One of the
sleepers, a half-grown youth, had semi-consciously caught the familiar
refrain and sang it in that strange uncanny voice of slumber. The tones
gave fitting effect to the grotesque details of the supernatural
adventure, and as Tus-ka-sah rose and surlily took his way toward the
door his departure did not attract even casual notice from the
listeners, hanging enthralled upon the words of the Great Eeon-a, so
veraciously repeated for their behoof. Their eyes showed intent even in
the murky gloom and glistened lustrous in the alternate fitful flare;
the red walls seemed to recede and advance as the flames rose and fell;
the sleeping boy on the broad bed-place stirred uneasily, flinging now
and again a restless arm from out the panther skins in which he was
enveloped, and ever and anon his cry, "_Eeon-a, Ha-hoo-jah! Eeon-a,
Ha-hoo-jah!"_ punctuated the impressive dramatic tones of the raconteur.
The next instant Tus-ka-sah was in the utter darkness of the narrow
tortuous little passage, but after threading this he came out of the
doorway into the keen chill air of a snowy world, the scintillations of
frosty stars, the languid, glamourous radiance of the yellow moon, low
in the sky, and his accustomed mental atmosphere of the plainest of
plain prose.
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