In the year of 1783 General George Washington led the Continental Army to victory over the British at Yorktown, Virginia, ending the American Revolution. After eight years of bloody fighting, the colonists were finally free of British domination and an infant nation was brought forth from the seeds of conflict. Emigrants flooded to the shores of America. Some sought freedom, some adventure, while others sought wealth and personal gain in this new land of opportunity.
Joshua Davidson was born and raised here on this untamed American frontier. He'd just had his eleventh birthday last spring, but in spite of his youth Joshua was well aware of the cruelties and injustices that had been committed during the war. Having heard many stories of the terrible fighting between the colonists and the British from his father. Joshua's father was a good man and kind and it grieved him to see men with so much of the same heritage and traditions slaughter one another so on the battlefield. And even though the American Revolution was ended it seemed inevitable to him that more blood would be shed if selfish and greedy men continued in their pursuit of more territory to ruthlessly exploit and drive the Indians from their lands.
Josh's folks emigrated from Britain before he was born in order to escape the intolerance of the Church of England. Amongst other things they had come to the "New Land" in search of freedom and peace, but then the war came.
Ethnic and political tension posed a formidable problem for the new government of New Jersey. Colonist troops continued to patrol the streets of Burlington after the war in order to squelch any remaining pockets of resistance, giving the city a tense atmosphere. But Josh was far removed from all this on the solitude of his family's farm. He was happy and his life was kept well occupied with his schooling, helping with the chores, and exploring the beautiful countryside with Butch, the family's big brindled watchdog. Josh couldn't remember ever being without Butch. He supposed that Butch had just always been a part of the family. He loved him not only because he was a faithful companion, but also because he was a loyal and courageous animal.
Our story takes place here on a small farm in New Jersey near the city of Burlington that was at the time, a bustling aggregation of business and trade, and political stratagem. It was here in Burlington in the year 1726, that the first colonial money was printed by a one, Benjamin Franklin. Still, Burlington had become ill famed amongst the local settlers for the exploitation of the Native American Indians and their lands. The Quaker farmers that had settled the area as early as 1677 were opposed to war and sought to live peacefully and in harmony with the Indian tribes that dwelt there and to win them to Christ. But sad to say, these were not the sentiments of everyone that settled in the New Jersey. But now, with no further ado, let us begin our adventure.
"BRAVE BUTCH"
It was a clear, late-summer afternoon. Joshua and Butch were out roaming the countryside together. Trifling the afternoon hours away, Josh had forgotten the time and in his childish play he had wandered too far from home. Taking notice that the sun was commencing to set, the boy realized at once that he would be unable to return home before nightfall. Josh was a brave lad, but he was also aware of the dangers of being alone in the wild after dark. Quickly whistling for Butch to come, they were soon hurrying homeward through the dense forest. The tall trees cast their long, eerie shadows on the forest floor as the sun sank out of sight and dusk set in. The lonely howl of timber wolves could be heard faintly in the distance. Butch whimpered uneasily as though he could sense unseen danger. Joshua's folks were devout Christians and had always taught him that when he felt afraid or when things seemed to go awry that it was a special time to pray. And that he did as he tramped through the darkening forest. He was thankful to have Butch trotting protectively behind him. He remembered his mother and father's admonition never to stray too far away from home so as not to get caught in the wild after dark. He recalled how Father always took his gun with him into the woods for protection against wild animals.
Suddenly a savage scream froze Josh in his tracks. Then he saw it. Directly in front of the boy was a snarling mountain lion, ears flattened, preparing to pounce from its perch of an old dead tree trunk. Josh's senses reeled as he fought to stay calm. "Dear Jesus"! He cried aloud. "Please, help me"! His heart raced as wildly as the thoughts that sped through his frightened mind. He knew he was in no position to defend himself against the fierce beast, yet neither would he even dare to attempt to flee from it. A frightened, escaping prey would only sharpen the cat's keen hunting instincts. Suddenly, faithful and courageous Butch bounded to the fore growling and barking ferociously at the menacing animal. The cat leapt from its vantagepoint narrowly missing Josh. Butch and the cat then tangled in savage battle. Butch's large, sharp fangs dug deep into the panther's hide, but the brawny cat was agile and quick. The cat's massive paw struck Butch with a long, sweeping blow that sent him tumbling dazed to the ground. Butch was a powerful dog, but Josh knew a puma was lethal when angry, and he feared brave Butch was no match for the enraged animal. He continued to pray desperately that the cat would by some miracle retreat. He threw stones at the cougar and waved his hands wildly, shouting at the cat in futile attempts to frighten it away. Butch was wounded, but he fearlessly continued to protect his young master. Josh could see that Butch was tiring as he continued to battle with the animal, and the puma was proving to be too powerful for the already battered dog.
