The Trail of the Golden Horn/Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
The Messenger
FROM early dawn Tom, the Indian, had been on the trail. Dusk was settling over the land as he paused on the brow of a hill and looked anxiously down into the valley below. His eyes were keenly alert, his ears attentive to the least sound, and he sniffed the air for the camp-fire scent. He was weary, and longed to rest. But he had an important mission to fulfil, so he could not stop until that was accomplished. He was old and unaccustomed to hard travelling. His trips of late had been to the hills surrounding The Gap for mountain sheep, grouse, and ptarmigan. Only a great incentive had induced him to undertake this venture. He had his doubts as to how he would be received by the Indians scattered over the hunting-grounds. They had acted in a strange and rebellious mood of late, so the hope of influencing them was not very encouraging. But the vision of a wronged girl and the wounded Gikhi animated his soul, and inspired him with an overmastering determination. If what had recently happened at The Gap would not open the eyes of the Indians and give them a change of heart, nothing else would. He felt that the time was opportune, and that he must make the most of it.
Leaving the brow of the hill he descended into the valley, and ere long had the satisfaction of seeing a light among the trees not far ahead. That Indians were encamped there was certain, and in a few minutes he came in sight of a big log lean-to where a number of natives were gathered around a cheerful fire. Several dogs heralded his approach, while a number of men leaped to their feet and ordered the animals to be still. In another minute Tom was in their midst, and accorded a hearty welcome. All were glad to see him for his sake alone, if for nothing else. They concealed their curiosity, for they were well aware that only a matter of extreme importance would bring the old man so far from his home in the dead of winter.
About a dozen people, men, women, and children, were encamped here. They were a hardy lot, well enured to the cold, and living the simple life. This was their natural domain, and here they were free from the vices of the frontier towns and mining camps. Could they have been kept here, all would have been well with them. But the attractions and temptations of lighted streets, gaily-bedecked stores, and warm saloons, were hard to be resisted. Such things formed the principal topic of conversation during the long winter evenings, and all looked eagerly forward to spring when they could once more gratify their desires.
Tom knew of all this and how hard it would be for them to be drawn away from such allurements. He felt that he might influence the older ones, but had little hope of doing anything with the young men and women. He did not at first explain the purpose of his coming, but after he had eaten the food which was set before him, he sat near the fire and talked about many things except that which was nearest his heart. He heard also how the Indians were getting along with their season’s hunt, as well as bits of gossip from other encampments.
After a while, however, Tom laid aside the pipe he was smoking, and took a little book from a pocket inside his buckskin jacket. This he opened, and then looked around upon his companions.
“You all know what this is,” he began. “It was given to us by the Gikhi at The Gap. Some of you remember when the Gikhi first came to live among us. His body was strong then, his eyes bright, and his hair black. We opposed him, and the medicine men stirred us up against him. Several times we tried to kill him, but the Great Spirit always saved the Gikhi. He was good to us, and when a plague came upon us, he cared for us, nursed us when we were sick, and saved many lives. When we were hungry he always shared with us his food. But he did more than that. He started a school for our little ones, taught them to read and write, and how to do many useful things. Above all, he gave us the Great Message which changed our lives, and lifted us from the level of the brutes. Before he came, we treated our wives like slaves, and worse than dogs. Now it is altogether different. Our wives are our companions, and we use them right. Before the Gikhi came, baby girls were badly treated. Mothers often let them die rather than permit them to grow up to lead hard lives. Now our little ones are well cared for. Before the Gikhi came, we were always waging war upon neighbouring tribes. We thirsted for battle and slaughter. Now we are all living in peace. And before the Gikhi came we allowed our old Indians to die without any care. We would abandon them on the trails, and let them perish. That is all changed now, and our old men and women are well looked after. Before the Gikhi came we had no knowledge of Him who came on earth and died that we might be saved. We know now. The Gikhi did all that for us. He gave us this book, and taught us how to read it. Here we find the Great Message of life and Eternal Hope, hope which we never had before. Our little ones have been taught to sing hymns, and you all remember what wonderful services we had in the church which the Gikhi built. We were very happy then, and all looked forward to coming back to The Gap to hear the Message from the Gikhi’s lips.”
Tom paused, while a sad expression overspread his face. He noted how intently all had listened to his words. He believed that he was making some impression upon them.
