“Yes,” he continued, “the Manitou has been very kind.  Who is the Manitou?  Has any Indian ever seen him?  Every Indian has seen him.  No one can look on the hunting-grounds, on the lakes, on the prairies, on the trees, on the game, without seeing his hand.  His face is to be seen in the sun at noonday; his eyes in the stars at night.  Has any Indian ever heard the Manitou?  When it thunders, he speaks.  When the crash is loudest, then he scolds.  Some Indian has done wrong.  Perhaps one red man has taken another red man’s scalp!”

Another pause succeeded, briefer, and less imposing than the first, but one that sufficed to impress on the listeners anew, the great evil of an Indian’s raising his hand against an Indian.

“Yes, there is no one so deaf as not to hear the voice of the Great Spirit when he is angry,” resumed Peter.  “Ten thousands of buffalo bulls, roaring together, do not make as much noise as his whisper.  Spread the prairies, and the openings, and the lakes, before him, and he can be heard in all, and on all, at the same time.

“Here is a medicine-priest of the pale-faces; he tells me that the voice of the Manitou reaches into the largest villages of his people, beneath the rising sun, when it is heard by the red man across the great lakes, and near the rocks of the setting sun.  It is a loud voice; woe to him who does not remember it.  It speaks to all colors, and to every people, and tribe, and nation.

“Brothers, that is a lying tradition which says, there is one Manitou for a Sac, and another for the Ojebway—­one Manitou for the red man, and another for the pale-face.  In this, we are alike.  One Great Spirit made all; governs all; rewards all; punishes all.  He may keep the happy hunting-grounds of an Indian separate from the white man’s heaven, for he knows that their customs are different, and what would please a warrior would displease a trader; and what would please a trader would displease a warrior.  He has thought of these things, and has made several places for the spirits of the good, let their colors be what they may.  Is it the same with the places of the spirits of the bad?  I think not.  To me it would seem best to let them go together, that they may torment one another.  A wicked Indian and a wicked pale-face would make a bad neighborhood.  I think the Manitou will let them go together.

“Brothers, if the Manitou keeps the good Indian and the good pale-face apart in another world, what has brought them together in this?  If he brings the bad spirits of all colors together in another world, why should they come together here, before their time?  A place for wicked spirits should not be found on earth.  This is wrong; it must be looked into.

“Brothers, I have now done; this pale-face wishes to speak, and I have said that you would hear his words.  When he has spoken his mind, I may have more to tell you.  Now, listen to the stranger.  He is a medicine-priest of the white men, and says he has a great secret to tell our people—­when he has told it, I have another for their ears too.  Mine must be spoken when there is no one near but the children of red clay.”