"'Poor younger brother!' he said at last, 'know you not how precious
it is? It die? It will _not_ die; I tell you, it cannot die.'
"'But it will die if you don't feed it and give it water.'
"'I tell you it _cannot_ die; it will only change houses to-morrow,
and go back to the home of its brothers. Ah, well! How should _you_
know?' he mused. Turning to the blinded turtle again: 'Ah! my poor
dear lost child or parent, my sister or brother to have been! Who
knows which? Maybe my own great-grandfather or mother!' And with
this he fell to weeping most pathetically, and, tremulous with sobs,
which were echoed by the women and children, he buried his face in
his hands. Filled with sympathy for his grief, however mistaken, I
raised the turtle to my lips and kissed its cold shell; then
depositing it on the floor, hastily left the grief-stricken family
to their sorrows. Next day, with prayers and tender beseechings,
plumes, and offerings, the poor turtle was killed, and its flesh and
bones were removed and deposited in the little river, that it might
'return once more to eternal life among its comrades in the dark
waters of the lake of the dead.
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