side the
uncovered bed of earth beside my boy, fill up the grave forever; my breath
will be gone; Umatilla will be no more. You must obey.

"One step--look! There is fire on the mountain under the curtains of the
night. Look, the peak flashes; it is on fire.--O Spirit of All, I come!
One step more! Farewell, earth. Warriors, fill the grave! The black
eagle's plumes will now rest forever."

There was deep silence, broken only by the sobs of the little school. A
warrior moved and passed round the grave, and uttered the word "Dead!" The
braves followed him, and the whole tribe like shadows. "Dead!" "Dead!"
passed from mouth to mouth. Then a warrior threw a handful of earth into
the grave of the father and son. The braves followed his example, then all
the tribe.

As they were so doing, like phantoms in the dim light, Mount Saint
Helens[D] blazed again--one volcanic flash, then another; then all was
darkness, and the moon arose in a broad sea of light like a spectral sun.

The grave was filled at last. Then they brought the Cayuse pony of
Benjamin toward the grave, and a young brave raised the hatchet to kill
it, that it might bear the dead boy into the unknown land.

There was a cry! It came from Gretchen. The girl rushed forward and stood
before the hatchet. The pony seemed to know her, and he put his head over
her shoulder.

"Spare him!" she said. "Benjamin gave him to me--the soul of Benjamin
would wish it so."

"Let the girl have her way," said the old warriors.

The moon now moved free in the dark-blue sky, and sky, forest, and plain
were a silver sea. The Indians began to move away like shadows, one by
one, silent and slow. Gretchen was the last to go. She followed the
school, leading the pony, her soul filled with that consciousness of a new
life that had so wonderfully come to her. Her way in life now seemed
clear: she must teach the Umatillas.

She left the pony in a grassy clearing, on the trail that led to her home,
and hurried toward the cabin to describe all the events of the day to her
foster-mother.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote D: See Notes.]

CHAPTER XVII.

A DESOLATE HOME AND A DESOLATE PEOPLE.

As Gretchen was hurrying home on the evening after these exciting scenes,
she met Mrs. Woods in the trail, and she saw at a glance that her
foster-mother was in great distress.

"O Gretchen," she said, "I am so glad that you have come--you are all that
is left to me now! I am all alone in the