The same scout approached again.  He crawled like a mole.

“Nashtio,” he whispered, “there are Moshome to the left of us.”

“Many?” Tyope inquired hastily.

“Six of them have been noticed.”

That was exceedingly alarming.  He directed the man to stay on the spot, while he glided through the bushes to where the Hishtanyi Chayan had spent the night.  The medicine-man was awake, and looked at the captain in astonishment.  Tyope placed a finger on his lips and shook his head.  The shaman asked,—­

“Sa uishe, what is it?”

“Tzatze raua!  Tzatze raua!” Tyope exclaimed in a low tone.  “The Tehuas are sneaking about us like shutzuna.  There are many of them, and they come up from the east.  What shall we do, yaya?  Speak.”

“Tzatze raua,” the shaman repeated, shaking his head.  “As you say, the Moshome come up behind us?”

“I thought,” Tyope suggested, “of sending word to the men in front to come back, and as soon as we could see anything, striking the enemies in our rear.  What do you think of it, sa nashtio?”

“Many will go to Shipapu to-day,” the Chayan muttered.

“What shall I do?  Speak!” Tyope insisted.  The last words of the shaman frightened him.

The Chayan gave no immediate reply, but sat musing in a manner indicating that his thoughts were with Those Above.  At last he raised his head and replied,—­

“We must wait until the sun stands in the sky.”

Tyope suppressed a sigh.  However much he attributed this answer of the shaman to inspiration from those on high, it appeared to him dangerous.  Tyope felt very uneasy, but he was no coward.  In case the worst had really happened, if the Tehuas had anticipated and surrounded him, he still inclined to the conviction that concentration of his forces and a rapid onslaught on the foes in his rear would not only save him, but secure a reasonable number of coveted trophies.  If this could be speedily effected, the less important would be his loss in attaining it; for as long as the light was faint and dim, the enemy’s missiles could not be discharged with certain aim.  He had hoped that the Chayan would assent to this suggestion.  Now on the contrary, the oracle spoke in a manner that plainly indicated that the Shiuana ordered him to wait until daylight.  It was sure destruction, he felt it; but the Shiuana spoke through the medium of the old man, and the Shiuana were of course right.  He could not complain or even grumble.

But he might at least prepare everything in advance, so that as soon as the medicine-man gave the signal, his favourite move might be executed with a promptness and alacrity that would surprise the enemy.  So Tyope crept back to the juniper-bush in whose neighbourhood his men were grouped.

Dawn was coming on, and the shadows were beginning to assume definite shapes and directions.  Tyope sighed when he noticed the approach of sunlight; precious time was being irretrievably lost.