rship the Great Spirit and His Son, as he tells you, and do not do as
I am doing!'

"Then, as we saw his mind was weak, or he would not have asked for his
old things, we got him the old drum, and put it before him where he was
sitting upon the ground. We also hung up a medicine bag before him in
the wigwam, and he drummed. As he drummed he fell, and as he fell he
died. But his last words were to the young people with good memories to
be sure and listen to the Missionary, and to give up all their old
Indian sinful paganism."

When the young man ceased and sat down again, a deep silence fell upon
us all, as there we were huddled that cold, stormy day in that little
bark tent. An occasional sob from some sorrowing relative was the only
sound heard for several minutes.

My own heart was deeply affected when they told me these and other
things, which I cannot now call up, about the old Indian's death. After
a while I broke the silence by saying, "Where have you buried him?"

They showed me the place. It was where his wigwam had stood. So
terrible is the power of the Frost King in that land in winter, that to
dig a grave out in the open places is like cutting through a granite
rock. And so in his tent, where burned his fire, thus keeping the
ground unfrozen, there they dug his grave and buried him. The wigwam
was removed, and soon the fierce storms swept over the place, and the
snow fell deeply upon it, and there was nothing to indicate that there,
so shortly before, had been a human habitation.

When they had pointed out the place where, underneath the snow-drift,
rested all that was mortal of my old friend, I lingered until the
Indians had sought the shelter of their wigwams from the bitter cold,
and then all alone, except with Him Who hears His people's cry, I knelt
down in the snow and prayed, or tried to pray. But I could only weep
out my sorrow as I thought of this old man's precious soul passing into
eternity under such strange circumstances. With his waning strength he
exhorted his loved ones to be Christians, and yet he himself was
performing some of the foolish and unmeaning rites of paganism, not
because he had much faith in them, but because there was no Missionary
or teacher to keep in his memory the story of Jesus and His wondrous
love!

Never before did the wants and woes of the weary, waiting, wailing
millions of earth's perishing ones rise up so vividly as I knelt there
in the snow. Before