The people fled to the shelter of the houses and sheds at the approach of the rain. The animals crowded under the trees, and the birds hid in the boughs. After the rain-burst the people gathered together again, and each one asked:
"Where is the Indian boy?"
He was not among them.
Had he perished?
A red sunset flamed over the prairies and the birds filled the tree-tops with the gladness of song. It seemed to all as if the earth and sky had come back again.
In the glare of the sunset-fire a horse and rider were seen slowly approaching the island grove.
"It is Waubeno," said one to the other. "The horse is disabled."
The people went out to meet the Indian boy. The horse was burned and blind, and staggered as he came on. And the rider! He had drawn the flames into his vitals; he had been internally burned, and was dying.
He reeled from his blind horse, and fell before the people. Jasper laid his hand upon him.
"Father, I have drunk the cup of fire. I have kept my promise. I am about to die. The birds are happy. They are singing the death-song of Waubeno."