"Brave Eyes"—for such was the name I now bore—"does not know of what he speaks. Here the nations do not war as our nation wars. The Great Spirit has whispered to me that it is right for the white men to do some things, and wrong for the red men to do some things. He has whispered to Uchichak that it is not right for the Crees to take scalps, and they do not. He has whispered to The Keeper that it is right, and so The Keeper does. He has whispered to the white men that they shall drink of the water of fire. He has whispered to The Keeper not to drink. The Keeper has seen his brothers disobey, and drink, until their minds were stolen from their bodies. The Keeper does not disobey the Great Spirit. Let my brother listen to the Great Spirit, unless he thinks himself greater. Does my brother know more than the Great Spirit?"
It was the longest speech I ever heard from The Keeper, and his quiet sarcasm at the close taught me a lesson that I sorely needed. I had considered myself above these poor heathen people, and in time I came to know that in many ways I was below them. We did not worship alike, yet we all worshiped. There was much that they could and did teach me, and Uchichak came to be a very good friend to me.
The two Mohawks came to rather disregard me and Ruth, centering themselves on Radisson alone, quietly but insistently. They hunted and fished with him, or alone, and left me to Uchichak, who proved an able teacher. Those were happy weeks for me, as I slowly came back to strength and health, and I believe that never in her life had Ruth been so filled with the joy of youth as she was here. And it was well, for there were dark days to come.
As to our future, that was unsettled. Radisson was filled with a great dream of going on into the sunset and searching out the country there, of finding lands where no white man had ever trod. His age was as nothing to him, and I verily believe that except for Ruth he had departed long since. But the love of the little maid restrained him, and his great vision waited on her will.
With the snows, I set forth on the heels of Uchichak, learning to hunt and fish and trap as did the Crees. Our fusils and little store of powder were jealously guarded away, so that perforce I had to learn the bow and spear. I learned that moose and elk and bison were no creatures from the nether world, but animals of flesh and blood, and one day I proposed to The Crane that we should seek out the moose who had attacked us, and who had so nearly killed me. At the suggestion a strange expression swept across the chief's dark, handsome face, and he glanced at me with a worried look.
"Is my brother so anxious to meet the Great Spirit? Has he not escaped the horns of the Mighty One by a miracle?"
"Nonsense!" I retorted. "The Great Spirit did not give me the heart of a coward, Uchichak. He saved me from the moose, and if it be His will, I shall some day meet and slay the animal. Why do you call him the Mighty One?"
It seemed to me that The Crane fell to trembling, almost. Certainly his face quivered, and he glanced around uneasily. We stood alone, our snowshoes leaving a faint trail across a bare rise of snow, carrying a small deer between us. The chief set down his end of the pole and faced me.
"You have said many things to me that I do not understand, my brother. You have told me of the Great Spirit whom you serve, and sometimes I have thought that He was our own Great Spirit also. You have told me how He came to your people and let men kill Him, which to me seemed very foolish, so that I knew He was not the same Great Spirit."
In that moment I saw the mistake I had made. I had told Uchichak the bare story of the Gospels, but had not explained that story. There, standing in the snow beside the stiff and frozen deer, with his intent gaze fixed on me, I spoke as best I might. Indeed, the words seemed to come to me as if placed in my mouth, and when I had made an end I knew not what I had said.