Petawanaquat admitted that such was the case, and that some lodges of Indians were pitched in the mountains not two days’ march from his tent.
The missionary entered the wigwam and sat down. He gradually introduced the subject of his mission, and endeavoured to bring it home to the Indian and his wife, who, however, replied in very brief sentences. He also addressed Tony, but that sharp child seemed to be less impressionable than a pine stump, and refused to utter a word on any subject. The missionary, however, was a true man, with the love of God burning brightly in his breast. Although slightly disappointed he was not discouraged. He spoke of Christ crucified with great earnestness, and commended the Christian virtues—among others the duty of forgiving, nay, even loving, one’s enemies, and especially of returning good for evil. He also dwelt much on the wickedness of harbouring revengeful feelings, and on the sweetness and blessedness of doing good to others—enforcing his arguments on the latter point by quoting the Saviour’s own words, “Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.”
Still the red man listened with stolid composure, Meekeye with apparent indifference, and Tony with absolute vacancy, so that the missionary, after offering up a silent prayer, went on his way with a sad feeling at his heart that his labour with that family of savages had been in vain. He comforted himself, however, with the reflection that it is written, “Your labour is not in vain in the Lord.”
And he was right. His labour had not been in vain, though it was not given to him at that time to see the fruit thereof.
We have said that Petawanaquat had smoked and pondered deeply in the evenings that winter over his wigwam fire. His slightly enlightened mind had been busy with those difficult problems about good and evil, God and man, which seem to exercise all earnest souls more or less in every land, savage as well as civilised. The revenge which he had taken on Mr Ravenshaw was sweet—very sweet, for his indignation against that irascible old gentleman was very bitter; justifiably so, he thought. But the clergyman at Red River had enlightened the red man’s conscience, and conscience being once aroused cannot easily be put to sleep again. His reasoning powers told him that the revenge which he had taken was far in excess of the injury which he had received. This was unjust, and conscience told him that injustice was wrong. The great Manitou Himself could not be unjust. Had He not taken the guilt of man on Himself in the person of Jesus, in order that, without injustice, He might be the justifier of sinners? Injustice is wrong, reiterated conscience again and again; but revenge is sweet, thought the Indian.
Now this visit of the missionary had cleared the mind of Petawanaquat to some extent. It was a new idea to him that returning good for evil was sweeter than revenge. He coupled this thought with the fact that the Saviour had laid down His life for His enemies, and the result was that a change, gradual but decided, was wrought in the red man’s sentiments. The seed thus sown by the wayside fell into good ground. Unlike ordinary seed, it bore fruit during the winter, and that fruit ripened into action in the spring.
“Tonyquat,” said the red man one morning, after much of the snow had left the ground, “your Indian father intends to start on a long journey to-morrow.”
“Petawanaquat,” replied Tony, “your white-faced son is ready to follow.”
It must be understood that Tony’s language was figurative, for at the time he was speaking his “white” face was changed so much by paint and smoke that it quite equalled that of his adopted father in dirty brownness.
“Meekeye will get ready,” continued the Indian. “Our journey shall be towards the rising sun.”