Chapter Nine.Arrival of Mr Martin, the missionary—He preaches the gospel to the Indians—Laurence listens with attention—Learns more of the truth, and expresses his wish to make it known to others—The spring returns.A keen, strong wind was blowing, driving the heavy snow which fell in small sharp flakes over the ground, when, one evening shortly after the arrival of Laurence, a dog sleigh was seen approaching the fort. The sleigh, which was simply a narrow board turned up in front, a slight iron frame forming the sides and back, and lined with buffalo skins, was drawn by six dogs, harnessed two and two, while the driver ran behind, with a long whip guiding the animals. On it came, in spite of the snow storm, at rapid speed, for the sagacious dogs knew that they had nearly reached the end of their journey. The traveller, who had faced the dangers of a long journey over the trackless wintry waste, was welcomed by Mr Ramsay, who conducted him to the house. Some time elapsed, however, before he could venture near a fire, after the bitter cold to which he had been exposed.“We have been long looking for you, Mr Martin,” said Mrs Ramsay, as she came out to greet him; “and thank Heaven that you have arrived in safety.”“We should thank the God of heaven and earth for all the blessings we receive,” answered Mr Martin, who was the missionary Mrs Ramsay had been so anxious should come to form a station near the fort. “I shall be amply repaid if I am permitted to win souls to Christ in this neighbourhood.”“It will be a hard task, for they are deeply sunk in heathen ignorance,” observed Mr Ramsay.“An impossible task, if man alone were to engage in it,” said Mr Martin. “Man, however, is but the humble instrument; God the Holy Spirit is the active agent, and with Him nothing is impossible. Let us labour on, confident in that glorious fact; and whatever may appear in the way, we may be sure that the victory will be won, not by us, but by Him, who is all-powerful.”Such was the faith in which the new missionary commenced his labours among the savage Crees of the woods and plains who frequented the neighbourhood of the fort. The glad tidings of salvation by faith in the blood of the Lamb, shed for sinful man, sounded strange in their ears. Strange, too, it seemed to them, when they were told of His great love, which made Him willingly yield himself up as an all-atoning sacrifice of His abounding goodwill; and stranger still seemed His law, that man should not only love his neighbours himself, but should love his enemies; should do good to those who despitefully use and abuse him, and should willingly forgive all who offend him, as he hopes to be forgiven by God for his offences.Among his most earnest hearers on the first day he preached the gospel to the Indians assembled in the fort was young Laurence. He had sufficiently recovered to leave the house, though he was now always unwilling to be absent from it longer than he could help. All the time he was within doors he was endeavouring to learn to read that wonderful Book, which God in His mercy has given to man, that he may know His will and understand His dealings with mankind.Laurence, however, as yet had made little progress in reading, but he could listen to Jeanie and her mother read to him without ever growing weary.Still as yet his mind did not comprehend many of the more glorious truths, and he held to the idea that he himself had some great work to do, to merit the love of God and the glory of Heaven.He asked Mr Martin how he was to set about the work. “I want to be very good,” he said, “and to do something with which God will be highly pleased, and then I am sure I shall go to heaven when I die.”“My dear young friend,” answered Mr Martin, “had you read the Bible, you would have found that ‘there are none that do good, no, not one;’ and that ‘God came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.’ God will certainly be well pleased with you, not from any good works which you can do, but simply if you banish all thoughts of your own merits, and put faith in His well-beloved Son; then He will assuredly fulfil His promise to make you heir with Him of eternal life, and receive you into that glorious heaven he has prepared for all those who love Him.”“But I am afraid, sir, that I can never have faith enough or love enough to satisfy God.”“You certainly, my young friend, can never have too much faith or too much love,” said Mr Martin. “But God does not say that He will measure our faith or our love, or our sorrow for sin, but He simply tells us to take him at His word, to show our love by our obedience; and then Jesus Christ tells us what He would have all those who love Him to do, namely, to follow His example—to make known His Gospel among those who do not know it. Have you read the account of the thief on the cross?”“I have heard it,” said Laurence. “Jeanie read it to me yesterday.”“Did it not occur to you that, when Christ told that dying thief that he should be with Him in paradise, it was not on account of his burning faith, still less because he had performed any works, or because of obedience, but simply because he believed that He who hung like himself on the cross was the Messiah who should come into the world to die for sinful men. But though He saves all who come to Him, simply if they will but trust Him, He desires these to remain in the world, as He desired His disciples, to make His Gospel known among their companions, to tell them what great things the Lord has done for their souls; while to some He gives the command to go forth with the glad tidings throughout all lands; and thus He has put it into my heart, and enabled me to come here to win souls for Him.”Day after day Laurence listened to these and other glorious truths which Mr Martin unfolded to him from God’s Word, and when the missionary was otherwise engaged, Jeanie or Mrs Ramsay read to him, or assisted him in learning to read. He felt himself becoming, as he was indeed, a new creature; his old habits of thought were passing away. He wondered sometimes how he could have thought as he had done.“Ah, then I was in darkness,” he said to himself. “I knew nothing of the love of God I knew not how sinful I was, and how He hates sin, though He loves the sinner. I knew not that God is so pure and holy that even the heavens are not clean in His sight; and I had no idea how sinful sin is, how contrary in every way to God. I had little thought that God, my loving Father, would hear the prayers of so wicked, wayward a child as I was, and as I am indeed still, if left to myself in my own nakedness; but I know now that He does not look at me as I am in myself, but as I am clothed with Christ’s righteousness. Trusting in Him, I am no longer naked, but dressed in His pure and spotless robe, at which God will alone look when I offer up my prayers; and that, for the sake of His son, He listens to all who are thus clothed. Oh how thankful I ought to be that God has made known these joyous things to me!”When, some days afterwards, Laurence expressed the same thoughts to Mr Martin, the missionary replied, “Now these things are yours, can you be so selfish as not to desire to make them known to others?”“Oh, indeed, I do wish to make them known,” exclaimed Laurence. “I should like to tell every one I meet of them, and to go forth and find people to whom to tell them.”“Before you do that, you must prepare yourself, you must be armed for the battle you will have to fight; for a severe battle it is, and you will find Satan, the great enemy to the truth, ever ready to oppose you. The thought of this, however, will stimulate you to make the necessary preparations, by study and prayer; and I trust, Laurence, that some day God will employ you as His missionary among the savage Indians of this long-benighted land.”
