These animals were an easy prey, and their capture was a new source of sport for the boys.
On the 28th I retired to the summit of a neighboring mountain, to read the vespers of St. Michael. The atmosphere was unusually serene; not a sound disturbed the silence of nature. I gazed on the quiet beauty of the scene, hushed, as it were, in the presence of God, and my heart dilated at the thought of the thousands of unconverted Indians, buried in the darkness of idolatry. Full of these thoughts, I raised my eyes, and, excited as my imagination was, it seemed to me that I beheld the archangel, Michael, standing on the opposite mountain, exclaiming, "Deluded nations! Who is {387} like unto God?" The voice resounded through the forests—it was echoed by the deep ravines. I fancied it was heard and understood by the wild children of the woods; their responding shouts rung in my ear. Yielding to the enthusiasm of my feelings, I hastily quitted my elevated position, and erected a wooden cross on the summit of a neighboring eminence. Some days after, a hunter discovered, near the half-consumed embers of an extinguished fire, a similar cross, to which a banner was attached. My first thought was, that it had been planted there by some Catholic, who had lost his way in the forest, and been devoured by the wolves. The Flat-Heads, however, well acquainted with the practices of their ancient foes, the Black-Feet, informed me that it was a custom among them to erect these crosses to the moon, in order to render her favorable to the robbery or chase, in which they were about to engage. This information dispelled the pleasing fancies in which I had indulged; and painfully reminded me that the God-Saviour is yet far from being adored in these wild abodes. May we not hope that the time will yet come, when the banner
