The Cree Powows who had watched the sick man during the night, had left the lodge as soon as daylight set in, to collect materials for a great burnt offering they deigned to make, as a last resource, in front of the Pince's dwelling. As Henrich and Jyanough rose from their knees, the heathen priest entered, bearing strings of wampum, articles of furniture, of clothing, food, tobacco, and everything of any value that they had been able to obtain from the friends of Terah. All these various articles were displayed before the dim eyes of the invalid, for whose benefit they were to be reduced to a heap of useless ashes; and a faint smile of satisfaction passed over Terah's countenance: but he spoke not. Jyanough then bent down, and pressed his lips to the cold brow of his almost unconscious uncle, and hurried with Henrich from the lodge; for he could not bear again to witness any repetition of the heathen ceremonies that had caused him so much shame the preceding day: neither could he endure to see his last relative leave the world, surrounded by a spiritual darkness which it was not in his power to dispel. The young friends took their way into the forest, that they might be beyond the sight and the sound of those rites that were about to be performed for the recovery of one who had already begun to travel through ‘the valley of the shadow of death.’ They had not, however, gone far in a westerly direction, before they chanced their intention, and resolved to return to the village. The cause of this change of purpose was their meeting with a band of Cree warriors, who had gone out, some weeks previously, on an expedition against a settlement of their enemies, the Stone Indians; and were now returning from the plains of the Saskatchawan, laden with spoils. Many of the Crees bore scalps suspended from their belts, as bloody trophies of victory; and all had arms, and skins, and ornaments that they had carried away from the pillaged wigwams of their foes.