of the
practices of their kindred.

Softswan was not banished from the council chamber, as if unworthy even
to listen to the discussions of the "lords of creation," and no pipe of
peace was smoked as a preliminary, but a brief, earnest prayer for
guidance was put up by the missionary to the Lord of hosts, and subjects
more weighty than are usually broached in the councils of savages were
discussed.

The preacher's voice was weak, and his countenance pale, but the wonted
look of calm confidence was still there.

"Whitewing," he said, raising himself on one elbow, "I will speak as God
gives me power, but I am very feeble, and feel that the discussion of
our plans must be conducted chiefly by yourself and your friends."

He paused, and the chief, with the usual dignity of the red man,
remained silent, waiting for more. Not so Little Tim. That worthy,
although gifted with all the powers of courage and endurance which mark
the best of the American savages, was also endowed with the white man's
tendency to assert his right to wag his tongue.

"Cheer up, sir," he said, in a tone of encouragement, "you mustn't let
your spirits go down. A good rest here, an' good grub, wi' Softswan's
cookin'--to say nothin' o' her nursin'--will put ye all right before
long."

"Thanks, Little Tim," returned the missionary, with a smile; "I do cheer
up, or rather, God cheers me. Whether I recover or am called home is in
His hands; therefore all shall be well. But," he added, turning to the
chief, "God has given us brains, hands, materials, and opportunities to
work with, therefore must we labour while we can, as if all depended on
ourselves. The plans which I had laid out for myself He has seen fit to
change, and it now remains for me to point out what I aimed at, so that
we may accommodate ourselves to His will. Sure am I that with or
without my aid, His work shall be done, and, for the rest--'though He
slay me, yet will I trust in Him."

Again he paused, and the Indians uttered that soft "Ho!" of assent with
which they were wont to express approval of what was said.

"When I left the settlements of the white men," continued the preacher,
"my object was twofold: I wished to see Whitewing, and Little Tim, and
Brighteyes, and all the other dear friends whom I had known long ago,
before the snows of life's winter had settled on my head, but my main
object was to visit Rushing River, the Blackfoot chief, and carry the
blessed Gospel