than any of our five. Sheemish was trying to make an earthquake too.

The new god's motive was probably to assert himself. I doubt if Chu-bu
understood or cared for his motive; it was sufficient for an idol
already aflame with jealousy that his detestable rival was on the
verge of a miracle. All the power of Chu-bu veered round at once and
set dead against an earthquake, even a little one. It was thus in the
temple of Chu-bu for some time, and then no earthquake came.

To be a god and to fail to achieve a miracle is a despairing
sensation; it is as though among men one should determine upon a
hearty sneeze and as though no sneeze should come; it is as though one
should try to swim in heavy boots or remember a name that is utterly
forgotten: all these pains were Sheemish's.

And upon Tuesday the priests came in, and the people, and they did
worship Chu-bu and offered fat to him, saying, "O Chu-bu who made
everything," and then the priests sang, "There is also Sheemish"; and
Chu-bu was put to shame and spake not for three days.

Now there were holy birds in the temple of Chu-bu, and when the third
day was come and the night thereof, it was as it were revealed to the
mind of Chu-bu, that there was dirt upon the head of Sheemish.

And Chu-bu spake unto Sheemish as speak the gods, moving no lips nor
yet disturbing the silence, saying, "There is dirt upon thy head, O
Sheemish." All night long he muttered again and again, "there is dirt
upon Sheemish's head." And when it was dawn and voices were heard far
off, Chu-bu became exultant with Earth's awakening things, and cried
out till the sun was high, "Dirt, dirt, dirt, upon the head of