A keen, strong wind was blowing, driving the heavy snow which fell in small sharp flakes over the ground, when, one evening shortly after the arrival of Laurence, a dog sleigh was seen approaching the fort. The sleigh, which was simply a narrow board turned up in front, a slight iron frame forming the sides and back, and lined with buffalo skins, was drawn by six dogs, harnessed two and two, while the driver ran behind, with a long whip guiding the animals. On it came, in spite of the snow storm, at rapid speed, for the sagacious dogs knew that they had nearly reached the end of their journey. The traveller, who had faced the dangers of a long journey over the trackless wintry waste, was welcomed by Mr Ramsay, who conducted him to the house. Some time elapsed, however, before he could venture near a fire, after the bitter cold to which he had been exposed.
“We have been long looking for you, Mr Martin,” said Mrs Ramsay, as she came out to greet him; “and thank Heaven that you have arrived in safety.”
“We should thank the God of heaven and earth for all the blessings we receive,” answered Mr Martin, who was the missionary Mrs Ramsay had been so anxious should come to form a station near the fort. “I shall be amply repaid if I am permitted to win souls to Christ in this neighbourhood.”
“It will be a hard task, for they are deeply sunk in heathen ignorance,” observed Mr Ramsay.
“An impossible task, if man alone were to engage in it,” said Mr Martin. “Man, however, is but the humble instrument; God the Holy Spirit is the active agent, and with Him nothing is impossible. Let us labour on, confident in that glorious fact; and whatever may appear in the way, we may be sure that the victory will be won, not by us, but by Him, who is all-powerful.”
Such was the faith in which the new missionary commenced his labours among the savage Crees of the woods and plains who frequented the neighbourhood of the fort. The glad tidings of salvation by faith in the blood of the Lamb, shed for sinful man, sounded strange in their ears. Strange, too, it seemed to them, when they were told of His great love, which made Him willingly yield himself up as an all-atoning sacrifice of His abounding goodwill; and stranger still seemed His law, that man should not only love his neighbours himself, but should love his enemies; should do good to those who despitefully use and abuse him, and should willingly forgive all who offend him, as he hopes to be forgiven by God for his offences.
Among his most earnest hearers on the first day he preached the gospel to the Indians assembled in the fort was young Laurence. He had sufficiently recovered to leave the house, though he was now always unwilling to be absent from it longer than he could help. All the time he was within doors he was endeavouring to learn to read that wonderful Book, which God in His mercy has given to man, that he may know His will and understand His dealings with mankind.
Laurence, however, as yet had made little progress in reading, but he could listen to Jeanie and her mother read to him without ever growing weary.
Still as yet his mind did not comprehend many of the more glorious truths, and he held to the idea that he himself had some great work to do, to merit the love of God and the glory of Heaven.
He asked Mr Martin how he was to set about the work. “I want to be very good,” he said, “and to do something with which God will be highly pleased, and then I am sure I shall go to heaven when I die.”
“My dear young friend,” answered Mr Martin, “had you read the Bible, you would have found that ‘there are none that do good, no, not one;’ and that ‘God came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.’ God will certainly be well pleased with you, not from any good works which you can do, but simply if you banish all thoughts of your own merits, and put faith in His well-beloved Son; then He will assuredly fulfil His promise to make you heir with Him of eternal life, and receive you into that glorious heaven he has prepared for all those who love Him.”
“But I am afraid, sir, that I can never have faith enough or love enough to satisfy God.”
“You certainly, my young friend, can never have too much faith or too much love,” said Mr Martin. “But God does not say that He will measure our faith or our love, or our sorrow for sin, but He simply tells us to take him at His word, to show our love by our obedience; and then Jesus Christ tells us what He would have all those who love Him to do, namely, to follow His example—to make known His Gospel among those who do not know it. Have you read the account of the thief on the cross?”
“I have heard it,” said Laurence. “Jeanie read it to me yesterday.”
“Did it not occur to you that, when Christ told that dying thief that he should be with Him in paradise, it was not on account of his burning faith, still less because he had performed any works, or because of obedience, but simply because he believed that He who hung like himself on the cross was the Messiah who should come into the world to die for sinful men. But though He saves all who come to Him, simply if they will but trust Him, He desires these to remain in the world, as He desired His disciples, to make His Gospel known among their companions, to tell them what great things the Lord has done for their souls; while to some He gives the command to go forth with the glad tidings throughout all lands; and thus He has put it into my heart, and enabled me to come here to win souls for Him.”
Day after day Laurence listened to these and other glorious truths which Mr Martin unfolded to him from God’s Word, and when the missionary was otherwise engaged, Jeanie or Mrs Ramsay read to him, or assisted him in learning to read. He felt himself becoming, as he was indeed, a new creature; his old habits of thought were passing away. He wondered sometimes how he could have thought as he had done.
“Ah, then I was in darkness,” he said to himself. “I knew nothing of the love of God I knew not how sinful I was, and how He hates sin, though He loves the sinner. I knew not that God is so pure and holy that even the heavens are not clean in His sight; and I had no idea how sinful sin is, how contrary in every way to God. I had little thought that God, my loving Father, would hear the prayers of so wicked, wayward a child as I was, and as I am indeed still, if left to myself in my own nakedness; but I know now that He does not look at me as I am in myself, but as I am clothed with Christ’s righteousness. Trusting in Him, I am no longer naked, but dressed in His pure and spotless robe, at which God will alone look when I offer up my prayers; and that, for the sake of His son, He listens to all who are thus clothed. Oh how thankful I ought to be that God has made known these joyous things to me!”
When, some days afterwards, Laurence expressed the same thoughts to Mr Martin, the missionary replied, “Now these things are yours, can you be so selfish as not to desire to make them known to others?”
“Oh, indeed, I do wish to make them known,” exclaimed Laurence. “I should like to tell every one I meet of them, and to go forth and find people to whom to tell them.”
“Before you do that, you must prepare yourself, you must be armed for the battle you will have to fight; for a severe battle it is, and you will find Satan, the great enemy to the truth, ever ready to oppose you. The thought of this, however, will stimulate you to make the necessary preparations, by study and prayer; and I trust, Laurence, that some day God will employ you as His missionary among the savage Indians of this long-benighted land.”
