And our tears fall faster in sorrow--


While the cold sweat of night benumbs us,

Thou goest alone on thy journey,

In the midst of the shining star people!


Thou goest alone on thy journey--

Thy memory shall be our portion;

Until death we must watch for the spirit!


The eyes of Antelope were closed while he
chanted the dirge. He sang it over and over,
pausing between the lines, and straining as it
were every sense lest he might not catch the
rapt whisper of her spirit, but only the distant
howls of coyotes answered him. His body be-
came cold and numb from sheer exhaustion,
and at last his knees bent under him and he
sank down upon the ground, still facing the
teepee. Unconsciousness overtook him, and in
his sleep or trance the voice came: