His limbs were thin, and his strength had failed for want of the fresh air of his native hills.
Little did the prisoners care to look around as they retraced their steps.

They knew they were going home.

But when the waters of the Mississippi again shone before them, when the well-known bluffs met their eager gaze; when the bending river gave to view their native village, then, indeed, did the new-made chief cast around him the "quiet of a loving eye." Then, too, did he realize what he had suffered.
He strained his sight--for perhaps his wife might have wearied of waiting for him--perhaps she had gone to the Land of spirits, hoping to meet him there.
His children too--the young warriors, who were wont to follow him and listen to his voice, would they welcome him home?
As he approached the village a cloud had come between him and the sun.
He could see many upon the shore, but who were they?
The canoe swept over the waters, keeping time to the thoughts of those who were wanderers no longer.
As they neared the shore, the cloud passed away and the brightness of the setting sun revealed the faces of their friends; their cries of joy rent the air--to the husband, the son, the brother, they spoke a welcome home! Wabashaw, by the command of the English Governor, was acknowledged by the Dahcotahs their first chief; and his influence was unbounded.

Every band has a chief, and the honor descends from father to son; but there has never been one more honored and respected than Wabashaw..