96 THE BIG CANOE

in dreams, my son. No one knows that better than
old Quahl the Carver. Tell me, of what were you
dreaming just now?”

“T dreamed that I was sitting on the upper ledge of
the chief’s lodge, watching the dancers at the swans-
down ceremony,” Kagan confessed. “I was humming
the songs, keeping time to the throb of the drums.
My heart was sad that I could never be a dancer
like the others, when suddenly Raven flew in through
the smoke hole. He flew toward me and put a slender
reed into my hands, telling me to blow softly upon
it. When I did as he commanded, such magic music
came from the reed that the chief halted the dance,
while all the people listened; and he would not let
the dance continue until I had joined the others on
the dance floor, playing upon my magic reeds. Upon
my head he put a head-dress filled with swansdown,
around my body he tied a dancing costume, and
when the others danced, I danced also. I forgot my
lame leg, which did not seem to bother me in my
dream, and I played upon my reeds until a jealous
shaman tripped me and threw me to the ground,
hurting me so badly that I wept, whereupon every
one laughed and drove me from the dance. I wept
so long and loud that I woke. That was my dream.”

“That was a strange dream,” Quahl declared,
astonished. “There was magic in that dream; of that
I am certain!” His keen old eyes studied Kagan