cold draught
from the outside had stopped; the women sat in breathless silence; they
listened and listened. Nothing moved. Not a sound was heard.

Shotaye overcame her first anxiety and repeated the dread formula. All
was silent. Suddenly a cold blast pervaded the room again. It fanned the
embers to renewed life; they shed a faint glimmer over the chamber. The
women started; there was a crackling heard; the feathers moved; the ears
of corn seemed to change position. One of the feather bunches rolled on
the floor. They nearly screamed in terror, for their excited imagination
caused them to hear ghostly sounds,--disconnected, uncomprehended words.
It was clear that the black corn had spoken. What it said neither could
tell; but the fact of having heard the noise was sufficient to convince
them that Say was under the influence of an evil charm, and Shotaye took
care to add that that charm was exercised by the Koshare or by some one
belonging to their society.

So powerful was the effect of this incantation scene upon Say that she
fainted. After a while she recovered and Shotaye led her back to the
outer room, where, after some time, she began to slumber from sheer
exhaustion. Then the medicine-woman returned to the caves, taking with
her every vestige of the conjuration.

It was wise on her part, for as soon as Say awoke from feverish and
anxious dreams, her first thought was about the dismal objects.
Everything was quiet. Zashue had returned, and was quietly asleep by her
side. She arose and glided into the kitchen, noiselessly, stealthily.
The floor was clean. She felt around; not a trace of the objectionable
pile could be noticed. Unspeakable was the feeling of relief with which
she returned to her husband's side and extended herself on the hides
again; sound sleep came to her, and when she awoke it was daylight. She
felt stronger, brighter. Yet thereafter, as often as Zashue approached
her in his harmless, bantering manner, she experienced a strange, sudden
pang. She was reminded of having done wrong in not having been open with
him. The Indian's conscience is hemmed in by bonds arising from his
social and religious organization; why, for instance, should she have
told her spouse? He was neither of her clan nor of her party. He
belonged to the summer people, she to those of winter. She stood outside
of all secret associations, whereas he was a Koshare.

The winter following proved to be mild and dry. Say recovered