And I thought of our trivial and petty and warring sects, and was silent and ashamed.
The Wyandotte wiped his powerful jaw with a handful of dead leaves, and looked coldly around at the little circle of men who differed with one another so profoundly in their religious beliefs.
"Is this then the hour and the place to discuss such matters, and irritate the Unseen ?" All eyes were instantly turned on the pagan; the Oneidas seemed troubled; the Sagamore serious.

Only the Christian Indian remained placid and indifferent, his Testament suspended in his hand.

But he also was listening.
As for me, I knew as well as did the others what the pagan and burly Wyandotte meant.
To every Indian--even to many who had been supposedly converted--air, earth, and water still remained thronged with demons.

The vast and sunless wilderness was peopled with goblins and fairies.

No natural phenomenon occurred except by their agency.