The early part of the morning wore away in preparation
for the interment of the slain. These were placed in
rows under the council shed, where they were attended by
their female relatives, who composed the features and
confined the limbs, while the gloomy warriors dug, within
the limit of the encampment, rude graves, of a depth just
sufficient to receive the body. When these were completed,
the dead were deposited, with the usual superstitious
ceremonies of these people, in their several receptacles,
after which a mound of earth was thrown up over each,
and the whole covered with round logs, so disposed as to
form a tomb of semicircular shape: at the head of each
grave was finally planted a pole, bearing various devices
in paint, intended to illustrate the warlike achievements
of the defunct parties.
Captain de Haldimar had followed the course of these
proceedings with a beating heart; for too plainly had he
read in the dark and threatening manner both of men and
women, that the retribution about to be wreaked upon
himself would be terrible indeed. Much as he clung to
life, and bitterly as he mourned his early cutting off
from the affections hitherto identified with his existence,
his wretchedness would have been less, had he not been
overwhelmed by the conviction that, with him, must perish
every chance of the safety of those, the bare recollection
of whom made the bitterness of death even more bitter.
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