shall never go across to live in the shadow-land. Come to White Otter, O
Good God!"

A little brown bat whirled round and round the head of the
terror-stricken Indian, saying: "I am from God, White Otter. I am come
to you direct from God. I will take care of you. I have your shadow
under my wings. I can fly so fast and crooked that no one can catch up
with me. No arrow can catch me, no bullet can find me, in my tricky
flight. I have your shadow and I will fly about so fast that the
spirit-wildcats and the spirit-birds and the stone giants cannot come up
with me or your shadow, which I carry under my wings. Sit down here in
the dark place under the cliffs and rest. Have no fear." White Otter sat
him down as directed, muffled in his robe. "Keep me safe, do not go away
from me, ye little brown bat. I vow to keep you all my life, and to take
you into the shadow-land hereafter, if ye will keep me from the demons
now, O little brown bat!" And so praying, he saw the sky pale in the
east as he lay down to sleep. Then he looked all around for his little
brown bat, which was no more to be seen.

The daylight brought quiescence to the fasting man, and he sank back,
blinking his hollow eyes at his shadow beside him. Its possession lulled
him, and he paid the debt of nature, lying quietly for a long time.

Consciousness returned slowly. The hot sun beat on the fevered man, and
he moved uneasily. To his ears came the far-away beat of a tom-tom,
growing nearer and nearer until it mixed with the sound of bells and the
hail-like rattle of gourds. Soon he heard the breaking of sticks under
the feet of approaching men, and from under the pines a long procession
of men appeared--but they were shadows, like water, and he could see the
landscape beyond them. They were spirit-men. He did not stir. The moving