Chapter Ten.Laurence learns what it is to be a Christian—Gets leave to set out in search of his father—Starts on an expedition with Peter, a Christian Cree—Discovers two of Michael’s traps—A party of Blackfeet—Blackfeet wound old Michael—Blackfeet captured—Laurence goes to his father’s assistance—Peter preaches to the Blackfeet, and invites them to the fort—The Blackfeet set at liberty—Hearing Laurence explain the gospel to him—Laurence conveys the old trapper to the fort—Narrates to Mr Martin his former life—Mr Martin tells him that the Queen has pardoned him—The old trapper at length believes the truth—Returns with Laurence to Canada—Laurence restored to his parents—Revisits the fort as a missionary.Spring was now advancing. Laurence was anxiously looking out for the return of his father. He would, at all events, have longed to see him; but his desire to do so was greatly increased by his wish to impart to him a knowledge of the glorious truths he himself possessed. Having learned the priceless value of his own soul, he could now appreciate that of others.Laurence’s faith was simple, and he enjoyed a clear view of the gospel truth.From every Indian who came to the fort he made inquiries for the old trapper, who was known to many of them. At length several brought tidings of his death. Laurence refused to believe them; and when Mr Ramsay came to cross-question his visitors, he found that they had only heard the report from others. Laurence, therefore, begged that he might be allowed to go out and search for the old man.“I know all his haunts so well,” he said, “that I am sure I shall find him better than any one else; he may be sick in some distant place, and unable to come as he promised.”So earnestly did he plead that Mr Ramsay, hoping that his old friend might still be alive, could no longer refuse to let him go.A Cree who had become a Christian, and was named Peter, offered to accompany him; and Laurence thankfully accepted his assistance.The only provision they took with them was a good supply of pemmican; but they had an abundance of ammunition, knowing that they might depend for their support on the animals they might shoot.“You will come back, Laurence, when you have found your father?” said Jeanie, as, with tears in her eyes, she wished him good-bye.“If God spares me, and I have the means to do so, I will come back, whether I find him or not; I promise you that,” answered Laurence. “That object alone would have induced me to quit the fort. I have no longer any wish to roam or lead the wild life of a trapper; and when I return, my great desire will be to go on with the study of that blessed Book which you first taught me to read and love.”“I taught you to read it, but God’s Holy Spirit could alone have taught you to love it,” answered Jeanie.Laurence and Peter, followed by the prayers of many in the fort, set out on their expedition. The appearance of the country was now completely changed from the stern aspect it had worn but a few weeks before. Trees and shrubs were clothed with a livery of green of varied hues, the grass was springing up in rich luxuriance, and flowers exhibited their gem-like tints in the valleys and woods; full streams flowed with rapid currents, sparkling along; numberless birds flew through the air, swarmed on the lakes, or perched on the boughs of the forest-trees.Laurence led the way towards the spot where he and his father had concealed their traps before they set out to visit the fort, believing that old Michael would to a certainty have visited them, and hoping to find some traces beyond showing the direction he had afterwards taken. Peter agreed with him that this was the best course to pursue. The journey would take them many days. Although so long a time had elapsed, from habit Laurence recollected the various landmarks, and was able to direct his course with great accuracy.They arrived at length at the spot where the white wolf-skin had been concealed. It was gone; and from the tracks near it, which an Indian alone would have observed, Peter was of opinion that Michael must have removed it. On they went, therefore, over hill and dale, camping at night by the side of a fire, the warm weather enabling them to dispense with any shelter, towards the next spot where the wolf traps had been concealed. These also had been taken, and Peter found the tree to which the old man had tied his horse while he fastened them on their backs. They soon reached the wood within which Laurence had assisted to hide the beaver traps. They also had been removed.“Now I know that my father intended to begin trapping as soon as the spring commenced,” observed Laurence. “See, he took his way onward through the wood towards the north, instead of returning by the road he came.”Laurence and Peter’s keen eyes easily distinguished the twigs which the horses had broken as the old trapper led them through the wood. Probably he intended to spend the remainder of the winter in a wigwam by himself, as he often had done, or else in the lodges of some friendly Crees.Laurence and Peter now went confidently on, expecting before long to meet with further traces of the old trapper. The borders of all the neighbouring lakes and streams were visited, but no signs of his having trapped there were discovered. Many leagues were passed over, till at last an Indian village was reached. It consisted not of neat cottages, but of birch-bark wigwams of a sugar-loaf form, on the banks of a stream, a few patches of Indian corn and some small tobacco plantations being the only signs of cultivation around; fish sported in the river; and the wild animals of the forest afforded the inhabitants the chief means of subsistence. They welcomed the travellers. Peter was of their tribe. They gave them tidings of old Michael. He had been seen to pass just before the snow had begun to melt in the warmer valleys.Peter did not fail to tell his red-skinned brothers of the wonderful tidings the white-face missionary at the fort had brought.“The great God of the white-faces loves us as much as He does them,” he exclaimed. “He wishes us to go and dwell with Him in a far better land than the happy hunting-grounds we have hitherto heard of. He says that we are wicked, and deserve punishment; but He has allowed another, His own well-beloved Son, to be punished instead of us; and all He wants us to do is to believe that His dutiful and well-beloved Son was so punished, and to follow the example which He set while He was on earth.”“These are wise things you tell us,” cried several of the Crees; “but how do you know that it is so?”“Because it is all written in a book which He has given to us. He sends His Holy Spirit to all who seek for His aid to understand that book.”Laurence assured the Crees that he had thought us they then did a short time ago, but that now he knew that all Peter said was true. So earnestly did Peter plead the cause of the gospel, that many of the Crees promised to visit the fort, to hear from the missionary himself further on the subject.Several of the inhabitants offered to accompany Laurence and his friends to assist them in their search, and to spread the strange tidings they had heard among others of their tribe whom they might fall in with.For several days they journeyed on, lakes and streams being visited as before. At last they found a broken trap. Laurence, on examining it, decided that it belonged to his father. Still he must have gone further to the west. Laurence began to fear that he might have wandered into a part of the country frequented by Blackfeet and Peigans, among the most savage tribes of the Sioux.“He is friendly with many of the Sioux, among whom, indeed, I was brought up,” observed Laurence, “and fears none of them. Still, I know how treacherous many of them are; and he may, I fear, have fallen into their power. This will account for his not returning to the fort.”