“How do you know that the aniehna”—­he emphasized the untranslatable word of insult, and his voice trembled with passion—­“has worked such evil to the people?” The query was directed to the Koshare Naua.  The latter turned to Tyope, saying,—­

“Speak, satyumishe nashtio.”  He squatted again.

The eyes of all, Topanashka’s excepted, who did not for a moment divert his gaze from the chief of the Delight Makers, were fixed on Tyope.  He rose and dryly said,—­

“I saw when Shotaye Koitza and Say Koitza, the daughter of our father the maseua,”—­everybody now looked at the war-chief in astonishment, dismay, or sorrow; but he remained completely impassive,—­“who lives in the abodes of Tanyi hanutsh, caused the black corn to answer their questions.  And there were owl’s feathers along with the corn.  It was night, and I could not hear what they said.  It was in the beginning of winter; not last winter, but the winter before.”

“Is that all?” inquired the Hishtanyi Chayan in turn.  It displeased him to hear that Tyope had been eavesdropping in the dark,—­the man had no business in the big house at night.

“I know also,” continued Tyope, “that Shotaye gathered the feathers herself on the kauash toward the south.”

“Did you see her?”

“Yes,” boldly asserted Tyope.  He lied, for he dared not tell the truth; namely, that the young Navajo was his informant.

“Is that all?” queried the Hishtanyi again.

“After we, the Koshare, had prayed and done penance in our own kaaptsh I at one time went back to the timbers on which we climb up to the cave.  At their foot, below the rocks, I found this!”

He drew from beneath his wrap a little bundle, and handed it to the shaman, who examined it closely and gave it to his colleagues, who subjected the object to an equally thorough investigation.  Those sitting along the wall bent forward curiously, until at last the bundle was turned over to them also.  So it went from hand to hand, each one passing it to the next with sighs and marks of thorough disgust.  The bundle was composed of owl’s feathers tied to a flake of black obsidian.

“I found a second one,” quietly said Tyope, pulling forth a similar bunch.  Now the council gave demonstrations not only of amazement but of violent indignation; the shamans and Topanashka alone remained calm.  Both bunches were given to the tapop, who placed them on the floor before him.

The Hishtanyi Chayan inquired further,—­

“Where did you find the feathers?  Say it once more.”

“At the foot of the rocks, where we ascend to our estufa on cross-timbers.”

“Did you see who put them there?”

“No.”

“When do you think they were placed there?”

“While the Koshare were at work in the estufa.”

“Do you know more?”

“Nothing more.”  Tyope sat down, and the interrogatory was over.