Not one half of their number succeeded in reaching the bottom of the Canada Ancha and taking shelter in the groves of tall pines that dot the vale.  It was an anxious time for those who had already found safety behind trees, when they saw the stragglers rush down the rugged slope and tear through the thickets, followed by the Tehuas, who crowded along the brink in greatly superior numbers, yelling, shooting arrows, and waving triumphantly the many, many scalps they had taken.  A few of their skirmishers descended some distance, but the main pursuit was stayed by strict orders from the Tehua war-chief.  As soon as the first group of fugitives, among them Hishtanyi and Tyope, had reached the bottom of the Canada, the shaman arrested their farther flight, prevailing upon them to make a stand.

Their position was temporarily a good one.  No approach was possible without exposing the assailant to arrow-shots, whereas the defenders were thoroughly protected.

As their numbers increased by accessions from those who had also been able to extricate themselves, their courage returned, and they willingly remained until the time came when the shaman, and Tyope by his command, should direct farther retreat.  The leaders of the Tehuas saw this and desisted from an attempt at complete extermination.  It would have cost them dearly, and would only have increased the number of their trophies.  So the Tehuas remained above the gorge, displaying a threatening front, while in reality the majority of them returned home, and with them Shotaye.

Great was the exultation of the woman when she saw the triumph of her new friends over her own people.  She was proud of this result of her craftiness and her skill.  When, the engagement over, she scanned the field, looking at the dead and searching for Tyope among them in vain, her disappointment was fearful.  Corpse after corpse she scrutinized, turning over the ghastly bodies, peering into the lifeless features, raising the mutilated heads to see more closely, more distinctly.  In vain; Tyope was not among them, Tyope had escaped.  Her revenge was sterile; it had fallen on the least guilty.  She, too, felt that a higher hand must have interfered and made her triumph next to worthless.  As she scanned the bloody, distorted features of the men of her tribe, in the expectation of gloating over those of him against whom she had schemed, she recognized more than one of whose company she had agreeable recollections, more than one whom in her cold-blooded, calculating way, she had made her tool for a time.  Something like regret arose within her,—­regret at her treason.  She went back to the Puye with a sting in her heart forever.  Outwardly she led a contented life as the consort of Cayamo, and the Tehuas looked upon her as a useful accession, if not as one who had at one time become the saviour of their tribe; but she could never think of the Rito nor hear it mentioned without feeling a pang.  It was remorse, but she did not know it.  Never again was she seen by any of her former people.