AN ABORIGINAL SERMON.
If Hay-uta the Sauk had been astonished by the action of his youthful
conqueror, he was now more astonished by his words; but the former in a
measure prepared him for the latter, and he saw why it was the
remarkable warrior had refused to take his life when the opportunity had
been his, and when too he knew that he whom he was fighting would show
him no mercy.
Hay-uta, like many of his people, had listened to the words of the
missionaries--those strange people who underwent hunger, thirst, and
suffering that they might preach the Word of Life to those who had never
heard of that wonderful Being that died to save a lost world, and who
taught that forgiveness, kindness, and love were the duty of every one.
Hay-uta, I say, had listened to the words of those people, but only to
turn away with a scornful smile, for he was sure the creed was one to
which the American Indian could never give his faith.
The red man remembered that those priests and missionaries called
themselves Christians, and lo! the most skillful warrior upon whom he
had ever looked, now stood before him and declared that he too was a
Christian. Not only that, but he proved it by his works, for he refused
to tear the reeking scalp from the head of his enemy, when that enemy
was vanquished!
Once more Deerfoot picked the knife of Hay-uta from the ground and
handed it (the point toward himself) to the Sauk. The latter accepted it
and pushed it back in place behind the girdle that spanned his waist.
Then at a signal from Deerfoot he recovered his rifle and tomahawk, as
Deerfoot did his hatchet and bow and quiver. Without a word, the two
walked the short distance to camp, Hay-uta slightly in the lead.
The camp was of the simplest character, consisting of a pile of sticks,
leaves, and branches which served as a couch, beside furnishing fuel for
the fire when he cooked his food. A long, heavy blanket was partly
folded and lying on the heap of branches, where it had served as a
pillow for the warrior, who was different from most of his people in
using that artificial help to slumber.
The water, which is such a necessity for parties halting in the
wilderness, was obtained from a tiny stream that trickled down the rocks
just beyond, after which it sank out of sight in the mountain to
reappear at some point far removed. The wood and undergrowth that
surrounded the camp of the Sauk were very close and dense, so that the
view in every direction was shut off, unless one should climb the
tallest tree and take his survey from that perch.
When Hay-uta halted in front of his camp-fire he turned about and
extended his hand to Deerfoot.
"Will Deerfoot tell Hay-uta about the Great Spirit of the white man?"
"He is the Great Spirit of the red man as well as of the white," replied
the Shawanoe, seating himself on the ground, where he was opposite the
Sauk, who slowly resumed his seat on the pile of sticks and branches.
"He loves all his children--him with the face of the night, the Miami,
the Huron, the Shawanoe, the Delaware, the Sauk and Fox, the white man,
and all those who live far beyond the great water which rolls against
the shores of our land. He loves them all, and He hides his face with
grief when he sees them quarrel and try to kill each other. If His
children will do as He tells them to do, they will be happy in this
world and in the hunting grounds where they shall live forever."
Hay-uta remembered that this agreed with what he had heard the
missionaries say, but he recalled also that there was something more.
"Where does the Great Spirit that Deerfoot tells me about live?"
The Shawanoe pointed reverently upward.
"Far beyond the clouds, the sun, and the stars; He lives there, and
there all shall go who do His will. A long time ago, before the white
men came across the great water, He sent His Son from Heaven to earth;
the Son went about doing good, and died, to save those He loved from
sorrow and death."
"Deerfoot tells me what the Great Spirit says to him; how does he hear
the Great Spirit speak?"
Without changing his half-reclining posture, the Shawanoe drew forth his
small Bible from the inner pocket of his hunting shirt, the other
watching with amazement the action. Opening the sacred volume, he read
in his low, musical voice:
"'Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.
"'Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.
"'Blessed are the peace-makers: for they shall be called the children of
God.
"'Ye have heard that it has been said, thou shalt love thy neighbor, and
hate thine enemy:
"'But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do
good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use
you, and persecute you.'"
Deerfoot read these extracts from the Sermon on the Mount, with which he
was so familiar that he could have repeated it all without looking at
the printed page. Then raising his eyes to the wondering face of
Hay-uta, he added:
"Let my brother listen, for these are the words of the Great Spirit,
which he speaks to all his children; if they will obey, there shall be
no unhappiness in the world:
"'_Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to
you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets._'"
The Sauk warrior was never so stirred in all his life. He had seen white
men read from books, and he held a misty idea of how it was done, but he
never knew one of his own race who could interpret the meaning of the
curious figures made by some incomprehensible means on paper.
It was impossible that he should grasp the height and depth of that
sublime utterance, which is of itself the very essence of the Christian
religion; but they were as clear as sunlight to Deerfoot, who had
pondered them many a time since he sat at the feet of good Mrs. Preston,
who presented him with the Word of Life.
