Bright and cloudless as they had appeared at sunrise, a change had come over them since which attracted even Okoya’s attention.  Instead of the usual deep azure, the heavens had assumed a dingy hue, and long white streamers traversed them like arches.  Had the boy looked in the west he would have seen shredded clouds looming up behind the mountains, a sure sign of approaching rain.  But he had become fascinated by what was directly above him, and so he watched with increasing interest the white arches overhead.  Slowly, imperceptibly, they pushed up, crossing the zenith and approaching the eastern horizon, toward which the boy’s face was turned.  And while they shifted they grew in width and density.  Delicate filaments appeared between and connected bow with bow, gradually thickening, until the zenith was but one vault of pale gray.  The boy watched this process with increased eagerness; it caused him to forget his troubles.  He saw that rain—­one of the great blessings for which he and his people had so fervently prayed, chanted, and danced yesterday—­was coming on, and his heart became glad.  The spirits—­the Shiuana—­he thought, were kindly disposed toward his people; and this caused him to wonder what the Shiuana might really be, and why they acted so and so, and not otherwise.  The Shiuana, he had been taught, dwelt in the clouds, and they were good; why, then, was it that from one and the same cloud the beneficial rain descended, which caused the food of mankind to grow, and also the destructive hail and the deadly thunderbolt?[9]

A faint, muttering sound, deep and prolonged, struck his ear.  He started, for it was distant thunder.  The Shiuana, he believed, had read his thoughts, and they reminded him that their doings were beyond the reach of his mind.  Turning away from the sights above, he looked again down the valley.  There, at last, came the long-expected Hayoue, slowly, drowsily, like one who has slept rather late than long.  Hayoue, indeed, was so sleepy yet that his nephew had to call him thrice.  After the third umo, however, he glanced around, saw Okoya beckoning to him, and came down to the brook.  Yawning and rubbing his eyes he sat down, and Okoya said,—­

“Satyumishe, I want to speak to you.  Will you listen to my speech?”

Hayoue smiled good-naturedly, but looked rather indifferent or absent-minded as he replied,—­

“I will; what is it about?  Surely about Mitsha, your girl.  Well, she is good,” he emphatically added; “but Tyope is not good, not good,” he exclaimed, looking up with an expression of strong disgust and blowing through his teeth.  It was clear that the young man was no friend to Tyope.

Okoya moved uneasily, and continued in a muffled tone of voice,—­

“You are not right, nashtio; it is not concerning Mitsha that I want to speak to you.”

“About what else, then?” Hayoue looked up in surprise, as if unable to comprehend how a boy of the age of Okoya could think of anything else than of some girl.