back blind, to my blind
people? I made my way to you with strong arms through many enemies and
strange lands that I might carry back much to them. I go back with
both arms broken and empty.

Two fathers came with us; they were the braves of many winters and
wars. We leave them asleep here by your great waters and wigwams.
They were tired in many moons and their moccasins wore out.

My people sent me to get the "White Man's Book of Heaven." You took me
to where you allow your women to dance as we do not ours, and the book
was not there. You took me to where they worship the Great Spirit with
candles, and the book was not there. You showed me images of the good
spirits and the picture of the good land beyond, but the book was not
among them to tell us the way.

I am going back the long and sad trail to my people in the dark land.
You make my feet heavy with gifts and my moccasins will grow old
carrying them, yet the book is not among them. When I tell my poor
blind people, after one more snow, in the big council, that I did not
bring the book, no word will be spoken by our old men or by our young
braves. One by one they will rise and go out in silence.

My people will die in darkness, and they will go a long path to other
hunting grounds. No white man will go with them, and no White Man's
Book make the way plain. I have no more words.

They left. Rabbit-skin Leggins reached his people;
No-horns-on-his-head fell upon the trail and died.

But his words lived. As translated into English, they were printed in
Eastern papers, and aroused great desire among the churches to give
them the right answer. Should these Indians beyond the mountains
remain in darkness? No!

Missionaries were called for, to carry the Book and the Word to the
Columbia River. In the spring of 1834 the first party, of four
Methodists, set out; others followed, the next year; soon the Roman
Catholic church sent its Black Robes; and the Pierced Noses and their
kin the Flatheads were made glad.

Not in vain had their warriors died, while seeking the road to the
white man's heaven.

CHAPTER XIX

A TRAVELER TO WASHINGTON (1831-1835)

WIJUNJON, THE "BIG LIAR" OF THE ASSINIBOINS

The Assiniboins are of the great Sioux family. Today there are in the
United States about one thousand of them. But when they were a free
and powerful people they numbered as high as ten thousand, and ranged
far--from the Missouri River in north