64 THE BIG CANOE

cannot eat, I cannot sleep, thinking about it, dread-
ing what may happen. I would rather go to my death
at once than stand this suspense any longer.”

“I, too!” declared one of the sub-chiefs, stirred by
the chief’s challenge. Others quickly agreed.

“We will depart in the morning,” the chief de-
clared. “To-night we will do all in our power to drive
away every evil spirit, to strengthen our hearts and
prepare for the ordeal before us.”

Once more the wild chants of the shamans began;
the songs of the warriors and women, the beating of
drums, all mingling in a wild uproar that lasted
throughout the night. It was in the midst of this tumult
that Weah decided to visit the strange canoe himself,
alone, before any of the others ventured forth in the
morning.

At the very height of the tumult, when the eyes of
all were fastened upon the mad antics of the medicine-
men, Weah crept, trembling with fear, out through the
entrance hole into the darkness in front of the big
house. Above him, light poured up through the smoke
hole in the roof, outlining a column of gray wood
smoke that rose straight upward into the dark vault
above. On the beach in front of him, waves swished,
swashed against the shingle, and the pool of blackness
that was the cove seemed very far away.

As he stood there, a crane, disturbed by the gulls,
flew screaming weirdly across the bay, and the gulls,