s while in the Ute country, you would
not be lonely on the spirit path."

He withdrew, and laid the doorflap reverently back in its place. How
long he stood without the threshold he could not tell. He stood with
head bowed down upon his breast, tearless and motionless, utterly
oblivious to everything save the bier of his beloved. His charger grazed
about for a long time where he had left him, but at last he endeavored
by a low whinny to attract his master's attention, and Antelope awoke
from his trance of sorrow.

The sun was now hovering over the western ridges. The mourner's throat
was parched, and perspiration rolled down his cheeks, yet he was
conscious of nothing but a strong desire to look upon her calm, sweet
face once more.

He kindled a small fire a little way off, and burned some cedar berries
and sweet-smelling grass. Then he fumigated himself thoroughly to dispel
the human atmosphere, so that the spirit might not be offended by his
approach, for he greatly desired to obtain a sign from her spirit.
He had removed his garments and stood up perfectly nude save for the
breechclout. His long hair was unbraided and hung upon his shoulders,
veiling the upper half of his splendid body. Thus standing, the lover
sang a dirge of his own making. The words were something like this:

Ah, spirit, thy flight is mysterious!

While the clouds are stirred by our wailing,

And our tears fall faster in sorrow--

While the cold sweat of night benumbs us,

Thou goest alone on thy journey,

In the midst of the shining star people!

Thou goest alone on thy journey--

Thy memory shall be our portion;

Until death we must watch for the spirit!

The eyes of Antelope were closed while he chanted the dirge. He sang it
over and over, pausing between the lines, and straining as it were every
sense lest he might not catch the rapt whisper of her spirit, but only
the distant howls of coyotes answered him. His body became cold and numb
from sheer exhaustion, and at last his knees bent under him and he sank
down upon the ground, still facing the teepee. Unconsciousness overtook
him, and in his sleep or trance the voice came:

"Do not mourn for me, my friend! Come into my teepee, and eat of my
food."

It seemed to Antelope that he faltered for a moment; then he entered
the teepee. There was a cheerful fire burning in the center. A basin
of broiled buffalo meat was placed opposite the couch o