W WOODMYTH & FABLE 



-K^'i 



Hot and dry and listless the Snake; 

 dusty and hot was the Redtail. 



A day and a week, and the air grew 

 hotter and deadlier — fiercer than heat in 

 the sweat-lodge; and muffled was every 

 face, like the dead, in blankets — in- 

 visible blankets. 



Instead of a sky was a coppery bowl, 

 that fitted tight down at the world-rim. 



The song of the birds had faded and 

 died ; there was no sound in the branches. 



There was no song but the hot-weather 

 bug, that chimed diS he added his torment. 



*' Better far was the onset of Peboan, 

 for he gave a warning. Better, for we 

 could escape to the south, but now we 

 are buried and helpless.** 



Baked in their shells were the un- 

 hatched birds; roasted the feet of the 

 downlings ; and when, in the morning, the 