Suddenly, the crack of gunfire echoed through the hills. The startled puma cringed in fright, then bolted away into the brush and was gone leaving Josh and Butch standing alone in the silent weald. Josh spun, and there on a small hill in the shadows of the dark fur trees was the silhouette of an Indian brave. Josh stood for a moment staring in wonder at the tall, stately figure. Then the Indian, as if anticipating the little white boy's notion to approach, turned and disappeared silently into the forest.
Josh fell to his knees and hugged Butch who was limping and blood stained. He ripped the tail of his shirt to use as a bind for the gash in good Butch's leg. Josh felt miserable as he thought of the danger that he had put both himself and Butch into. He knew that it was only the Lord that had protected them both from being killed by the mountain lion. Then he remembered the shot that was fired. "Who was the mysterious brave that had come to their rescue"? He wondered. "Where did he come from"? "How did he know that we were in danger"? "And why did he vanish so quickly away without so much as a word"? Then Josh recalled that he had noticed something light and airy flutter to the ground as the Indian turned to leave. Maybe there was something there that could yield a clue as to who this mysterious guardian might be. Upon inspecting the hill where the Indian brave had been Josh found a beautifully colored feather that had no doubt fallen from the braves headband. He lingered awhile admiring it's beauty, but then remembering that the cougar could perhaps return he quickly slipped the feather into his trouser pocket and hurried off home before something worse befell Butch and him.
That night, as he lay on his bed Josh's thoughts were directed Heavenward. He thanked the Lord for His protection and care and for the empyreal protector that was sent to his aid that evening in the forest.
Josh's musings were interrupted by a gentle knock. With a familiar creek Mother cracked the old wooden door and peered in. "Good night dear". She whispered. "Have you said your prayers"? " Yes ma'am". Answered Josh. "I love you Mother". Mother walked over and tucked the patchwork quilt snuggly around Josh's shoulders and softly kissed his forehead. " You gave your father and me quite a scare today Josh." She said, running her fingers tenderly through his thick red hair. "We are very thankful that the Lord kept you". She continued. Josh smiled. How thankful he was to be safely home in his soft, warm bed.
Joshua's mother, Mrs. Davidson, was a tender and loving woman. Some of the town's folk in high society regarded her as plain, but her modest, unassuming manner made her natural beauty radiate. It was her firm belief that the Lord had called her to the ministry of motherhood and that is what she was happiest doing. She would keep her beautiful, brown hair braided and rolled into a neat bun in back and pinned with a lovely gold and ivory clasp that had been passed down to her from her grandmother. Sarah, Joshua's three-year-old sister, would often sit at night and watch as mother brushed out her long, soft tresses in front of the looking glass that Father had bought her some years before for Christmas. The flickering flames of the fireplace cast such a beautiful golden glow on Mother that she seemed almost angelic to Sarah. Sarah was the youngest in the family and her father's pet. She was a good-natured child, with golden hair and rosy, dimpled cheeks. Her father called her his "Little dumpling" because, he would say playfully, she was as plump as one.
Life was simple and happy on the farm and the Lord blessed the Davidson's with all they needed. A few days after hearing of Joshua's experience in the forest with the cougar father Davidson announced at the supper table that he had decided to give the Indian village a visit to see if he could find the one that helped Josh, and somehow thank him. Josh pleaded with his father to let him go along. "It's all right with me so long as your mother has no objections". Said father. Mrs. Davidson looked anxiously at Father and remarked, "William dear, going to an Indian camp could be very risky for both you and Joshua". "Are you quite sure this is the right thing to do"? "Well, Catherine", Replied Father, "I have committed this to prayer and I feel certain that we should make the trip". "Not only do fur traders frequently visit the camp, but if the Indians were intending to do us harm surely the Indian brave would have done so when he had the opportunity in the forest the other day". " Why, I've heard tell that some of the Indians have even converted to Christianity and welcome white men"! Joshua looked pleadingly at his mother. Mrs. Davidson smiled reluctantly, then she nodded her consent. "But," she added, holding up a finger for effect, "you'll have to make sure you do your chores and catch up on your school work before you can go." "I will, I promise!" said Josh, and so it was all set. In the morning Josh and his father were to go to the Indian village!
It was still early when Josh awoke the next morning. From his window the eastern sky was tinted pale yellow with the rising sun and in the farmyard the red rooster was heralding the dawning of a new morning. Down stairs he could hear his mother busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast. The smell of freshly baked biscuits, bacon and eggs, and piping hot coffee filled the crisp morning air. Josh jumped out of bed and quickly slipped into his clothes. He was excited about going to the Indian village with his father. After washing up, everyone was seated around the table and all heads were bowed in reverent prayer as father offered grace, thanking the Lord for His bountiful supply and protection. After breakfast Father went to the barn and began hitching Jack, their mule, to the wagon and then to load the needed supplies for their journey.
