In silence the two proceeded onward, and at length stopped where the sod was heaped with unwonted care over a newly made grave. Perseverance burst into tears:
“She lies here, John.”
The sagamore leaned upon his gun—raising the helmet of plumes from his head, and as he gazed downward, tears flowed from his eyes.
“Did she die in peace, at last?”
“Yea, my brother, she deplored your heathenish—”
He waved his hand.
“What said she?”
“At the last she was very gentle. She said she feared the people would bring down the curse of God upon themselves for some of their doings.”
“Go on,” he said, observing her to hesitate.
“She said, ‘I am ill at ease about John,’ and then she burst into tears, and cried, ‘Oh! John, John, my dearest, best! Oh, that I could see him!—oh, that I could bless him, before I die!’”