nt of
something favourable. "No," he exclaimed, "he said that I must beware of
Tyope and of his koitza; but that Mitsha I could trust."

"Then it is well, sa uishe," replied the mother; "come in and eat."

Okoya could hardly believe his senses. Had his mother really said, "It
is well?" Was it possible that she was satisfied and in sympathy with
his feeling toward Mitsha? Such was his surprise that he performed his
prayers before squatting down to the meal without a thought of the
kopishtai, to whom he scattered crumbs mechanically. He forgot to eat,
and stared like a blind man with eyes wide open, heedless of the food,
heedless of everything around him.

"Eat," said Say to him. Twice she repeated the invitation ere he came to
himself and reached out for the first morsel. Aware of his mute
astonishment and conscious of his perplexity, his mother finally
asked,--

"What is the matter with you, mot[=a]tza?"

He merely shook his head and stared.

Very few young Indians in Okoya's condition would have placed so much
stress on their mother's consent or dissent. All or nearly all of them
would simply have left the old home and would have joined their
betrothed at her mother's house; and only the clan, and not the family,
could have interfered with their action. In the case of Okoya it was
different, and unusual circumstances complicated the matter. Mitsha's
clan was that of Topanashka, his own maternal grandfather; and if he
spoke against the union matters would be desperate. His mother,
therefore, held the key to the situation, inasmuch as through her both
the Eagle clan, to which Mitsha belonged, and Tanyi hanutsh, his own
consanguine cluster, could be favourably or unfavourably influenced. As
things appeared now, all seemed most promising. Even his mother--who a
short time ago had expressed herself so bitterly against his choice--was
now favourable to it. What could Tyope do under such circumstances?
Nothing at all. So the boy reasoned unconsciously; but beside, he felt
glad, he felt happy, because his mother approved of him. He was fond of
his mother at the bottom of his heart, as fond as any Indian can be.

Say Koitza approved his choice. There was no doubt about it, and still
she had not spoken plainly as yet. At any other time he would have
maintained a prudent reserve and waited his time to inquire. To-day he
felt so surprised, so completely stupefied, that only one course was
left him, and that was to learn he