on a certain afternoon the sun was falling in the west , and in the midst of the ruddy silence a solitary lodge stood on the banks of a remote lake . one sound only broke , in the least degree , the forest stillness . the low breathing of the dying inmate , who was the head of a poor family . his wife and children surrounded the buffalo robe on which he lay . of the children , two were almost grown up -- a daughter and a son . the other was a boy , and a mere child in years . all the skill of the household in their simple medicines was exhausted . they stood looking on or moved about the lodge with whispered steps , awaiting the departure of the spirit . as one of the last acts of kindness , the skin door of the lodge had been thrown back to admit the fresh air of the evening . the poor man felt a momentary return of strength , and raising himself a little , he addressed his family . " i leave you , " he said , " in a world of care , in which it has required all my strength and skill to supply you food , and to protect you from the storms and cold of a harsh climate . "
the departure of the spirit .
what did the poor family await for ?
what did the poor family await for ?