Deerfoot in The Mountains

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

The two walked side by side, the hearts of both full. It was so dark that they drew no attention to themselves. Just before the well-known home of the chief was reached, Mul-tal-la turned off without so much as a farewell word.

The war chief was expecting his visitor. He had sent his wife and boy away in order that he might be alone with the Shawanoe. He sat with his back against the rock, his position allowing the firelight to show his face clearly, especially one side of it. As he recognized his visitor he smiled and extended his hand, after the manner of white men. Deerfoot quickened his pace and grasped the palm and laid the other on the shoulder of the chieftain. How different from their meeting by the lookout rock several days before!

"The heart of Deerfoot is glad," said the visitor, in a low, tremulous voice.

"Taggarak hears the birds sing again. There are no clouds before the sun. He is happy, for the Great Spirit smiles upon him."

One of the most marvelous facts connected with the true religion, and itself a proof of its divinity, is its complete adaptability to every condition of life and to every degree of intelligence. Its essentials are as readily grasped by the clodhopper as by the profoundest scholar whose years are spent in delving into the mysteries of science. No finite mind can fathom the mysteries of life, of death, of sleep, of the beginning, the end, of eternity, of the real nature of the soul and of God, how He came into existence; nor, indeed, shall we ever comprehend in all their fullness the simplest phenomena around us. What is the essence of color or taste or smell? How is the word spoken by us understood by him to whom it is addressed? When we move a hand or foot, where and how does the action begin? What is the theoretical limit of divisibility or expansion? These and scores of similar questions have only to be asked for us to feel the utter helplessness of our powers of understanding.

But to the untutored savage, shivering in his rude wigwam and manacled by his sombre superstitions, the essential facts for the saving of his soul become as clear as the sun in the unclouded heavens. The man with a dwarfed intellect can see as plainly as he whose telescope, sweeping the heavens, carries his vision to the bounds of the universe.

"All our philosophic pedants, all our sons of science know

Not a whit more than that dullard knew a million years ago."

Deerfoot stayed with Taggarak for several hours. No one disturbed them, and the chief would have kept his comforter still longer had not the latter felt that it was better to leave the Blackfoot to his communings with God.

When at last the Shawanoe emerged like a shadow from the lodge of the chief he did not go to his own home. Instead, he turned off, passed swiftly across the open space that had been the scene of so many contests and games, entered the hilly section and did not pause until he came to the place where he and Taggarak had fought several days before.