by Zane Grey
Chapter XI.
The, sultry, drowsy, summer days passed with no untoward event tomar their slumbering tranquillity. Life for the newcomers to theVillage of Peace brought a content, the like of which they had neverdreamed of. Mr. Wells at once began active work among the Indians,preaching to them through an interpreter; Nell and Kate, in hoursapart from household duties, busied themselves brightening their newabode, and Jim entered upon the task of acquainting himself with themodes and habits of the redmen. Truly, the young people might havefound perfect happiness in this new and novel life, if only Joe hadreturned. His disappearance and subsequent absence furnished a themefor many talks and many a quiet hour of dreamy sadness. Thefascination of his personality had been so impelling that long afterit was withdrawn a charm lingered around everything which remindedthem of him; a subtle and sweet memory, with perverse and halfbitter persistence, returned hauntingly. No trace of Joe had beenseen by any of the friendly Indian runners. He was gone into themazes of deep-shadowed forests, where to hunt for him would be likestriving to trail the flight of a swallow. Two of those he had leftbehind always remembered him, and in their thoughts followed him inhis wanderings.
Jim settled down to his study of Indians with single-heartedness ofpurpose. He spent part of every morning with the interpreters, withwhose assistance he rapidly acquired the Delaware language. He wentfreely among the Indians, endeavoring to win their good-will. Therewere always fifty to an hundred visiting Indians at the village;sometimes, when the missionaries had advertised a special meeting,there were assembled in the shady maple grove as many as fivehundred savages. Jim had, therefore, opportunities to practice hisoffices of friendliness.
Fortunately for him, he at once succeeded in establishing himself inthe good graces of Glickhican, the converted Delaware chief. Thewise old Indian was of inestimable value to Jim. Early in theiracquaintance he evinced an earnest regard for the young minister,and talked with him for hours.
From Glickhican Jim learned the real nature of the redmen. TheIndian's love of freedom and honor, his hatred of subjection anddeceit, as explained by the good old man, recalled to Jim ColonelZane's estimate of the savage character. Surely, as the colonel hadsaid, the Indians had reason for their hatred of the pioneers.Truly, they were a blighted race.
Seldom had the rights of the redmen been thought of. The settlerpushed onward, plodding, as it were, behind his plow with a rifle.He regarded the Indian as little better than a beast; he was easierto kill than to tame. How little the settler knew the proudindependence, the wisdom, the stainless chastity of honor, whichbelonged so truly to many Indian chiefs!
The redmen were driven like hounded deer into the untrodden wilds.From freemen of the forests, from owners of the great boundlessplains, they passed to stern, enduring fugitives on their own lands.Small wonder that they became cruel where once they had been gentle!Stratagem and cunning, the night assault, the daylight ambush tookthe place of their one-time open warfare. Their chivalrous courage,that sublime inheritance from ancestors who had never known thepaleface foe, degenerated into a savage ferocity.
Interesting as was this history to Jim, he cared more forGlickhican's rich portrayal of the redmen's domestic life, for thebeautiful poetry of his tradition and legends. He heard with delightthe exquisite fanciful Indian lore. From these romantic legends,beautiful poems, and marvelous myths he hoped to get ideas of theIndian's religion. Sweet and simple as childless dreams were thesequaint tales--tales of how the woodland fairies dwelt infern-carpeted dells; how at sunrise they came out to kiss open theflowers; how the forest walks were spirit-haunted paths; how theleaves whispered poetry to the winds; how the rocks harbored Indiangods and masters who watched over their chosen ones.
Glickhican wound up his long discourses by declaring he had neverlied in the whole course of his seventy years, had never stolen,never betrayed, never murdered, never killed, save in self-defence.Gazing at the chief's fine features, now calm, yet showing traces ofpast storms, Jim believed he spoke the truth.
When the young minister came, however, to study the hostile Indiansthat flocked to the village, any conclusive delineation ofcharacter, or any satisfactory analysis of their mental state inregard to the paleface religion, eluded him. Their passive, silent,sphinx-like secretiveness was baffling. Glickhican had taught himhow to propitiate the friendly braves, and with these he wassuccessful. Little he learned, however, from the unfriendly ones.When making gifts to these redmen he could never be certain that hisofferings were appreciated. The jewels and gold he had brought westwith him went to the French traders, who in exchange gave himtrinkets, baubles, bracelets and weapons. Jim made hundreds ofpresents. Boldly going up to befeathered and befringed chieftains,he offered them knives, hatchets, or strings of silvery beads.Sometimes his kindly offerings were repelled with a haughty stare;at other times they would be accepted coldly, suspiciously, as ifthe gifts brought some unknown obligation.
For a white man it was a never-to-be-forgotten experience to seeeight or ten of these grim, slowly stepping forest kings, arrayed inall the rich splendor of their costume, stalking among the teepeesof the Village of Peace. Somehow, such a procession always made Jimshiver. The singing, praying and preaching they heard unmoved. Noemotion was visible on their bronzed faces; nothing changed theirunalterable mien. Had they not moved, or gazed with burning eyes,they would have been statues. When these chieftains looked at theconverted Indians, some of whom were braves of their nations, thecontempt in their glances betrayed that they now regarded theseChristian Indians as belonging to an alien race.
Among the chiefs Glickhican pointed out to Jim were Wingenund, theDelaware; Tellane, the Half-King; Shingiss and Kotoxen--all of theWolf tribe of the Delawares.
Glickhican was careful to explain that the Delaware nation had beendivided into the Wolf and Turtle tribes, the former warlike people,and the latter peaceable. Few of the Wolf tribe had gone over to thenew faith, and those who had were scorned. Wingenund, the greatpower of the Delawares--indeed, the greatest of all the westerntribes--maintained a neutral attitude toward the Village of Peace.But it was well known that his right-hand war-chiefs, Pipe andWishtonah, remained coldly opposed.
Jim turned all he had learned over and over in his mind, trying toconstruct part of it to fit into a sermon that would be differentfrom any the Indians had ever heard. He did not want to preach farover their heads. If possible, he desired to keep to theirideals--for he deemed them more beautiful than his own--and toconduct his teaching along the simple lines of their belief, so thatwhen he stimulated and developed their minds he could pass from whatthey knew to the unknown Christianity of the white man.
His first address to the Indians was made one day during theindisposition of Mr. Wells--who had been over-working himself--andthe absence of the other missionaries. He did not consider himselfat all ready for preaching, and confined his efforts to simple,earnest talk, a recital of the thoughts he had assimilated whileliving here among the Indians.
Amazement would not have described the state of his feelings when helearned that he had made a powerful impression. The converts wereloud in his praise; the unbelievers silent and thoughtful. In spiteof himself, long before he had been prepared, he was launched on histeaching. Every day he was called upon to speak; every day onesavage, at least, was convinced; every day the throng of interestedIndians was augmented. The elder missionaries were quite overcomewith joy; they pressed him day after day to speak, until at lengthhe alone preached during the afternoon service.
The news flew apace; the Village of Peace entertained more redmenthan ever before. Day by day the faith gained a stronger foothold. Akind of religious trance affected some of the converted Indians, andthis greatly influenced the doubting ones. Many of them halfbelieved the Great Manitou had come.
Heckewelder, the acknowledged leader of the western MoravianMission, visited the village at this time, and, struck by the youngmissionary's success, arranged a three days' religious festival.Indian runners were emplo
yed to carry invitations to all the tribes.The Wyandots in the west, the Shawnees in the south, and theDelawares in the north were especially requested to come. Nodeception was practiced to lure the distant savages to the Villageof Peace. They were asked to come, partake of the feasts, and listento the white man's teaching.
