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 *tainous country, whose deep ravines and gloomy caverns are well suited for the dens of wild animals. Great as our expectations were of finding here abundance of game, they were not deceived. In less than an hour our hunters killed as many as twelve bears. During the night, an event of a far more serious nature occurred. The sudden firing of a gun roused us from slumber. Every warrior was on the alert; that shot could have proceeded from no hand save that of a "Black-Foot!" We looked at one another in silent anticipation. Who, then, had been the sufferer? The painful question was quickly answered. It was the {381} poor widow Camilla, one of the Sinpoil tribe.[241] The ball had passed through her throat, and she expired without a groan! Happily, her soul was ripe for Heaven. From the period of her first communion, she had never passed a Sunday without approaching the holy table, nor was her baptismal robe sullied by the slightest stain. The funeral obsequies were performed on the banks of Yellow-Rock River,[242] because that spot was better suited than any other to conceal her sepulchre from the avaricious Black-Foot assassin. All things work together for good to them that love God; this death, terrible, indeed, in the sight of men, but precious in the eyes of the Lord, became the source of a good work. The murdered woman left two daughters, both very young; had her life been spared, she would not, perhaps, have been able to shield their innocence from the dangers to which it would have been exposed; but, now, they were immediately adopted by Ambrose, chief of the Flat-Heads, and father of a numerous family; in his noble heart, charity,