When the Fire Spirits saw what he
had done they streamed out after him, red and angry, with a humming sound
like a swarm of bees. But the Coyote was still ahead; the sparks of the
brand streamed out along his flanks, as he carried it in his mouth; and he
stretched his body to the trail.
The Boy saw him coming, like a falling star against the mountain; he heard
the singing sound of the Fire Spirits close behind, and the labouring
breath of the Counsellor. And when the good beast panted down beside him,
the Boy caught the brand from his jaws and was off, like an arrow from a
bent bow. Out he shot on the homeward path, and the Fire Spirits snapped
and sang behind him. But fast as they pursued he fled faster, till he saw
the next runner standing in his place, his body bent for the running. To
him he passed it, and it was off and away, with the Fire Spirits raging in
chase.
So it passed from hand to hand, and the Fire Spirits tore after it through
the scrub, till they came to the mountains of the snows; these they could
not pass. Then the dark, sleek runners with the backward streaming brand
bore it forward, shining starlike in the night, glowing red in sultry
noons, violet pale in twilight glooms, until they came in safety to their
own land.
And there they kept it among stones and fed it with small sticks, as the
Counsellor advised; and it kept the people warm.
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