This said K‘yäk´lu as he sat him down on the litter, and obediently the
Kâ´yemäshi lifted it upon their shoulders and bore it away, along the
trail eastward, down which westward we go after death and fulfilment.
And as they journeyed through the plain, calling loudly to one another,
the little people of the Marmot villages ran out and stood up, looking
at them and calling to one another, which so amused and pleased the
Kâ´yemäshi that they became proud of their master and uncle, K‘yäk´lu,
and sang all the way thereafter of the audience they had at every
prairie-dog village, of Marmot youths and Marmot maidens; and thus
they were singing gleefully as they neared the camp of the people,
insomuch that none were frightened, but all wondered who were those
pleasant, strange people coming, and what one of precious consideration
guided of the far-journeying Duck they were bearing aloft on their
litter. Thus, ever since, they sing, as they bring in K‘yäk´lu from the
western plain, along the river-trail of the dead, and thus happily and
expectantly we await their coming, our little ones wonderingly as did
the first men of those days.