ed his surly ways to
sitting up late.

Okoya was glad to get out of the woman's reach, and he did not stop
until at the entrance to the caves which Hayoue and his folk occupied.
There was no necessity of announcing himself; he merely lifted the
curtain of rawhide that hung over the doorway, and peeped in.

His youthful uncle--so much he saw at a glance--was not in. Another
young gentleman of the tribe lay on the floor beside the other members
of the family. All were sound asleep yet, and Okoya dropped the curtain
quietly and turned toward the brook. On its banks he selected a spot
where, unseen to others, he could look down the valley. Here he threw
himself on the ground to watch, and await Hayoue's coming.

Although deeply anxious to meet his uncle, Okoya entertained no thought
of impatience. He had to wait, that was all. Beside, his heart was so
heavy, so full of grief and despair, that not even his surroundings
could divert him from gloomy thoughts. The brook murmured and rustled
softly by his side, its waters looked clear and limpid; he neither heard
nor saw them. He only longed to be alone, completely alone, until his
uncle should come. Okoya had not performed his morning ablutions, but
there was no thought of them; for he was in deep sorrow, and when the
Indian's heart is heavy he is very careful not to wash.

Flat on his stomach, with chin resting on both hands, indifferent to the
peculiar scenery before him, he nevertheless scanned the cliffs as far
as they were visible. The grottoes of Tzitz hanutsh opened right in
front of him; lower down, the entrances of a few of the caves of Kohaio
hanutsh could be seen, for the rocks jutted out like towering pillars.
They completely shut out from his gaze the eastern cave-dwellings of
Tzina hanutsh. Farther to the east, the wall of cliffs swept around to
the southeast, showing the houses of the Eagle clan built against its
base, the caverns of Yakka hanutsh opening along a semicircle
terminating in a sharp point of massive rocks. In that promontory the
port-holes of some of the dwellings of the Cottonwood people were
visible. Beyond, all detail became undistinguishable through the
distance, for the north side of the Rito turned into a dim yellowish
wall crowned by dark pine-timber.

Okoya lay there, scanning, watching every doorway back and forth the
whole length of the view; hours went by; there were no signs of Hayoue.
Yet Okoya did not rise in anger and pace the gr