"What are you doing to this child?" asked Mitsha's mother, still under
the pressure of her former excitement. She was ready for another fray.

"He is my brother, and the cause of the whole trouble," Okoya explained
to her. "I chide him for it, as it is my duty to do. Nevertheless, they
had no right to kill him, still less to hurt the girl."

The woman had at last had time to scrutinize the looks of the young man.
She herself was not old, and when not under the influence of passion was
rather comely. Okoya's handsome figure attracted her attention, and she
stepped nearer, eyeing him closely.

"Where do you belong?" she inquired in a quieter tone.

"I am Tanyi."

"Who is your father?"

"Zashue Tihua."

The woman smiled; she moved still nearer to the young man and
continued,--

"I know your father well. He is one of us, a Koshare." Her eyes remained
fastened on his features; she was manifestly more and more pleased with
his appearance. But at the same time she occasionally glanced toward her
daughter Mitsha, and it struck her forcibly that Mitsha, too, was
handsome.

"I know who you are," she said smilingly. "You are Okoya Tihua, your
little brother is called Shyuote, and Say Koitza is your mother's name.
She is a good woman, but"--and she shrugged her shoulders--"always sick.
Have you any cotton?" she suddenly asked, looking squarely into the eyes
of the boy.

"No," he replied, and his features coloured visibly, "but I have some
handsome skins."

Mitsha too seemed embarrassed; she started to go into the room below,
but her mother called her back.

"Sa uishe," she coaxed, "won't you give the mot[=a]tza something to
eat?"

The faces of both young people became fiery red. He stood like a statue,
and yet his chest heaved. He cast his eyes to the ground. Mitsha had
turned her face away; her whole body was trembling like a leaf. Her
mother persisted.

"Take him down into the room and feed him," she repeated, and smiled.

"I have nothing," murmured Mitsha.

"If such is the case I shall go and see myself." With these words the
woman descended the beam into the room below, leaving the two alone on
the roof, standing motionless, neither daring to look at the other.

While the colloquy between Okoya and Mitsha's mother was going on,
Shyuote had recovered somewhat from his fright and grief and had sneaked
off. Once on the ground he walked--still trembling and suspiciously
scanning the cliff wherein the Corn