Having struck on this chain of mountains, and finding that they commanded a view of the surrounding country, I followed them up until I reached the brow above us, when I caught a glimpse of a figure suddenly gliding down the face of the hill toward where we are now sitting. I cautiously followed, and saw a man whom I knew, from his appearance, to be an _Indian conjurer_, enter this cave. Without disturbing him, I returned to the hill above, and carefully explored the country round for the station I was in search of. I had given up the search, with the full conviction that there was no settlement in sight, when the light breeze wafted to my ear the sound of human voices. I soon made out that it was a familiar strain of sacred music, and sweeping over the valley again with my telescope, discovered an encampment just where yonder creek empties into the river. It was the hour of evening worship; and the savages were tuning their voices to the unwonted notes of a Christian hymn. Of the venerable missionary, it might emphatically be said, that he pointed to heaven, and led the way. He had left country, home, and friends; the habits of a lifetime, and the tastes of a highly cultivated mind, for the sake of the poor Indian; and it mattered little to him whether his head reposed in a palace or a wigwam, or whether his bones were laid in the Fatherland or in some wild glen of the New World, so that his Master’s work was sped. If such thoughts passed through my mind whilst my eye rested for a moment on him, they were instantly put to flight when I saw another figure in the group. But he would have forgiven my irreverence, if he had known of it, for the love he also bore his gentle Mary. I quickly descended the mountain, and reached the encampment just as the sun was setting. Luten received me as a son; Mary as a brother, except that the blush which suffused her face and the agitation of her nerves were something more than fraternal—so, at least, I flattered myself. When I inquired for the missionary’s wife a tear started into the eye of both father and daughter. I understood it all—she had found a grave in the wilderness. I had many questions to ask as well as to answer, and much news to tell, and the evening wore away before curiosity had been satisfied on either side. But I felt anxious to know their plans and prospects for the future; I therefore inquired of Luten how he was succeeding with the Indians. “Far beyond my most sanguine expectations,” he replied. “You really think, then, that it is possible to change their savage natures,” said I.