ntry.

"But Daimeka, although he could neither speak nor stir, saw all that
his friends did, and heard all that they said. He listened to their
praises of him and their talk of their victory, and was glad; he felt
the touch of their hands as they set out his limbs against the tree,
but his own hands he could not lift. His tears, indeed, ran as they
turned to abandon him; but this sign they did not see, and he could
give no other.

"The story says that little by little his hot tears melted the
frost that bound him; and by and by, as he remembered the cry of
home-coming--'_Kumad-ji-wug!_ We have conquered!'--his spirit put
forth an effort as a babe in its mother's travail, and he found his
feet and ran after the braves. Then was he mad with rage to find
that they had no eyes for him, and he no voice to call their
attention. When they walked forward he walked forward, when they
halted he halted, when they slept he slept, when they awoke he awoke;
nay, when they were weary he felt weariness. But for all the profit
it brought him he might still have been sitting under the tree; for
their eyes would not see him, and his talk to them was as wind.

"And this afflicted him so that at length he began to tear open his
wounds, saying, 'This, at least, will move them to shame, who owe
their victory to me!' But they heeded nothing; and when he upbraided
them they never turned their heads.

"At length they came to the shore where they had left the canoes, and
put across for the island. As they neared it the men in Daimeka's
canoe raised the war-shout, '_Kumad-ji-wug!_ We have conquered!' and
old men, wives and children came running from the village, his own
father and wife and children among them. 'Daimeka is dead!' was
shouted many times in the uproar; and the warriors spoke his praises
while his father wept, and his wife, and his two small ones.

"'But I am alive!' Daimeka shouted; for by this time he was in a
furious passion. Then he ran after his wife, who was fleeing towards
his own lodge, tearing her hair as she went. 'Listen to me, woman!'
he entreated, and would have held her, but could not. He followed
her into the lodge and stood over her as she sat on the bed, with her
hands in her lap, despairing. 'But I am alive!' he shouted again.
'See how my wounds bleed; bind them, and give me food. To bleed like
this is no joke, and I am hungry.' 'I have no long time to live,'
said the woman to one of the childre