out and ask those
who have come, if there are not more than those two left behind."

Soon word comes in that there are not only these two sick ones, but a
little girl with a broken leg.

"Put her name down, too."

The list is again read over, and the question again asked:

"Are you sure that we have not overlooked any? It would be a shame for
us to be here feasting and any of our aged and afflicted ones
forgotten."

The matter would be discussed until they were confident that all the
names were recorded, even the afflicted ones of the still unconverted
Indians who were always welcomed and generally on hand. Then the chief,
with an assistant or two would go to the great piles of food, and cut
off generous pieces of venison and bear's meat, and, with an assortment
of other things, make up as many large parcels as there were names on
his list, each bundle, perhaps, containing enough food to last the
afflicted ones a couple of days. Then the chief would go out to where
the sturdy active young men were at their sports, and shouting the names
of as many as he had bundles, give to the fleetest a large bundle and
say:

"Take that to Ookoominou, who Is sick in bed six miles up the river, and
tell her that we are all sorry that she is so old and feeble that she
cannot be with us to-day. With it give her our Christian greetings and
love, and our wishes that she will enjoy her share of the feast."

With a look to see that the strings of his moccasins and his beaded
garters are well tied, and tightening his sash belt around his leathern
shirt, the swift runner would be off like an arrow; making straight for
the far away wigwam, where, in age and feebleness, is one of the
grandmothers of the tribe, now loved by all; but who would have been put
to death years ago, if the blessed Gospel had not come among this people
and wrought its marvellous transformations in their hearts. Six miles
would that fleet Indian runner have to go, and return, ere he could have
his share of the feast; but never fear, he will be back in time. What
are twelve miles to him, when there is such a feast at the end of it?
And then, is he not a Christian? And does he not consider it a joy to
be the carrier of such a bundle, with such a loving message, to the aged
and feeble Ookoominou? Of course he does.

Others similarly addressed, and charged with loving messages, are
rapidly sent off. While the majority of the messengers prefer to make
the jo