“He may, however, have escaped them, and be still trapping about here, as it is a rich country for the beaver,” observed Peter. “We may then hope ere long to find him.”The party now advanced more cautiously than before. They had certain proof that old Michael was in the neighbourhood; for Laurence discovered, by the side of a beaver pond, another of his father’s traps. Why it was deserted he could not tell. Peter was of opinion that he had hurried away from the spot, probably on account of the appearance of enemies, and had been unable to return. This increased Laurence’s anxiety. They now advanced according to Indian custom, concealing themselves behind every bush and rock, and climbing each height or tall tree whence they could obtain a view of the surrounding country.It was towards evening, and they were looking out for a sheltered place for their camp. Peter had gone to the summit of a hill and gazed around for the purpose mentioned, when he came hurrying down.“There are Blackfeet at the further end of the valley,” he said, “and by their movements they are evidently watching for some one. If it is your father, we have no time to lose. We outnumber them, and may hope easily to come off victorious.”“Oh, let us not delay a moment, or we may be too late to save him,” exclaimed Laurence; and they and their allies pushed on as before in the direction where Peter had seen the Blackfeet. By carefully keeping among the thick underwood and trees they hoped to take their enemies by surprise.“Remember, my friends,” said Laurence, “that though we conquer them, we are to endeavour to spare their lives, and by no means to injure them.”With stealthy steps Laurence and his friends advanced towards the Blackfeet, of whom they now discovered there were but five, while his party numbered eight. They were so eager in tracking whatever they were in pursuit of that, notwithstanding their usual wariness, they did not discover the approach of Laurence and the Crees. Presently the Blackfeet were seen to draw their bows, and several arrows winged their flight through the air. At the same time Laurence caught sight of the figure of a man, who sprang up from where he had been seated near a fire to seek shelter behind a rock, firing his rifle as he did so. Laurence recognised his father, and to his horror saw that two arrows had pierced his body. The moment he fired, one of the Blackfeet fell to the ground. The old man stood as if uninjured, calmly reloading his weapon; while the Indians, with their bows ready drawn to shoot should he reappear, sprang towards the thick trunks of some neighbouring trees to escape his fire. They were thus separated from each other, and brought nearer to where Laurence and his party lay concealed. Peter now made a sign to his companions, and in a few bounds they were up to the Blackfeet, who, thus taken unawares, were pinioned and brought to the ground before they could turn round and shoot their arrows or draw their hatchets from their belts.Laurence, leaving his companions to guard their prisoners, who, expecting instant death, had assumed that stoic indifference of which Indians boast, hastened to the assistance of his father. He shouted as he ran, “Father, father, I am coming to you.”The old man, who had sunk on one knee, with rifle ready prepared to fight to the last, fortunately recognised his voice. “What have become of the Blackfeet, boy?” were his first words. “I saw the Crees spring from under cover to attack them. Have they killed the treacherous vermin?”“No, father,” answered Laurence. “Our friends made them prisoners. We will spare their lives, and pray God to soften their hearts.”“What is that you say?” asked Michael. “The Crees will surely kill them, and take their scalps, unless they wish to carry them to their lodges, that their wives and children may torture them as they deserve. But I feel faint, Laurence; their arrows have made some ugly wounds in my flesh; help me to get them out.”Laurence saw with grief that his father was indeed badly hurt; and as he supported him, he shouted to Peter to come to his assistance. Peter, having helped to secure their prisoners, soon appeared. The old trapper, notwithstanding his hardihood, had fainted from pain and loss of blood. Peter’s first care was to extricate the arrows, which, though they had inflicted severe injuries, had mercifully not reached any vital part. He and Laurence then, having bound up his wounds, carried him to his little wigwam, which stood close by. Within it were a large supply of skins, several traps, and articles for camp use, to obtain which probably the treacherous Blackfeet had attacked old Michael. In the meadow hard by his horses were also found. Laurence sat by his side, supporting his head, and moistening his parched lips. He soon sufficiently recovered to speak.“I was about to return, Laurence,” he said, “but I wished to bring a good amount of skins to pay for your charges, should you wish to remain longer at the fort, and learn the ways of the white man; or if not, to fit you out, that you might come back and trap with me. We might have had some pleasant days again together, boy; but had you and our friends not appeared the moment you did, the Blackfeet would have put an end to all my plans.”“Father,” said Laurence, “I never wished to desert you; but it would have been a sore trial to me to leave the fort; and if God in His mercy spares your life, I pray that you may return there with me, and that we may employ our time in a better way than in trapping beaver.”“No, no! God cannot have mercy on such a one as I am,” groaned Michael; “and it’s hard to say whether I shall ever get back to the fort.”“Oh, but God is a God of love and mercy,” cried Laurence. “He delights in showing mercy and forgiveness. You must hear what Mr Martin, the missionary, will tell you about Him; then I am sure you will wish to stop and hear more, and to serve and love Him.”Peter now came back with the old trapper’s horses to the camp, near to which his friends had dragged their prisoners. He had had much difficulty in persuading the Crees not to put to death the Blackfeet. He had still a harder task to perform.“Friends,” he said, “according to Indian custom you might kill them; but I have learned a new law, which is just and true—given me by an all-powerful, kind, and merciful Master, who commands His servants to forgive their enemies, and to do good to those who injure them. Our prisoners were doing a wicked thing, and have been severely punished, for one of their number lies dead. I would that he were alive again, that he might hear what I have to say. I must pray you, therefore, to let these men go. We will take their arms, that they may do us no further injury; but we will give them food, that they may return to their friends, to tell them about the love of our great Father; that He desires all His children to serve Him, and to be at peace with each other.”Peter then, in a simple way, suited to the comprehension of his hearers, unfolded to them the gospel plan of salvation. The Blackfeet listened with astonished ears, and could scarcely believe the fact that they were allowed to go free and uninjured. Peter then invited them to the fort, and promised to receive them as friends, and to tell them more of the wonderful things of which he had spoken. The coals of fire which he heaped on their heads appeared really to have softened their hearts. Having, with the assistance of the Crees, buried their companion, by Peter’s desire their arms were unbound, and they were set at liberty. Uttering expressions of gratitude such as rarely fall from an Indian’s lips, they took their departure, promising ere long to pay him a visit at the fort.A night’s rest sufficiently restored old Michael to enable him to commence his journey on one of the horses to the fort, while the other carried his peltries and traps. Laurence walked all the way at the head of his