s as the stars in the heavens. They fight with sticks
that roar like thunder and throw the lightning that kills instantly.
Their boats vomit fire and smoke and are longer than from here to the
water's edge."

"What terrible savages they must be," one of the boys said breathlessly.

"Some day," Oomah continued, a strange light brightening his face, "I
will take you down the river to the border of the region where the
white men live. We will travel at night and hide by day. From our places
of concealment we will watch them but they shall not see us."

"What would Choflo say?" one of the more timid ones asked.

"We will not ask Choflo," another promptly replied. "He says too many
things and always makes us do the things we hate to do."

"You forget," Oomah advised them, "that Choflo is leader of the tribe.
So long as he lives he must be obeyed."

This calmed the threatened insurrection. Oomah's words had been
calculated to uphold their respect for the one who was their leader and
they had accomplished their purpose, so the subject was dismissed.

"Would you hear more?" the youth asked.

"Yes, yes," came the response in a chorus of eager voices. "Tell us
another story."

"This, also have I not seen," the storyteller continued, "nor do I hope
ever to see it. But it has been known that at certain intervals of time
a mysterious spirit appears in the forest--a huge black being, so
powerful and so ferocious that every living thing shrinks from it in
terror. Our sharpest arrows, shot from the most powerful bows do not
harm it. It roars at night so that the sound of its voice may be heard a
distance of a full day's travel and it slays on sight but does not
devour the men it kills."

The hearers drew closer together. They were too interested for speech.

"It is said that the terrible monster is a phantom, sent by Tumwah, God
of Drought to punish us for our evil deeds. It takes the form of the
tiger but of a _black_ color. May none of you ever come under the spell
of this vile spirit."

The tale was interrupted at this time. A shadow flashed past them on the
sand.

"See, see," Oomah shouted, jumping to his feet. He pointed to a black
bird, a vulture, that was circling over their heads.

"The omen never fails. Siluk is coming; he is upon us. Look! look!"

He was now pointing to the fleeting shadow on the sand. Some of the
bird's primary feathers were gone so that the wings cast a barred
shadow.

"When the vulture