The Hidden Children

"This is the pass to the Vale Yndaia! You shall not tell her yet—not till we have dealt with Amochol."

"Not till we have dealt with Amochol," I repeated, staring at the narrow opening which crossed this black and desolate region like a streak of sunshine across burnt land.

Tahoontowhee examined the trail; nothing had passed since the last rain, save deer and fox.

So I went over to where Lois was bathing her flushed face in the tiny stream, and lay down to drink beside her.

"The water is cold and sweet," she said, "not like that bitter water in the swamp." She held her cupped hands for me to drink from. And I kissed the fragrant cup.

As we rose and I shouldered my rifle, the Grey-Feather began to sing in a low, musical, chanting voice; and all the Indians turned merry faces toward Lois and me as they nodded time to the refrain:

"Continue to listen and hear the truth,
Maiden Hidden and Hidden Youth.
The song of those who are 'more than men'!
[16 - "They will (live to) see it again!"]Thi-ya-en-sa-y-e-ken!"

"It is the chant of the Stone Throwers—the Little People!" said Mayaro, laughing. "Ye two are fit to hear it."

"They are singing the Song of the Hidden Children," I whispered to Lois. "Is it not strangely pretty?"

"It is wild music, but sweet," she murmured, "—the music of the Little People—che-kah-a-hen-wah."

"Can you catch the words?"

"Aye, but do not understand them every one."

"Some day I will make them into an English song for you. Listen! 'The Voices' are beginning! Listen attentively to the Chant of [17 - "Hidden in the Husks."]Ta-neh-u-weh-too!"

The Night Hawk was singing now, as he walked through the sunlit glade, hip-deep in scented ferns and jewel-weed. Two brilliant humming-birds whirled around him as he strode.

A VOICE

"Who shall find my Hidden Maid
Where the tasselled corn is growing?
Let them seek her in Kandaia,
Let them seek her in Oswaya,
Where the giant pines are growing,
Let them seek and be afraid!
Where the Adriutha flowing
Splashes through the forest glade,
Where the Kennyetto flowing
Thunders through the hemlock shade,
Let them seek and be afraid,
From Oswaya To Yndaia,
All the way to Carenay!"

ANOTHER VOICE

"Who shall find my Hidden Son
Where the tasselled corn is growing?
Let them seek my Hidden One
From the Silver Horicon
North along the Saguenay,
Where the Huron cocks are crowing,
Where the Huron maids are mowing
Hay along the Saguenay;
Where the Mohawk maids are hoeing
Corn along the Carenay,
Let them seek my Hidden Son,
West across the inland seas,
South to where the cypress trees
Quench the flaming scarlet flora
Of the painted Esaurora,
Drenched in rivers to their knees!
[18 - "They have vanished."]Honowehto! Like Thendara!
Let them hunt to Danascara
Back along the Saguenay,
On the trail to Carenay,
Through the Silver Horicon
Till the night and day are one!
Where the Adriutha flowing
Sings below Oswaya glowing.
Where the sunset of Kandaia
Paints the meadows of Yndaia,
Let them seek my Hidden Son
'Till the sun and moon are one!"

[19 - "Two Voices (together)."]TE-KI-E-HO-KEN

[20 - "Behold thy children!"]"Nai Shehawa! She lies sleeping,
Where the green leaves closely fold her!
He shall wake first and behold her
Who is given to his keeping;
He shall strip her of her leaves
Where she sleeps amid the sheaves,
Snowy white, without a stain,
Nothing marred of wind or rain.
So from slumber she shall waken,
And behold the green robe shaken
From his shoulders to her own!
[21 - "So ye two are laid together."]Ye-ji-se-way-ad-kerone!"

The pretty song of the Hidden Children softened to a murmur and died out as our trail entered the swamp once more, north of the oval glade. And into its sombre twilight we passed out of the brief gleam of sunshine. Once more the dark and bitter water coiled its tortuous channel through the slime; huge, gray evergreens, shaggy and forbidding, towered above, closing in closer and closer on every side, crowding us into an ever-narrowing trail.

But this trail, since we had left the sunny glade, had become harder under foot, and far more easy to travel; and we made fast time along it, so that early in the afternoon we suddenly came out into that vast belt of firm ground and rocky, set with tremendous oaks and pines and hemlocks, on the northern edge of which lies Catharines-town, on both banks of the stream.

And here the stream rushed out through this country as though frightened, running with a mournful sound into the northern forest; and the pines were never still, sighing and moaning high above us, so that the never ceasing plaint of wind and water filled the place.