steed, endeavouring by his conversation to keep up the spirits of his father, and never failing, at every opportunity, to introduce the subject nearest his heart. The old man listened to what he said; but he seldom made any answer. He offered, however, no opposition to his remarks. Frequently Laurence feared that he would sink from the effects of his wounds; but his life was mercifully preserved, and at length the fort was reached.There was sincere rejoicing as Laurence was seen leading his father’s horse up to the gate. The old trapper was carried into Mr Ramsay’s house, and there received that watchful care he so greatly needed. He gradually recovered his strength. One of his first visitors was Mr Martin. His object, as may be supposed, was not to talk of temporal affairs, but to unfold to him, as he perceived that his mind was capable of comprehending it, God’s merciful plan of salvation.The old man’s heart, unlike that of his young son, appeared so hardened and seared, from having long rejected Divine truth, that some people might have given up the attempt in despair; but Mr Martin had too much knowledge of the human heart, and too firm a faith of the all-powerful influence of God the Holy Spirit, to relax his efforts. From no idle curiosity, he endeavoured to draw from Michael some account of his early life. He was, he found, an Englishman, and that he had been for some time married and settled in Canada, when he had joined the rebellion which broke out many years ago against the authority of the British Government. Having acted as a leader in some of the more desperate enterprises in which a few of the misguided inhabitants engaged at that time, a price was set on his head. He escaped, however, to the wilds of the Far West, where, both from inclination and necessity, he had taken to the pursuit of a trapper. He quickly learned the language both of the Crees and Sioux, and other tribes among whom he wandered. He gained their confidence and friendship;—he believed, indeed, that he could lead them to any purpose he might entertain, and all sorts of wild plans passed through his mind. One enterprise he was, unfortunately, able to carry out. One of his daughters had married a gentleman of some property who had been a firm adherent of the Government, and Moggs had, in consequence, conceived a bitter hatred against him, which time in no way had lessened. Several years passed by, when he heard that his daughter had a son, then about four years of age; and he formed the barbarous idea of carrying off the child. He had little difficulty in obtaining the assistance of a band of Indians; and, disguising himself as one of them, he led an attack on the place, and succeeded too well in his nefarious project. As the country was in a disturbed state at the time, the attack was supposed to have been instigated by American sympathisers, and the real culprit was not suspected. Making good his retreat, he did not stop till he had got many hundred miles away from the borders of Canada; and believing that he might still be traced, he placed the child under charge of an old squaw belonging to a tribe of Sioux, with whom he had formed a friendship. Strangely inconsistent as it would seem, an affection for the boy grew up in his hard heart; and in time, oppressed with the solitary life he had doomed himself to lead, he determined to make him his companion in his trapping expeditions.“Has no remorse ever visited you?” asked Mr Martin, when the old man had finished his narrative.“Yes, sometimes my thoughts have been terrible,” groaned Michael.“Then pray God that it may be a repentance to salvation not to be repented of. With regard, however, to your temporal affairs, my friend, I can assure you that, through the clemency of the Queen of England, all the rebels in Canada at the time you speak of have been forgiven.”“Ah, sir,” exclaimed Michael Moggs, “the Queen may have forgiven some, but she cannot have forgiven me. You must, I am sure, be mistaken.”“But, my friend, if I can show you her proclamation, in which she declares that she overlooks and pardons all those rebellious subjects who rose against her authority, and allows those who have fled the country to return under her rule, would you then believe me?”“I suppose I could not help it,” said Michael. “Let me see the paper.”Mr Martin went to his room, and returned with the document he spoke of.“I have preserved it,” he said, “for I am pleased with the gracious terras in which it is couched.”Old Michael read the paper with intense interest.“Yes!” he exclaimed. “I can no longer doubt the fact. Had I not kept away from those who knew of this, I might long ago have been enjoying the comforts and pleasures of the home I abandoned, and have again become a member of civilised society.”“Then, my friend, if an earthly sovereign can be so merciful and gracious, do you suppose that the King of Heaven, who has so wonderfully manifested his love to man, is less merciful and gracious in forgiving those who sin against Him?” said Mr Martin, feeling the importance of not allowing so practical an illustration of the great truth to pass unemployed. “Here is God’s proclamation to sinful, rebellious man,” he added, lifting his Bible before the eyes of the old trapper. “He declares in this—not once, but over and over again—that He forgives, freely and fully all who come to Him; that their sins and iniquities are blotted out and remembered no more; that ‘though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool;’ that His pardon is a free gift, without money and without price! You have seen the Queen’s proclamation, and you believe it, and you know that you may return to your home with perfect safety, provided you take back your grandson, and restore him to his long-bereaved parents. That they will forgive and welcome you I know; for they belong to Christ’s flock, and I am well acquainted with them. Now, my friend, let me entreat you to believe God’s proclamation, to trust to the gracious plan He has designed, whereby you can obtain free pardon, perfect reconciliation, and life eternal.”“But can He ever pardon such a wretch as I am? Oh! tell me, sir, what shall I do to be saved?”“I’ll answer, as Paul answered the jailor at Philippi, who was, we have reason to believe, a cruel and bad man, or he was very unlike others in his occupation in those days: ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.’ Paul, who certainly knew what God requires, did not tell him to go and do anything, he was simply to believe with a living faith. That, my friend, is all you have to do; and, be assured, the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, will be yours; and however you may bewail the effects of your sins, still you will know that they are all put out of God’s remembrance; for He sees you not as you are, but clothed with the righteousness of Christ, with the white spotless robes of the Lamb.”Many days passed by, and at length the old trapper could say with confidence, as he clasped the hand of the missionary, “I rejoice in the blood of my risen Saviour.”Young Laurence had long before been able to say the same.They together soon afterwards set out for Canada. Mr Martin had not wrongly estimated the character of his Christian friends. While they rejoiced at the return of their long-lost son, they truly heaped coals of fire on the head of the old man by their kindness and attention. A few years afterwards he died, in perfect peace, in their midst. Laurence’s thoughts had ever been fixed on the far-off fort and its beloved inmates. He made rapid progress in his studies, and with the entire concurrence of his parents, at an early age he returned to act as a Catechist under Mr Martin. He was soon placed in a more important position, when Jeanie Ramsay became the devoted sharer of his labours in making known the unspeakable goodness of Christ to the red men of the woods and prairies.
