There is a great valley between hills, the Kimash Hills, the hills of the Mighty Men. The woods are deep and dark; there is but one trail through them, and it is old. On the highest hill is a vast mound. In that mound are the forefathers of a nation that is gone. Yes, as you say, they are dead, and there is none of them alive in the valley which is called the White Valley where the buffalo are.

When he married sweet Lucette Barbond his religion reached little farther than a belief in the Scarlet Hunter of the Kimash Hills and those voices that could be heard calling in the night, till their time of sleep be past, and they should rise and reconquer the north. Not even Father Corraine, whose ways were like those of his Master, could ever bring him to a more definite faith.

V'la l'joli vent! On and on you go, faster and faster, and you forget the world, and you forget yourself, and the devil is with you in the air in the chasse-galerie on the Kimash River." "Jo," said Charley Steele, "do you honestly think there's a river like that?" 'M'sieu', I know it.

His eyes on the great seats of judgment, he said to Pierre: "See, see, how they sit there, grey and cold and awful!" But Pierre shook his head. "There is nothing," he said, "nothing;" yet he knew that Sherburne was looking upon the men of judgment of the Kimash Hills, the sleepers.

Would he understand that she was feeling, not the common detail of the lodge and the camp-fire and the Company's post, but the deep spirit of Nature, filtering through the senses in a thousand ways the wild ducks' flight, the sweet smell of the balsam, the exquisite gallop of the deer, the powder of the frost, the sun and snow and blue plains of water, the thrilling eternity of plain and the splendid steps of the hills, which led away by stair and entresol to the Kimash Hills, the Hills of the Mighty Men?

You sell your soul to the devil; you ask him to help you; you deny God. You get into a canoe and call on the devil. You are lifted up, canoe and all, and you rush on down rapids, over falls, on the Kimash River in the air. The devil stands behind you and shouts, and you sing, 'V'la! l'bon vent!

"Who knows!" "Is it a legend, then?" "It is a river." "And the chasse-galerie?" "That is true, M'sieu', no matter what any one thinks. I know; I have seen I have seen with my own eyes." Jo was excited now. "I am listening." He took a cup of tea from Portugais and drank eagerly. "The Kimash River, M'sieu', that is the river in the air. On it is the chasse-galerie.

From the moment that his guide left him dangers beset him, and those spirits called the Mockers, which are the evil deeds of a man crying to Heaven, came crying about him from the dead white trees, breathing through the powdery air, whistling down the moonlight; so that to cheer him he called out again and again, like any heathen: "Keeper, O Keeper of the Kimash Hills!

There is a great valley between hills, the Kimash Hills, the hills of the Mighty Men. The woods are deep and dark; there is but one trail through them, and it is old. On the highest hill is a vast mound. In that mound are the forefathers of a nation that is gone. Yes, as you say, they are dead, and there is none of them alive in the valley which is called the White Valley where the buffalo are.

Thou hast an arm like a shooting star, Thou hast an eye like the North Sky fires, Thou hast a pouch for the hungry, Thou hast a tent for the lost: Hear me, O Keeper of the Kimash Hills!" And whether or not this availed him, who can tell?