listened to his words. They seem the words of truth. I go
again to-day to hear his message."

The Indian stood up as he spoke, and the trapper also rose.

"Well, well," he said, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, "I'll go too,
though I'm afeared it won't be o' much use."

The sermon which the man of God preached that day to the Indians was
neither long nor profound, but it was delivered with the intense
earnestness of one who thoroughly believes every word he utters, and
feels that life and death may be trembling in the balance with those who
listen. It is not our purpose to give this sermon in detail, but merely
to show its influence on Whitewing, and how it affected the stirring
incidents which followed.

Already the good man had preached three times the simple gospel of Jesus
to these Indians, and with so much success that some were ready to
believe, but others doubted, just as in the days of old. For the
benefit of the former, he had this day chosen the text, "Let us run with
patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus." Whitewing
had been much troubled in spirit. His mind, if very inquiring, was also
very sceptical. It was not that he would not--but that he could not--
receive anything unless _convinced_. With a strong thirst after truth,
he went to hear that day, but, strange to say, he could not fix his
attention. Only one sentence seemed to fasten firmly on his memory: "It
is the Spirit that quickeneth." The text itself also made a profound
impression on him.

The preacher had just concluded, and was about to raise his voice in
prayer, when a shout was heard in the distance. It came from a man who
was seen running over the prairie towards the camp, with the desperate
haste of one who runs for his life.

All was at once commotion. The men sprang up, and, while some went out
to meet the runner, others seized their weapons. In a few seconds a
young man with bloodshot eyes, labouring chest, and streaming brow burst
into their midst, with the news that a band of Blackfoot warriors, many
hundred strong, was on its way to attack the camp of Bald Eagle; that he
was one of that old chief's braves, and was hasting to give his tribe
timely warning, but that he had run so far and so fast as to be quite
unable to go another step, and had turned aside to borrow a horse, or
beg them to send on a fresh messenger.

"_I_ will go," said Whitewing, on hearing this; "and my horse is ready."

He