Spring was now advancing. Laurence was anxiously looking out for the return of his father. He would, at all events, have longed to see him; but his desire to do so was greatly increased by his wish to impart to him a knowledge of the glorious truths he himself possessed. Having learned the priceless value of his own soul, he could now appreciate that of others.
Laurence’s faith was simple, and he enjoyed a clear view of the gospel truth.
From every Indian who came to the fort he made inquiries for the old trapper, who was known to many of them. At length several brought tidings of his death. Laurence refused to believe them; and when Mr Ramsay came to cross-question his visitors, he found that they had only heard the report from others. Laurence, therefore, begged that he might be allowed to go out and search for the old man.
“I know all his haunts so well,” he said, “that I am sure I shall find him better than any one else; he may be sick in some distant place, and unable to come as he promised.”
So earnestly did he plead that Mr Ramsay, hoping that his old friend might still be alive, could no longer refuse to let him go.
A Cree who had become a Christian, and was named Peter, offered to accompany him; and Laurence thankfully accepted his assistance.
The only provision they took with them was a good supply of pemmican; but they had an abundance of ammunition, knowing that they might depend for their support on the animals they might shoot.
“You will come back, Laurence, when you have found your father?” said Jeanie, as, with tears in her eyes, she wished him good-bye.
“If God spares me, and I have the means to do so, I will come back, whether I find him or not; I promise you that,” answered Laurence. “That object alone would have induced me to quit the fort. I have no longer any wish to roam or lead the wild life of a trapper; and when I return, my great desire will be to go on with the study of that blessed Book which you first taught me to read and love.”
“I taught you to read it, but God’s Holy Spirit could alone have taught you to love it,” answered Jeanie.
Laurence and Peter, followed by the prayers of many in the fort, set out on their expedition. The appearance of the country was now completely changed from the stern aspect it had worn but a few weeks before. Trees and shrubs were clothed with a livery of green of varied hues, the grass was springing up in rich luxuriance, and flowers exhibited their gem-like tints in the valleys and woods; full streams flowed with rapid currents, sparkling along; numberless birds flew through the air, swarmed on the lakes, or perched on the boughs of the forest-trees.
Laurence led the way towards the spot where he and his father had concealed their traps before they set out to visit the fort, believing that old Michael would to a certainty have visited them, and hoping to find some traces beyond showing the direction he had afterwards taken. Peter agreed with him that this was the best course to pursue. The journey would take them many days. Although so long a time had elapsed, from habit Laurence recollected the various landmarks, and was able to direct his course with great accuracy.
They arrived at length at the spot where the white wolf-skin had been concealed. It was gone; and from the tracks near it, which an Indian alone would have observed, Peter was of opinion that Michael must have removed it. On they went, therefore, over hill and dale, camping at night by the side of a fire, the warm weather enabling them to dispense with any shelter, towards the next spot where the wolf traps had been concealed. These also had been taken, and Peter found the tree to which the old man had tied his horse while he fastened them on their backs. They soon reached the wood within which Laurence had assisted to hide the beaver traps. They also had been removed.
“Now I know that my father intended to begin trapping as soon as the spring commenced,” observed Laurence. “See, he took his way onward through the wood towards the north, instead of returning by the road he came.”
Laurence and Peter’s keen eyes easily distinguished the twigs which the horses had broken as the old trapper led them through the wood. Probably he intended to spend the remainder of the winter in a wigwam by himself, as he often had done, or else in the lodges of some friendly Crees.
Laurence and Peter now went confidently on, expecting before long to meet with further traces of the old trapper. The borders of all the neighbouring lakes and streams were visited, but no signs of his having trapped there were discovered. Many leagues were passed over, till at last an Indian village was reached. It consisted not of neat cottages, but of birch-bark wigwams of a sugar-loaf form, on the banks of a stream, a few patches of Indian corn and some small tobacco plantations being the only signs of cultivation around; fish sported in the river; and the wild animals of the forest afforded the inhabitants the chief means of subsistence. They welcomed the travellers. Peter was of their tribe. They gave them tidings of old Michael. He had been seen to pass just before the snow had begun to melt in the warmer valleys.
Peter did not fail to tell his red-skinned brothers of the wonderful tidings the white-face missionary at the fort had brought.
“The great God of the white-faces loves us as much as He does them,” he exclaimed. “He wishes us to go and dwell with Him in a far better land than the happy hunting-grounds we have hitherto heard of. He says that we are wicked, and deserve punishment; but He has allowed another, His own well-beloved Son, to be punished instead of us; and all He wants us to do is to believe that His dutiful and well-beloved Son was so punished, and to follow the example which He set while He was on earth.”
“These are wise things you tell us,” cried several of the Crees; “but how do you know that it is so?”
“Because it is all written in a book which He has given to us. He sends His Holy Spirit to all who seek for His aid to understand that book.”
Laurence assured the Crees that he had thought us they then did a short time ago, but that now he knew that all Peter said was true. So earnestly did Peter plead the cause of the gospel, that many of the Crees promised to visit the fort, to hear from the missionary himself further on the subject.
Several of the inhabitants offered to accompany Laurence and his friends to assist them in their search, and to spread the strange tidings they had heard among others of their tribe whom they might fall in with.
For several days they journeyed on, lakes and streams being visited as before. At last they found a broken trap. Laurence, on examining it, decided that it belonged to his father. Still he must have gone further to the west. Laurence began to fear that he might have wandered into a part of the country frequented by Blackfeet and Peigans, among the most savage tribes of the Sioux.
“He is friendly with many of the Sioux, among whom, indeed, I was brought up,” observed Laurence, “and fears none of them. Still, I know how treacherous many of them are; and he may, I fear, have fallen into their power. This will account for his not returning to the fort.”
“He may, however, have escaped them, and be still trapping about here, as it is a rich country for the beaver,” observed Peter. “We may then hope ere long to find him.”