The trip would take a full day so they would need food, father's gun for safety, and gifts for the Indian chief. For the gifts they loaded several yards of Mother's calico clothe, store bought sugar and an extra bridle that Father had hanging in the barn. After everything was set Mother and Father had a word of prayer, then Father geed up ol' Jack. Mother and Sarah waved good-bye as the wagon rolled down the two-rut lane that led from their farm to the main road.
Father whistled merrily as the wagon creaked along the shady road towards the village. The air was sweet with the smell of late-summer flowers and a gentle breeze made the trip refreshing. The only other life around was the wildlife that was abundant in the region. Chattering squirrels scurried along the branches overhead and an occasional cottontail would scamper along the roadside then quickly dart into the brush and out of sight. A cheery chorus of songbirds filled the air and blended with the rustling leaves of the tall poplars in a glorious ovation to God's wonderful creation.
As they traveled along Josh noticed the trees began to be fewer and fewer and the ground was dustier and dryer. Finally Father pulled the reigns tight and brought the wagon to a stop. There in front of them was the prairie and on it rose several columns of white smoke that reached high into the intense blue sky. "That is the Indian village". Said Father. Joshua was so excited that he could hardly stay in the wagon. As they rolled into the rustic camp the Indians stopped and stared at the two white intruders. Irregular longhouses made of bark dotted the camp and sleek Pinto ponies were tied to rough hitching posts. Some of the Indian squaws were carrying their papooses on their backs in buckskin pouches while others squatted by open fires roasting game and corn for their families. Down at the river, women washed clothes by hand while others hauled drinking water in buckskin buckets. But the camp seemed to come to a standstill as the white man's wagon rolled in. Josh began to feel a little nervous now, and if he were not with his father he didn't suppose he should have cared to stay there any longer. "They wouldn't harm us, would they, Father"? Josh asked, trying to conceal his uneasiness " No son, the Mohawks are friendly Indians". Replied Father. " They just haven't seen many white men". "I believe the Lord sent us here for a reason, so He'll take care of us". Then giving his son a reassuring pat on the leg they made their way on through the camp.
Father spotted the largest longhouse in the camp and told Josh that that would most likely be where the chief and his family lived. They climbed down from the wagon seat and began to walk slowly towards the hut when suddenly the animal skin that covered the entrance was flung back and out stepped the weathered old chief adorned colorfully in beaded buckskin and an ornate head dress of eagle's feathers on his head. He glared at the two white visitors for a moment then raised his hand. For a moment even Father felt a little uneasy. Then the chief spoke. " How"! He said in a low, coarse voice. Father approached the old chief and replied, " How"! Having now nearly exhausted his Indian vocabulary father wondered what should come next. Then the chief motioned for them to sit around the campfire. Hopefully this was a sign of acceptance. They sat crossed legged on straw mats on the ground and soon young Indian maidens brought them roasted venison and cornmeal cakes. Father offered his gifts to the chief and they were accepted graciously. As Mr. Davidson and Josh partook of the chiefs hospitality a tall young brave was summoned to come and sit at the chief's side. Minutes passed and no one spoke. Finally speaking slowly and deliberately father confessed, " I am truly sorry, but I don't speak enough of your language to communicate well." The old chief turned to the brave and muttered something. Then the brave spoke. " I am Tanawachiwan". "Chief cannot speak the tongue of white man, so he say I am to be his mouth and ears to speak and listen to you". Outwardly showing his relief, Father exclaimed, "Thank goodness you speak English! Otherwise I'm afraid our trip here may have been made in vain".
