Tired out at night, she would sink into her bed. Then from their hiding places would come stealing the small messengers of Weenz, the Spirit of Sleep. These kindly gnomes--too small for the human eye to see--crept quickly up the face of the weary Neen-i-zu and tapped gently on her forehead with their tiny war-clubs, called _pub-ga-mau-guns_. Taptap--tap!--till her eyelids closed, and she sought the Happy Land in that other pleasant land of dreams.