the salt lake as big as the sky and the
country under the sun where there is no snow," quoth Zilla.

"And always did he say, 'When I have the full strength of a man, I will
go and see for myself if the talk of Yamikan be true talk,'" said Ebbits.

"But there was no way to go to the white man's country," said Zilla.

"Did he not go down to the salt lake that is big as the sky?" Ebbits
demanded.

"And there was no way for him across the salt lake," said Zilla.

"Save in the white man's fire-boat which is of iron and is bigger than
twenty steamboats on the Yukon," said Ebbits. He scowled at Zilla, whose
withered lips were again writhing into speech, and compelled her to
silence. "But the white man would not let him cross the salt lake in the
fire-boat, and he returned to sit by the fire and hunger for the country
under the sun where there is no snow.'"

"Yet on the salt lake had he seen the fire-boat of iron that did not
sink," cried out Zilla the irrepressible.

"Ay," said Ebbits, "and he saw that Yamikan had made true talk of the
things he had seen. But there was no way for Bidarshik to journey to the
white man's land under the sun, and he grew sick and weary like an old
man and moved not away from the fire. No longer did he go forth to kill
meat--"

"And no longer did he eat the meat placed before him," Zilla broke in.
"He would shake his head and say, 'Only do I care to eat the grub of the
white man and grow fat after the manner of Yamikan.'"

"And he did not eat the meat," Ebbits went on. "And the sickness of
Bidarshik grew into a great sickness until I thought he would die. It
was not a sickness of the body, but of the head. It was a sickness of
desire. I, Ebbits, who am his father, make a great think. I have no
more sons and I do not want Bidarshik to die. It is a head-sickness, and
there is but one way to make it well. Bidarshik must journey across the
lake as large as the sky to the land where there is no snow, else will he
die. I make a very great think, and then I see the way for Bidarshik to
go.

"So, one night when he sits by the fire, very sick, his head hanging
down, I say, 'My son, I have learned the way for you to go to the white
man's land.' He looks at me, and his face is glad. 'Go,' I say, 'even
as Yamikan went.' But Bidarshik is sick and does not understand. 'Go
forth,' I say, 'and find a white man, and, even as Yamikan, do you kill
that white man. Then will the soldier whi