The sun set in the mist as he came out of the woods on to another beach—a warm, soft beach, crimsoned by the glow in the evening clouds.
And on the sand at his feet lay a young girl asleep, swathed in the silken garment of her own black hair, round limbed, brown, smooth as the bloom on the tawny beach.
A gull napped overhead, screaming. Her eyes, deeper than night, unclosed. Then her lips parted in a cry, soft with sleep, "Ihó!"
She rose, rubbing her velvet eyes. "Ihó!" she cried in wonder; "Inâh!"
The gilded sand settled around her little feet. Her cheeks crimsoned.
"E-hó! E-hó!" she whispered, and hid her face in her hair.
IV.
The bridge of the stars spans the sky seas; the sun and the moon are the travellers who pass over it. This was also known in the lodges of the Isantee, hundreds of years ago. Chaské told it to Hârpam, and when Hârpam knew he told it to Hapéda; and so the knowledge spread to Hârka, and from Winona to Wehârka, up and down, across and ever across, woof and web, until it came to the Island of Grief. And how? God knows!
"Wehârka, prattling in the tules, may have told Ne-kâ; and Ne-kâ, high in the November