The party now advanced more cautiously than before. They had certain proof that old Michael was in the neighbourhood; for Laurence discovered, by the side of a beaver pond, another of his father’s traps. Why it was deserted he could not tell. Peter was of opinion that he had hurried away from the spot, probably on account of the appearance of enemies, and had been unable to return. This increased Laurence’s anxiety. They now advanced according to Indian custom, concealing themselves behind every bush and rock, and climbing each height or tall tree whence they could obtain a view of the surrounding country.
It was towards evening, and they were looking out for a sheltered place for their camp. Peter had gone to the summit of a hill and gazed around for the purpose mentioned, when he came hurrying down.
“There are Blackfeet at the further end of the valley,” he said, “and by their movements they are evidently watching for some one. If it is your father, we have no time to lose. We outnumber them, and may hope easily to come off victorious.”
“Oh, let us not delay a moment, or we may be too late to save him,” exclaimed Laurence; and they and their allies pushed on as before in the direction where Peter had seen the Blackfeet. By carefully keeping among the thick underwood and trees they hoped to take their enemies by surprise.
“Remember, my friends,” said Laurence, “that though we conquer them, we are to endeavour to spare their lives, and by no means to injure them.”
With stealthy steps Laurence and his friends advanced towards the Blackfeet, of whom they now discovered there were but five, while his party numbered eight. They were so eager in tracking whatever they were in pursuit of that, notwithstanding their usual wariness, they did not discover the approach of Laurence and the Crees. Presently the Blackfeet were seen to draw their bows, and several arrows winged their flight through the air. At the same time Laurence caught sight of the figure of a man, who sprang up from where he had been seated near a fire to seek shelter behind a rock, firing his rifle as he did so. Laurence recognised his father, and to his horror saw that two arrows had pierced his body. The moment he fired, one of the Blackfeet fell to the ground. The old man stood as if uninjured, calmly reloading his weapon; while the Indians, with their bows ready drawn to shoot should he reappear, sprang towards the thick trunks of some neighbouring trees to escape his fire. They were thus separated from each other, and brought nearer to where Laurence and his party lay concealed. Peter now made a sign to his companions, and in a few bounds they were up to the Blackfeet, who, thus taken unawares, were pinioned and brought to the ground before they could turn round and shoot their arrows or draw their hatchets from their belts.
Laurence, leaving his companions to guard their prisoners, who, expecting instant death, had assumed that stoic indifference of which Indians boast, hastened to the assistance of his father. He shouted as he ran, “Father, father, I am coming to you.”
The old man, who had sunk on one knee, with rifle ready prepared to fight to the last, fortunately recognised his voice. “What have become of the Blackfeet, boy?” were his first words. “I saw the Crees spring from under cover to attack them. Have they killed the treacherous vermin?”
“No, father,” answered Laurence. “Our friends made them prisoners. We will spare their lives, and pray God to soften their hearts.”
“What is that you say?” asked Michael. “The Crees will surely kill them, and take their scalps, unless they wish to carry them to their lodges, that their wives and children may torture them as they deserve. But I feel faint, Laurence; their arrows have made some ugly wounds in my flesh; help me to get them out.”
Laurence saw with grief that his father was indeed badly hurt; and as he supported him, he shouted to Peter to come to his assistance. Peter, having helped to secure their prisoners, soon appeared. The old trapper, notwithstanding his hardihood, had fainted from pain and loss of blood. Peter’s first care was to extricate the arrows, which, though they had inflicted severe injuries, had mercifully not reached any vital part. He and Laurence then, having bound up his wounds, carried him to his little wigwam, which stood close by. Within it were a large supply of skins, several traps, and articles for camp use, to obtain which probably the treacherous Blackfeet had attacked old Michael. In the meadow hard by his horses were also found. Laurence sat by his side, supporting his head, and moistening his parched lips. He soon sufficiently recovered to speak.
“I was about to return, Laurence,” he said, “but I wished to bring a good amount of skins to pay for your charges, should you wish to remain longer at the fort, and learn the ways of the white man; or if not, to fit you out, that you might come back and trap with me. We might have had some pleasant days again together, boy; but had you and our friends not appeared the moment you did, the Blackfeet would have put an end to all my plans.”
“Father,” said Laurence, “I never wished to desert you; but it would have been a sore trial to me to leave the fort; and if God in His mercy spares your life, I pray that you may return there with me, and that we may employ our time in a better way than in trapping beaver.”
“No, no! God cannot have mercy on such a one as I am,” groaned Michael; “and it’s hard to say whether I shall ever get back to the fort.”
“Oh, but God is a God of love and mercy,” cried Laurence. “He delights in showing mercy and forgiveness. You must hear what Mr Martin, the missionary, will tell you about Him; then I am sure you will wish to stop and hear more, and to serve and love Him.”
Peter now came back with the old trapper’s horses to the camp, near to which his friends had dragged their prisoners. He had had much difficulty in persuading the Crees not to put to death the Blackfeet. He had still a harder task to perform.
“Friends,” he said, “according to Indian custom you might kill them; but I have learned a new law, which is just and true—given me by an all-powerful, kind, and merciful Master, who commands His servants to forgive their enemies, and to do good to those who injure them. Our prisoners were doing a wicked thing, and have been severely punished, for one of their number lies dead. I would that he were alive again, that he might hear what I have to say. I must pray you, therefore, to let these men go. We will take their arms, that they may do us no further injury; but we will give them food, that they may return to their friends, to tell them about the love of our great Father; that He desires all His children to serve Him, and to be at peace with each other.”
Peter then, in a simple way, suited to the comprehension of his hearers, unfolded to them the gospel plan of salvation. The Blackfeet listened with astonished ears, and could scarcely believe the fact that they were allowed to go free and uninjured. Peter then invited them to the fort, and promised to receive them as friends, and to tell them more of the wonderful things of which he had spoken. The coals of fire which he heaped on their heads appeared really to have softened their hearts. Having, with the assistance of the Crees, buried their companion, by Peter’s desire their arms were unbound, and they were set at liberty. Uttering expressions of gratitude such as rarely fall from an Indian’s lips, they took their departure, promising ere long to pay him a visit at the fort.
A night’s rest sufficiently restored old Michael to enable him to commence his journey on one of the horses to the fort, while the other carried his peltries and traps. Laurence walked all the way at the head of his steed, endeavouring by his conversation to keep up the spirits of his father, and never failing, at every opportunity, to introduce the subject nearest his heart. The old man listened to what he said; but he seldom made any answer. He offered, however, no opposition to his remarks. Frequently Laurence feared that he would sink from the effects of his wounds; but his life was mercifully preserved, and at length the fort was reached.
