The next step was to wear a hat, and exchange the breech-clout for pantaloons, and the blanket for a shirt or coat. Notwithstanding this terrible ordeal of naturalization, the population of the republic increased, and the church was well attended. The praying and singing was participated in quite generally by the members, and the future republic looked promising. One of the most exemplary citizens and devout worshippers was deacon Simon Ana-wang-ma-ni. He led in prayer, and labored heart and soul for the good of the republic and the church. He was the last man that anyone would have expected to fall from grace, and no one ever thought of such a thing; but, strange as it may appear, he one day sought an interview with the missionaries, and announced the astounding fact that an Indian who had killed his cousin some eight years before had returned from the Missouri river country, and he thought it was his duty to kill him in retaliation. The astonishment of the missionaries may be well imagined. They cited to him the commandment, "Thou shalt not kill," and dwelt upon the awful sinfulness of such an act, and he would say, "I know what the Bible says, and I believe in Sundays, but he killed my cousin." Then they would attack him on the laws of the republic of which he was a high official, and dwell upon the dreadful example such an act would set before the brethren of the church, and he would reply, "Oh, yes; I know all that; but he killed my cousin." Then, in despair, they would tell him that he was no longer an Indian; that he had become a white man, and the laws of the white man forbid such revenge. "I know all that," he would say, "but he killed my cousin." As a final resort, the faithful and believing missionaries concluded to call in the aid of heaven to assist them, and they prayed with Simon for hours, days and nights, in all of which he joined with fervor and unction; but he could not divest himself of the all-pervading idea that his cousin had been killed, and the sacred duty had devolved upon him to avenge his death. This belief had been born in him, and no religion of the white man could eradicate it. True to the creed of his ancestors, he got a double-barrelled shotgun and went out and killed his enemy. Of course, this murder opened up a new feud, arraying relative against relative, and destroyed Simon's influence as a deacon in the church and an officer of the republic to such a degree as almost to destroy all the good that both had accomplished. I mention this incident to show what uncertain ground the missionaries find to sow the seeds of Christianity in when working among savages.