N-1 

 WOODMYTH & FABLE S-/ 



mother Grouse clucked hoarsely to her 

 brood, there was no answer, for dead were 

 they lying around her. 



O Wabung! the Wind of the Morn- 

 ing, O Mudjeekeewis, the West Wind ! 

 are ye dead? Are ye dead? 



O Master of Life! art thou sleeping? 



Mes-cha-cha-gan-is ! thou swiftest of 

 runners, take word. 



Pai-hung! thou trumpet-voiced herald 

 away. 



Chewusson ! best loved of singers, pro- 

 claim to the Master our fearful condi- 

 tion. 



But Mes-cha-cha-gan-is was lying as 

 dead. Pai-hung was feeble, and Che- 

 wusson silent as Pauguk. Only the Hot- 

 weather Bug, the Cicada, was heard as 

 he sang, as though glad of our torment, 

 ^'B-z-z-z-z-z,"" 



And louder in glee he sang and thrilled 



