Storm turned again to the chief whose mysterious power had made this vision.
"Who are you, sir?" he asked.
"In my last earth-life," answered the chief, "my name was Hiawatha. It used to be a custom among my people that a young man seeking to have the rank of a warrior gave away all his property, except his weapons. Then having bathed, and left every impurity behind him, he went naked into the wilderness, and there fasted until his Secret Helper came to instruct him. My son, you have followed the custom of my people. Will you accept me as your Secret Helper?"
"Thank you, sir."
"The dress of a brave is something more than clothing. It is the outward sign of his training for war, his obedience to his leader, his cheery endurance of hardships, his gift to his tribe of all that he is, all that he has, and all he can do, his dedication not only of his life, but also of his death."
Storm bent his head in token that, understanding, he stood in readiness.
"Under what leader shall you serve?"
"I don't brag," said Storm, "or even talk about that. I suppose you've got to know. I was one of four soldiers, we were Romans, on execution fatigue, and we hanged a man. Well, He's my leader."
Hiawatha made the sign of the cross.
"And mine," he said, "Warrior!"