and other tribes among whom he wandered. He gained
their confidence and friendship;--he believed, indeed, that he could
lead them to any purpose he might entertain, and all sorts of wild plans
passed through his mind. One enterprise he was, unfortunately, able to
carry out. One of his daughters had married a gentleman of some
property who had been a firm adherent of the Government, and Moggs had,
in consequence, conceived a bitter hatred against him, which time in no
way had lessened. Several years passed by, when he heard that his
daughter had a son, then about four years of age; and he formed the
barbarous idea of carrying off the child. He had little difficulty in
obtaining the assistance of a band of Indians; and, disguising himself
as one of them, he led an attack on the place, and succeeded too well in
his nefarious project. As the country was in a disturbed state at the
time, the attack was supposed to have been instigated by American
sympathisers, and the real culprit was not suspected. Making good his
retreat, he did not stop till he had got many hundred miles away from
the borders of Canada; and believing that he might still be traced, he
placed the child under charge of an old squaw belonging to a tribe of
Sioux, with whom he had formed a friendship. Strangely inconsistent as
it would seem, an affection for the boy grew up in his hard heart; and
in time, oppressed with the solitary life he had doomed himself to lead,
he determined to make him his companion in his trapping expeditions.
"Has no remorse ever visited you?" asked Mr Martin, when the old man
had finished his narrative.
"Yes, sometimes my thoughts have been terrible," groaned Michael.
"Then pray God that it may be a repentance to salvation not to be
repented of. With regard, however, to your temporal affairs, my friend,
I can assure you that, through the clemency of the Queen of England, all
the rebels in Canada at the time you speak of have been forgiven."
"Ah, sir," exclaimed Michael Moggs, "the Queen may have forgiven some,
but she cannot have forgiven me. You must, I am sure, be mistaken."
"But, my friend, if I can show you her proclamation, in which she
declares that she overlooks and pardons all those rebellious subjects
who rose against her authority, and allows those who have fled the
country to return under her rule, would you then believe me?"
"I suppose I could not help it," said Michael. "Let me see the paper."
Mr Martin went to his room, and returned with the document he spoke of.
"I have preserved it," he said, "for I am pleased with the gracious
terras in which it is couched."
Old Michael read the paper with intense interest.
"Yes!" he exclaimed. "I can no longer doubt the fact. Had I not kept
away from those who knew of this, I might long ago have been enjoying
the comforts and pleasures of the home I abandoned, and have again
become a member of civilised society."
"Then, my friend, if an earthly sovereign can be so merciful and
gracious, do you suppose that the King of Heaven, who has so wonderfully
manifested his love to man, is less merciful and gracious in forgiving
those who sin against Him?" said Mr Martin, feeling the importance of
not allowing so practical an illustration of the great truth to pass
unemployed. "Here is God's proclamation to sinful, rebellious man," he
added, lifting his Bible before the eyes of the old trapper. "He
declares in this--not once, but over and over again--that He forgives,
freely and fully all who come to Him; that their sins and iniquities are
blotted out and remembered no more; that `though your sins be as
scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like
crimson, they shall be as wool;' that His pardon is a free gift, without
money and without price! You have seen the Queen's proclamation, and
you believe it, and you know that you may return to your home with
perfect safety, provided you take back your grandson, and restore him to
his long-bereaved parents. That they will forgive and welcome you I
know; for they belong to Christ's flock, and I am well acquainted with
them. Now, my friend, let me entreat you to believe God's proclamation,
to trust to the gracious plan He has designed, whereby you can obtain
free pardon, perfect reconciliation, and life eternal."
"But can He ever pardon such a wretch as I am? Oh! tell me, sir, what
shall I do to be saved?"
"I'll answer, as Paul answered the jailor at Philippi, who was, we have
reason to believe, a cruel and bad man, or he was very unlike others in
his occupation in those days: `Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and
thou shalt be saved.' Paul, who certainly knew what God requires, did
not tell him to go and do anything, he was simply to believe with a
living faith. That, my friend, is all you have to do; and, be assured,
the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, will be yours; and
however you may bewail the effects of your sins, still you will know
that they are all put out of God's remembrance; for He sees you not as
you are, but clothed with the righteousness of Christ, with the white
spotless robes of the Lamb."
Many days passed by, and at length the old trapper could say with
confidence, as he clasped the hand of the missionary, "I rejoice in the
blood of my risen Saviour."
Young Laurence had long before been able to say the same.
They together soon afterwards set out for Canada. Mr Martin had not
wrongly estimated the character of his Christian friends. While they
rejoiced at the return of their long-lost son, they truly heaped coals
of fire on the head of the old man by their kindness and attention. A
few years afterwards he died, in perfect peace, in their midst.
Laurence's thoughts had ever been fixed on the far-off fort and its
beloved inmates. He made rapid progress in his studies, and with the
entire concurrence of his parents, at an early age he returned to act as
a Catechist under Mr Martin. He was soon placed in a more important
position, when Jeanie Ramsay became the devoted sharer of his labours in
making known the unspeakable goodness of Christ to the red men of the
woods and prairies.