Then Seha raised his voice above the despairing murmur of the village, saying: “Seha is a young man, yet the thunder spirits will hear him, be they ever so drowsy, for Seha has had a vision. Seha will call the rain.” The murmur of the people ceased, for so strange a light was in the eyes of the youth that they believed. “Let Seha give us rain,” they cried, “and he shall be a great man among his people!” Then Seha strode out of the village and disappeared in the hills. His heart was loud as he walked, for would he not be a great man among his people? He believed in his power with that belief which is the power. All day he walked, and when the red sun glared across the western hills like an eye bloodshot with pain, he came to a clump of cottonwoods that sang upon the summit of a bluff. Now the thunder spirits love the cottonwoods, for they rise sternly from the earth, reaching their long arms into the clouds, and they cry back at the storm with a loud voice. Where the cottonwood sings, there the thunder spirits sleep, and the thunder birds, the eagle and the hawk, watch with keen eyes. Under the trees Seha stood, and raising his hands and his eyes to the heavens, he cried: “Hear Seha! For is he not a thunder man? Did he not dream the thunder man’s dream? Then I command you, send the big clouds boiling before the wind; send the rains, that my people may have food for their children. Then I will be a great man among my people!” The trees only tossed their branches above him, while they sang softly in the wind. “O Thunder Spirits!” he cried again. “You are not asleep! I hear you talking together in the tree tops. Listen to me, for I am a thunder man!” Then a dead calm grew. The cottonwoods were still. Suddenly they groaned with a cool gust from the east. The groan was like a waking man’s groan when he arises, stretching and yawning, from his blankets. Then Seha lay down to sleep; for were not the thunder spirits awake? When the night was late, Seha was awakened by the howl of the thunder. He saw the quick lightning pierce the boiling darkness in the east. Then the rain drops danced upon the dry hills with a sound like the unintelligible patter of many voices that are glad. Seha was glad, and he answered the shout of the thunder. His people in the village were glad, and their tongues were noisy with the name of Seha. The maize was glad and it looked up to the kind sky, tossing its arms in exultation. When Seha returned to the village, he was the centre of a joyful cry; he had become a great man among his people. And when they asked from whence he had such great powers, he said: “I caught it from the blowing wind; I heard it in the growing of the maize.”