“But if the Koshare are so powerful,” retorted Okoya, “must I not be on my guard?”

“With some of them, to be sure.  Beware of Tyope and of the old rogue; they are base and dangerous men.  Avoid Shtiranyi, avoid Ture Tihua, Pesana, and the like of them.  But your father, Zashue, and Shiape, your grandfather’s brother,—­do you believe they would forsake you?  Mind, boy, even if the Koshare be against you, you are not lost.  There is your umo, Topanashka, and he has great weight with the old men, with the council, and with the people.  There is your clan, Tanyi, and in fine I and my people are here too.”  He uttered these words proudly, looking at his nephew encouragingly.  But Okoya was not fully reassured; his doubts were not removed.  There was one thing yet that he held in reserve for the last, and that was his dread of witchcraft and the suspicion that such a danger threatened him from his own mother.  He resolved to tell his friend all, including the scene of the morning and the conclusions he had drawn from it.

“Hayoue,” said he, “you are good and wise, much wiser than I; still, listen to me once more.”

Louder and nearer sounded the thunder.  Hayoue bent over toward Okoya, a close, attentive, sympathizing listener.  The young man related everything,—­his relations with Mitsha, how he had quarrelled with his mother, and the conclusions at which he had arrived touching his mother’s evil designs and practices.  At this point Hayoue began to laugh, and laughed till he coughed.

“And you really believe this!” he cried.  But at once he grew very serious and even stern.  “Mot[=a]tza, it is not right in you to think thus of your mother.  Say Koitza is good; she is better than most women at the Tyuonyi, far too good for my brother Zashue, and better than I or you.  I know her well, and even if there should be witches, which I do not believe—­”

A loud thunderpeal caused the mountains to tremble.  Hayoue started, shook his head, and muttered,—­

“They call loudly.  It may be that there are witches.  At all events”—­he raised his voice again—­“if there are such women, your mother does not belong to them.  It is not right, brother, for you to think such things of your mother.  You have done her a great wrong, for I tell you again she is good and she is your best friend.  Where do you belong?  Whose blood is yours?  Is it your father’s?  Are the Water people your people?  No, Tanyi is your hanutsh.  Your mother’s clan are your kindred.  Mind, satyumishe, our life is in our blood, and it is the blood of her who gave you life that flows in your veins.  When you say aught against your mother, you tarnish your own life.”

“But why does she not want me to go with Mitsha?” Okoya asked, and pouted.