" You see, we came here to try to find a certain Indian brave who helped my son out of great peril several days ago". "Just as my son was in danger of being killed by a hungry cougar an Indian brave appeared and fired a shot into the air to frighten the animal away. Then after the danger was past the brave disappeared into the forest as quickly and mysteriously as he had appeared not giving us a chance to speak with him. We assumed that he was from this tribe and we wanted to find him and thank him and extend our friendship to him and your people if you will accept it". After hearing this through his translator the chief spoke again and Tanawachiwan interpreted." Chief say this brave you speak of can not be from Mohawk tribe. Mohawks have no thunder sticks as you say brave used to frighten great cat". It appeared their trip was to end with no more knowledge than before they had made the long journey to the camp. But, then Josh remembered the feather he had discovered at the spot where the brave had been. He pulled it from his pocket and held it up for the chief to see. " I almost forgot about this"? Exclaimed Josh. " I found this where the Indian brave stood ". The old chief's eyes widened in wonderment as he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes fixed on the child's possession. Taking the feather, he began to chant the mystic song of the Mohawks. Then he spoke quietly and gravely to the interpreter. Tanawachiwan spoke to father. "This feather is presented only to those who have passed from this life into world of Spirits". "Chief say, brave that helped your son can only be guarding spirit of Indians"! As taken back as the old chief, and more so, father inquired cautiously of Tanawachiwan, "Is the chief trying to tell me that the brave that saved my boy was in fact a spirit"? Tanawachiwan replied, " This is the belief of our people". Father really didn't know exactly how to react or what to say, but he could see that the chief was sincere in his belief and he was careful not to seem skeptical in his presence. Then the chief disappeared briefly into his hut and reappeared with brightly-colored necklaces, which he placed around Josh's neck. Then he took a long stemmed pipe decorated with odd carvings and feathers. "Now", whispered the young translator solemnly, " Chief will honor you with great honor because Indian spirit has appeared to the boy". " Chief say this is sign from Great White Spirit that you are also children of the forest as we are". "We will now smoke pipe of friendship together and chief will honor your son". After the chief had drawn large mouthfuls of smoke into his mouth and blown them into the air he passed the pipe to father Davidson who was less extravagant than the chief but nonetheless willing to follow the customs of the Mohawks. Smiling sheepishly, father drew a mouthful of the smoke and blew it quickly into the air. Then, at the chief's motion, he passed the pipe to Josh. Josh, taking a somewhat grander mouthful than his father, unceremoniously coughed and sputtered till he came nigh to dropping the pipe. The chief took the pipe and patted Josh on the back. Then to everyone's relief the old chief laughed and laughed. The drums were beat as strong young Mohawk men danced and chanted their traditional songs, and on that day a true friendship was born between the Davidson's and the Mohawk chief. Josh was put in the midst of the small group and the chief took a gourd and with his fingers smeared a yellowish, paint-like ointment on the boy's forehead. This was to symbolize that Josh was special to the chief.
JIM MATHESON
After the ceremony was over they bade the chief a friendly farewell and started to head homeward when they saw another white man heading up the dusty road to the Indian camp driving a team of four stout bay horses. As the wagon clamored closer Mr. Davidson was able to make out the familiar face of the burly man that sat at the reigns. It was Jim Matheson from Burlington. Matheson was a fur trader, emigrated from Ireland, and not like Mr. Davidson in the least, for he was a hard and selfish man. Jim pulled his team to halt and blurted out gruffly in his thick Irish accent, " Am I daft, or is it not Will Davidson from the settlement?" "What brings ya' all the way out here to the Indian village"? "Well you see・ Started Mr. Davidson. " Well, It doesn't make much difference to me why you're 'ere". Interrupted Jim, "So long as it's nothing to interfere with me fur trading with these savages then I suppose we'll not 'ave any trouble". "Well Jim", responded Mr. Davidson, "You know that I'm a farmer and not a merchant. My interest in these people has nothing to do with money. I came here seeking answers to・ Well, like I said it's not of much account to me why you're here. And as long as you don't get in my way, well, I won't get in yours and that way we'll be getting along just fine"! Jim pulled out a wedge of chewing tobacco and bit off a sizable plug. Tucking it back into his pocket, he commented, " That's a fine lookin' boy you got there Will Davidson. If I had as fine a boy as you have I don't suppose I'd be letting him mingle with these savage red skins. They're likely to influence him with their uncivilized ways ya' know"! I wouldn't trust one of these savages as far as I could throw me wagon"! Snorted Jim." Well, I've got a load of cheap Irish whiskey that I think might be a heap more interesting to these red savages than whatever you came out here for"! "Mr. Matheson". Reasoned Mr. Davidson. "I know you may not welcome this, but I've seen here today a great opportunity of reaching these needy people with the light of God's Word. Bringing them cheap whisky, and taking unfair advantage of these people could have the most undesirable consequences". " Listen 'ere Davidson, I'm not interested in any of your religious ways. You have your way and I have mine. I'm interested in one thing, and one thing only, and that's what I can get out of these uncivilized savages while I have the occasion to do it. You know as well as I do that with the expansion of civilization it won't be long till all the Indians be either killed off or driven up north to Canada anyhow. I intend to get what I can, while I can. Now like I said, Davidson, if you'd excuse me I've got business to do. Good day to 'ya Mr. Davidson" And with that he spat on the ground and geed up his team on to the camp. "Good day to you, Mr. Matheson". Muttered father under his breath. "Well that certainly didn't go very well". Sighed Father. Then rubbing Josh's thick red hair playfully he said, "Well son, we'd better be getting home or we won't have to worry about these Indians, Mother's going to skin us alive. Besides there's probably some of her hot apple pie waiting for us when we get there! I can taste it right now"!
