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,