It is not so with the Son of the Manitou. He thinketh always
as His Father thinketh, which is right.
"Bourdon, I am no longer Peter--I must be another Injin. I do not
feel the same. A scalp is a terrible thing in my eyes--I wish never
to take another--never to see another--a scalp is a bad thing. I now
LOVE the Yankees. I wish to do them good, and not to do them harm. I
love most the Great Spirit, that let his own Son die for all men.
The medicine-priest said he died for Injins, as well as for pale-
faces. This we did not know, or we should have talked of him more in
our traditions. We love to talk of good acts. But we are such
ignorant Injins! The Son of the Manitou will have pity on us, and
tell us oftener what we ought to do. In time, we shall learn. Now, I
feel like a child: I hope I shall one day be a man."
Having made this "confession of faith," one that would have done
credit to a Christian church, Peter shook the bee-hunter kindly by
the hand, and took his departure. He did not walk into the swamp,
though it was practicable with sufficient care, but he stepped into
the river, and followed its margin, knowing that "water leaves no
trail.
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