her sex.

From some of the houses the white painted horrors have taken out the
grinding-slabs. Kneeling behind them, they heap dirt on their flat
surfaces, moisten it with water, and grind the mud as the housewife does
the corn, yelping and wailing the while in mimicry of the woman and her
song while similarly engaged. The pranks of these fellows are simply
silly and ugly; the folly borders on imbecility and the ugliness is
disgusting, and yet nobody is shocked; everybody endures it and laughs.

[Illustration: The Dance of the Ayash Tyucotz]

Say Koitza herself enjoyed seeing her sex made a butt by coarse and
vulgar satyrs. Suddenly two of the beasts stand before her, and one of
them attempts an embrace. With a loud shriek she pushes him away, steps
nimbly aside, and so saves the treacherous bundle from his grasp. Both
the monsters storm into the house, where a terrific uproar begins. Corn
is thrown about, grinding-slabs are disturbed, pots and bowls, robes and
mats, are dragged hither and thither; they thump, scratch, and pound
every corner of her little house. Gasping for breath, quaking from
terror and distress, she leans against the wall, for in the fellow who
sought to embrace her she recognizes Tyope.

All at once he darts out of the house, rushing past her with a large ear
of corn in each hand which he forthwith hurls at the head of one of his
comrades. This provokes intense merriment, increased still more by his
lying down and rolling over several times. The climax of his humour is
attained, and exhibits itself in his squatting on the ground close to
one of the clay-grinding artists, where he begins to feed very eagerly
upon the liquid mud, literally eating dirt. But a terrible weight has
been lifted from the breast of the poor woman, for the dangerous man
has, so she must conclude from his actions, discovered nothing.

Meanwhile the other Koshare had stepped out of the house with
well-filled hands. Say is unconscious of his approach, and as he passes
her he empties his treasures, fine ashes, upon her devoted head. So
sudden is his disappearance and so loud the laughter which this display
of subtle humour excites among the bystanders, that Say Koitza fails to
recognize its author, Zashue, her own husband.

She feels much relieved, and her heart has grown light now that the
immediate danger is past. And intently she tries to catch her father's
eye, but the old man is quietly seated and does not look toward h