ng and kind
chief who knows all these strange things ... one who can lead you
safely into the new life. What say you, my people? Who shall sit in
Ohto's chair when he is gone?"

For a moment the multitude was silent as the significance of Ohto's
query sank into their slow minds, then a murmur of approval rose among
them, swelled into a deafening shout of acclamation.

"The pale white man! The pale white man!"

Terry understood. Uncertain, he turned to the Major, but Ohto
interrupted by addressing him directly.

"You have heard. When Ohto leaves--and it can not be long--he leaves
his people in your hands. You will be patient, kindly, gentle, with
them. That Ohto knows ... it is written in your face."

As Terry slowly bowed his head slightly in acceptance of the trust,
the delighted Hillmen stirred, whispered to each other. The hum of
voices grew louder but was instantly hushed by the dramatic gesture
with which Ohto extended his arm toward a low cotton tree that stood
at the edge of the woods. The thousand eager heads turned almost as
one.

Upon a slender leafless branch which extended at right angles from the
trunk of a _kapok_ tree two large gray wood pigeons had perched side
by side in the close communion of mated birds, heedless of the host
below them. Unafraid, tired, content with what the day had brought
them in the lowlands, they were happy in safe return together to their
mountain home.

In the hush which followed recognition by the throng, the limocons
moved closer to each other, wing brushed wing, sleepy lids lowered
over soft eyes to shut out the crimson glory of the dying sun. Then
the little throats throbbed as they voiced gratitude to their Creator
in gentle, low pitched notes, lilting with the joy of life, plaintive
with the brevity of its span.

The sweet song died with the day, and as dusk reached down in brief
embrace of tropic earth, the birds winged side by side into the
darkening forest.

Peace settled upon the face of the old man who had made decision
vitally affecting the welfare of the people over whom he had ruled for
two generations. The limocons had sung in the East. His fathers were
pleased with him.

A shout of fierce joy burst from the Hillmen. Then the women
surrounded the dainty white girl and bore her off to prepare for the
long ceremony with which the Hill People give in marriage. And the two
friends walked through the woods, arm in arm, silent, profoundly
humble.