His hand fell.

He passed into a stertorous sleep, and lay there, watched by the old chief and the silent tribe.
Just as the light of early morn was flaming through the tall, cool, dewy trees, the breathing became labored, and ceased.
There he lay in the rising sun, silent and dead, with the helpless chief standing statue-like above him, and the tribe, motionless as a picture, circled around him, and with Gretchen at his feet.
"Make way!" said the old chief, in a deep voice.
He stepped down from the platform, and walked in a kingly manner, yet with tottering steps, toward the forest.

Gretchen followed him.

He heard her step, but did not look around.
"White girl, go back," he said; "I want to be alone." He entered the forest slowly and disappeared.
Just at night he was seen coming out of the forest again.

He spoke to but a single warrior, and only said: "Bury him as the white men bury; open the blanket of the earth; and command the tribe to be there--to-morrow at sundown.