He stopped,
biting his lips in embarrassment.

Tyope's features moved not. He spoke to the chief of the Delight Makers
as quietly and calmly as possible,--

"I believe as you do, nashtio; but while Say may be guiltless, Shotaye
is not."

"Hush!" the Naua sternly interrupted; "think of those here." He pointed
toward the symbols. "Don't you know that they must not hear the name of
that woman?"

Tyope replied hastily, and eager to drown the reprimand his chief had
given him,--

"What shall we do, Naua?"

The old man became impatient. "Don't you see that I am at work? I am
busy. Those here," he again nodded at the idols, "leave me no peace. I
must be with them until the last otshanyi begins. In three days we go to
the kaaptsh,--you, he, all our brethren,--and then we may speak. Now
leave me alone. Go! Leave me! Go! Go!" he cried, and waved his hand
upward. He was not to be spoken to any longer; he began to beat his drum
and took up the low chant again. Zashue hurriedly climbed out of the
estufa, and Tyope followed with an angry face. When the latter was on
the open ground again, Zashue stepped up to him and said in a very
decided tone,--

"You see now, satyumishe, that Say is innocent. Hereafter, Tyope, leave
her alone." Turning about, he walked toward the large house. Tyope cast
after him a look less of anger than of bitter disappointment.

The last act of the great ceremony began. A tremendous shout sounded
from the outer entrance to the gallery leading into the court-yard of
the great house. The chant arose stronger and louder than ever before,
and several drums rumbled at once. Again were the terraces filled with
people, the walls below lined with spectators. Topanashka sat on the
roof, cold and impassable. Say Koitza leaned in the doorway of her home,
with a quiet, almost smiling, countenance.

A long array of couples, dressed as before but painted red, opened the
procession; then came the Cuirana, and last the Koshare. Topanashka
arose and joined the dancers; the Tapop stood beside him, and both
stamped along, keeping time as if they were young once more. The singers
were reinforced by several aged men with snow-white hair, three of whom
wore dark wraps, sleeveless and covered with red embroidery. These were
the chief penitents; those without badges or distinctive dress, the
principal shamans of the tribe. A thrill of excitement ran through the
spectators; children on the roofs gathered in groups, moving