Another and older woman was picking up driftwood, and arranging it for a
fire. When the men had finished their work at the hut, they came and
helped her. They laid it very carefully, with a great many openings, and
level on the top, and lighted it.

Then the grandmother brought a little purple woollen shawl, and gave it
to the old man. He held it out as far as his arm could reach, and waved
it, and apparently called to the spirit of the child to come and receive
it; and he then cast it into the fire. He spoke in the old Indian
language, which they do not use in talking with us. It sounded very
strange and thrilling. Each little toy they handled with great care
before putting it into the flames. After they had burned up the bread
and the apples, they poured on some sugar, and smothered the flames,
making a dense column of smoke.

Then they all moved a little farther back, and motioned us to also. We
wondered they had tolerated us so long, as they dislike being observed;
but they seemed to feel that we sympathized with them. The old man staid
nearest. He lay down on the sand, half hidden by a wrecked tree. He
stripped his arms and legs bare, and pulled his hair all up to the top
of his head, and knotted it in a curious way, so that it nodded in a
shaggy tuft over his forehead. Then he lay motionless, looking at the
fire, once in a while turning and saying something to the women,
apparently about the child, as I several times distinguished the word
_tenas-tenas_ (the little one). I thought perhaps he might be describing
her coming and taking the things. At times he became very animated. They
did not stir, only answered with a kind of mournful "Ah--ah," to every
thing he said.

At last their little dog bounded forward, as if to meet some one. At
that, they were very much excited and pleased, and motioned us to go
farther off still, as if it were too sacrilegious for us to stay there.
They all turned away but the old man, and he began to move in a stealthy
way towards the fire. All the clumsiness and weight of a man seemed to
be gone. He was as light and wiry as a snake, and glided round the old
drift that strewed the sand, with his body prostrate, but his head held
erect, and his bright eyes fixed on the fire, like some wild desert
creature, which he appeared to counterfeit. The Indians think, that, by
assuming the shape of any creature, they can acquire something of its
power. When he had nearly reached the fire, he spra