The Mystery of Choice
Copyright© 2016 by Robert W. Chambers
Chapter 5
The bridge of the stars spans the sky seas; the sun and the moon are the travellers who pass over it. This was also known in the lodges of the Isantee, hundreds of years ago. Chaské told it to Hârpam, and when Hârpam knew he told it to Hapéda; and so the knowledge spread to Hârka, and from Winona to Wehârka, up and down, across and ever across, woof and web, until it came to the Island of Grief. And how? God knows!
Wehârka, prattling in the tules, may have told Ne-kâ; and Ne-kâ, high in the November clouds, may have told Kay-óshk, who told it to Shinge-bis, who told it to Skeé-skah, who told it to Sé-só-Kah.
Ihó! Inâh! Behold the wonder of it! And this is the fate of all knowledge that comes to the Island of Grief.
As the red glow died in the sky, and the sand swam in shadows, the girl parted the silken curtains of her hair and looked at him.
“Ehó!” she whispered again in soft delight.
For now it was plain to her that he was the sun! He had crossed the bridge of stars in the blue twilight; he had come!
“E-tó!”
She stepped nearer, shivering, faint with the ecstasy of this holy miracle wrought before her.
He was the Sun! His blood streaked the sky at dawn; his blood stained the clouds at even. In his eyes the blue of the sky still lingered, smothering two blue stars; and his body was as white as the breast of the Moon.
She opened both arms, hands timidly stretched, palm upward. Her face was raised to his, her eyes slowly closed; the deep-fringed lids trembled.
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