When the morning came the warrior went to the forest and killed a deer which he brought to Chenos, who prepared it for a sacrifice, and sang a song while the flesh lay on the fire.
“Let us listen,” said Chenos, stopping the warriors in their dance. “Let us see if the Great Spirit hears us.”
They listened, but could hear nothing. Chenos asked him why he did not speak, but he did not answer. Then they sang again.
“Hush!” said Chenos listening. “I hear the crowing of the Great Turkey-cock. I hear him speaking.”
They stopped, and Chenos went close to the fire and talked with his master, but nobody saw with whom he talked.
“What does the Great Spirit tell his prophet?” asked the head chief.
“He says,” answered Chenos, “the young woman must not be offered to him. He wills her to live and become the mother of many children.”
Many were pleased that she was to live, but those who had lost brothers or sons were not appeased, and they said—
“We will have blood. We will go to the priest of the Evil Spirit, and ask him if his master will not give us revenge.”
Not far from where our nation had their council fire was a great hill, covered with stunted trees and moss, and rugged rocks. There was a great cave in it, in which dwelt Sketupah, the priest of the Evil One, who there did worship to his master. Sketupah would have been tall had he been straight, but he was more crooked than a bent bow. His hair was like a bunch of grapes, and his eyes like two coals of fire. Many were the gifts our nation made to him to gain his favour, and the favour of his master. Who but he feasted on the fattest buffalo hump? Who but he fed on the earliest ear of milky corn, on the best things that grew on the land or in the water?