Closing the Book and putting it away, he proceeded to preach his sermon
to the Sauk warrior. Deerfoot assumed the sitting position, and used
both hands in his frequent gestures. Hay-uta reclined on his side,
supporting himself on one elbow, while he fixed his eyes on his teacher
and drank in every word.
"The Great Spirit made all people--the white, the red, the black man,
and him whose face is the color of the breast of Deerfoot's hunting
shirtfor there are men whose skins are yellow, and others who are
brown. He wishes them to live like brothers, but they do not. More of
the pale faces are evil than good; they use the red men ill, and the red
man loves to fight his enemies, but they grieve the Great Spirit. Let
Hay-uta pray to the Great Spirit; let him never lie down or rise without
talking to Him; let him stay his hand when it would strike a blow in
anger; let him forgive his foes; let him seek to do the will of the
Great Spirit, and a sweet peace shall fill his heart, such as he never
knew before. Let my brother do that; let him tell the good news to his
friends; let him listen to the words of the missionaries and talk to his
people.
"The father of Deerfoot was a chief of the Shawanoes, who loved to
fight; Deerfoot when a child was a wildcat in his hate of his enemies
and of the pale faces; but the Great Spirit whispered in his ear, and he
became another being. It was the Great Spirit who told him just now that
danger threatened him. Hay-uta knows that Deerfoot could have slain him
had he wished to do so; but he never wished him ill; he first showed him
he was his master, that Hay-uta might listen to his words; will my
brother forget what Deerfoot has said to him?"
Every being, whether groping in the night of barbarism or walled in by
the skepticism of an advanced civilization, has felt at one time or
another, an irrestrainable longing to draw aside the veil which shuts
out the great hereafter, and solve the mystery of the life that is to
come. Many a time is the heart stirred to its uttermost depths by the
chastening hand of affliction, or when gazing on the glories of the
stars and firmament, or when listening to the meanings of the vast deep,
the soft sighing of the winds in the forest, or the lisping prayer of
infancy. No proof of the immortality of the soul can equal that of its
very yearning for immortality, and dim, strange, half-heard whisperings
of the Beyond become voices more convincing than all the scientific
scoffing and brilliant ridicule of those whose learning carries them
beyond the trusting faith of childhood, and stops just short of the
grandeur of the light of perfect knowledge.
When Deerfoot addressed his question to the Sauk warrior, the latter did
not answer, but continued gazing into his face as though he heard not
the words, and his thoughts were far away. The Shawanoe was wise enough
to suspect the truth, and refrained from repeating the question. He,
too, held his peace, and for several minutes the strange scene lasted.
The two Indians looked at each other without speaking.
Meanwhile the afternoon was drawing to a close, and darkness was
creeping through the forest. The camp-fire had burned so low that it
gave out no light, and the figures of the warriors began to grow
indistinct.
Deerfoot felt that he had sowed the seed, and he had only to wait for it
to bear fruit. He arose, and stepping closer to the fire, stirred it
until it gave forth a flame which lit up the surrounding gloom. Still
Hay-uta remained motionless and silent.
Perhaps it has not escaped the notice of the reader that when the Sauk
stood with folded arms before his conqueror, and asked him to bury his
knife in his heart, he said that the son of the pale face would point
the finger of scorn at him. Deerfoot noticed the curious words, and he
felt that the moment had come when he should learn their full meaning.
"Where is the village of my brother?" he asked in his gentle way.
The Sauk aroused himself and slowly rose to his feet. Glancing through
the firelight at his questioner, he pointed to the west.
"Two suns' journey away is the home of Hay-uta. There are his squaw and
pappoose. He left them two suns ago to hunt for the scalps of his
enemies; but he will hunt no more; he will go home, and on his way will
think of the words that Deerfoot has said to him."
"It is well he should do so; but my brother spoke of the son of the pale
face. Why is he in the village of the Sauks?"
"He was brought there in the last moon; the Sauks found two pale faces
in the woods."
"Where is the other?"
"Some of the Sauks took him by another path; Hay-uta knows not where he
is."
"Was harm done him?"
"Hay-uta cannot answer."
"Tell me of the pale face that is in the village of the Sauks with my
brother."
The warrior, assisted by the questions of Deerfoot, who kept down the
deep interest he felt, told all he knew. When he had finished, as the
reader may well suspect, Deerfoot was sure he had gained most important
knowledge. He was satisfied beyond all doubt that the prisoner in the
village of the Sauks was Jack Carleton, whom he had set out to find, and
for whom he feared he would have to hunt for many moons before learning
whether he was alive or dead.
Suddenly the Sauk rose to his feet and stood in the attitude of
listening, as though he had caught some signal. Deerfoot knew he was
mistaken, for had it been otherwise, he too would have noticed it.
"Hay-uta bids his brother good bye," was the abrupt exclamation of the
warrior, who caught up his blanket and, without another word, passed
from sight in the wood, leaving the astonished Deerfoot alone.