Now the Four-way Lodge is opened--now the Smokes of Council rise-- Pleasant smokes, ere yet ’twixt trail and trail they choose-- Now the girths and ropes are tested: now they pack their last supplies: Now our Young Men go to dance before the Trues! Who shall meet them at those altars--who shall light them to that shrine? Velvet-footed, who shall guide them to their goal? Unto each the voice and vision: unto each his spoor and sign-- Lonely mountain in the Northland, misty sweat-bath ’neath the Line-- And to each a man that knows his naked soul! White or yellow, black or copper, he is waiting, as a lover, Smoke of funnel, dust of hooves, or beat of train-- Where the high grass hides the horseman or the glaring flats discover-- Where the steamer hails the landing, or the surf-boat brings the rover-- Where the rails run out in sand-drift ... Quick! ah, heave the camp-kit over! For the Red Gods make their medicine again! _And we go--go--go away from here! On the other side the world we’re overdue! ’Send the road is clear before you when the old Spring-fret comes o’er you, And the Red Gods call for you!_ THE TRUCE OF THE BEAR [Page 51] Yearly, with tent and rifle, our careless white men go By the pass called Muttianee, to shoot in the vale below. Yearly by Muttianee he follows our white men in-- Matun, the old blind beggar, bandaged from brow to chin. Eyeless, noseless, and lipless--toothless, broken of speech. Seeking a dole at the doorway he mumbles his tale to each; Over and over the story, ending as he began: ‘Make ye no truce with Adam-zad--the Bear that walks like a man! ‘There was a flint in my musket--pricked and primed was the pan, When I went hunting Adam-zad--the Bear that stands like a man. I looked my last on the timber, I looked my last on the snow, When I went hunting Adam-zad fifty summers ago! ‘I knew his times and his seasons, as he knew mine, that fed By night in the ripened maizefield and robbed my house of bread; I knew his strength and cunning, as he knew mine, that crept At dawn to the crowded goat-pens and plundered while I slept. ‘Up from his stony playground--down from his well-digged lair-- Out on the naked ridges ran Adam-zad the Bear; Groaning, grunting, and roaring, heavy with stolen meals, Two long marches to northward, and I was at his heels! ‘Two full marches to northward, at the fall of the second night, I came on mine enemy Adam-zad all panting from his flight. There was a charge in the musket--pricked and primed was the pan-- My finger crooked on the trigger--when he reared up like a man. ‘Horrible, hairy, human, with paws like hands in prayer, Making his supplication rose Adam-zad the Bear! I looked at the swaying shoulders, at the paunch’s swag and swing, And my heart was touched with pity for the monstrous, pleading thing.