children smiling.

The Indian who leaned against Moke-icha's boulder drew a crooked stick,
shaped something like an elbow, from under his blanket. Twice he tossed
it lightly and twice it flew over the heads of the circle and back like
a homing pigeon as he lightly caught it.

"Boomerangs!" cried the children, delighted.

"We called it the Stick-which-kills-flying," said the Indian, and hid it
again under his blanket.

"Taku-Wakin thought it Magic Medicine," said the Mastodon. "It was a
Sign to him. Two or three times he threw the stick and always it came
back to him. He was very quiet, considering what it might mean, as I
took him back between the trees that stood knee-deep in the smelly
water. We saw the huts at last, built about in a circle and the sacred
fire winking in the middle. I remembered the time I had watched with
Taku under the Arch Rock.

"'Give me leave,' I said, 'to walk among the huts, and see what will come
of it.'

"Taku-Wakin slapped my trunk.

"'Now by the oath of my people, you shall walk,' he said. 'If the herds
begin to move, and if no hurt comes to anybody by it, you shall walk;
for as long as they are comfortable, even though the Rod should speak,
they would not listen.'