Canon Stocken next told me about Little Eyes, who figures on the Government list as Paul Little Walker. His father, it appeared, was Bull Backfat, who was head chief of the Blood Indians and a famous warrior and hunter. “When Little Eyes was only four years old,” said the canon, “Bull Backfat was killed, accidentally or otherwise, by an Indian. The boy was then brought here by his mother, whose name was Little Walker, and he became one of the most conspicuous lads on the reservation. I have told you of the dream that led to his conversion. He was thirty-one years of age at that time. He received the name of Paul at his baptism. “It will be difficult for me,” continued Canon Stocken, pondering his words, “to make you realise the simple earnestness and sincere devotion that have characterised that man’s life down to the present day. I would like first to say that many and many a time he has helped me spiritually. There have been occasions of stress and sorrow when, following a long and exhausting day, I have sat alone at my desk in such an extremity of physical weariness that, when a knock has come at the door, I have been tempted to disregard the summons rather than have my rest disturbed. Sometimes Paul has proved to be the visitor, and each time, in a little while, his words and thoughts have lifted my oppression and renewed my strength, leaving me very grateful. “Soon after his conversion he was going among the heathen Indians one Sunday morning, as came to be his custom, and trying to persuade them to attend the service. Among those to whom he spoke was the wife of one of his uncles—a woman bitterly hostile to Christianity. ‘No, no,’ she indignantly replied, ‘I won’t be seen inside your church. I don’t believe in your God,’ and she jumped up and got her tanning knife and started to tan. Paul said: ‘This is God’s day. It is not the will of God that we should work seven days. Our bodies need a rest, and to-day it is our duty to worship.’ Then he walked away. But he had not gone many steps when he heard a scream, and, turning round, he saw the woman lying in convulsions on the ground. ‘Go away,’ she cried, when he stepped up to her; ‘your God has done this.’ ‘Done what?’ he asked. ‘Broken my knife in half,’ she replied. And then he saw that the blade of the tanning knife had snapped. ‘I do not know if God did this,’ Paul quietly rejoined, ‘but you had better learn a lesson from it.’ And, as a matter of fact, though that woman never became a Christian, she was ever afterwards respectful about Christianity.