Stránka:tales 1905.djvu/98

Jump to navigation Jump to search
Tato stránka byla ověřena

Continue from page 97

mother Grouse clucked hoarsely to her brood, there was no answer, for dead were they lying around her.

O Wabung! the Wind of the Morning, O Mudjeekeewis, the West Wind! 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, proclaim to the Master our fearful condition.

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 ..text continues