rom the village where I have danced the dog feast,
and from the shores of the 'spirit lakes' where my father taught me to
use my bow and arrow."

"Your body shall lie on the scaffold near your native village," his wife
replied. "When I turn from this place, I will take with me my husband;
and my young children shall walk by my side. My heart is as brave now as
it was when I took the life of the medicine man. The love that gave me
courage then, will give me strength now. Fear not for me; my limbs will
not be weary, and when the Great Spirit calls me, I will hear his voice,
and follow you to the land of spirits, where there will be no more
sickness nor trouble."

Many stars shone out that night; they assisted in the solemn and the
sacred watch. The mother looked at the faces of her sleeping sons, and
listened to their heavy breathing; they had but started on the
journey of life.

She turned to her husband: it was but the wreck of a deserted house, the
tenant had departed.

The warrior was already far on his journey; ere this, he had reached the
lodge where the freed spirit adorns itself ere entering upon its
new abode.

Some days after, Harpstenah entered her native village, bearing a
precious burden. Strapped to her back was the body of her husband. By
day, she had borne it all the weary way; at night, she had stopped to
rest and to weep. Nor did her strength fail her, until she reached her
home; then, insensible to sorrow and fatigue, she sunk to the earth.

The women relieved her from the burden, and afterwards helped her to
bury her dead.

Many waters could not quench her love, nor could the floods drown it. It
was strong as death.

Well might she sit in her lodge and weep! The village where she passed
her childhood and youth was deserted. Her husband forgotten by all but
herself. Her two sons were murdered by the Chippeways, while defending
their mother and their young brother.

Well might she weep! and tremble too, for death among the Dahcotahs
comes as often by the fire water purchased from the white people, as
from the murderous tomahawk and scalping-knife of the Chippeways.

Nor were her fears useless; she never again saw her son, until his body
was brought to her, his dark features stiff in death. The death blow was
given, too, by the friend who had shamed him from listening to his
mother's voice.

* * * * *

What wonder that she should not heed the noise of the