We had, therefore, started two stations, calling them both by the same name, and with this man managing them.  People had told him that he couldn’t do anything in the interior of the country occupied by the Indians, but he described his meeting with the Indians at that remote place, and their willingness to receive the gospel, one of the chiefs finally saying to him:  “When you go back I want you to take that man by the hand that sent that school and thank him, and tell him that we will try to live like the white man.”  The speaker accordingly took Mr. Moody’s hand and thanked him in those words, raising a perfect storm of applause by so doing.

The next mission was called the Frederick Darling Memorial mission, and was established sixty miles below Bismarck.  There was good work going on there.  Sixty miles farther down still there was located the Robert Remington Memorial mission, and the reservation had since then been opened up for settlement, as they had prophesied, and, as the Indians came up the valley, driven out from their homes, there stood a man at the door of the mission, who invited them in, and so to-day there were gathering round that mission hundreds of Indians, forsaking their tepees, building their houses and taking the first steps toward civilization.

On Cherry Creek, the Sankey mission was located, and, although it was not two years since that work was begun, they had a church of about forty members.

The funds for the Northfield mission were given by quite a number of people here and the Indians who could be reached by it from the opening of the reservation during the last few months had nearly doubled.  They had organized one church only a few weeks ago some distance off, and expected to organize another there within a few months.

“What do you want now?” said Mr. Moody at this point.  Mr. Shelton replied:  “We haven’t a dollar for carrying on a single one of these missions after the first of September.  It costs from $300 to $350 to carry each of them on.  But I believe that God has started this work and will carry it on.  Let me add a word with regard to the whole Indian problem.  It is not the problem I presented to you two years ago; it has changed in the two years, and, thank God, it will change in two years more, if we do the work we ought to.  Do we realize that our Indians are getting beyond the wild life?  Forty thousand Indian people have come out of the tepee life into little homes that these Indian men have built for themselves, taking their people forward toward Christ.  We talk of the Indian in his paint and blanket, forgetting that he is coming forth into life.  His game is gone, his wild roving life is gone, his reservation is going.  They understand their position; the old life is back of them forever.  What is before them?  Old Gall showed a scar reaching from his shoulder to his hip, and said:  ’A white man gave me that; shall I trust him, dare I trust him, can I trust him?’ The Indian takes a step ahead, and stops and trembles, doesn’t know if he dare take another.