“Is that so? Going to put a stop to it, eh? You shouldn’t allow such superstitious practices to be carried on. They might do harm to the natives, you know.”
“No, I’m going to do nothing of the kind, Tom. And besides, I have not the power. And I don’t want to stop them. I have been greatly impressed of late by what I have seen, and am beginning to look at certain things in a different light.”
“Experiencing a change of heart?” the constable asked, looking quizzically at the sergeant. “Isn’t it coming to you rather late?”
“Not too late, I hope,” was the quiet reply. “I am afraid that my judgment of things pertaining to religion has been too much biased, and a one-sided affair. I have been going upon the idea that religion is all right in theory, but of little use in daily life. I see now that I was wrong.”
“What has led you to change your mind?”
“Oh, several things. The first, and perhaps the most important, was the thought of that old missionary giving up his life on behalf of the Indians, and standing bravely at his post of duty when deserted by nearly all of his flock. Why, Tom, that man is a great hero, and yet the world knows nothing about him. I could hardly keep back the tears at something I saw upon his rough table. Marion saw it, too, and she was deeply affected.”
“What was it, sergeant? It must have been something out of the ordinary to move such a hardened being as you.”
“It was the last bit of writing, I believe, that he did. His Bible was lying open on the table, with a sheet of paper right near, on which were some words in the Indian language. I did not know what they were, but
