288                WANDERINGS   OF  AN  ARTIST.
their fathers without murmuring against His will so long as one was left me.    I toiled on for him, taking pride in his pride, glorying in his glory, and living in his life, fondly hoping that when I should go to join his loved brothers in the other world that I should leave him to perpetuate my deeds amongst  you ; but  the Great Spirit hath called him also,—this last prop of my declining years, — this hope of my old age, — endeared to me by so many fond recollections of his worth, his manly strength, his courage, skill, and prowess in war.    Alas ! he lies in the cold ground, and I am left alone, like the sapless trunk of a tree whose branches have been scathed by the lightning.   I tracked that loved form, now cold, from its childhood's gambols to its manly acts of daring.   I it was who first placed in his hands the bow and the tomahawk, and taught him how to use them ; and often have you witnessed and praised his skill and courage in wielding them.    And shall I now forsake him, and leave him alone and unaided, to take the long and toilsome journey in the Spirit's hunting grounds ?     No!   his  spirit beckons me to follow, and he shall not be disappointed ; the same grave shall contain us, the same earth shall cover us ;  and as in this world, his father's arm