That night, after the children were all in bed, Father related his trip to the Indian village and the chief's interpretation of Josh's experience with the Indian brave. He also told Mother how he had met with Jim Matheson. "He's a stubborn and selfish man and I just don't understand him!" Complained Father. " Well dear", Mother paused from her sewing,"you never know how Jim came to be that way. Maybe he's never had any real kindness shown to him. And besides, if the Lord did indeed lead you to that village as you say, well, maybe he brought Jim Matheson there for a reason too." Father smiled. " You're a truly remarkable woman Mrs. Davidson. As usual, you're right. What would I do without you"?
Over the next few months father continued to visit the Indian camp as time permitted. He developed a firm friendship with the chief and the young brave Tanawachiwan that translated for him. The young man was very intelligent and had a gift for languages. But, most of all he had a keen interest in learning the Bible and a great love for his people. Mr. Davidson had prayed with him to receive the Lord into his heart and he now felt strongly that Tanawachiwan could likely be the key to reaching the Mohawk tribe with the words of Jesus.
THE TRIP TO THE CITY
As autumn arrived on the farm the nights and mornings turned cool and brisk. Mrs. Davidson put extra blankets on the feather beds and hung warmer clothes and jackets in the children's closets. The farm was busier too with the harvest to be gathered and preparations being made for winter. Potatoes, pumpkins and bright red apples were stowed in wooden barrels in the barn. Onions and golden-yellow corn hung in bunches from the rafters, and the sweet smell of freshly cut hay wafted in the cool autumn air. Poets and song writers have assayed for ages to capture serene beauty such as that of this simple farm, and of the mountains and trees all ablaze with the resplendent colors of fall on their feeble lines. It's not difficult to see why the new land of America had been christened "God's Country".
Father announced at breakfast that he would be going into the city next Saturday to buy certain needed supplies, and that this time he would be taking the whole family with him. Joshua jumped for joy and little Sarah clapped her hands gleefully. Going into the city was a rare treat for any youngster that lived on a farm. There they would see fine ladies dressed in lace and carrying parasols. Men dressed in their Sunday best, even on regular days, and stores filled with toys. Father promised that they would indeed stop at the parlor and get a sarsaparilla, to which even Mother shrieked with delight.
Finally the day arrived that they were to go to town. Father and Mother dressed as though they were going to meeting, and Sarah looked like a "Lady doll". The confining clothes that Josh was wearing weren't even a bother to him, for he had but one thought in mind, and that was the throng of the city. Once they arrived, father went to the general store while mother took the children around to see the different shops and sights. She bought flannel for the children's bedclothes and denim for work clothes. Mother and the children had their sarsaparilla while father piled flour, sugar, salt, coffee and kerosene into the wagon. Finally, all the needed provisions were loaded and they were ready to head home. As father was stacking the last bag of supplies on to the buckboard a strong arm landed firmly on his shoulder. Turning, he found himself face to face with Jim Matheson who was grinning from cheek to cheek and reeking of whisky. "Well, if it's not the Indian evangelist"! Quipped Jim. " Oh, hello there Jim". " Fancy meeting you here". Replied Mr. Davidson, attempting to give the impression of busyness. " You know" Jim continued, "the last time I went out to the Indian village the reception there wasn't quite as warm as what I'm used to. It seems some of the red skins have acquired religion. You wouldn't know anything about that would ya' now Davidson"? This time Mr. Davidson looked Jim in the eyes and spoke in a firm tone, as he would to a naughty child. "Mr. Matheson, I've told you that I have seen an opportunity to spread God's Word to these, heretofore, ignorant Indians. I would think that if you were a man with any morals at all that you could at least respect the good that I'm trying to do and not to be found to hinder such a worthy enterprise as preaching the Gospel. And furthermore, even if we're unable to agree concerning this matter, I should think that we could at least agree to disagree"! Just as Jim was raising his finger to reply, the children came running excitedly to their father followed by Mrs. Davidson. Thankful for their timely return, Father took the opportunity to introduce his family, hoping if possible to soften Jim's heart. " Jim, these are my two children Josh and Sarah and this is my wife Catharine". Jim awkwardly tipped his hat. " Good day Ma'am, ・children." "Good day, Jim." Replied Mrs. Davidson politely. " I've heard about you from my husband". "Not much of it good I suppose". Said Jim stiffing up a bit, as he did when he became uneasy. "Oh, I wouldn't necessarily say that". Said Mrs. Davidson. "I believe he feels you could be a real asset to the noble undertaking he has of trying to reach the Indians at the camp with the Gospel". Jim was unable to reply for a moment, but then he turned to Mr. Davidson and in his usual curt manner retorted. "Now listen here Davidson. I'm not one to be discourteous to a man before his family, but I'm telling you that if your preaching continues to interfere with me fur trading then you ought to be expectin' trouble"! "Let that be a word of warning to the wise"! With that he tipped his hat brusquely and tramped away.
