“The white men compelled us to move westward,” he answered. “They have planted on our lands, and shot the game on which we subsisted; and though I should have been content to remain among them and adopt their customs, yet my people wished to live as our fathers have lived; and I would not desert them. My desire is to instruct them in the truths I have myself learned; and it is only by dwelling with them, and showing them that I love them, that I can hope to do that.”
We had much interesting conversation with Kepenau, and I was surprised at the amount of information on religious subjects which he possessed; indeed. I confess that he put us all to shame.
Uncle Mark looked grave, and sighed. “I used once to read my Bible, and listen gladly to God’s Word read and preached, when I lived with my good father and mother in the ‘old country,’ though I have sadly neglected it since I came out here,” he said; “but I will do so no longer. You have reminded me of my duty, friend Kepenau.”
“What you say makes me glad. Keep to your resolve, for you cannot do God’s will without reading his Word, to know what that will is,” remarked Kepenau.
Our host gave up one of the wigwams for our special use, in the centre of which a fire burned, prevented from spreading by a circle of stones. The ground around the sides was covered with thick rushes which served as our beds, and we lay with our feet towards the fire. Severe as was the cold outside, and thin as appeared the walls, the heat from the fire kept us thoroughly warm; and I never slept more soundly in my life, for, although our hosts were Redskins, we felt as secure as in our own hut. Notwithstanding that the storm raged without, the wigwams were so well protected by the cedar-bushes that the fierce wind failed to reach us.
In the morning, when we came out of our wigwam we found that the squaws had prepared breakfast; which consisted of dried venison, cakes made from Indian corn, and fish which had been caught before the frost set in, and had remained hard-frozen ever since.
“You can now continue your journey, for the storm has ceased; and may the Great Spirit protect you!” observed Kepenau, looking up at the sky, across which the clouds were now scarcely moving.
Uncle Mark inquired why he did not bring his camp nearer the settlement.
“I will tell you,” answered Kepenau. “Though I have been ever friendly with the white men, and value the advantages to be obtained from them, there is one thing for which I fear them,—their accursed ‘fire water.’ Already it has slain thousands of my people, or reduced them to a state lower than the brutes which perish; and I know not whether my young men would resist the temptation were it placed in their way.”
“But all the white men do not sell the ‘fire water’ of which you speak,” observed Uncle Mark. “I have none in my hut.”