"You only can represent us," said David Leslie. "In greater measure than any of us, you have the tongue, the fire, the courage, and the Lord's anointing."
There seemed a struggle in the leader's mind. If possible, Jason Lee had grown even more gentle of late. In his eyes strange beauty had come upon his young wife; her presence was a constant benediction. The Canadians felt new power in his speech, and tears rolled down their furrowed cheeks at his exhortations to a nobler life. In the tents of the Indians he came and went as a brother.
But now, with hesitation quite new in the line of his work, Jason Lee said, "Brethren, I do not see how I can go. It is a long, long journey, the winter and summer of two years. Indeed, I cannot go."
"It is your duty," the brethren said. "And only by starting with the traders in March can you hope to reach St. Louis before the frosts of autumn."
Jason Lee groaned in spirit. "How can I leave you?" he whispered to his bride.
"If it is your duty to go, go," the noble girl replied. " I did not marry you to hinder, but to help you."
With the heavenly countersign, "The Lord watch between me and thee, while we are absent one from another," she bade him farewell. The missionary's bride, like the women of Sparta, sent her hero forth to return "with his shield or Upon it."
With nobler sacrifice than ever entered the dreams of ancient ascetic, Jason Lee trod love and ease beneath his feet. In his heart he bore his bride; next his heart there lay a memorial to Congress asking for a United States government for Oregon.
At Fort Walla Walla, one hundred horses were packed with Indian goods for the interior. How easily
