THE PIPES OF VICTORY 107

wished to leave the island quickly; some wished to
go on. The chief finally gave a command and the
warriors drew close together and started once more
toward the trail.

Again Kagan blew into the reeds. Again the wind
rose in the trees, louder this time, moaning weirdly,
then died away. The enemy, really frightened, ran
back down the beach toward the canoes, but as before,
stopped, undecided, when the sound of the sighing
wind had died away.

“Tt is some trick of a hollow tree, a broken limb, a
cleft in a rock,” Kagan heard the chief say. “Often
have I heard such a noise around the roof of my lodge,
around the totem poles, and so have you.”

“In a wind, yes,” agreed another, “but there is no
wind.”

“There is a breeze,” insisted the chief, putting up
his hand. “It is rising, too. See, it is blowing the fog
away. Let us go forward quickly before it has lifted
entirely.”

He turned as he spoke and trotted once more
toward the trail. The others fell into line and fol-
lowed, as he knew they would. Then Kagan’s keen ears
heard other sounds. His people were coming along
the forest trail.

“Now I must play loudly,” he decided, “lest the
enemy hear my people coming.”

Once more he raised the reeds to his lips. This time
a great wind rose in the forest, tore through the cedars,