Ten years had passed away since their marriage, and Red Deer had never brought another wife to his teepee.

Harpstenah was without a rival in his affections, if we except the three strong boys who were growing up beside them.
Chaske (the oldest son) could hunt for his mother, and it was well that he could, for his father's strength was gone.

Consumption wasted his limbs, and the once powerful arm could not now support his drooping head.
The father and mother had followed Cloudy Sky to the world of spirits; they were both anxious to depart from earth, for age had made them feeble, and the hardships of ninety years made them eager to have their strength renewed, in the country where their ancestors were still in the vigor of early youth.

The band at Lake Calhoun were going on a hunt for porcupines; a long hunt, and Harpstenah tried to deter her husband from attempting the journey; but he thought the animating exercise of the chase would be a restorative to his feeble frame, and they set out with the rest.
When the hunters had obtained a large number of those valued animals, the women struck their teepees and prepared for their return.
Harpstenah's lodge alone remained, for in it lay the dying man--by his side his patient wife.

The play of the children had ceased--they watched with silent awe the pale face and bright eye of their father--they heard him charge their mother to place food that his soul might be refreshed on its long journey.