sight would have blinded, if not killed, you."

"I know not about that," answered the man, "but if they were not from
above, whence came they? They were like me in shape, stature, and all
else but in color and dress. They were white, nearly as white as, the
snow on the distant mountains, and their bodies were completely covered
with their clothes, excepting only their faces and hands. Their clothes
were not made of skins, but were something different from anything I had
ever seen; it was more like fine basketwork than anything I know of.
They had no bows and arrows, such as ours, but straight, long, bright
weapons which glittered in the sun. It may have been a strange kind of
bow, but I could see no arrows, and they did not shoot with them while
near me. On their heads, they wore a large round covering, which shaded
them from the hot sun, and on their feet they had queer clothes, shaped
like their feet, and these it was which had made me think the sound I
heard was that made by animals. But among them were a few who were like
us, and they may have been Indians, although they had on clothes like
the others; so, perhaps, after all, the white beings were not gods, for
the Indians were in their company and lived."

The man had talked in low, earnest tones; but as he advanced in his
tale, his voice, though still low, had taken on a penetrating, vibrating
quality that thrilled his wife, and reached the ears of the old woman on
the couch, seeming to rouse her from her lethargy like a voice from the
grave. She had stirred restlessly two or three times, striving ever
harder to break the thrall of her weakness: it would have moved the
heart of any one beholding her efforts to make herself heard, but she
lay unnoticed, for the man was deep in his wonderful narrative, and his
wife listening intently, drinking in every word. At last she attracted
the attention of the two, for her strenuous efforts to speak resulted in