Mr. Davidson looked at his wife despairingly, " Dear, I really believe this man is bent on stopping me from reaching these precious Indians by whatever means it will take. We'll have to get desperate in prayer for this situation and ask the Lord to show us how to proceed from here".
ENEMIES WITHOUT
That night Mr. Davidson brought out the old family Bible and after prayer, read by candlelight passages from Psalms and Proverbs. Then he turned to the New Testament and read these words of Jesus. It says here in Matthew 5:11and 12, father quoted; "Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you". Then here a few verses later the Lord says, " Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven". " And again here it says" Yea, and all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution". "These passages are very clear". Said father. " We'll simply have to trust the Lord for His protection".
It wasn't long until father was making preparations to return to the Mohawk village. He had promised the chief and Tanawachiwan to come and speak with them of Thayendanega, a celebrated Mohawk chief that had attended Indian school when he was young in Connecticut and had been a missionary to his people for some time. Thayendanega had translated The Common Book of Prayers as well as parts of the New Testament into his native language. Mr. Davidson had learned of Thayendanega, better known among the white men as Joseph Brant, from the church in Burlington. Thayendanega was ill thought of by the colonists since he had sided with the British during the American Revolution and had now been forced to move to England. Mr. Davidson acquired copies of the priceless texts that Thayendanega had translated and was zealous to get them into the hands of the chief and Tanawachiwan. He discussed his plans with the church elders in Burlington, but Mr. Davidson was surprised to find that instead of giving him the support of the church, they had rather advised him to discontinue. They warned him that evangelism should be left to those ordained by the church to do so. This led to strong disputation and a falling-out between Mr. Davidson and the church elders. The elders gave a final warning to Mr. Davidson that if he continued to work as a minister of the Gospel without the proper ordination and permission of the denomination that he would also face the wrath of the church and it's elders, and possible excommunication. But, Mr. Davidson, firm in his convictions, parted without compromise.
Several weeks later, back in Burlington, Jim Matheson was busy loading crates of whiskey on to his wagon in preparation for his next trip to the Mohawk village. Just as Jim was set to climb on to the buckboard a tall, gaunt man dressed in black approached him. "Excuse me, good sir, but would you by chance be Mr. Jim Matheson"? His sunken eyes darted about nervously as he spoke. "Well, I suppose that depends on who would be doing the asking". Responded Jim roughly. " Well, let us just say that I represent a small, yet influential, group of "concerned" citizens that may share similar interests as you regarding a certain Mr. Davidson that frequently calls upon the Mohawk village for the purpose of, so-called, evangelism". The man spoke slowly and deliberately. "Aye". Responded Jim. "You've found the right man". The gaunt man's eyes drilled Jim. "We are especially interested in assuring that Mr. Davidson discontinues his practice of evangelizing the Indians, and we are willing to, let us say, "reward" the man that shall, by whatever means at his hand, stop him". " Soooo. You're coming here on behalf of the clergy of the religious community of Burlington". Taunted Jim. "Shhhhh"! Whispered the tall man uneasily. This is a matter of great sensitivity and we must be assured of your utmost discreetness in this affair." Well ". Thought Jim. "I certainly would be killing two birds with one stone if I were to be paid to stop me only competition"! Jim then replied, " How much of a "reward" would you be offering now, Mr.・ Jim paused, waiting for a response. " I'm afraid you'll have to go without knowing my name. But, we are willing go as high as 20 dollars to preserve order in our religious community". Jim rubbed his beard thoughtfully, " You make those dollars, Spanish dollars and we'll have a deal". " Very well", replied the tall stranger, " Spanish dollars". With that Jim said definitely, "Done"! The tall man smiled shrewdly. " Very well then, you shall get your "reward" when we see that our friend Davidson is convinced that he no longer has any business with the Indians". " Just one more thing". Inquired Jim. Not that I'm particularly troubled about it, but why are you so bent on stopping Davidson"? " Very well, Mr. Matheson, since you obviously expect considerably more straightforwardness of me than I expect of you, I'll answer your question". " You see, when someone begins to work outside the clergy it tends to give the common folk the idea that they may worship the Lord without the church's assistance. This positively can't be tolerated, as it would undoubtedly result in the loss of many of our parishioners. Loss of members, quite frankly, means loss of income". So, as you can see, it's to our advantage that Mr. Davidson discontinues his apostate evangelism".