“A great change came,” he continued, “which broke up the Gikhi’s work. Gold was discovered, and the white men flocked into our country, and you know what they did. They brought in hootch which ruined our young men and women, and many of the older ones, too. Our girls were led astray, and the school broken up. The influence of the Gikhi was gone, for the Indians nearly all left him. His wife died, I believe through grief. She loved the Indians, and she was always a friend to them. The Gikhi was left alone, but every night he rang the little bell and held service in the church. He always prayed that the Indians would come back, and he said that he wanted to be there when they came. But now I am afraid it will be too late, and that the Indians will never see the Gikhi again.”
Again Tom paused, and for a few seconds he sat very still, his head bent forward. That he was in deep grief, the Indians were well aware.
“Has Tom bad news to give?” one of the natives asked. “Is the Gikhi sick?”
“Ah, ah, the Gikhi is more than sick,” Tom replied, as he lifted his head. “An enemy came at night and shot the Gikhi.”
At these words the men sprang to their feet and a babel of voices ensued. Tom was plied with questions, so he told all he knew, and also about what had happened to Zell. Deep, burning indignation filled the hearts of all present, and they vowed vengeance upon the one who had committed the dastardly deed.
“Where is Bill now?” was asked.
“Somewhere in the mountains,” Tom explained. “The Police are after him. They will catch him before long, and take him back to The Gap.”
“The Indians will help to catch Bill,” a stalwart hunter announced. “They will track him down.”
“Let the Police do that,” Tom replied. “The Indians must go back to The Gap. They must show their love for the Gikhi. They must give up their bad ways. They have wandered too far already, but it is not too late. Will the Indians do that?”
The critical moment had at last arrived, and Tom anxiously waited for a reply. He knew how much these Indians had been stirred by what they had just heard. But would it affect their actions? And while he waited, the oldest hunter present lifted his hand for silence.
“We have just received very sad and important news,” he began. “It is a great grief to us to learn what has happened to the Gikhi. Our hearts are all the more sad because we have left him and neglected his teachings. I have been thinking much this winter while out in the mountains. I have seen our young men and women wandering into strange trails, and leading lives far worse than before the Gikhi came into our midst. It is not good for them, and unless a change takes place the Indians will all be ruined. I have been reading the little book that Gikhi gave us, and on many nights when alone by my camp-fire I have studied the Message of the Great White Chief who came to die for us. If we follow His trail all will be well. The Gikhi has told us what to do, and he himself has set us the example. He did not come among us to cheat us in trade. He did not use hard words, but was always gentle. He did not bring hootch among us, but he brought us the Living Message to save our souls. He became as one of us, sharing our joys and sorrows, and healing our bodies. And what have we done in return? We have been false to him who did so much for us. We have followed the trails of the enemy, and now one of their number has stricken down the Gikhi. Let us call all the Indians together, go back to The Gap, and be once more with the Gikhi. He may die, as Tom says, but let us be there when he starts on the Long Trail, and it may be that he will see and understand. Around our beloved Gikhi let us gather, old and young, and promise to be true to the teaching of the Great White Chief in Heaven. All who agree with what I have said let them now speak.”
For a few minutes there was silence when the old Indian had finished. At length one by one the hunters expressed their views, and all with one consent agreed to return to The Gap, and renew their allegiance. It was an impressive scene to behold those husky natives give voice to the strong conviction which animated their souls. Tom’s eyes glowed with pleasure, and when the men ceased speaking, he lifted up the book he had been holding in his hand.
“Let this be our guide,” he said. “What it contains will do us more good than the words of the bad white men. I am now going to read a Message from the Great White Chief.”
Then in a clear voice he read in the rhythmical native tongue the story which can never grow old, of the Good Shepherd seeking the sheep which had gone astray in the wilderness until He found it. He read the words with intense pathos, and when he had ended, he closed the book, and lifting up his voice, he began the hymn of “Nearer My God to Thee,” of which the Indians were very fond.
“Ndo nyet nyakkwun Ttia
Ndo nyet nyakkwum,
Kwizyit nititae,
Guselshit chi.
Tthui sih chilig telya
Ndo nyet nyakkwum Ttia,
Ndo nyet nyakkwum.”
The hymn ended, Tom dropped upon his knees, his companions doing likewise, and offered up a few simple prayers, one of which was an earnest appeal that the Gikhi might be spared, and that the Indians might once more return to the right way. He concluded with the Lord’s Prayer, in which all joined. As their voices rose as one, all of Tom’s fears were removed. He believed that these Indians would remain true, and that never again would they be induced to go astray.