And still another among the Poncas arose and said:
“If this be true that we have heard, how Wa-choo-bay came back in a holy boat, and that his big white Wakunda is so strong and loves Wa-choo-bay, let him send the rain, and we will fall upon our faces.”
Then the whole concourse of tribes sent up a shout:
“Give us some medicine-deed!”
And when the shout had died, Wa-choo-bay smiled a smile of pity and said:
“I am not the big white Wakunda; I am only one who talks for Him and loves Him, for I have seen a new light. I can do no medicine-deeds. Neither can anyone among you do medicine-deeds. It is all a dreaming—and we must awaken.”
Then there was a great crying, an angry storm of voices about the hill. It beat upon the bleak summit where Wa-choo-bay stood with face and hands raised to the heavens, breathing a prayer of the white-faces.
There was a breaking up of the concourse and a walking away. But one among the people hurled a stone with sure aim and struck Wa-choo-bay upon the side of the face. He staggered, and the blood came. But he showed no anger.
Turning the other side of his face, he said:
“Let him who threw the stone throw again and strike me here. Even so the great white Wakunda’s Son suffered.”