ple might get weary on their long journey, Maseua and
his brother commanded that from Shipapu there should come forth a man
whose body was painted white and black, and who carried on his head
dried corn-leaves instead of feathers. This man began at once to dance,
to jump, and to tumble, so that the people laughed and their hearts
became glad. This man led the summer-men southward, and as often as they
grew tired he danced again and made jests; and the tribe followed him
until they came to where we are now, and all met again. The
summer-people never suffered hunger in all their wanderings, for their
leader was precious, and wherever they went he caused the fruits to be
ripe. That man was the Koshare.[4] Since that time there have been
Koshare in every tribe. Their task it is to keep the people happy and
merry; but they must also fast, mortify themselves, and pray to Those
Above that every kind of fruit may ripen in its time, even the fruit in
woman's womb. To them is given the yellow flower from the fertile
bottoms which makes the hearts of men glad. Now you know what the
Koshare are and," he added emphatically, "why you should not laugh and
make merry when you are not precious to them."

The woman had listened with breathless attention. At the close, however,
she hung her head and sighed. The old man gazed at her in silence. In
the outer room the regular breathings of the sleeping boy were heard,
otherwise all was as still as a grave.

At last she lifted her face again.

"Father," she asked, "are those who are precious to the holders of our
paths, are they always good?"

"I need not tell you about this," he replied, fixing upon her a
penetrating glance.

"I know of nothing evil," she stammered, "unless it be bad men."

"And yet you have used owl's feathers!"

Her face grew pale. She asked hoarsely,--

"Where should I keep them?"

"The Koshare know it," was the equally husky reply.

She started, her eyes gleamed like living coals.

"Have the Koshare sent you here, father?"

"No," was the gloomy answer; "but if the old men come to me and say,
'kill the witch,' I must do it. For you know I am Maseua,
head-war-chief, and whatever the principals command I must do, even if
it takes the life of my only child!"

The woman rose to her feet; her attitude was one of defiance.

"Let the Koshare speak, and do you as you are commanded. The time must
come when I shall have to die. The sooner it comes, the sooner shall