but reviving, continued the struggle with what energy he could summon.
The westering sun began lengthening the shadows on the Inyan-kara, and
with the cool of evening his strength began to revive. Now he fought the
ghost with renewed spirit, calling from time to time on his
medicine-bat, till at last when all the shadows had merged and gone
together, with a whir came the little brown bat, crying "Na-hoin" [I
come].

Suddenly all the ghost-people flew away, scattering over the Inyan-kara,
screaming, "Hoho, hoho, hoho!" and White Otter sat up on his robe.

The stone giants echoed in clattering chorus, the spirit-birds swished
through the air with a whis-s-s-tling noise, and the whole of the bad
demons came back to prowl, since the light had left the world, and they
were no longer afraid. They all sought to circumvent the poor Indian,
but the little brown bat circled around and around his head, and he kept
saying: "Come to me, little brown bat. Let White Otter put his hand on
you; come to my hand."

But the bat said nothing, though it continued to fly around his head. He
waved his arms widely at it, trying to reach it. With a fortunate sweep
it struck his hand, his fingers clutched around it, and as he drew back
his arm he found his little brown bat dead in the vise-like grip. White
Otter's medicine had come to him.

Folding himself in his robe, and still grasping the symbol of the Good
God's protection, he lay down to sleep. The stone giants ceased their
clamors, and all the world grew still.

White Otter was sleeping.