o them; they neither saw his form, nor heard his voice or
steps, and this gave new cause for surprise. Astonishment,
disappointment, rage, alternately filled his breast, while he
attempted to make himself heard, seen, or felt, and found that he had
lost the power to do either. He followed their track, however, with
great diligence. Whereever they went, he went; when they walked, he
walked; when they ran, he ran; when they encamped, he encamped; when
they slept, he slept; when they awoke, he awoke. In short, he mingled
in all their labours and toils; but he was excluded from all the
sources of refreshment and enjoyment, except that of sleeping, and
from participating in their conversation, for nothing, he said, was
attended to. He saw them eat the sweet flesh of the deer, and the
delicious dish compounded of corn and bison-meat, but no portion came
to him; he saw them bend joyfully over the pleasant fire, which
administered no reviving warmth to his shuddering limbs. He heard them
recount their valiant deeds, but he was unable to tell them how much
his own exceeded theirs; he heard them paint the joys which awaited
their return to their homes, but wanted the power to say that he too
had relatives and kindred not less loving and beloved than theirs.

"Is it possible," he exclaimed, with bitterness, "that you do not hear
me--that you do not understand me? Will you suffer me to bleed to
death without offering to stanch my wounds?--Will you give me no
victuals to eat while your kettles are overflowing with the product of
a fortunate hunt, and even the dogs are fed upon the savoury bison
hump?--Have those whom I have so often led to war, so often enabled to
cry the shrill cry of victory, and display the pole filled with scalps
of hostile warriors, have they forgotten me?--Is there no one who
recollects me, or who will offer me a morsel of food in my
distress?--Am I indeed, as I fear, invisible to all?--Do I cease to
wear the human form, and is my voice no longer a thing to be heard?"
Thus he continued to upbraid his friends at every stage of the
journey, but no one seemed to hear his words, or, if they heard his
voice, they mistook its sound for the winds of summer rustling among
the green leaves, and shaking the branches of the trees.

At length, the returning war-party reached their village, and their
women and children came out, according to custom, to welcome their
return, and proclaim their praises. _Kumaudjeewug! Kumau