With what, then, shall they be clothed, O Woman of the Night Sky?
Explain to my people this dream that I have dreamed." The slim, white-cowled figure answered slowly, with bowed head, brooding motionless in the shadow of her hair: "Two dogs lie yonder for Atensi and her grandson.

Let them be painted with the sun and moon.

So shall the dream of Amochol come true!" "Sorceress!" he retorted fiercely.

"Shall I not offer to Atensi and Iuskeha two Hidden Children, that white robes may be made of their unblemished skins to clothe the Sun and Moon ?" "Into the eternal wampum it is woven that the soft, white skins shall clothe their bodies till the husks fall from the silken corn." "And then, Witch of the East?
Shall I not offer them when the husks are stripped ?" "I see no further than you dream, O Amochol!" He stretched out his arm toward her, menacingly: "Yet they shall both be strangled here upon this stone!" he said.
"Look, Witch! Can you not see them lying there together?
I have dreamed it." She silently pointed at the two dead dogs.
"Look again!" he cried in a loud voice.

"What do you see ?" She made no reply.
"Answer!" he said sharply.
"I have looked.