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They have been dancing about that deplorable idol for two days and two nights. They tell me that old Chief Single-Pine danced eight hours without ceasing; that they have decorated the idol with silver brooches, wampum beads, every precious thing they possess. It is terrible, and my heart aches, boy, when I think how hopeless it seems.
Old Chief Single-Pine welcomed the missionary and Wampum graciously, but his people scowled and looked menacingly at the sight of "The Black Coat," then continued their dancing. The great Delaware idol was there in all its hideousness, life size, in the form of a woman, and carved from one solid block of wood, then painted and stained the Indian copper color.
Then, with a furious yell, they turned to their chief for his commands, but old Single-Pine sat with bowed head, his face hidden in his hands, his lips silent.
I heard, not long ago, that old Chief Single-Pine said he only kept to the idol because his people did that he dared not cross them, but that after these ten years of your talking with him, he himself believed in the white man's Christ." "Oh, Wampum, if I could only believe that! If I could, I would die happy. Who told you this glorious thing?" cried the encouraged missionary.
Something in his voice gave Wampum a hint that perhaps the loyal old hunters expected trouble, and so had come in case they were needed. "Thank you," was all the boy replied, but they knew he understood. Meanwhile, Mr. Nelson was talking with Single-Pine, who, exhausted with dancing, was allowing himself a brief rest and smoke.
Young Wampum knew his place too well to argue with the arrogant old hunter, so he smilingly said good-bye, and leaving them to their pipes and their memories, he set out for the Mission house, from whence he was to drive the Reverend James Nelson over to the "Delaware Line" to have one of his frequent talks with the stubborn old chief, "Single-Pine," who for ten years had held out against Christianity, clinging with determined loyalty to the religion of his forefathers, worshipping the repulsive wooden idol that, even in their old pagan state, the Mohawks so despised.
"Chief Single-Pine," he said excitedly, "will you yourself give me leave to do away with this idol? Will you promise me that if I cut it down you will make no outcry that you will not defend it; that you will not urge your people to rise against me; that you will sit silently, wordlessly; that you will take my part?"
"A Delaware boy," replied Wampum, "but when he told me he spat, like a snake does venom. He said he and all the tribe hated Single-Pine, for listening to you." For a moment the missionary was silent, then he arose, the dawn of a majestic hope in his face. "They may hate him," he said, "but they will follow him. He is most powerful. They dare not rebel where he leads.
If we have won Single-Pine to Christianity, we have won the whole tribe, Wampum. You have never failed me yet; will you stand by me now? Will you help me in this great work?" "I will help you, sir," replied the boy, his young face glowing with zeal. "But," hesitated the missionary, "remember, it is dangerous. They are a fierce, savage tribe, these Delawares.
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