ANOTHER EERIE ENCOUNTER
It was less than a fortnight before Mr. Davidson had made plans to bring the translated transcripts to Chief. The morning was cold and blustery as Mr. Davidson readied the wagon to go. The chilly wind whipped at Mr. Davidson's face as he lifted his collar and wrapped his woolen scarf snuggly over his ears. Cold drizzle began to fall as he made his way to see the old chief. This time he planned to deliver the translations and soon be on his way home since neither weather nor time allowed a prolonged stay. He thought of Josh and how he had pled to come with him on the trip, but this time both Mrs. and Mr. Davidson had felt that it would be better for Josh stay behind.
At home Josh sat peering through the window. The drizzle had now turned into a cold shower. Raindrops streamed down the windowpane and mother stoked the logs in the fireplace. "Do you believe that Father will be all right out in this weather, Mother"? Asked Josh. "Your father is well able to manage, dear". Don't worry, he'll be home before nightfall". Replied Mother." Then she added, "But I'm sure you have plenty to keep you busy until your father returns. And you can start by opening your school books now and starting on your schoolwork". After a while Josh noticed Mother walk to the window and stare out over the distance as if in hope that her confident words to Josh were indeed true.
Meanwhile, Jim Matheson was driving his heavily loaded wagon of spirits through the cold rain towards the Indian camp with the intention of not only trading his wares, but also of securing the "reward" that had been promised him. Jim had inquired beforehand from the Indians and learned of the time Mr. Davidson would be arriving. He was intent on being there before William Davidson, and when he made his mind to do something he was a hard man to dissuade. Jim's wagon slipped and slid as he careened over the rain soaked trails of the Kittatinny Mountains. By early afternoon the rain had began to pour. As Jim drove onward he was unaware that the untimely autumn rains had taken a toll on the heavy timber beams that supported the old wooden bridge spanning the Delaware River. Several of the main support beams had been so weakened that by now the bridge would scarcely hold Mr. Davidson's small wagon; much less the weight of Jim's double team and a wagon loaded with whisky. As Jim rounded a sharp curve on the narrow trail the soft earth gave way under the weight of the heavily loaded wagon sending it precariously close to the edge. Still Jim pushed his team through the pouring rain. Finally, there was the bridge that would bring Jim into Indian Territory. Approaching the bridge, Jim urged his team forward, but the horses reared and halted. Jim drew his whip and lashed the horses toward the bridge. As the wagon clamored over the flimsy structure the weak boards creaked under the strain of the weight. Swirls of muddy water raged below. The skittish horses pranced nervously over the bridge when suddenly the remaining pillar dislodged with a loud crack causing the whole bridge to lurch sideward. The frightened horses bolted and Jim could no longer hold them. The wagon slid on the slippery surface of the wet bridge sending one of the wheels off the edge. Tilting off balance, and under the weight of the heavy crates of whisky, the wagon, Jim and all his wares were plunged into the turbid depths of the swollen Delaware.
Mr. Davidson was slowly making his way over the muddy mountain pass. He was sure that coming out in such weather had been a foolish undertaking on his part as the wagon trudged through the mud. He was chilled to the bone and wanted to turn back, but something drove him onward toward the Indian village. He urged Jack on through the slippery, muddy ruts of the one lane road that wound through the mountains. Mr. Davidson knew from previous trips that he would soon be approaching the bridge that crossed over into Indian Territory. Soon his mission would be accomplished and he could be on his way back to his cozy fireplace and the warmth of home and family. Then, squinting curiously through the rain, he couldn't believe his eyes. There standing just in front of the bridge was the figure of an Indian brave pointing into the swirling water below. Mr. Davidson rubbed his eyes in disbelief, but sure enough the brave was trying to tell him something. After the brave was certain that Mr. Davidson had noticed him he disappeared into the misty forest, leaving father staring in wonderment. Climbing down from the wagon seat Father walked slowly to the bridge and peered cautiously into the swirling torrent. Then he heard something that sounded like・Could it actually be・ Yes! It was a faint cry for help. Someone was actually in distress somewhere on this mad river. His eyes desperately searched the riverbanks for some sign of who might be calling for help. Then he spotted something. A man waving feebly from an old tree that had fastened it's self to the river bottom.
