But he only glared at me as he replied in such weak anger that my heart smote me, "Why dost thou torment me so, Thomas? Thou knowest I am David Seymour, thy own brother!"
"What meaneth he?" thought I to myself; "surely his hurt hath taken his mind from him so he knoweth not he is Brother Alburtus." Thinking it best to humor him I spake gently, "Yes, 'tis thy brother; what aileth thee?" To which he answered feebly, "The tree hath fallen on my head; take me to the cabin to 'Lisbeth and the baby."
"Surely," thought I, "we know not what we say when the mind is wrong," but still thinking it better to humor him I merely said, "Yea, as soon as help cometh we shall carry thee to them," whereat he smiled gratefully and lay back more contentedly.
But though I sat and shivered by the side of our brother for hour after hour, sheltering him from the cold with my cloak, I could see as the afternoon wore on, and his sighing and groaning grew fainter and weaker, that his days were numbered, and so with the sun's setting behind the hills to the other side of the valley, there was opened for our brother's coming, not the door of his humble cabin but instead the ever-shining gates of those mansions beyond the skies He hath prepared for his well-beloved children.
But now that the spirit of our brother had left its earthly prison house, I stood for a few moments and prayed earnestly that his soul might see clearly that which on earth had been shown darkly as through a glass, to our bewildered brother.
Then it came to me like a great shock, what was to be done with his body? At first, it seemed to me I could not let it lie in these cold, dreary mountains. And yet I could not unaided bear him to the Kloster. Neither was I certain I could find my way back on the morrow with the Brethren, for these hills were utterly strange to me. And yet, for such was my faith, though it may seem harsh to some, why could he not rest here as well as anywhere else? The imperishable, immortal soul had gone to its Maker; that which remained was merely the earthly shell that would mix with the elements, no matter where buried.
Much against my will I finally persuaded myself I must leave him in this wild, lonely spot. But I could not leave him exposed to the winds and the rain and the beasts of the woods, and yet I had nothing to dig up the hard frozen ground to make him a grave. And then just as I was about to give up in despair thinking I could do no better than cover him with brush, I saw a short distance farther up the mountain two long rocks, meeting at one end, but spread out at the other like a sharp angle, the opening toward me. Like a flash it came to me I could enrich these rough rocks by using them as a resting-place for Brother Alburtus.
I hastened up the hill and swept and scraped the snow out from between the rocks, making a bed of twigs on the hard earth. But it was no light task getting the great form of our brother up that steep slope, and more than once it seemed I must give up. But at last I did get him lying snugly between the two huge stones. Then I made a roof over him by laying heavy branches across the rocks, on top of the branches placing such heavy stones as I could loosen from the hard ground. In this manner I also closed up the end of my brother's death Kammer, and to help me find the spot, should I have call to revisit it, I rolled a large stone at the upper end of the little vault, and after a last prayer for the soul of our sainted brother, I left, sad at heart, but rejoicing I had been able to do these last honors for our dead.
It was dark when I started down the mountains and so rough and slippery was the way I had many a fall ere I reached the foot; but the longest and most toilsome way hath nevertheless an end, and though the night was well on when I reached my cell, I arrived none the less, safe and sound, only that our brethren were greatly alarmed at my absence, fearing I too had been captured by the Indians.
At the midnight meeting I recounted to my brethren the doings of the day, the death of Brother Alburtus, but not saying anything of his last words, requesting rather consideration as to what should be done with his body. As the greater part of us thought nothing could be done while the way was so rough and slippery with rocks and snow, we decided to let our brother rest for the time at least in his strange grave; but we held special services in his memory and in his cell we hung, as was our custom, a tablet, on which were inscribed in beautiful letters by the Sisterhood the words: