He was about to die. When we are
about to die, our voices become strong and clear. So do our eyes. We
see what is before, and we see what is behind. We feel joy for what
is before--we feel sorrow for what is behind. Your medicine-priest
spoke well. It sounded in my ears as if the Great Spirit, himself,
was talking. They say it was his Son. I believe them. Blossom has
read to me out of the good book of your people, and I find it is so.
I feel like a child, and could sit down, in my wigwam, and weep.
"Bourdon, you are a pale-face, and I am an Injin. You are strong,
and I am weak. This is because the Son of the Great Spirit has
talked with your people, and has not talked with mine. I now see why
the pale-faces overrun the earth and take the hunting-grounds. They
know most, and have been told to come here, and to tell what they
know to the poor ignorant Injins. I hope my people will listen. What
the Son of the Great Spirit says must be true. He does not know how
to do wrong.
"Bourdon, once it seemed sweet to me to take the scalps of my
enemies. When an Injin did me harm, I took his scalp. This was my
way. I could not help it, then. The Wicked Spirit told me to do
this.
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