nlight
Ootah saw that the lad's face was as white as the face of the dead, and
that in his eyes was a wild fear. From the mountain ridges, which
loomed beyond, came an ominous noise--resembling a low wind. Ootah
bent his head and listened to the sobbing monotone, then whispered:

"The breathing of the spirits of the hills who sleep."

"Perchance we waken them," Koolotah ventured.

"That would be bad," Ootah replied.

"I have left my mother forever," Koolotah wailed.

"Be brave, lad; they need food; beseech the spirits of those who lived
when men's sap was stronger, thy ancestors, for strength. Come!"

Koolotah raised his head--then uttered a low cry of alarm. He drew
back, fearfully, pointing with a trembling arm to the mountain pass
ahead.

Covered with glacial snow and ice the slopes of the first ridge of the
interior mountains gleamed with frosted silver. Over the white
expanse, formed by the countless clefts and indentations of the slope,
cyclopean shadows took form, and like eldritch figures joining their
hands in a wild dance, loomed terrifyingly before the two men. Their
trail now ascended through a gorge which abruptly opened immediately
before them. Into this rugged chasm the argent moonlight poured, and
from unseen caverns in the pass glowered monstrous phosphorescent green
and ruby eyes.

From the heights above fragments of clouds descended through the chasm.
In the full moonlight they were transformed into tall aerial beings, of
unearthly beauty. They were swathed in luminous robes that fluttered
gently upon the air, and like the birds they soared, with tremulous
wings resembling films of silver. They moved softly, with great
majesty. As he looked upon the descending wraiths, Koolotah saw they
had the spirit-semblance of gleaming faces, and that their eyes burned,
through the enveloping cloud-veils, like fire. He drew back, afraid.

"The dead . . ." he murmured . . . "We have come unto the land of the
dead."

Both stood in silence, reverent, awed, half-afraid.

Then Ootah snapped his whip. He called to the dogs.

"Let us go unto them . . . Let us show that men are not afraid.
_Huk_! _Huk_! _Huk_! Come!"

The dogs howled, the traces tightened, the sleds sped forward. They
entered the defile. The trail twisted up the side of the abyss. Less
than three feet wide for long stretches, the dogs had to slacken and
pass upward in line, one by one. Covered with new ice it was
dang