There was sincere rejoicing as Laurence was seen leading his father’s horse up to the gate. The old trapper was carried into Mr Ramsay’s house, and there received that watchful care he so greatly needed. He gradually recovered his strength. One of his first visitors was Mr Martin. His object, as may be supposed, was not to talk of temporal affairs, but to unfold to him, as he perceived that his mind was capable of comprehending it, God’s merciful plan of salvation.
The old man’s heart, unlike that of his young son, appeared so hardened and seared, from having long rejected Divine truth, that some people might have given up the attempt in despair; but Mr Martin had too much knowledge of the human heart, and too firm a faith of the all-powerful influence of God the Holy Spirit, to relax his efforts. From no idle curiosity, he endeavoured to draw from Michael some account of his early life. He was, he found, an Englishman, and that he had been for some time married and settled in Canada, when he had joined the rebellion which broke out many years ago against the authority of the British Government. Having acted as a leader in some of the more desperate enterprises in which a few of the misguided inhabitants engaged at that time, a price was set on his head. He escaped, however, to the wilds of the Far West, where, both from inclination and necessity, he had taken to the pursuit of a trapper. He quickly learned the language both of the Crees and Sioux, and other tribes among whom he wandered. He gained their confidence and friendship;—he believed, indeed, that he could lead them to any purpose he might entertain, and all sorts of wild plans passed through his mind. One enterprise he was, unfortunately, able to carry out. One of his daughters had married a gentleman of some property who had been a firm adherent of the Government, and Moggs had, in consequence, conceived a bitter hatred against him, which time in no way had lessened. Several years passed by, when he heard that his daughter had a son, then about four years of age; and he formed the barbarous idea of carrying off the child. He had little difficulty in obtaining the assistance of a band of Indians; and, disguising himself as one of them, he led an attack on the place, and succeeded too well in his nefarious project. As the country was in a disturbed state at the time, the attack was supposed to have been instigated by American sympathisers, and the real culprit was not suspected. Making good his retreat, he did not stop till he had got many hundred miles away from the borders of Canada; and believing that he might still be traced, he placed the child under charge of an old squaw belonging to a tribe of Sioux, with whom he had formed a friendship. Strangely inconsistent as it would seem, an affection for the boy grew up in his hard heart; and in time, oppressed with the solitary life he had doomed himself to lead, he determined to make him his companion in his trapping expeditions.
“Has no remorse ever visited you?” asked Mr Martin, when the old man had finished his narrative.
“Yes, sometimes my thoughts have been terrible,” groaned Michael.
“Then pray God that it may be a repentance to salvation not to be repented of. With regard, however, to your temporal affairs, my friend, I can assure you that, through the clemency of the Queen of England, all the rebels in Canada at the time you speak of have been forgiven.”
“Ah, sir,” exclaimed Michael Moggs, “the Queen may have forgiven some, but she cannot have forgiven me. You must, I am sure, be mistaken.”
“But, my friend, if I can show you her proclamation, in which she declares that she overlooks and pardons all those rebellious subjects who rose against her authority, and allows those who have fled the country to return under her rule, would you then believe me?”
“I suppose I could not help it,” said Michael. “Let me see the paper.”
Mr Martin went to his room, and returned with the document he spoke of.
“I have preserved it,” he said, “for I am pleased with the gracious terras in which it is couched.”
Old Michael read the paper with intense interest.
“Yes!” he exclaimed. “I can no longer doubt the fact. Had I not kept away from those who knew of this, I might long ago have been enjoying the comforts and pleasures of the home I abandoned, and have again become a member of civilised society.”
“Then, my friend, if an earthly sovereign can be so merciful and gracious, do you suppose that the King of Heaven, who has so wonderfully manifested his love to man, is less merciful and gracious in forgiving those who sin against Him?” said Mr Martin, feeling the importance of not allowing so practical an illustration of the great truth to pass unemployed. “Here is God’s proclamation to sinful, rebellious man,” he added, lifting his Bible before the eyes of the old trapper. “He declares in this—not once, but over and over again—that He forgives, freely and fully all who come to Him; that their sins and iniquities are blotted out and remembered no more; that ‘though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool;’ that His pardon is a free gift, without money and without price! You have seen the Queen’s proclamation, and you believe it, and you know that you may return to your home with perfect safety, provided you take back your grandson, and restore him to his long-bereaved parents. That they will forgive and welcome you I know; for they belong to Christ’s flock, and I am well acquainted with them. Now, my friend, let me entreat you to believe God’s proclamation, to trust to the gracious plan He has designed, whereby you can obtain free pardon, perfect reconciliation, and life eternal.”
“But can He ever pardon such a wretch as I am? Oh! tell me, sir, what shall I do to be saved?”
“I’ll answer, as Paul answered the jailor at Philippi, who was, we have reason to believe, a cruel and bad man, or he was very unlike others in his occupation in those days: ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.’ Paul, who certainly knew what God requires, did not tell him to go and do anything, he was simply to believe with a living faith. That, my friend, is all you have to do; and, be assured, the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, will be yours; and however you may bewail the effects of your sins, still you will know that they are all put out of God’s remembrance; for He sees you not as you are, but clothed with the righteousness of Christ, with the white spotless robes of the Lamb.”
Many days passed by, and at length the old trapper could say with confidence, as he clasped the hand of the missionary, “I rejoice in the blood of my risen Saviour.”
Young Laurence had long before been able to say the same.
They together soon afterwards set out for Canada. Mr Martin had not wrongly estimated the character of his Christian friends. While they rejoiced at the return of their long-lost son, they truly heaped coals of fire on the head of the old man by their kindness and attention. A few years afterwards he died, in perfect peace, in their midst. Laurence’s thoughts had ever been fixed on the far-off fort and its beloved inmates. He made rapid progress in his studies, and with the entire concurrence of his parents, at an early age he returned to act as a Catechist under Mr Martin. He was soon placed in a more important position, when Jeanie Ramsay became the devoted sharer of his labours in making known the unspeakable goodness of Christ to the red men of the woods and prairies.
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