Quickly father ran to the wagon and pulled out the long length of rope he kept there. He then tied one end of it to a nearby tree and the other end around his waste. Wading into the frigid water, he let the current take him out towards the desperate fellow. The water was freezing and father knew that he himself would not last long if he didn't get out of the water soon. The current pulled him closer and closer until finally the man was almost within reaching distance. In one desperate grasp he reached to take hold of the fellow. Suddenly he realized that the one he was attempting to rescue was none other than Jim Matheson. But there was no time to waste. Father could see that Jim was suffering from hypothermia, and if he weren't seen to promptly he would not live. Father hoisted Jim onto his back and started pulling with all his strength to draw them both to safety. The current was strong and Mr. Davidson was growing numb from the icy-cold water. He prayed for strength; strength that seemed to be leaving him now as the icy water tensed his every muscle. He felt his legs commencing to cramp. " Dear Jesus, You can't allow my legs cramp now"! " Please give me strength to hold on a little longer"! The bridge looked miles away as he strove against the icy current. Jim's body was limp and heavy, making the struggle even more difficult. Finally, the shore was coming within reaching distance. Father's muscles were burning from the strain. Then, at last, his feet touched solid ground near the bank. He pulled Jim onto the shore and collapsed in exhaustion. Although his strength was almost gone he dared not linger, as he knew Jim's life depended on him. Hoisting the big man up into the back of the wagon, he covered him with his own coat and headed homeward. Jim was barely conscious by the time they reached the Davidson's farm. Father stumbled in the front door and called for Catherine to prepare warm wraps and a bed for Jim. " Heaven's sake, William". Exclaimed Mrs. Davidson. "What on earth has happened to you"? " There's no time to explained now, dear". Said Mr. Davidson. " I'll be much obliged if you'll make haste now to get those wraps". "And if you could, get a pair of my long flannels to dress Jim in". Father called for Josh to help get Jim out of his wet cloths and into bed". Mother brought extra blankets to put on Jim and father added logs to the fireplace. Butch barked and raised a ruckus when he saw Jim being carried into the house and Little Sarah, being frightened by all the commotion, began to cry. But before long things began to settle down.
At last mother realized father was still in his wet clothes. "Dear me, William Davidson!" Exclaimed Mrs. Davidson. " You'd better get those wet cloths off yourself, or you'll catch your death"! Soon, father was changed and seated by the warm fireplace, toasting his shins and sipping hot chicken broth.
"What a day this has been"! Exclaimed father. "And who could have guessed that of all the people on earth, I would save the life of Jim Matheson"? "The Lord works in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform"!
Next morning Jim was awake and feeling better. Mother brought him hot coffee and fresh buttered bread. Mr. Davidson sat down by Jim and expressed his sorrow that he had lost his team and wagon. " My wife and I are truly regretful that you lost so much, Jim, but that the Lord has spared your life, for that we give thanks".
Jim looked Mr. Davidson squarely in the eyes and told him, " William, what you did yesterday is something that has made you a better man than I. I'm thankful to be here lying in your bed and receiving every kindness at your family's hand. Recovering from what would have been certain death if you hadn't risked your life to save mine". " I'm ashamed to admit it now, but I had evil intentions towards you, William, but I'm going to make it up to you somehow".
Mr. Davidson looked thoughtful for a moment, then he replied. " Jim, I understand how you must feel, and I'm thankful for your honesty with me". " But I want to let you know that what I did yesterday, I did as unto the Lord". The only thing that I ask in return is that we can somehow work together for the glory of God ". " I'd like to take this time to explain something to you, Jim". " You see, you are thankful to me for saving your life, and rightfully so, for so I did. But I'd like to bring to mind that Jesus gave His life for both you and I that we might be saved. And not you and I only, but for all His children on the earth. You are thankful to me for saving your life, but I am likewise thankful to the Heavenly Father that he sent His Son to save my life and give me eternal life with Him in the hereafter". "But I can never pay Him back, Jim, and all He asks in return is that we keep His commandment to "Love the Lord our God with all our hearts, souls and minds and that we love our neighbors as ourselves". "Jim, if you pray with me now to receive the Lord, that's reward enough for me".
" You know", Said Jim. "I think I'm finally beginning to understand what you've been trying to tell me all this time William". And with that Jim humbly bowed his head and prayed with Mr. Davidson, and his heart was changed from that day. He acquired a job in the city at Taylor's Shoe Store. Jim's acquaintances were astounded when they saw the change in his life and his conversion caused no small stir amongst the clergy of Burlington.
Mr. Davidson's work with the Indians prospered more than ever. The old chief came to know the Lord and many of the tribesmen learned of the Bible from Tanawachiwan. Although the clergy never accepted Mr. Davidson's evangelism, they did finally leave him be and the local farmers who knew and respected the Davidson family gave them their full support.
"Through one man's righteousness many are made righteous"; is a worthy moral for the reader.
One thing that puzzled Mr. Davidson, however, was just who the Indian brave was that so mysteriously appeared to him and his son in their times of great distress and need and offered his miraculous assistance. Was he in fact a guardian Angel, as the old chief believed? Josh never thought otherwise.
Did you like this story? How about sending an email to my buddy, Roger Fruchey and telling him so! Roger is interested in selling this story to a publisher.