The sun never sets in America

Chapter 8 The Gift of God
"Kill, kill these Indian savages."

"Fire!"

A strong gray war horse, wearing an American militia uniform, with a European-style saber at the waist, a militia captain with a beard, commanded his soldiers, and gave the order to fire at the Indians who were desperately fleeing in front.

bang... bang...

After a burst of gunfire, a series of Indians fell down in front of them. On their backs, blood flowed on the plains of central North America, watering the wildflowers and grasses on the roadside, which were particularly bright.

After watching it, people immediately feel that there is a strange and cruel beauty.

This kind of beauty is called life! !
"Sir, there are still a group of Indians running behind the mountain. Should we pursue them?" An officer walked up to Captain Hank and asked. As he spoke, he pointed to the building opposite. Very clear mountain peaks.

"Second Lieutenant, do you know what is the most important thing about catching prey?" Captain Hank did not answer the officer's words, but asked him in return.

"What is it, sir?" the second lieutenant asked Captain Hank with some confusion. He couldn't understand what the relationship between chasing a group of Indians who had no will to fight had to do with hunting.
"That is, for beasts that have been injured and have escaped into the mountains, do not pursue them, because they will harm you." Captain Hank explained to the second lieutenant, using his experience and lessons from hunting with his father, Old Hank. "They are beasts after all, aren't they?" Captain Hank said calmly, not treating the Indians as human beings at all.

Plain and natural.

To all Americans, Indians?
They were just a bunch of beasts, not human beings at all.

After all, this is what the propaganda has always been. If this is the case, why are you so polite?

Killing them like a hunter is the greatest kindness to these Indians.

American arrogance and cover-up of the crimes they have done are so naked in this era.

It's not like the later generations, who still have to hide it anyway.

The nineteenth century was the most barbaric and disorderly era for mankind.

In this era, only force can represent everything.

As for those countries and nations that cannot protect themselves in this era, they will either disappear in the long river of history or suffer humiliation.

In 1840, the curtain of the era was slowly opening.

On the ground, a group of American militiamen were scalping Indians, a symbol of their victory and proof of reward.

After burning the dead Indian corpses with missing scalps on fire, more than 200 American militiamen headed for the nearest American stronghold at Captain Hank's order.

On a big tree, a young Indian boy looked at the departing American militiamen with hatred, and then glanced at the corpses of his tribesmen who were being burned.

He wiped his tears, and after burying it for a while, he left this place that made him heartbroken.

Before leaving, the Indian boy named Lansha stared at the plain and a small area of ​​forest not far away, and then ran towards the mountain peak that was agreed upon at the beginning without looking back.

.............................................

At night, a bright bonfire illuminates the entire camp.

It brings a long-lost warmth to the mountain forests where the temperature has dropped.

The camp was full of Indians wearing animal skins and even cotton clothes.

Either sit, lie down, stand, wander or patrol.

It looks no different than usual.

But if you look closely, you will find that these people's faces are not very good-looking.

He had a sad face, and even showed expressions of grief and hatred from time to time.Some people with poor mental qualities just howled on the spot to vent their inner fear and pain, as well as their hatred of Americans.

"Elder, what should we do? There are basically those evil white people on the way back now." Around a bonfire, a mountain man wearing leather armor, with red and blue fuel on his face, and bright feathers on his head Tahu, the warrior of the Ta tribe, said to Tamu, the elder of the Shanta tribe, with some concern. His words were filled with hatred for Americans and white people.

After all, just today, a full third of the Shanta tribe, more than 500 people, died on the plain they called the Land of Weeping Blood more than ten kilometers away.

No matter what, the people of the Shanta tribe will never forget this kind of hatred.

"God tells us that everything is fate." The elder looked at the lost tribesmen in the camp with a sad face, and recited a divine prophecy to calm everyone's nerves that were about to collapse.

"The destiny of our Shanta tribe is in the west, in the west with the vast sea." The elder suddenly stood up and said to everyone in the camp, with a look of determination on his old face with age spots.

The elder's words cheered up all the Shanta tribe members in the camp, and rekindled hope in their already collapsed hearts.

"We will live, and our descendants, the descendants of our Shanta tribe, will survive." The elder continued to assure everyone present loudly, "In the west, on the other side of the mountain, we will be like our ancestors Live with dignity." The elder shouted with excitement to all the people of the Shanta tribe.

Expectation and desire were revealed on everyone's faces.

dignity?

What a distant vocabulary!
Only a young man named Lansha was not as excited as the people around him, and even had tears in his eyes.

"If you live with dignity, can you live in the West?"

"Are you going to avenge your clan members?"

This was the thought that flashed through Lan Sha's mind.

For Lansha, who witnessed the brutality of white Americans with his own eyes, revenge was the only thought that kept him alive.

The so-called going to the west, to the other side of the mountain, in his opinion, is an escape and a symbol of cowardice.

This will only make those brutal enemies more rampant, and there will be no so-called peace.

Peace cannot be obtained by retreating and forbearing.

Lansha, a 14-year-old Indian boy from the Shanta tribe, keeps thinking about these issues that are very profound for other Indians.

"God said he would give us strength, he would give us spears, he would give us fire."

"Help us withstand the cold and get food."

"God says that lonely souls will eventually find rest."

"The earth will regain its vitality, and people will get everything they want."

In the camp, all the Indians of the Shanta tribe, led by the elders, sang this song of God's gift that has been passed down for hundreds of years.

Under the light of the bonfire, everyone was so pious and peaceful, as if they had forgotten the pain of the day.

Like a line from this song.

God says that lonely souls will eventually find rest!
Lansha, who was only 14 years old, looked at everything in front of him indifferently, listening to the sweet songs, with a strange light shining in his eyes.

At this moment, he finally understood his mission.

Let all Indians live.

Live with dignity! !
(End of this chapter)