CHAPTER IX
YAHN, THE APACHE
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“Brothers:––you of the life ––Of also the fire divine! You of the mountains Of also the Mother Mist! Out of the mist is a voice. It is not the voice afraid! Out of the shadows, Out of the forests, Out of the deserts It is born! In a good hour it is born. The wind of the Sun sends it breath! Brothers:––the Dawn drives the Darkness And in the mountain strong No one sings fear! Out from far worlds it comes, With the strong Dawn it comes Brothers:––be mountain strong Sing not of fear!” |
The rising sun tipped the terraces with gold and rose, and the nude brown men, and the men children, faced the east with hands lifted to greet the coming of the Great Power. This was as it had been since the time of most ancient days.
But the song chanted from the terrace by the Woman of the Twilight was a new song, and the men made their prayers, and wondered at the singer singing thus on the roof of her dwelling.
The dew of the hills was on her clothing and on her hair. She had dreamed a dream and walked in the night until the words of the dream had come to her lips, and when they came she sang them aloud and the people listened, and the men went from their prayers and thought about it.
Many were conscious of secret thoughts of dread at the coming of the strangers. The priestess had spoken of the thing no one had given voice to.