Long before the plow of the white man had turned a furrow in the prairie sod, brave laborers for Christ were sowing the seed of the Word of God among the native Indians. One of the early missionaries was a man named Mr. Evans who opened a mission station near a Hudson Bay Company trading post in the Canadian West. The whole account of his labors remains to be told in eternity; but the facts of the following anecdote have been preserved for us in the writings of Egerton Young, a devoted missionary who followed Evans to "the regions beyond" nearly a generation later.
It happened one day that some of the natives came to the missionary bringing a little Indian boy and asked Mr. Evans to keep him. The child's father and mother were dead and none of his relatives would have him. The missionary took pity on the unwanted orphan and for a number of years cared for him as his own son.
The boy not only grew up tall and strong in that Christian environment but heard many precious things about God and His Son Jesus Christ. He was taught to read and write and pray, and appeared quite happy with life at the mission station.
But one summer, when the Indians gathered to trade furs with the Hudson Bay Company, an Indian family from far away succeeded in coaxing the lad to return to their hunting grounds with them.
Forgetting the love and kindness shown to him for so long, and without a word of thanks or goodbye, he slipped away one dark night with his new-found friends.
But, when after many days they reached their hunting grounds, the run-away found life was not so pleasant. The natives were often very cruel. Often there was very little to eat. Furthermore, all the Indians around were pagans.
The boy, however, reasoned that because he lived with them he must be like them. As time went on he willingly forgot all that the missionary had taught him about the one true God and His Son Jesus Christ.
He grew up to be a wicked heathen like the rest. One Indian father sold him his daughter for a wife and they had several children.
One winter, having tired of the old camp, he decided to move his family to a new hunting ground where he thought there would be plenty of game to shoot and more animals to trap. Having acted on this plan and chosen a spot he built a wigwam.
Here he proceeded to hunt for days with all his native skills and perseverance; but strange to tell no game could he find. The deer which were needed so badly for food seemed to have forsaken the area. Again and again he was forced to return to the wigwam with nothing to eat. Finally, overcome with hunger, fatigue and despair, he said in his heart: "I will try once more, and if I cannot shoot a deer, I will shoot myself."
All the following day and the next he hunted, but could not find so much as an animal's tracks.
On the third day he became weak and ill. Utterly discouraged he exclaimed: "It's no use; I will die here."
Loading his gun and putting the muzzle to his head, he was about to pull the trigger when a voice called, "William!"
It was not his Indian name, but the name Mr. Evans, the missionary, had given him years ago when a little boy. He dropped his gun and looked around, but could see no one.
Finally, he realized the voice was in his heart and conscience. It seemed to be saying: "William, do you not remember what the missionary told you about the good, true God? — that He was kind — that even if we ran far away from Him, if we came back to Him He would forgive for Jesus sake? Why not pray to Him now?"
But when the poor, proud Indian recalled how ungrateful and wicked he had been, he protested: "I cannot pray; it is too mean to come and pray now."
But the inner voice persisted:
"It is worse to stay away."
Then he seemed to hear his wife and children crying for food in the wigwam. It made him decide. Kneeling in the snow he began to pray. He asked "the Great Spirit" to forgive the poor Indian who had been so wicked and gone so far away from Him. He asked for help in his troubles and prayed that God would give him food.
Then he asked in his simplicity that as soon as the snow was gone he might return again to the far-away mission station and learn to live for God.
As he prayed he grew stronger. In his heart he felt that help was near. He forgot that he was cold, hungry, weak and ill. He took up his gun with a glad heart for he felt that God had indeed had mercy on a poor sinful Indian.
He had not gone far before he was able to shoot a large deer. He quickly made a fire and ate some of the meat. He then hung part of it high in a tree away from the wolves. Then, taking as much as he could carry, he set off to his family in the wigwam, his heart filled with joy. In the days that followed he and his family never lacked food.
As soon as the snow had melted and the ice was gone from the lakes and rivers, he readied his canoe and took his wife and children back with him to the far-away mission station which he had left so long before.
There to his great delight he was able to find another faithful missionary who was carrying on the work begun by Mr. Evans. His name was Egerton Young and to him "William" told the above true story about himself and the love of God which would not let him go. Together they rejoiced over such wonderful grace and thanked God for His never-ending care for a poor, sinful Indian.