His brother’s son took from his neck the little satchel containing sacred meal.  Without a word he opened it, and scattered the flour in the usual way to the six regions.  Then he pointed to the clouds and whispered, “The Shiuana are good,” at the same time handing the bag to his uncle.  The latter’s astonishment had reached its maximum; the boy’s actions were utterly incomprehensive to him.

Again the sound of distant thunder vibrated from the west, and the cliffs sighed in return.

“They are calling us,” Okoya whispered.

Hayoue became suddenly very sober.  He performed the sacrifice in silence, and then assumed the position of an earnest and attentive listener.

“Do you like the Koshare?” began Okoya, in a whisper.

“No.  But why do you ask this?”

“Because I don’t like them either.”

“Is that all you had to tell me?  I could have told you that in their own presence.”  Hayoue seemed to be disappointed and vexed.

“That is not why I called you, umo,” Okoya continued; “it is because the Koshare know that I dislike them.”

“What if they do know it?”

“But they might harm me!”

“They cannot.  Otherwise I should have been harmed by them long ago.  But I don’t care for them.”

[Illustration:  Indian Pueblo Dances of To-day

(Upper picture) Lining up for the dance

(Lower picture) The “Clowns”]

Okoya shook his head and muttered,—­

“I am afraid of the Koshare.”

The other shrugged his shoulders.

“I am not,” he said.  “Men can do harm with their hands and with their weapons; and against those you have your fist and the shield.  Those Above”—­he pointed at the skies—­“can harm us; they can kill us.  But men—­why, we can defend ourselves.”

Okoya felt shocked at words which sounded to him like sacrilegious talk.  Timidly and morosely he objected,—­

“Don’t you know that there are witches!”

“Witches!  There are no witches.”

Again there was a mutter from the west, a hollow, solemn warning; and the cliffs responded with a plaintive moan.  Even incredulous Hayoue started, and Okoya sighed.

“I will tell you why I ask all this,” said he, and he went on to explain.  Beginning with the incident provoked by Shyuote, he confessed to the suspicions which it had aroused in his mind, and laid the whole process of his reasoning bare before his listener.  His speech was picturesque, but not consciously poetic; for the Indian speaks like a child, using figures of speech, not in order to embellish, but because he lacks abstract terms and is compelled to borrow equivalents from comparisons with surrounding nature.  Hayoue listened attentively; occasionally, however, he smiled.  At last Okoya stopped and looked at his friend in expectation.  The latter cast at the boy a humorous glance; he felt manifestly amused by his talk.