All was grief and lamentation.

"Let us go and tell poor Shee-shee-banze," said one, "he was so fond of Way-gee-mar-kin." They found him sitting on a bank, fishing.

He had been up at peep of day, to make preparation for receiving the intelligence.
He had caught two or three fish, and, extracting their bladders, had filled them with blood, and tied them under his arm.

When the friends of Way-gee-mar-kin saw him, they called out to him,-- "Oh! Shee-shee-banze--your friend, Way-gee-mar-kin, is dead!" With a gesture of despair, Shee-shee-banze drew his knife and plunged it--not into his heart, but into the bladders filled with blood that he had prepared.

As he fell, apparently lifeless, to the ground, the messengers began to reproach themselves: "Oh! why did we tell him so suddenly?
We might have known he would not survive it.