in the wall,
whence light came in from the outside. The wall faced the west, and the
height of the loophole corresponded to that of the sun about one hour
before sunset.

"Give food to the children," directed the old man. "When they have eaten
and are gone I shall speak to you."

The fire crackled and blazed, and ruddy flashes shot across the features
of the woman. Was it a mere reflection of the fire, or had her features
quivered and coloured? The old man scanned those features with a cold,
steady look.

She removed from the fire the sooty pot of clay in which venison cut in
small pieces was stewing together with corn, dark beans, and a few roots
and herbs as seasoning. Then she called out,--

"Shyuote, come and eat! Where is Okoya?"

The latter alone heard the invitation, for Shyuote had gone to sleep on
the hides. The elder brother shook him, and went into the kitchen. He
was followed by the child who staggered from drowsiness. The mother
meanwhile had placed on the floor a pile of corn-cakes. Beside it, in an
earthen bowl decorated inside and out with geometrical lines, steamed
the stew. Dinner was ready; the table spread.

To enjoy this meal both lads squatted, but Shyuote, still half asleep,
lost his balance and tumbled over. Angry at the merriment which this
created, the boy hastily grabbed the food, but his mother interfered.

"Don't be so greedy, uak,--'urchin.' Remember Those Above," she said;
and Shyuote, imitating the example of Okoya, crossly muttered a prayer,
and scattered crumbs before him. Then only, both fell to eating.

This was done by simply folding a slice of the cake to form a primitive
ladle, and dipping the contents of the stew out with it. Thus they
swallowed meat, broth, and finally the ladle also. Okoya arose first,
uttering a plainly audible hoa. Shyuote ate longer; at last he wiped his
mouth with the seam of his wrap, grumbled something intended for
thanksgiving, and strolled back to his resting place in the front room.
Okoya went out into the court-yard to be alone with his forebodings. The
sight of his mother seemed oppressive to him.

After the boys had gone the woman emptied the remainder of the stew back
into the pot, filled the painted bowl with water, and put both vessels
in a corner. Then she sat down, leaning against the wall, looking
directly toward her father. Her face was thin and wan, her cheeks were
hollow, and her eyes had a suppressed look of uneasiness.

The old