aid: "You
are a white woman. I am a Dakota. But when I was sick your heart was
sad. I hold it in my heart." That was all; that and the silent
hand-grasp as he went out. But somehow I felt as if what the old man
felt in his heart was very secure there.

One bright Sabbath morning, with our deacon, One-Thunder, we visited
a neighboring church eight or ten miles up the river. The regular
native teacher was away, attending the great annual mission meeting;
but two other young men had been appointed to take charge of the
service together--Anselm Kill-the-Crow and Clinton High-Horse. The
latter took for his text, "Ye are the salt of the earth." Retaining
the figurative form of the verse, the young preacher made clear its
spiritual teaching, and by his direct and forceful application
revealed the thoughtfulness and earnestness of his own heart. The
remarks of the other alluded to the name chosen for the little
church. "The Church of the Messiah;" and he urged upon those present
that it be not in name only, but in deed and in truth, _His_ church.
The after-service greetings to the visitors were cordial, as
usual--even the babies being encouraged to hold out tiny brown
hands, with their mothers' injunctions to "nape yuza" (shake hands).

Hole-in-his-Tooth, who is always eager to take orders during the
plum season, consented to postpone business transactions until the
next day. The Woman's Missionary Society had five dollars to hand
over, to be forwarded to the "Wotanin Waste;" that is, far
missionary work. Everybody seemed wide awake and happy; and as we
drove away, the Y. M. C. A. were about to hold their services.

Next to their interest in church affairs, is that in the school; for
since the Grand River (Government) Boarding School has demonstrated
in their midst what faithful teachers can do for the children, the
whole community are ready to show their appreciation, from good old
Chief Grindstone to the wee little folk who carry flowers to their
white friends in the school; and every little circle of influence
widens.

The blizzard was fiercely raging outside, lashing the little house
in its fury. I had given up trying to warm more than one room, and
that was darkened by the snow piled against the windows, and the
panes above were so thick with frost that nothing could be seen.

The storm was so severe--so bitterly cold, with blinding snow and
wind--that I thought no one could possibly get out with safety to
come that