Masequah picked up his son and carried him to the shelter of a cave and after placing his son in the cave he said, “Wait, I shall return. I must get an answer to your questions.” Masequah walked to the edge of the lake and, facing straight into the wind, shouted, “O great storm, tell me what answers I should give my son! He is afraid and I have told him not to be afraid. The wind, the lightning, and the rain frighten him and he wants to return to his home. To try to paddle our light canoe across the rough waters of the lake could mean death for my son and me. I am not afraid to die, but my son is young and his whole life lies before him. Tell me what I can do to stop his fear. He has asked me to stop the rain and the wind. This I cannot do, but you, great storm, hear a father’s plea and blow away from our land!”
Masequah shivered, for the storm seemed to be getting worse. He turned from the lake and walked back to the cave. Taking his son’s hand, he said, “Pyan, come, follow your father. We are going home.”
“But, father,” said Pyan, “the winds and the rain and the lightning have not stopped. The water is rough and our canoe is light. We will be drowned.”
Pyan held back as his father took his hand. His father spoke kindly and firmly: “Come, Pyan, do not be afraid. Your father will protect you.”
As they reached the shore Pyan began to tremble and felt heartsick because he was cowardly while his father was so brave. Pyan stepped into the canoe and his father followed. Masequah pointed to the sky.
“Look, Pyan, the sky is beginning to brighten. Now the storm will halt long enough for us to reach the safety of our village.”
There was a blinding flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder. The rain stopped suddenly, the winds died down, and the waves on the lake became calm. Masequah pushed the canoe from the shore and paddled swiftly across the lake.
When they reached home, Pyan told his mother excitedly how the storm had stopped when his father ordered it to halt. Pyan’s mother turned slowly to Masequah.
“My husband,” she said with wonder in her voice, “until just now as you and Pyan arrived, the storm hasn’t paused once tonight.”
For many years until Masequah’s death, the members of his tribe looked upon Masequah as a brave gifted with mysterious powers. They would tell of a hunting party that had reached the lake at the same time that Masequah and Pyan had started for home; the hunters had been whipped by the raging storm while they stood on a hill top overlooking the lake; suddenly they had seen the storm stop and the lake below them grow calm; and then they had watched a small canoe, with a man and a boy in it, glide swiftly across the peaceful waters. To them it was a miracle, but Masequah knew better.