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friendly? Why should a red man ever strike a blow against a red man?
The Great Spirit made us of the same color, and placed us on the
same hunting-grounds. He meant that we should hunt in company; not
take each other's scalps. How many warriors have fallen in our
family wars? Who has counted them? Who can say? Perhaps enough, had
they not been killed, to drive the pale-faces into the sea!"
Here Peter, who as yet had spoken only in a low and barely audible
voice, suddenly paused, in order to allow the idea he had just
thrown out to work on the minds of his listeners. That it was
producing its effect was apparent by the manner in which one stern
face turned toward another, and eye seemed to search in eye some
response to a query that the mind suggested, though no utterance was
given to it with the tongue. As soon, however, as the orator thought
time sufficient to impress that thought on the memories of the
listeners had elapsed, he resumed, suffering his voice gradually to
increase in volume, as he warmed with his subject.
"Yes," he continued, "the Manitou has been very kind. Who is the
Manitou? Has any Indian ever seen him? Every Indian has seen him. No
one can look on the hunting-grounds, on the lakes, on the prairies,
on the trees, on the game, without seeing his hand. His face is to
be seen in the sun at noonday; his eyes in the stars at night. Has
any Indian ever heard the Manitou? When it thunders, he speaks. When
the crash is loudest, then he scolds. Some Indian has done wrong.
Perhaps one red man has taken another red man's scalp!"
Another pause succeeded, briefer, and less imposing than the first,
but one that sufficed to impress on the listeners anew, the great
evil of an Indian's raising his hand against an Indian.
"Yes, there is no one so deaf as not to hear the voice of the Great
Spirit when he is angry," resumed Peter. "Ten thousands of buffalo
bulls, roaring together, do not make as much noise as his whisper.
Spread the prairies, and the openings, and the lakes, before him,
and he can be heard in all, and on all, at the same time.
"Here is a medicine-priest of the pale-faces; he tells me that the
voice of the Manitou reaches into the largest villages of his
people, beneath the rising sun, when it is heard by the red man
across the great lakes, and near the rocks of the setting sun. It is
a loud voice; woe to him who does not remember it. It speaks to all
colors, and to every people, and tribe, and nation.
"Brothers, that is a lying tradition which says, there is one
Manitou for a Sac, and another for the Ojebway--one Manitou for the
red man, and another for the pale-face. In this, we are alike. One
Great Spirit made all; governs all; rewards all; punishes all. He
may keep the happy hunting-grounds of an Indian separate from the
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white man's heaven, for he knows that their customs are different,
and what would please a warrior would displease a trader; and what
would please a trader would displease a warrior. He has thought of
these things, and has made several places for the spirits of the
good, let their colors be what they may. Is it the same with the
places of the spirits of the bad? I think not. To me it would seem
best to let THEM go together, that they may torment one another. A
wicked Indian and a wicked pale-face would make a bad neighborhood.
I think the Manitou will let THEM go together.
"Brothers, if the Manitou keeps the good Indian and the good pale-
face apart in another world, what has brought them together in this?
If he brings the bad spirits of all colors together in another
world, why should they come together here, before their time? A
place for wicked spirits should not be found on earth. This is
wrong; it must be looked into.
"Brothers, I have now done; this pale-face wishes to speak, and I
have said that you would hear his words. When he has spoken his
mind, I may have more to tell you. Now, listen to the stranger. He
is a medicine-priest of the white men, and says he has a great
secret to tell our people--when he has told it, I have another for
their ears too. Mine must be spoken when there is no one near but
the children of red clay."
Having thus opened the way for the missionary, Peter courteously
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