The Indian mother wept bitterly when she saw that life had fled, but after the first paroxysm of grief had spent itself, she set to work to prepare her darling for its last resting-place.
Jake beckoned to the father and led the way out of the room. After a few moments' consultation they went out on the prairie together to choose a spot not far from the shanty for the grave.
Like the women of many of the Indian tribes, this poor mother had been accustomed to see her dead placed upon a platform supported by poles and raised upon the prairie some eight or ten feet from the ground: and knowing how hard it is to give up old customs, Jake was anxious to make the new mode of burial as attractive as possible to the feelings of the mother. He chose a beautiful spot, and, being a strong man, soon had a neat grave dug. He then returned to the shanty and found the woman had wrapped her babe in a fine blanket, and with it for a covering was going to have the child buried. Jake bade her wait a little while. In a few hours he had made a handsome coffin and placed the babe in it.
The little funeral procession went to the grave, and after laying the coffin in it, Jake said a few words of love and faith—words that were listened to and understood by his hearers, who could live only up to the light they had been given. They put a fence around the grave, and Jake set up a board at the head of it, on which he wrote the name and age of the child. The little one had not lived long, but she had not lived in vain. As a beautiful flower of the prairie, she had come in the spring-time and bloomed through the glad summer, filling the home with sunshine and happiness until summer came again. Then the playthings were laid aside and the stricken child lay down to rest.
Jake often visited the desolate home, and was able to lead the bereaved parents to thoughts of the higher life, from the perishable things of this earthly dwelling place to the eternal blessedness of the immortal land.
*****
"He's a rum one, and don't ye forget it."
"Wall, he's none o' yer dandy city preachers. A fellow can catch what he says, an' ye bet he's no fool."
The speakers were in a group of cowboys and settlers, who had assembled in one of the new towns of the country, attracted by the rumor of a service to be held in the settlement. Many of them were strangers to each other, while others were strangers to the place. The assembling to attend a religious service where there were stores not only gave them an opportunity to meet and know each other, but also of doing business at the same time. Some of the men came to get their mail and to buy provisions, and when they heard of the "Gospel cowboy" and his eccentric ways, they were induced to remain.
Broncho Jake had not arrived, and while they waited remarks about him and his deeds were bandied about from one to the other. They were still speaking of him when a solitary cowboy rode quickly up to the group and dismounted. He was a tall man and a good rider. Only a few of the old-timers in the group recognized him or guessed that he was the man they had waited to hear.