William Rufus Holly’s eyes steadied on those of the Indian as he replied in Chinook: “To teach the way to Manitou the Mighty, to tell the Athabascas of the Great Chief who died to save the world.”
“The story is told in many ways; which is right? There was the factor, Word of Thunder. There is the song they sing at Edmonton—I have heard.”
“The Great Chief is the same Chief,” answered the missionary. “If you tell of Fort O’Call, and Knife-in-the-Wind tells of Fort O’Call, he and you will speak different words, and one will put in one thing and one will leave out another; men’s tongues are different. But Fort O’Call is the-same, and the Great Chief is the same.”
“It was a long time ago,” said Knife-in-the-Wind sourly, “many thousand moons, as the pebbles in the river, the years.”
“It is the same world, and it is the same Chief, and it was to save us,” answered William Rufus Holly, smiling, yet with a fluttering heart, for the first test of his life had come.
In anger Knife-in-the-Wind thrust an arrow into the ground and said:
“How can the white man who died thousands of moons ago in a far country save the red man to-day?”
“A strong man should bear so weak a tale,” broke in Silver Tassel ruthlessly. “Are we children that the Great Chief sends a child as messenger?”
For a moment Billy Rufus did not know how to reply, and in the pause Knife-in-the-Wind broke in two pieces the arrow he had thrust in the ground in token of displeasure.
Suddenly, as Oshondonto was about to speak, Silver Tassel sprang to his feet, seized in his arms a lad of twelve who was standing near, and running to the bank, dropped him into the swift current.