Four times a year we had this sacramental service, and it was a great event to our native Christians. In answer to his question I replied: "Why Robert, what is there to cause me to wish to prevent you from coming to the Lord's table?" Looking at me earnestly, he said: "There is a good deal. Just think of the way I have treated my wife and daughters!" "Yes," I said, "I remember that; but I also know how you have been treating them during the last few weeks." With a face from which the shadows had now fled away, he said quickly:-- "Have you heard anything about that?" "O yes, Robert," I replied, "I know all about it. I have good eyes and ears, and I have seen and heard how nobly you have redeemed yourself. I am very glad of it. Of course I will welcome you to the Lord's table." After a little further conversation, I said: "Tell me, Robert, why did you act so selfishly toward your wife and daughters?" He just uttered with emphasis the Indian word which means: "Stupidity,"--then after a little pause he quietly added; "But I think I have got over it." And so he had. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. FIVE INDIANS AND A JACK-KNIFE. Indian boys dearly love pocket-knives. As they have to make their own bows and arrows, the paddles for their birch canoes, and also the frames for their snow shoes, of course a good knife is a valued possession. In whittling, Indian boys do not push the knife from them, but always draw it toward them. They are very clever in the manufacture of the few things which they require, and are encouraged by their fathers to do their work as neatly as possible. So the better the knife, the better the work which these Indian lads can do, and they are ambitious to possess the very best knife that it is possible for them to obtain; just as the older Indians will give any price within their means for the very best guns that are made. Knowing this love for a good knife, I once used it among a lot of Indian lads, as an incentive to encourage them to sing: as our story will explain. At one of our Indian villages, where a flourishing mission with its day and Sunday schools exists, the devoted lady teacher said to me on a recent visit: "I do wish you would do something to encourage our boys to sing. They have good voices, but they seem afraid to use them. If I do succeed in getting one to sing, the others laugh at him, and then there is no more singing that day." I gladly promised to do what I could; but before I describe the plan adopted, perhaps I would better give some description of these Indians among whom this courageous young lady was living. Their hunting grounds are in the vast region which lies between Lake Winnipeg and Hudson Bay. They are called Saulteaux, and are a subdivision of the great Algonquin family.