They were nowhere to be found.
Presently a neighbor remembered seeing them going down the ladders carrying their bows and arrows. Another neighbor was sure that they had gone to hunt wild turkeys in the waste land back of the canyon rim.
The twins had forgotten their mother’s warning, and were out somewhere in the storm.
The water which had fallen on the uplands now began to tumble over the canyon rim in wild cascades, and as the storm increased, the arch through which the village looked out upon the world was curtained over by a giant waterfall. Now and then, at one edge of the arch, there were flashes of lightning through the tumbling waters.
There were flashes of lightning through the tumbling waters.
In the shelter of its rocky hollow, the town stood snug and dry. But it was very dark, and the darkness was full of the hiss and roaring of the fall.
The Indians built a fire and gathered about the flames.
All night long, the daughter of Pesh-li-kai fed the great fire with fresh branches. All night long, sitting alone, she watched the play of the flames on the plunging foam of the fall, and listened to the thunder mingle its wild sound with the tumult of the waters.