tand the language, but the signs were clear to
her.

"Koitza," she replied, imitating his motions; "Tehua hachshtze;" and
with a wink, "amoshko."

The Indian shook his head; he dropped the arm of the woman, made with
both hands the motion of stringing a bow, and exclaimed,--

"Uan save." Grasping the war-club that hung from his wrist he struck two
or three blows with it at random, repeated the words "uan save," and
looked askance.

This was beyond Shotaye's powers of comprehension. She again pointed at
herself, saying,--

"Tyuonyi koitza," then in the direction of the Rito, made the
gesture-sign for killing, and looked at the stranger inquiringly and
with an anxious face.

Now the Indian understood her. His eyes sparkled; he shook his head
emphatically, uttering,--

"Nyo nyo tema, uan save, uan save;" at the same time he pointed to the
west and brandished his war-club.

It became clear to the woman that the warrior was on an expedition
against the Navajos, and not after the scalps of her own people; but it
was equally plain to her that, being on the war-path, any kind of
enjoyment was prohibited to him. This was a disappointment, and the
strange dialogue came therefore to a stand-still. Each eyed the other in
silence. All at once the stranger stepped up to her, and extending his
arms to the west, asked,--

"Uan save?"

She shrugged her shoulders in silence.

"Quio," he said now, and grasped her hand; "tupoge," pointing toward the
Rito. "Quio," he beckoned her to go with him. "Puye," waving his hand to
the north. Lastly he grinned and whispered, "cuinda?"

There was no possibility of misunderstanding the smile and the motions,
although the words, of course, were beyond Shotaye's comprehension. In
return she pointed to the west again, made the conventional sign for
night and sleep, and began to count her fingers. As she bent the eighth
digit the Tehua stopped her, held up every finger of the right hand and
three of the left, described, as if in confirmation eight times, an arch
from east to west, and concluded by pointing to the north, exclaiming
very emphatically,--

"Puye!" He looked at her and laughed aloud, as the Indian does when he
feels delighted, pressed both hands against his chest, and uttered
proudly,--

"Cayamo."

"Shotaye," she eagerly replied.

The black-painted hero burst out in immoderate laughter.

"Shotaye, Shotaye," he repeated, caught hold of one of her hands,
caressed his ches