'Let me not!'

'Save the erring, lead me.'

'We go—'

Growing more and more animated, the old man stood up, and began to dance.

The dance resembled a march. The shaman described what he met in his path in fantastic language, and by gestures. The attendant followed him, repeating his words, and, at moments, supporting him by the elbow. Thus they came to the edge of the circle. Calmly and solemnly the shaman raised his drum towards the sky in silence, and then sang:

'Thou snake-like Etygar, dwelling in regions below the earth, ruling over the air, sickness, and death itself.—'

'Oh, Etygar!'

'And thou, Iniany, like to a man with huge wings, thou, who shelterest from destruction—'

'Iniany!'

'And thou, Arkunda, endued with the power of second-sight!'