One day a party of western visitors came into the corridors of the asylum. A woman of the party, Mrs. Ella Clark, observed the pathetic, blank face of Spoo Pee, and began to speak in an Indian language. The prisoner observed her with something akin to interest. Failing to secure a clearer response from him, the woman began to croon an Indian lullaby. She sang as a mother to a child. A look of dazed intelligence appeared on the face of the prisoner. Eagerly Mrs. Clark ceased her singing and began to speak to him. She told of tribal wars and conquests. She repeated traditions held most sacred. The attendants and keepers watched her efforts interestedly. At last from Spoo Pee’s long sealed lips there broke an Indian word. The kindly woman’s victory was complete, and with tears flowing unchecked, Mrs. Clark told the Indian of his people. She explained to the keeper the reason that the deed had been committed; how Spoo Pee had returned to his village on that dreadful day and had found the women all slain. The prisoner told of his strange vow and of the long silent years. Spoo Pee was pardoned and he returned to his tribe but only sorrow was his lot. New and strange customs had arisen since he had gone away. His family had become scattered. He could not learn the new ways, and he pined for the friends who had gone. In two years the broken spirit of the red man went to its long rest. It was this revengeful warrior that Brother Van had met at the river crossing, but danger held no terrors for him, and that night in the coulee, near the scene of the tragic murder of the Canadian prospector, he took the saddle from his pony, pillowed his head on it, and slept peacefully with the stars smiling down on him. God’s protection was with the man who had a vision of the life of peace and righteousness which could come to the West only through the gospel that it was his privilege to preach. The Epworth Piegan Mission is ministering to these Indians to-day under the leadership of one of Brother Van’s “boys,” Rev. A. W. Hammer, who, with his talented wife, is continuing the service begun many years ago. Mr. Hammer is peculiarly fitted for this task because he knows the habits and language of the people. He was but a youth when he went west to the plains of Texas as a cowboy in 1877. Later he came to Montana and worked on a ranch not far from Chinook. He craved the opportunity to enjoy the finer pleasures of life, and when a literary society was started at Chinook, he rode in from the ranch to attend it.