"Yes," she said, "and so well do I understand thy wishes and needs that I have the first sign ready for thee." Motioning him to follow her into an inner room, she showed him a water-snake she had painted on a piece of parchment, and continued:
"Make it the sign of the serpent, the symbol of wisdom, since thou art come to teach brotherhood to all our tribes."
A queer hunchbacked old man sat huddled up in a corner looking over a set of parchment leaves lying on a table before him, and muttering to himself in a low tone.
"My husband must make the next selection," said the old crone, going up to him and taking a paper out of his hands. "He makes it two cones," she continued, examining the design closely.
"Now it is my turn to choose," said the Golden Hearted, "and I will select the three houses from this pile, and make that the third sign."
They took turns about until twelve signs were chosen, then the Golden Hearted said:
"I will make the last design myself, but not until my time of departure is at hand."
"Before going, do not forget to inscribe the face of the pyramid, and also to explain its import fully," said the story-teller as the Golden Hearted was leaving her hut.
"Thou art better able than I am to tell the hidden significance of that wonderful pile," he answered.
"But it is thy duty; shirk it not," she said with decision.