When this duty was performed, he prayed for his
enemies. The language used was his mother tongue, but Peter
comprehended most of that which was said. He heard his own people
prayed for; he heard his own name mentioned, as the condemned man
asked the mercy of the Manitou in his behalf. Never before was the
soul of this extraordinary savage so shaken. The past seemed like a
dream to him, while the future possessed a light that was still
obscured by clouds. Here was an exemplification in practice of that
divine spirit of love and benevolence which had struck him, already,
as so very wonderful. There could be no mistake. There was the
kneeling captive, and his words, clear, distinct, and imploring,
ascended through the cover of the bushes to the throne of God.
As soon as the voice of the missionary was mute, the mysterious
chief bowed his head and moved away. He was then powerless. No
authority of his could save the captive, and the sight that so
lately would have cheered his eyes was now too painful to bear. He
heard the single blow of the tomahawk which brained the victim, and
he shuddered from head to foot. It was the first time such a
weakness had ever come over him.
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