Thus will nature assert her right in the hearts of all her children; but the Chippeway closed his eyes to all, save the effort of appearing indifferent to his sufferings. Again he sung his death-song, while the Sioux stretched themselves upon the grass, eating the tender venison which had been prepared for them, occasionally offering some to the Chippeway, advising him to eat and be strong, that he might bravely walk on his journey to the land of souls. While the Dacotas were eating and resting themselves, the Chippeway chaunted his death-song; his son, apparently, was unmoved by his own and his father's desperate situation, but the daughter no longer endeavoured to restrain her grief. Exhausted from fatigue and fasting, she would gladly have known her own fate, even if death were to be her mode of release from her distressing position. The Indians frequently offered her food. Chashé tried to persuade her to eat: she indignantly rejected the attention, her whole soul absorbed in her father's painful situation. She saw there was no hope: even had she not understood their language, she could have read all in the fierce glaring eyes of her enemies, the impatient gestures of the men, and the eager, energetic movements of the women. The latter were not idle: they were making arrangements for the burning of the prisoner. Under his feet they piled small round pieces of wood, with brush conveniently placed, so as to kindle it at a moment's warning when all should be ready. To their frequent taunts their victim paid no attention: this only increased their anxiety to hasten his sufferings, young and old uniting their strength. One woman struck him with the wood she was about to lay at his feet, another pierced him with the large thorn she had taken from the branch she held; but the loudest cries of merriment and applause greeted the appearance of an old creature, almost bowed together with the weight of a load she was carrying, large pieces of fat and skin, which she was to throw in the blaze at different times when it should be kindled. The glare of day could not have made more perceptible the horrid faces of the savages than did the brilliant moonlight. Every sound that was uttered was more distinct, from the intense quiet that pervaded all nature. The face of the victim, now turned to the sky, now bent in scorn over his enemies; that of his son, pale, proud, and indifferent; the unrestrained grief of the girl, who only raised her head to gaze at her father, then trembling, with sobs, hid it deeper in her bosom; the malignant triumph of the Sioux men, the excitement and delight of the women;--all these were distinctly visible in the glowing brightness of the night.