science now lost from earth. A tremendous emotion was aroused in him as he realized what there was here for his people that had been denied them by the ignorance of such as Eemeeshee, and of such as Secumne. He turned to the old man.
"Why have you never brought any of the educated young men of your tribe here? Why have you hidden this knowledge of yours for your people?"
"When I was younger," answered the old man sadly, "I tried to do those things you have in mind. The young men laughed at me! I tried very hard, brought some men here to show them. All went well till they saw the body and terrible appearance of Eemeeshee. Then they laughed, or swore, or fled. They could not think right of the ancient one and he grew angry, slew some, chased the others away. They had not the vision or courage. I have waited all my life for seekers such as you. Now you have come. I warn you, Eemeeshee knows your thought. Try and think correctly, or your efforts will end in failure. Eemeeshee is not such a man as you and I. His heredity is very different."
"You mean to say you brought educated young Indians here and they took no advantage of what there is here to be learned—to be used for our race? Explain!"
"Some few of them did learn what it all meant. They tried to lead others, to teach as you plan. But they failed to convince others, became at last discouraged and bitter as I have become. Men are very foolish. They cannot believe in anything that is greater than their school books. Sometimes I think it were better had they never gone to school! It closed their minds to all greater truths. They have refused me.
"They have refused the wisdom of the underworld and of the past because their teachers did not tell them of it in their school books. So they knew it could not be. I got tired of being laughed at. I took my women and my children and moved here to this place where you have found me. I am very tired of life."
Stevens nodded grimly.
"I think we may find a remedy for your difficulties. Some men told me of you when I was quite young. They did not laugh. You have been laughed at in public; but those who did not laugh have believed you without talking about it very much. Now we have it again: a door to the ancient secret. We knew this thing was true, but the entrances were closed to us. We did not know how to lay our hands on the ancient mech. We did not know an open entrance.
THE tall, white figure in the roadway waved them to a halt. He was white as a fish's belly, but his features were purest Indian, with a great hawk nose, wide nostrils, high cheekbones—and a lean, starved, greyhound body. His limbs were bone thin under the long white ceremonial robe. He was very old, but somehow vigorous. His words were purest Quemaya, and only Secumne understood the almost extinct tongue well.
"Welcome to the ancient realm of the Breath-Master. It has been long since pilgrims have found their way to their God. Give me your names that I may acquaint the mighty one with your presence and learn if he will grant you sight of his glory."
Secumne answered gravely in the same tongue.
"We are Pilgrims come bearing news and asking for the aid of the great one. We have much to give, and we may receive much. Our news is for the ears of the great one only. He may remember my name: I was a servant here in the days, long ago, of my youth. I am Secumne. He may also know the names of these two, for they know that Eemeeshee is a real being. They are Jack Stevens and Eonee Lane. They represent a great legion of red men, the last of our once mighty race who still preserve courage to plan for the future of the Indian. It will be a mighty pleasure to Eemeeshee to know that his red sons still need him, still want his leadership and his wisdom. Tell the Breath-Master that if our fathers had sought and found the way to his home that we would not now need his help. For he would not have turned his face away from his red sons. Tell him, too, we bring him news of danger to his life from other beings who have come to the caverns of the Gods of the past. They will kill him, if he does not know they come, does not cease his mighty dreaming and look at the world at his feet."
The tall, white-robed, skeleton-thin Indian turned and walked away through a vast doorway in the boring that was the road. The eight men got out of the cars; built a fire; began to prepare a meal: Little was said. There was too much to say for words to do their duty.
