their
totems, the whimsical wooden figures that stood so far away, watching
the pleasant wigwams; the firelight even now would be dancing over
their faces, while there would come to their ears delectable tales of
war. They halted upon the pass and prayed, and waited for any sign.
For a man's totem may be in the likeness perhaps of an otter, and a
man may pray, and if his totem be placable and watching over his man a
noise may be heard at once like the noise that the otter makes, though
it be but a stone that falls on another stone; and the noise is a
sign. The four men's totems that stood so far away were in the
likeness of the coney, the bear, the heron, and the lizard. They
waited, and no sign came. With all the noises of the wind in the
abyss, no noise was like the thump that the coney makes, nor the
bear's growl, nor the heron's screech, nor the rustle of the lizard in
the reeds.

It seemed that the wind was saying something over and over again, and
that that thing was evil. They prayed again to their totems, and no
sign came. And then they knew that there was some power that night
that was prevailing against the pleasant carvings on painted poles of
wood with the firelight on their faces so far away. Now it was clear
that the wind was saying something, some very, very dreadful thing in
a tongue that they did not know. They listened, but they could not
tell what it said. Nobody could have said from seeing their faces how
much the four tall men desired the wigwams again, desired the
camp-fire and the tales of war and the benignant totems that listened
and smiled in the dusk: nobody could have seen how well they knew that
this was no common night or wholesome mist.

When at last no answer came nor any sign from their totems, they
pulled out of the bag those golden gods that Loma gave not up except
in flames and when all her men were dead. They had large ruby eyes and
emerald tongues. They set them down upon that mountain pass, the
cross-legged idols with their emerald tongues; and having placed
between them a few decent yards, as it seemed meet there should be
between gods and men, they bowed them down and prayed in their
desperate straits in that dank, ominous night to the gods they had
wronged, for it seemed that there was a vengeance upon the hills and
that they would scarce escape, as the wind knew well. And the gods
laughed, all four, and wagged their emerald tongues; the Indians saw
them, though the night ha