to save his only child from
a cruel and ignominious fate.

His daughter too felt utterly wretched, and despondent in the highest
degree. For the accusation against her was true. She had practised the
dread art; and yet, strange to say, while conscious of guilt, in the
bottom of her heart she felt herself innocent. Let us recall the past
life of the unhappy being to see whether there is in it anything to
explain this apparent anomaly.

When Say Koitza was fourteen years of age her husband Zashue Tihua began
to pay her his first attentions. He called at her mother's home oftener
than any other youth of her tribe, and one afternoon, when she was
returning from the brook with a jar filled with water on her head, he
stopped her, dipped some water out of the urn, drank it, and whispered
something to which she gave no reply, hurrying home as rapidly as
possible. She could not speak to her mother about this, for her mother
was hopelessly deaf, and it would not have been proper to consult her
father, since the father belonged of course to another clan. A whole
night and one full day Say pondered over the case; at last her mind was
made up. The girl took a dish filled with corn-cakes and rolls of sweet
paste of the yucca-fruit, and placed it on her head. With this load she
climbed up the rugged slope leading to the dwellings of the Water clan,
to which Zashue belonged. The lad was sitting in the cave inhabited by
his family, busying himself with straightening arrow shafts over the
fire, when the girl, pushing before her the loaded tray, crept through
the port-hole. Silently she placed the food before him, and went out
again without a word. This was her affirmative reply to his wooing.
Thereafter, Zashue visited the quarters of the Gourd people at the big
house every night. Along the foot of the cliffs, in soft ground, and in
a lonely sheltered spot, he meanwhile planted four stakes connected by
cross-poles. From end to end cotton threads were drawn lengthwise, and
here Zashue wove a cotton wrap day after day. The girl would steal out
to this place also, carrying food to the young artisan. She would
cleanse his hair while they chatted quietly, shyly at first, about the
present and the future. When the mantle was done and it looked white and
firm, Zashue brought it to Say Koitza's mother, who forthwith understood
the intention of his gift, and felt gratified at the prospect of
securing a son-in-law who possessed cotton. The plant