The Indian village was reached in the course of a couple of hours.  It was found to be much larger than Richter could have anticipated.  The missionary soon made known his character and wishes.  This secured an audience with the leading chief, when Harvey explained his mission, and asked permission for himself and companions to settle among them.  With the ludicrous dignity so characteristic of his people, the chief deferred his reply until the following day, at which time he gave consent, his manner being such as to indicate that he was rather unwilling than otherwise.

That same afternoon, the missionary collected the dusky children of the forest together and preached to them, as best he could, through the assistance of a rude interpreter.  He was listened to respectfully by the majority, among whom were several whom he inferred already had heard the word of life.  There were others, however, to whom the ceremony was manifestly distasteful.  The hopeful minister felt that his Master had directed him to this spot, and that now his real life-work had begun.

CHAPTER III.

THE JUG ACQUAINTANCES.

  With that dull, callous, rooted impudence,
  Which, dead to shame and every nicer sense,
  Ne’er blushed, unless, when spreading Vice’s snares,
  He stumbled on some virtue unawares.—­CHURCHILL.

A YEAR has passed since the events recorded in the preceding pages, and it is summer again.  Far up, beside one of those tributaries of the Mississippi, in the western portion of what is now the State of Minnesota, stands a small cabin, such as the early settlers in new countries build for themselves.  About a quarter of a mile further up the stream is a large Sioux village, separated from the hut by a stretch of woods through which runs a well-worn footpath.  This arrangement the young missionary, Harvey Richter, preferred rather than to dwell in the Indian village.  While laboring with all his heart and soul to regulate these degraded people, and while willing to make their troubles and afflictions his own, he still desired a seclusion where his domestic cares and enjoyments were safe from constant interruption.  This explains why his cabin had been erected at such a distance from his people.

Every day, no matter what might be the weather, the missionary visited the village, and each Sabbath afternoon, when possible, service was held.  This was almost invariably attended by the entire population, who now listened attentively to what was uttered, and often sought to follow the counsels uttered by the good man.  A year’s residence had sufficed to win the respect and confidence of the Indians, and to convince the faithful servant that the seed he had sown was already springing up and bearing fruit.