“Ah, Sister, that is the point. We must claim these new towns for our Christ. The devil has his agents at work in the saloon and dance halls. Why should we give up to him?”
In that distant time when Brother Van made his first visit to the Indian agency, he traveled in an army post wagon. As we seek the Blackfeet Indians, we travel with him on a railroad train. His vivid stories of the towns through which we pass make us realize how much the frontier owes to missionary influence. Brother Van gets off at every station to look around.
“See that church house,” he exclaims proudly, for he always calls it that. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
It is small and in need of paint. Compared, however, to the saloon building in which he had probably held the first service, it is beautiful.
GREAT HEART WITH A BLACKFOOT BROTHER AND HIS FAMILY
“Browning! Browning!” calls the conductor. Nothing here but a small station.
“This way, Brother Van,” calls a voice from the starlit darkness, and soon we are on our way to the Indian reservation and the parsonage home of Rev. A. W. Hammer, the cowboy preacher. A cheerful welcome awaits us in the little prairie home. Here in the shadow of the snow-clad mountains is symbolized the Montana dreamed about by the boy from Gettysburg. A home has been established. A trained preacher ministers to the Indians.
On the following morning we find spread out before us a scene of rich beauty as we look across the fields from which the grain has been harvested. All the members of the household gather in front of the cottage where there stands a straight mountain pine, carefully trimmed and braced. From a home-made cabinet the oldest daughter has taken a carefully folded bundle, and now at her bidding it is fastened to the ropes swaying from the pine tree. A steady pull brings Old Glory up to catch the breeze while the shining mountains seem to smile approval. The son places his hatover his heart, while Brother Van, his head bared, his face transfigured, sings, “O say can you see by the dawn’s early light” and girlish voices catch up the refrain. No flag raising in the presence of statesmen and of armies could be more impressive. Here one sees the loyal soul of the west laid bare. This is the America that the forces of the Christian church, the Christian home, and the Christian school are building on the vast plains and through the mountain valleys of the younger states.
The drive to the church in a lumber wagon is a novel experience, and we understand why fur overcoats are called “life preservers,” for the air gives a foretaste of the winter’s cold. The congregation of Indians, plainsmen, business men, and college graduates gathers. The Indians interest us the most. These are the adopted brothers of Great Heart. These are the people whom William Van Orsdel loved before he had seen them and whom he had left the old Gettysburg home to serve. He has seen disease, ignorance, and intemperance threatening to wipe out the race, and he has had to give a large part of his energy to teaching a betterway of life to the white man who is so largely responsible for the conditions that exist; but he has persevered in finding ways to help his red brothers.