ve you gifts!"

"A jealous woman says that!" stormed Yahn Tsyn-deh,--"a woman who
maybe lies to him when he will listen! You see this:"--and she picked
up a black water worn pebble with a vein of white through the heart of
it--"Sometime when the Earth Mother was beginning with the work, these
two were maybe not together like this. They were apart--maybe it was
before the ice went from around our world and the mountains sent fire
to split the rocks. Look you now--you are wise, but maybe you do not
know how this is, for you go into shadow lands, and men and women, and
the stones over which your feet walk, are all the same to you--also
the love of a man and a woman are not anything to your thoughts!"

The other looked at her, and beyond her, and said nothing. The words
of Yahn were words of angry insistence on the thought she had never
yet been able to express--and to say it to even the god medicine woman
who sheltered a witch, was to speak it aloud, and have it forgotten!

"You are wise in medicine craft but do you know how this grew?"--she
demanded--"I know--I feel that _I know_!--the mountain fire or the sky
fire broke it that the white stone of fire could be shot like an arrow
into the heart of it. To keep some count it was made like that by the
Most Mysterious;--and in the hand of the Mystery it was held--and the
hand was closed over it while the mountains came down to the rivers,
and the rivers made trails through rock walls. When the hand was
opened and the sun looked on it, it was grown into one;--can you with
all high medicine put them apart?--can you break the black and leave
the white not broke? Can you make two colors of the powder you would
grind from it between grinding stones?--Yet the two colors are there!
Like the two colors are Ka-yemo and Yahn Tsyn-deh. One they were made
by some magic of the Great Mystery, and no woman and no man, and no
lies of women, can break them apart! When you hear them lie another
time, you can look at this stone, and know that I said it!"

She had worked herself into such a passion that the long smothered
rage against the women who spoke her name lightly in the village spent
itself on the one woman of all who lived most apart from such speech.
But aloud had Yahn Tsyn-deh said once for all that her life was as the
life of Ka-yemo, and that no earth creature could make that different,
and for the saying of it aloud she was a happier woman.

And Gonzalvo who listened to her def