The runners left in the directions indicated.

The information which had just been conveyed to Tyope was most disagreeable.  The presence of one human being at the time and place indicated looked very suspicious.  If the man had seen his warriors he would certainly run home and give the alarm.  All Tyope could do now was to keep as close as possible to the Rio Grande, push up parallel with the river as cautiously as possible, and thus sneak beyond the enemy, in case, as he still could not believe, the latter were in anything like a considerable force.  He would thus eventually place himself between them and their village.

After a while the warriors from the left came on hastily, stumbling through the darkness.  All together now went down in an easterly direction, where the right wing, if this term can be used, was halting.  Thence Tyope despatched runners ahead to inquire whether everything was quiet in front, to repeat the order of slow marching, and to direct them to halt on the northern brink of the Canada Ancha.

When the runners left, the march was resumed in the usual scattering manner, as if all were skirmishers.  Tyope and the shaman remained together.  Neither uttered a word.  The commander looked up to the stars from time to time.  They were peeping out more and more, for the clouds were dispersing.  Only from the southwest distant thunder sounded and lightning flashed occasionally.  A shower was falling in that direction.

It was past midnight when the main body came up with the advance guard after crossing the Canada Ancha.  Tyope found everything in order, and he directed a farther advance.  Tyope was angry.  The circuit which he had felt obliged to make made a serious delay, and there was danger that with the early sunrise of the summer months he might be behind to such an extent as to be unable to reach the cover of the woods in time.  If the Tehuas were informed of his approach they would either prepare for his coming at the Puye—­and the result of an open attack would be to say the least extremely doubtful,—­or they would come out in force, and desultory fighting would ensue.  In this those who were nearest water and supplies always had the advantage.  His idea of striking a sudden blow appeared very much endangered by the presence of Tehuas in the forest.  He thought and thought without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion.  Return to the Rito he could not, for such a retreat was worse than disaster.  Neither could he decide alone; the Hishtanyi Chayan was by his side and he had to consult him.  So he stood still and turned to the shaman, saying,—­

“Nashtio yaya, the night will soon be over, and the sun may come out from behind the mountain in the east.”

“Ko,” grunted the medicine-man.

“It is far yet to the houses of the Moshome Tehua.”

The Chayan stood still.

“Sa uishe nashtio,” said he, “the Shiuana direct us to go on a different road.  I saw an owl fly toward the moon.  Let us go away from the river into the kote to rest and to hide until the sun goes down again and we may go farther toward the katityam of the enemy.”