They came to the spot where the young Indian sat by a grave; and tears were falling from his eyes as he gazed at the grass-covered mound, around which wore arranged several highly-carved and ornamented weapons, and articles of attire; and also a small quantity of firewood, and food, and tobacco, intended for the use of the departed on his long journey to the land of spirits. This is a well-known custom of most of the North American tribes; but the Crees have several superstitions peculiar to themselves, especially that melancholy one to which we have just alluded, and which subjects them to such lengthened sorrow and disappointment; for they watch and look for the return of their lost and lamented friends, who can never come again to gladden their eyes on earth. O that they were taught to place their hopes of a blessed reunion with those they love on the only sure foundation for such hopes--even on Him who is 'the Resurrection and the Life!’ Then they need never be disappointed. It was this strange expectation of the reappearance, in human form, of the lately dead, that occasioned the incident we have just related. An epidemic disease had been prevalent in the Cree village; and, among those who had fallen victims to it, Uncas, the eldest orphan son of the principal man of the village, was the most deeply regretted, and his return was the most anxiously desired. Especially was this vain hope cherished by his younger brother Jyanough, to whom he had been an object of the fondest love and most unbounded admiration; and who daily, as the evening closed, took fresh food and water to the grave, and sat there till night closed in, calling on Uncas, and listening for his coming footsteps. Then he retired sadly to his wigwam, to lament his brother's continued absence, and to hope for better success the following evening. During each night the dogs of the village, or the wild animals of the forest, devoured the food designed for Uncas; but Jyanough believed it had been used by his brother's spirit, and continued still to renew the store, and to hope that, at length, the departed would show himself, and would return to dwell in his wigwam. When Haunch approached the grave, leading Oriana's pony, the mourner looked up, and gazed in his face again with that sad and inquiring look. But now it did not change to disappointment, for he knew that the stranger was not Uncas. There was even pleasure in his countenance as the clear glance of the English boy's deep blue eye met his own; and he rose from his seat at the head of the grave, and, going up to Henrich, gently took his hand, and said-- 'Will the white stranger be Jyanough's brother? His step is free, and his eyes are bright, and his glance goes deep into Jyanough's heart. Will the pale-face be the friend of him who has now no friend; for four moons are guile and Uncas does not answer to my call?'