Let us get ready our richest clothes. We may go over the border, and Netnokwa wishes to be fine when she meets her warriors who have gone before her, to the happy hunting grounds of the Great Spirit.” “Oh! mother,” cried Gay, rushing into the arms of Netnokwa, “it is I who have done this. You loved me, and preserved me, and I have called down the vengeance of the Prophet upon you.—Oh! that I were dead.—Wilt thou pardon me?—I did not intend it.” “Rise, daughter,” said Netnokwa, gently unclasping Gay's hands, “Why weeps ‘Sweet Flower?’ Is it that Netnokwa is going to her long home? Like the old oak, she has spread out her arms to shelter her tribe; but her branches are now withered. She is no longer the green bough:—why should she remain? The blasted tree only tells of the storms which have passed. Netnokwa is tired of journeying. The end of her path will make her glad.” “But, oh! mother,” cried Gay, “I have brought ruin upon you; and what will become of Miskwa?” “She will follow her mother, if she is a trueborn maiden,” said Netnokwa. “Why weep that the fountain bursting forth, soon finds its way to the big lake? Why lament that the flower clothed in beauty, is cut down in summer? Why grieve that her path is short, and her journey soon ended? Netnokwa has been travelling long to her happy hunting grounds. The way is bad.—Her feet are bruised and sore with travel, and her arms wear the marks of thorns and briars. The face of ‘Sweet Flower’ is like the snow, but her heart is that of a red maiden,—she shall go with us; Netnokwa will tell the Great Spirit that her heart is good, and ask him to let her stay with his red children.” Gay could make no reply, her feelings were too strong for utterance, and she continued weeping. Fancy never sketched a lovelier being, than was Miskwa at this moment; having composed herself, she stood drawn up to her full height, apparently firm, and manifested the hitherto undeveloped energies of her character. All fear was banished, and she stood calmly listening to the words of her mother, and struggling to keep down her sympathy for her friend. When Netnokwa finished speaking, Gay turned from her, and weeping, her eyes met Miskwa's; there was an eloquent interchange of thought, and starting forward, she again threw herself on her bosom. Miskwa spoke not; but her feelings were awakened by the sufferings of her friend, and though silent, she proved how deeply she felt; for two streams, which had their source in as pure an affection as ever kindled a human bosom, flowed fast and free. Netnokwa now reminded them of the hour which Kenah had mentioned, as the time when they must set out upon their journey. It was sooner than the maidens expected, and Gay now mentioned what before she had only thought. “Oh! Miskwa, what will become of Rolfe and Oloompa, and how sadly will they be disappointed. Oh! that they had come before this.”