an this, to lay down
one's life for one's friends."]

"Bob," said Shad at length, closing the Testament, "you knew her
first. Tell us about her."

Responding, Bob described how Sishetakushin and Mookoomahn, finding
him unconscious in the snow, had carried him to their lodge--the very
lodge in which they were now sitting; and how upon first opening his
eyes to consciousness he had seen her, weaving the web of a snowshoe,
opposite him, across the fire--just where she was lying now; and she
had looked up and smiled when she discovered he was awake. And then,
ever gentle, ever considerate, she had nursed him to health, and
ministered to him until he had left them.

When Bob had finished, Shad spoke of her never-failing thoughtfulness
and consideration. Of the encouragement of her example as,
uncomplaining, she followed the weary, endless trail day after day. Of
her hand lightly laid upon his shoulder as she looked into his eyes
and spoke words of encouragement he could not understand, but which
never failed to call him back to himself and his manhood and to banish
an impulse which frequently assailed him to give up the fight for
life, lie down in the snow and accept the release from suffering which
Death offered.

"But her crowning sacrifice," said Shad, "came when she refused to
leave me alone to die; and I certainly could not have survived had I
been left in this lodge without human companionship.

"Manikawan could have gone on with Mookoomahn and saved herself. He
went to you and told you of our need. He did well, but he did it
mainly to save himself. It was the instinct of self-preservation that
gave him inspiration to accomplish it. But she remained, and remaining
she gave me the only food that fell to her arrow, while she starved.
That was divine unselfishness--divine sacrifice."

Stepping to the side of Manikawan's lifeless body, he lifted and laid
aside the skin robe which covered her face, then kneeling at her side,
with tears upon his cheeks, he continued:

"Manikawan, your skin was red, but your soul was as white as the
driven snow that covers the desolate land of your people. Your
features are shrunken with starvation and suffering, but still they
are beautiful, for they reflect the beautiful, unselfish soul which
they once sheltered.

"Your lips smile. Did you see the glory of heaven as you passed from
us--a thousand times more beautiful than the brilliant aurora or the
gorgeous sunsets that glorify