“You do not speak like a Westerner,” said Kleki-Petrah as we started.
“No, I am from the East,” I replied. “I came here to see the world.”
“A bad thing to see sometimes. I am a German. It must seem strange to you to find a German become a full-fledged Apache.”
“God’s ways seem marvellous, but they are natural after all.”
“God’s ways! Why do you say God, instead of destiny, fate, or fortune?”
“Because I am a Catholic, and recognize that the hand of God is in the affairs of men.”
“You are right, and are happier than you know; never lose that conviction. Yes, it is true that God’s ways often seem marvellous, but are perfectly natural. The greatest marvels are the fulfilment of His laws, and the daily actions of nature are the greatest marvels. A German, a student, a teacher of some renown, and now an Apache—these seem wonderful changes, but they came about naturally.”
Though he had taken me with him half unwillingly, he seemed glad to speak of himself. We had not gone far from camp, and had lain down under a tree, where I could study his face and expression at leisure. The vicissitudes of life had engraved deep lines upon his brow; long furrows of sorrow, the marks of doubt and thought, the many seams of care and privation. Though his eyes might once have been piercing, angry, threatening, now they were as calm and clear as a forest lake.
I should not have dared to question him as to his evidently strange history, though I longed to know it, but he asked me all about myself, and my answers were so full and frank that they gave him evident pleasure.
When he had heard all there was to learn of me he bowed his head, saying: “You are at the beginning of the conflict which I am ending, but you need not fear. You have the good God with you who will never forsake you. It was otherwise with me. I had lost my God when I left home, or rather was driven from it, and instead of the staff of strong faith I took with me the worst companion a man can have—a bad conscience.”