They found Big Tim on the qui vive, and Brighteyes with Whitewing’s mother was soon introduced to the wounded preacher.

 

The meeting of the three was impressive, for not only had they been much attached at the time of the preacher’s former visit, but the women were deeply affected by the sad circumstances in which they found their old friend.

 

“Not much changed, I see, Brighteyes,” he said, as the two women sat down on the floor beside his couch. “Only a little stouter; just what might have been expected. God has been kind to you—but, indeed, God is kind to all, only some do not see or believe in the kindness. It is equally kindness in Him whether He sends joy or sorrow, adversity or prosperity. If we only saw the end from the beginning, none of us would quarrel with the way. Love has induced Him to lay me low at present. You have another child, I am told, besides Big Tim?”

 

“Yes, a daughter—Moonlight we call her,” said Brighteyes, with a pleased look.

 

“Is she here with you?”

 

“No; we left her in the camp.”

 

“And my good old friend,” he said, turning on his couch, and grasping the withered hand of Whitewing’s mother, “how has she prospered in all these years?”

 

The “old one,” who was, as we have said, as deaf as a post, wrinkled her visage up into the most indescribable expression of world-embracing benignity, expanded her old lips, displayed her toothless gums, and chuckled.

 

“The dear old one,” said her son, “bears the snows of many winters on her head. Her brain could not now be touched by the thunders of Niagara. But the eyes are still bright inlets to her soul.”

 

“Bright indeed!” exclaimed the preacher, as he gazed with deep interest at the old face; “wonderful, considering her great age. I trust that these portals may remain unclosed to her latest day on earth.”

 

He was still talking to Whitewing about her when a peculiar whistle was heard outside, as of some water-bird.

 

Instantly dead silence fell upon all present, and from the fixed gaze and motionless attitude of each it was evident that they anxiously expected a repetition of the sound. It was not repeated, but a moment later voices were heard outside, then a hurried step, and next instant Big Tim sprang into the room.

 

“A messenger from the camp!” he cried. “Moonlight and Skipping Rabbit have been carried off by Blackfeet.”

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