Cho-gay grinned and looked off in the direction Kaw had taken. Chu-ta-win followed his glance. “I won’t say any more about it before our Red friend,” he said, and Cho-gay looked at him quickly, but the eagle would not meet his eye.
“Come on,” said Chu-ta-win, “there are lots more things for you to see.”
CHAPTER 5
RAIN COMES TO TIMBERTANGLE
CHU-TA-WIN and Cho-gay walked slowly toward a lake that lay like a great turquoise before them. Strange animals hurried, scurrying and crawling in every direction, and birds darted hither and thither.
The eagle indicated with one wing what seemed to be a huge mountain rising high in the east. “The mantle of the night,” he said. “It is the blanket that is let down every night over the earth to hide the face of the sun, for if it were not hidden just so often all growing things would dry up. It is very old now, the night-blanket, and holes are beginning to show. We, below, call them stars, and if it wasn’t for those holes,” he added, “we would have no moon, for when the moon is thin and pale it slips through one of the holes and comes close to the earth to give us light to try to make up for the loss of the sun, for the Moon God has never approved of the night-blanket and is much more gentle toward earth folks than the sun.”
They were now near the lake and Cho-gay could see, near its edge, a little old man, sitting by a huge drum. The old man held a great padded stick in one hand and looked constantly to the east.
“That is Chaco,” whispered the eagle, “Keeper of the Thunder Drum. He looks toward the east for the signal of the sun, and when he sees that, he pounds the Drum and that is the signal for the Water Clan—see, those little fairy-creatures sitting all around the lake. They each have a gourd dipper in their hand and, at the signal of the Drum, they dip water from the lake and pour it through the water-holes to the earth. That is the rain, and the sound of the Drum is thunder, and the flash of the sun-signal is the torch that we call lightning. We will speak to Chaco. But listen,” he added more cautiously, “we must speak in rhyme. It is the only language he knows, and if we speak differently he will grow very angry and send hurricane winds over the earth. That is the way they come. He has lungs of leather and his voice, when he is angry, is louder than the Thunder Drum.”