Then, his heart light with happiness, he turned and ran up the hill. In his absence two more children had died of the cold.
“O people!” he cried. “Below there is warmth and safety, for the stones and the earth fighting for us have turned back the mighty hunter who sought to devour us.”
The querulous voice of One Eye was heard in answer.
“Be still! Sunrise,” he said. “This is as good a place for dying as any. Furthermore, we are weary, and some of us wish very much to sleep.”
“You at least,” said Sunrise furiously, “shall not die here, for I shall drag you down the hill by the hair of your head and with such force that you will die on the way.... Who follows me?”
But the people only whimpered.
Sunrise caught up a spear and brought down the handle on the nearest back.
“You shall not follow,” he cried in a mighty voice. “You shall go before, and I will drive you.”
And he fell upon them with the handle of the spear. Now the people, up to the boldest hunter among them, were numb with cold and had no fight in them.
So the fear of Sunrise fell upon them, and they went before him like herded sheep. And he kept smiting the backs of those who brought up the rear.