The hours fled rapidly by as Akspine continued his wonderful tales of the white men and the strange land in which they dwelt. The interest increased as he related them, and though he was weary and would gladly have ceased, the intense eagerness of the Indians as they sat with eyes riveted upon him, drinking in his words with breathless excitement, made it impossible for him to refuse to gratify them. It was nearly midnight when they departed to their own lodges, and Akspine was permitted to retire. He had nothing to fear from the worst renegade in the camp, knowing that he was perfectly safe under the protection of the aged chief in whose lodge he dwelt. The Indians returned the following day, eager to hear more of the stories that had been related on the previous night. This continued for several nights, and there was yet no abatement of interest.
On the seventh night an unusually large company had assembled to hear Akspine recite the tales of the white men. The pipe was filled and passed around, then Button Chief turned to his guest and said:
"Tell us the story of the Master."
In a lower tone of voice than usual Akspine obeyed.
"Many years ago, when I was a boy, as I sat on the floor by my mother while she worked she told me of a time long past. It is a story of a company of men who bade farewell to their homes, their wives, children and friends, and went upon a journey across the sea. They hoped to make large sums of money there, and return to their native land to live in contentment all their days. The voyage was long, and the vessel that bore them did not return for two years. The captain of the ship then brought word that he had left his passengers in good health and excellent spirits, and the prospects of success on the island where he had landed them were good. Several years passed by and no word was received from any of the company. Intense anxiety was felt among their friends, and although many efforts were made to learn something of their fate, none were successful. All hope of ever hearing from them again had well-nigh passed away, the wives and mothers alone clinging to the belief that they would one day see or hear from their loved ones.
"In the early winter there came a rich stranger to the country from which the company of men had sailed so many years before. The stranger's home was far distant, but he seemed to enter into and sympathize heartily with all the schemes for the welfare of the people of the land. As he went in and out among them he soon learned of the long absence of the adventurers. He talked to the women, who were still sorrowing for their husbands and sons. Day after day he listened to the story and sympathized with their grief. Often after he had been in the houses of the poor, sums of money were found where he had left them in order that they might be used for the purpose of providing the needed food and clothing.
"In the spring a large vessel came into the harbor. The people flocked in numbers to see it, thinking it might bring some intelligence of the lost ones, but it brought no tidings. The sailors in the vessel had been hired for a long voyage, and had brought her around to take her owner on board from that port. In a few days the stately stranger embarked. He examined the machinery and general appointments of the vessel, and when he had satisfied himself upon her fitness for the expedition, he announced that within a few hours they were to set sail for a distant island.
"The moon was shining brightly as the fine ship left the landing, the rich stranger standing on her deck and looking kindly upon the large number of people who had come down to see him depart. In after years many of them remembered the kind words he had spoken to the women and children. A week later they learned that the ship had been built by the express order of the stranger, and the captain and crew engaged to go in search of the men who were supposed to have been lost so many years before. Love and sympathy had kept the stranger from making his purpose known. He had set about his important mission quietly that he might not arouse hope too soon in the people's minds, as well as to avoid the overwhelming expression of their gratitude which any hint of his intentions would certainly have excited. He was a man of few words and many deeds.
"Two years passed without any tidings of the stranger, when one day the whole town was awakened by the shouts of many voices from a vessel in the harbor. The people ran to the landing; hundreds were soon crowding one another to look on the band of aged men who stood together on the deck of the vessel. As she drew near the landing they scanned the faces of the passengers, and as one and then another recognized a friend or long-mourned loved one, a shout of joyous welcome rent the air. Men, women and children rushed on the deck and threw their arms around the necks of the old men, weeping for joy as they repeated their names.
"So long absent, given up for dead and now restored so suddenly and unexpectedly, the scene was one to touch the heart of the hardest. The inhabitants of the town wept as they saw the joy of the women and heard their cries of 'Father!' 'Brother!' On that morning the axe and spade were thrown aside, men forgot to labor in the common joy. Few found time to rest or eat as they gathered around the lost ones that were found, and eagerly inquired the cause of their long absence from home.