Free The Drums of Change by Janette Oke

He has great promise.
    I have enjoyed long talks with Chief Calls Through The Night. He tells me he wishes to learn more from the Black Book, as he calls the Bible. But he has reservation about accepting the words of the Book.
    It is not that he wouldn’t like to accept them. It is that he is afraid to give up the Indian teachings that have been handed down to him from his father and grandfather. If I could truthfully say that he could embrace the two faiths as one, I am sure he would have no hesitation. But I cannot do that. The Bible is clear that there is only one God and only one path that leads to Him.
    I have such a love for these beautiful people. My heart yearns to bring them to Christ. I pray daily for wisdom in teaching them to know and accept the truth. Surely God, in His majesty and mercy, would be proud to call them His own.
    The chief knows that the buffalo are gone. He still clings to the hope that the people will be able to survive on other game. It will be difficult with so many hunters seeking sustenance, but he insists that Mother Earth will not let them perish. I wish I could help him to understand that only God can supply the needs of the people.
    I think that Silver Fox does understand. At least in part. But he is reluctant to disgrace his father by taking on a new religion. There is a great depth to the boy and a remarkable understanding of their situation. He will make a great statesman for his people.

    “We break camp at first light.”
    Chief Calls Through The Night stood, enshrouded in his blanket wrap, his hand lifted to his people as he made the announcement.
    Running Fawn was stunned. How could it be? Where would they go? What was the reason for leaving their mountain home?
    Question after question raced through her mind, but she had no opportunity to ask them.
    The chief had already dismissed the assembly, turning and slowly making his way back over the footpath to his tepee.
    There was silence. Total silence. People did not even stir. They looked at one another blankly, faces robbed of all expression. Then silently, heads down, they began to move toward their tents, steps silent on moccasined feet.
    But why? Running Fawn anguished over the question. Why? What can we gain by moving camp?
    She did not cry out. Did not even whisper. Her father answered some of her questions as he explained in a soft voice to her mother, “Chief fears for the people. Most game gone back into hills. Our last hunts were bad. No game. We will need food soon now.”
    Her mother did not question either man but nodded her head solemnly.
    They will come back. They will come back! Running Fawn wished to argue, but she knew that she was being foolish. The deer and elk would not return until after they had borne their young and cared for them on the high meadow grasses. The chief was right. They had to break camp.

    For two long months the little band ranged over the prairies, finding scant food supplies and becoming more hungry and more discouraged. Again weakened bodies threatened to succumb to illness or starvation. At last the chief could hold out no longer. After many consultations with the elders, he called the group together and issued his decision.
    “We will go,” he said sadly, his silver head bowed in submission, his once proud shoulders drooping in resignation. “We will go to Reserve land. We will take the treaty money. We can get food. We will go at first light.”
    Although there was sorrow at this step away from freedom and dignity, there was also unexpressed relief. At least there would be food. At least there would be shelter. They also would be among their own people, for many bands of the great Blackfoot Nation had already gathered on the Reserve. It really could not be too bad. Could it?

    Running Fawn’s small community adjusted more quickly to life on the Reserve than expected. Already some Blackfoot who had been there for the last two years had planted gardens and were raising crops in broken