ed. As Zashue ate he praised her cooking; and that gratified her,
although it filled her with remorse and anguish. The children came also
and squatted around the hearth, Okoya alone keeping at a distance and
eyeing his mother suspiciously. Could she in his presence really feel as
merry as she acted? Was it not evidence of the basest deception on her
part? So the boy reasoned from his own standpoint, and went out into the
court-yard in disgust.

The sun set, and a calm, still night sank down on the Rito de los
Frijoles. As the sky darkened, evidences of life and mirth began to show
themselves at the bottom of the gorge as well as along the cliffs.
Monotonous singing sounded from the roofs of the big house, from caves,
and from slopes leading up to them. Noisy talking, clear, ringing
laughter, rose into the night. Old as well as young seemed to enjoy the
balmy evening. Few remained indoors. Among these were Zashue and his
wife. The woman leaned against him, and often looked up to his face with
a smile. She felt happy by the side of her husband, and however
harrowing the thought of her future seemed to be, the present was
blissful to her.

After a while Zashue rose, and his spouse followed him anxiously to the
door, trembling lest he should leave her alone for the night. She
grasped his hand, and he stood for a while in the outer doorway gazing
at the sky. Every sound was hushed except the rushing of the brook. The
canopy of heaven sparkled in wonderful splendour. Its stars blazed,
shedding peace upon earth and good-will to man. The woman's hand
quivered in that of her spouse. He turned and retired with her to the
interior of the dwelling.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 4: This tradition was told me by Tehua Indians, and some
friends among the Queres subsequently confirmed it.]

[Footnote 5: This fire-cure was still practised by the Queres not very
long ago.]

CHAPTER III.

We must now return to the fields of the Rito, and to the spot where, in
the first chapter of our story, Okoya had been hailed by a man whom he
afterward designated as Tyope Tihua. That individual was, as we have
since found, the former husband of Shotaye, Say's ill-chosen friend.
After the boys had left, Tyope had continued to weed his corn, not with
any pretence of activity or haste, but in the slow, persistent way
peculiar to the sedentary Indian, which makes of him a steady though not
a very profitable worker. Tyope's only implement was a pi