his own maternal grandfather; and if he spoke against the union matters would be desperate.  His mother, therefore, held the key to the situation, inasmuch as through her both the Eagle clan, to which Mitsha belonged, and Tanyi hanutsh, his own consanguine cluster, could be favourably or unfavourably influenced.  As things appeared now, all seemed most promising.  Even his mother—­who a short time ago had expressed herself so bitterly against his choice—­was now favourable to it.  What could Tyope do under such circumstances?  Nothing at all.  So the boy reasoned unconsciously; but beside, he felt glad, he felt happy, because his mother approved of him.  He was fond of his mother at the bottom of his heart, as fond as any Indian can be.

Say Koitza approved his choice.  There was no doubt about it, and still she had not spoken plainly as yet.  At any other time he would have maintained a prudent reserve and waited his time to inquire.  To-day he felt so surprised, so completely stupefied, that only one course was left him, and that was to learn her real feelings by asking his mother directly for an explanation of her inexplicable demeanour.

When, therefore, Say asked again, “What ails you, mot[=a]tza, why don’t you eat?” he turned to her with a heavy sigh, placed both hands on his knees, and replied,—­

“I cannot eat until I have asked a question of you.  Tell me, yaya, how it is that this morning, when I said to you that I was going with Mitsha Koitza, you grew angry at me, and now you say it is right?  Tell me, sanaya, how it comes about that you like the girl in the evening, whereas in the morning she was not precious to you?”

His mother smiled.  She sat down beside him, and her face almost touched his own.  The glare of the fire illuminated her features, so that their expression became fully visible to him.  Then she spoke softly,—­

“Umo, have I not often said to you, ‘Beware of Tyope’?  Is it not so, sa uishe?”

Okoya nodded affirmatively.

“Can you suppose that I should feel easy at heart, if you go to the house where dwells the woman of that man?”

Okoya trembled.  This was a discouraging beginning.  Had he mistaken his mother’s views?  In a faltering voice he replied,—­

“No.”

Say continued, “When for the first time you said, ’Mitsha and I see each other,’ I felt afraid.  My heart spoke to me and said, Your child is lost; and then sa nashka became angry.  This was early in the morning; but afterward, when I was sitting alone here and the Shiuana called loudly above during the storm, it seemed to me as if some kopishtai whispered, ’Mitsha is good,—­she is as good as Okoya; she will belong to him, and not to her mother, much less to her father.’  And as I was thinking, I heard the kopishtai again, saying to me, ’Okoya is good; he is your child, and Mitsha will become your daughter, for she is of your father’s own blood.’  And as the kopishtai thus spoke, the Shiuana thundered louder and more loud.  Then I thought it must be right and good for the mot[=a]tza to go to the girl, and I was no longer angry.  And then you came, and I asked you what I wanted to know, and you told me what Hayoue had said.  So it is well, and thus it shall remain.”