| The early morning sea breeze stirred the sea oats as the five boys trudged through the soft, white sand behind old Na-tay-atch-sa. This was O-tcha-kee's first expedition to the seashore--he had just come into his twelfth spring. O-tcha-kee marveled at the sound made by the shifting sands underfoot. Each step was accompanied by an audible "squick." The arrhythmic steps of the six, mingled with the rustling of grasses in the breeze, made a kind of music that O-tcha-kee found strange but pleasant. He shifted the palm basket strapped to his back. It wasn't heavy--it just made his back itch. If he was fortunate, his basket would be filled for the return trip. |
| Only after ascending
the highest dune did O-tcha-kee see the great Gulf. He stopped in awe at the
sight. The smell of salt air had carried at least a couple of miles inland, and he
had gotten used to it, but here, facing the immensity of the water, the fresh salt air
seemed to take on more potency. In the pre-dawn darkness, he noticed the water, just beginning to take on color. As far as he could see, O-tcha-kee followed the dark slate-blue water until it met the lighter blue-grey of |