Deerfoot in The Mountains

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

It was the custom of the Blackfeet to hold their councils in this place, Taggarak being fond of summoning his chiefs and leading warriors thither, while they smoked their pipes and settled questions of state. Most of the time the barren structure was deserted.

On a bleak afternoon late in autumn, when a few inches of snow lay on the ground and the wind moaned among the leafless branches, Deerfoot the Shawanoe and the Shelton brothers wended their way to the Big Lodge. The boys paused at the edge of the assemblage and silently took their place among the listeners. They, as well as their friend, were astonished to see the crowd that had gathered. Warriors and women, with here and there a child, were seated everywhere on the bare ground, till it was hard to find room for another person. No one could fail to be impressed by the air of solemnity that shadowed each dusky face. Nearly every male and female sat with a shawl wrapped around the shoulders, for the air was biting, and no one had any protection from it except clothing. Victor whispered to his brother:

"I never expected to see anything like this. Who would have thought that the few words Deerfoot has spoken about our religion could have stirred up such deep feeling?"

An Indian scorns to betray curiosity or excitement, and only a few of the warriors and squaws looked up as the young Shawanoe picked his way through and among the multitude, who numbered several hundred, to the farther end of the space, where he turned to face the expectant listeners. He had left his rifle at the tepee, but his knife was in his girdle. To those who had slight knowledge of him he looked his simple, natural self; but George and Victor, when they scanned their friend observed a deeper flush in his face and a brighter gleam in the eyes, which revealed to them the profound emotion that stirred his soul.

Deerfoot stood for a minute, looking over the swarthy faces turned expectantly toward him. He had prayed many times for strength to meet this ordeal, and he knew he would do so.

Then he began speaking in his low, musical voice, which was clearly heard by those farthest removed. He used the Blackfoot tongue, so that only a part of his words were understood by George and Victor, and never halted or hesitated until the interruption came.

"My friends," said he, "the heart of Deerfoot is glad to tell you about the Great Spirit who is the Father of the red men as well as of the palefaces. Many, many moons ago that Father made this world; the sun that shines by day and the moon and stars that rule at night; the mountains, the woods, the rivers, the prairies, the rocks, the clouds and all that you see about you. He gave His children game to hunt, and He caused the fish to grow in the streams and the corn and fruit to spring from the ground. There was nothing that His children needed that He did not give to them.

"Was not that Father kind? Could any father be as good to his children as God was to those He put on the earth to live together? Should not those children love Him and try to live as He wished them to live? But they were wicked and did not care for Him. They fought and killed one another and did all they could to offend their Heavenly Father. They were so bad that bye and bye He turned away His face in anger. He would have slain them as they deserved, but He had a Son, good and pure like Himself. This Son took the load of all the sins of the world on his heart. He came to the earth and told the people how sad God was because they did evil. Some heeded His words, but bad men took the Son, whom we call our Saviour, because He saved us all—you and me and everybody—and they drove nails through his hands and feet, and let Him hang on two crosspieces of wood till He died the most painful of deaths. He could have killed those who treated Him so cruelly, but He chose to die so that the way would be opened for all men and women and children to come to God, who was angry no longer, because the Son had taken their place and suffered in their stead.

"The Great Spirit, whom we call God or our Heavenly Father, has made the path so straight and so free from briars that the smallest child can walk therein without harm. He wants you to become Christians and to believe in Him. A Christian is one who does all he can to make others happy. You must not go to war, and only fight when others attack you or those whom you love. You must be merciful and forgiving. Never cause anyone to suffer. Give food to the hungry, help those who have fallen to climb to their feet, take them by the hand and lead them if they are weak. Think all the time of new ways of making other persons smile. You must pray to God every morning and night and, when you have the chance, through the day. If you do this, a sweet peace, such as you have never known before, will come into your heart. You will not care for pain or hunger or thirst or suffering, for the happiness of pleasing your Heavenly Father will make you forget all these. When you die He will carry you to those blessed hunting grounds, where you shall meet all the friends who have gone on before and where you and they shall be happy forevermore."

During the utterance of this simple plea the Big Lodge was as still as the tomb. It is safe to believe that not a man or woman present failed to be impressed, for every person, savage or civilized, pagan or Christian, is profoundly interested in the most transcendant theme that can engage the human mind—the saving of man's soul and the preparation for the life to come. None other can compare with it. It is the one supreme question of the ages.