The chant at these graves was tender, and shows that the human heart everywhere is the same. It was like this:
"Where are you, my father?
Oh, where are you now?
I'm longing to see thee;
I'm wailing for thee.
(Wail.)
"Are you happy, my father?
Are you happy now?
I'm longing to see thee;
I'm wailing for thee.
(Wail.)
"Spring comes to the river,
But where, then, art thou?
I'm longing to see thee;
I'm wailing for thee.
(Wail.)
"The flowers come forever;
I'll meet thee again;
I'm longing to see thee—
Time bears me to thee!"
(Wail.)
As Jasper ascended the high bluffs of the lodge where Black Hawk dwelt, he was followed by a number of Indians who came out of their houses of poles and bark, and greeted him in a kindly way. The dark chief met him at the door of the lodge.
"You are welcome, my father. The new moon has bent her bow over the waters, and you have come back. You have kept your promise. I have kept mine. There is the boy."
An Indian boy of lithe and graceful form came out of the lodge, followed by an old man, who was his uncle. The boy's name was Waubeno, and his uncle's was Main-Pogue. The latter had been an Indian runner in Canada, and an interpreter to the English there. He spoke English well. The boy Waubeno had been his companion in his long journeys, and, now that the interpreter was growing old, remained true to him. The three stood there, looking down on the long mirror of the Mississippi—Black Hawk, Main-Pogue, and Waubeno—and waiting for Jasper to speak.
"I have come to bring you peace," said Jasper—"not the silence of the hawk or the bow-string, but peace here."
He laid his hand on his breast, and all the Indians did the same.