On the first Sabbath day the new missionary appeared in his wedding finery, for he had brought a wife to share in his labors, and the stalwart pioneers looked askance at the silk hat, kid gloves, silk necktie, and morocco shoes of the new preacher. “You do not look like the fortieth cousin of a Methodist,” said one of the men frankly. The young man asked to be given a hearing and preached with such spiritual power that the people gladly accepted him as their leader. Pearne erected the first Protestant house of worship on the Pacific coast from Cape Horn to the Straits of Juan de Fuca. When later this pioneer became presiding elder, his district included all of the United States from the Missouri River to the PacificOcean, the total area being 1,170,000 square miles, and it covered all that part now known as Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, North and South Dakota. The population was 13,294 white people and 100,000 Indians.
It was toward this vast territory that William Van Orsdel was working his way. He left Oil City with only enough money to carry him to Chicago. He stopped at Champaign to see a relative, and then went to Chicago, where he met with a man who made clear to him just what his future field was to be. This man was Chaplain McCabe, who was thrilling thousands by his lectures on the bright side of Libby Prison, and by his singing of such songs as “The Sword of Bunker Hill.” McCabe was secretary of the Board of Church Extension of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and had taken for his slogan, “A church a day,” as he sought funds for the building of churches in the south and west. To this man William confided his dreams and desires, and leading him to the South Park Avenue Church, his new friend invited him to preach. The Chaplain’s keen eyes twinkled as he listened, and visionscame to him of the churches which this youth would help him to build.
From Chaplain McCabe William learned much of the work to be done in the west. “You are on the right track, young man,” he said. “Go west to Montana, and help to build the kingdom in the western wilds.” He backed his advice with some money and added, “You will realize what Paul meant when he rejoiced that he did not build on any man’s foundation. You will not find many foundations out there.” William Van Orsdel did not feel that he was yet justified in having aid from the Missionary Society, but he accepted the money as a personal gift from his new friend. He set out again on his journey for the unexplored land of his dreams.
CHAPTER IV
A SKY PILOT’S RACE UP THE MISSOURI
IT was a penniless but hopeful youth who came into Sioux City in the spring of 1872 and made a straight path to the Methodist parsonage. Pastor Crozier was the minister who received the traveler, and who found a congenial spirit in him. There was much work at hand, and under his new friend’s direction, William gave himself eagerly to new, and yet familiar tasks. Sunday-schools were organized in schoolhouses, and the religious interest of the community was revived as the happy boy evangelist sang his songs and preached his earnest message. He was not idle for a day.
Early in June a minister named Bennett Mitchell returned from New York, where the General Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church had been held, with the news that a Conference of North Iowa had been organized. Mr. Mitchell had been appointed as itspresiding elder and he offered Van Orsdel a charge in this new field.
“Take the night to consider it,” he said. “Pray about it, and give me your answer in the morning.”
It was settled long before morning, for William had learned that the same General Conference had formed a Rocky Mountain Conference to embrace the territories of Washington, Idaho, Montana, and a part of Wyoming.
“The line of duty is very clear to me. I must go to the mountains.” Such was the young pioneer’s firm reply on the morrow.