rabbit, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, loping across dead leaves in the moonlight. Skeé-skah, the wood-duck, sailed past, noiseless, gorgeous as a floating blossom.
Out on the ocean's placid silver, Shinge-bis, the diver, shook the scented silence with his idle laughter, till Kay-óshk, the gray gull, stirred in his slumber. There came a sudden ripple in the stream, a mellow splash, a soft sound on the sand.
"Ihó! Behold!"
"I see nothing."
The beloved voice was only a wordless melody to her.
"Ihó! Ta-hinca, the red deer! E-hó! The buck will follow!"
"Ta-hinca," he repeated, notching the arrow.
"E-tó! Ta-mdóka!"
So he drew the arrow to the head, and the gray gull feathers brushed his ear, and the darkness hummed with the harmony of the singing string.
Thus died Ta-mdóka, the buck deer of seven prongs.
VI.
As an apple tossed spinning into the air, so spun the world above the hand that tossed it into space.
And one day in early spring, Sé-só-Kah, the
