Again he saw the deer, and he drew his bow. But as he did so the deer was changed into the form of a maiden, standing against the rock.
The youth dropped his bow in wonder. He looked at the maiden. In the distance he heard the voice of the thunder.
“Who are you?” he asked in amazement.
And the maiden answered, “I am the sister of the Thunder Men. Will you come with me and visit our home?” The youth consented, and the maiden struck the great rock against which she had stood.
There was a flash, like a flash of lightning, and the rock opened and made a passage for them.
The maiden led the way, and the youth followed; and when they had passed through the rock, they came into a strange country—to the home of the Thunder Maiden. The floors and walls were of clouds, and the clouds were of every shade, from silver gray to the deepest purple black. They were soft to walk upon, and smooth as the smoothest velvet. And their changing shades were more wonderful than any artist could paint.
The maiden’s robes were of trailing silver, and her hair was black as midnight.
She led the youth to her father, who sat upon a throne formed from the deepest purple clouds. His hair and beard were white like the mists that float across the sky. But his robe was black, with here and there a dash of brilliant gold.
“Welcome, my son,” said the old man. “Have you come to dwell among us?”
The youth looked at the beautiful maiden, and he answered, “Yes, my father.”