re that very fire in bitterest despair, bewailing
her own lot, lamenting her imminent untimely death, and yet without one
single word of reproach for her who had beguiled her into doing what now
might result in the destruction of both. Was not that thin, trembling
woman her victim? Was she not the one who had led Say astray? The Indian
knows not what conscience is, but he feels it all the same; and Shotaye,
ignorant of the nature of remorse, nevertheless grew sad.

Indeed she it was who had beguiled the poor frail creature,--she it was
who had caused her to perform an act which, however immaterial in fact,
still entailed punishment of the severest kind according to Indian
notions and creed. She was the real culprit, not Say,--poor, innocent,
weak-minded Say. Shotaye felt that she had done wrong, and that she
alone deserved to suffer. But would her punishment save the other?
Hardly, according to Indian ideas. Therefore, while it dawned upon her
that by accusing herself boldly and publicly she might perhaps ward off
the blow from the head of her meek and gentle accomplice, that thought
was quickly stifled by the other, that it was impracticable. Again a
voice within her spoke boldly, Save yourself regardless of the other.

Yet she discarded that advice. She could not forsake her victim. For in
addition to the legitimate motives of sympathy, another and stronger
reason prevailed,--the dread of the very powers whom she thought to have
invoked in Say's behalf, and to whose dark realm she fancied that she
would be fettered and still faster riveted by committing an action which
she regarded as worse than all her other deeds. Dismissing every thought
of self she resolved to remain true to Say, happen what might. Shotaye
had almost become--

"part of the power that still
Produceth good, whilst ever scheming ill."

She believed that death stood plainly at her door. Nevertheless she
hated to die. The philosophy of careless, frivolous resignation could
not satisfy her strong vitality, still less her stronger feelings of
hatred against her enemies. She felt that there might be a bare
possibility of saving her companion; and the wish to save herself at the
same time, and in the very teeth as it were of the Koshare, grew
stronger and stronger. It waxed to an intense longing for life and
revenge. But what was to be done? There was the riddle, and to solve it
she thought and thought. Shotaye became oblivio