blue heavens.

The sun, who loved Onatah, sent out many
searching beams of light. They pierced through
the damp earth, and entering the prison-cave,
guided her back again to her fields.

And ever after that she watched her fields alone,
for no more did her sisters, the Spirits of the
Squash and Bean, watch with her. If her fields
thirsted, no longer could she seek the early dew.
If the flame-monsters burned her corn, she could
not search the skies for cooling winds. And when
the great rains fell and injured her harvest, her
voice grew so faint that the friendly sun could not
hear it.

But ever Onatah tenderly watched her fields
and the little birds of the air flocked to her service.
They followed her through the rows of corn, and
made war on the tiny enemies that gnawed at the
roots of the grain.

And at harvest-time the grateful Onatah
scattered the first gathered corn over her broad lands,
and the little birds, fluttering and singing, joyfully
partook of the feast spread for them on the
meadow-ground.