Shall descend the Curse—the Great Curse of the Yaga Tah!
The Man-Who-Lies-Hid-in-the-Sky!"
The quavering chant ceased, and the undimmed old eyes looked again into the face of the man.
"And because you are good," she went on, "and because you have heard the vow, when this broken blade comes to your hand you will know that Wa-ha-ta-na-ta, the daughter of Kas-ka-tan, the chief, in the last extremity of her need, is calling you.
"And because you are strong and brave and have the good eye—you will come. And no people of the earth, and nothing that is upon the earth, nor of the earth, shall prevent you. I have spoken."
Bill Carmody listened in awed silence until the old woman finished.
"I, whom you choose to regard as the one good white man," he replied with a dignity matching her own, "will one day prove my friendship. Upon sight of the fragment of blade I will come.
"No people of the earth, and nothing that is upon the earth, nor of the earth, shall prevent me—and one day you will know that my words are true."
He raised his hand and, gazing upward, repeated the words of the strange chant. At their conclusion he gazed steadily into the face of the old squaw.
"This is the promise," he said gravely. "I have spoken."