An' the
more a man learns, the less sure he gits. An' things as hez
lasted a long time ain't liable to be on a rotten foundation.'"
Chapter 62. The Charm of Song
With a regular tum ta tum ta, came a weird sound from the sunrise
rock one morning, as Van slipped out of his cabin.
"Ag-aj-way-o-say
Pem-o-say
Gezhik-om era-bid ah-keen
Ena-bid ah-keen"
"What's he doing, Rolf?"
"That's his sunrise prayer," was the answer.
"Do you know what it means?"
"Yes, it ain't much; jest 'Oh, thou that walkest in the sky in
the morning, I greet thee."'
"Why, I didn't know Indians had such performances; that's exactly
like the priests of Osiris. Did any one teach him? I mean any
white folk."
"No, it's always been the Indian way. They have a song or a
prayer for most every big event, sunrise, sunset, moonrise, good
hunting, and another for when they're sick, or when they're going
on a journey, or when their heart is bad."
"You astonish me. I had no idea they were so human. It carries me
back to the temple of Delphi. It is worthy of Cassandra of Ilion.
I supposed all Indians were just savage Indians that hunted till
their bellies were full, and slept till they were empty again.
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