He told us Wilson had traveled as long as he was able, and begged his companions to leave him there alone to die. He told the chief he had no complaint to make of his fellows. We mention the incident to show that the beautiful trait of unselfishness has a place even among Indians. The old chief could easily have buried the body near his mountain home without bearing it the long distance to be near the road, where the grave could be seen by his friends. He might have used an old blanket instead of the costly dressed robe the Indian prized so highly. Here we found a savage who, like the Flatheads, had heard of "the white man's book of heaven," had practically caught its unselfishness and humanity, and its spirit of love. It is well to remember that the Indian has no literature, and has ever been dependent upon his enemies to write his history and his achievements. They have chosen to write only of his savagery. This is not fair treatment by the United States government, incited by justice, and the wholesome Christian sentiments of the land has during the past thirty years done much to correct all abuses of its savage wards. CHAPTER III _The Effect of the Banquet Speech. How it Stirred Christian People. The American Board Acts. Drs. Parker and Whitman Go on a Voyage of Discovery. His Indian Boys. His Marriage and Journey through Savage Lands to Oregon._ The Indian oration at the St. Louis banquet was translated by a young man present, William Walker, who was an Indian chief, but a white man, and it was first published some months later in "The Christian Advocate" in New York, with a ringing editorial from its editor, Rev. Dr. Fiske, headed, "Who will Carry the Book of Life to the Indians of Oregon?"