“Thanks––that you have come,” she said, and wept, and he held her hand and did not know the things to say, only:––“Thanks that our gods have brought me back.”
“And the magic of the white man?”
“It is here,” and he opened a bag made of buffalo skin, and in it were books and papers covered with written words. She looked on them with awe. Her son was only a boy but he had won that which was precious, and earned honors from the men of her tribe and her clan.
“Not to me must you tell it first,” she said––“The Ruler will hear you, and the governor,––they will decide if it is to be known, or if it is to be secret.”
The old men sprinkled prayer meal––and smoked medicine smoke over the books to lift any lingering curses from the white men’s god, and then the boy opened the pages and made clear how the marks stood for words, and the words put all together stood for the talk of the white god. It was a thing of wonder to the council.
“And it is a strong god?” asked the Ruler.
“It is strong for war:––not for peace,” said the boy.
“Ka-yemo brought back the words of the medicine-man 47 of the grey blanket who talked of their god. All his talk was of peace and of love in the heart. Is that true?”
“It is true. He was a good man. It may be that some men are born so good that even the gods of the men of iron cannot make them evil. And Padre Luis was born into the world like that.”
“We listen to you to hear of the moons and the suns since you went away.”