of her eye, for the flush
of hope and happiness was there.

The dark deed was forgotten; and when, in the time that the leaves began
to fall, they prepared the wild rice for winter's use, Red Deer was
at her side.

He was a good hunter, and the parents were old. Red Deer ever kept them
supplied with game--and winter found her a wife, and a happy one too;
for Red Deer loved her in very truth--and the secret of the death of the
medicine man was buried in their hearts.

CHAPTER VI.

Ten years had passed away since their marriage, and Red Deer had never
brought another wife to his teepee. Harpstenah was without a rival in
his affections, if we except the three strong boys who were growing up
beside them.

Chaske (the oldest son) could hunt for his mother, and it was well that
he could, for his father's strength was gone. Consumption wasted his
limbs, and the once powerful arm could not now support his
drooping head.

The father and mother had followed Cloudy Sky to the world of spirits;
they were both anxious to depart from earth, for age had made them
feeble, and the hardships of ninety years made them eager to have their
strength renewed, in the country where their ancestors were still in the
vigor of early youth. The band at Lake Calhoun were going on a hunt for
porcupines; a long hunt, and Harpstenah tried to deter her husband from
attempting the journey; but he thought the animating exercise of the
chase would be a restorative to his feeble frame, and they set out
with the rest.

When the hunters had obtained a large number of those valued animals,
the women struck their teepees and prepared for their return.
Harpstenah's lodge alone remained, for in it lay the dying man--by his
side his patient wife. The play of the children had ceased--they watched
with silent awe the pale face and bright eye of their father--they heard
him charge their mother to place food that his soul might be refreshed
on its long journey. Not a tear dimmed her eye as she promised all
he asked.

"There is one thing, my wife," he said, "which still keeps my spirit on
earth. My soul cannot travel the road to the city of spirits--that long
road made by the bravest of our warriors--while it remembers the body
which it has so long inhabited shall be buried far from its native
village. Your words were wise when you told me I had not strength to
travel so far, and now my body must lie far from my home--far from the
place of my birth--f