Stránka:tales 1905.djvu/98

Pokračování textu ze strany 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 pokračuje