toward the south into the kote as a mountain sheep runs from the panther.  But as tyame shoots down upon a hind, so the enemies flew after them, scattering them in every direction.  All this happened so quickly, brother, that I was not half way down when it was over, and a few of the Dinne rushed up to kill me.  They were going to the caves to slaughter the people.  I ran back and hid myself, and as they came up I shot at one of them so that he died.  The Cuirana Naua killed another; the others ran away.  We took their ahtzeta and kept guard over the caves, but for what?  There was nobody left of Tzitz hanutsh except a few old women and Ciay Tihua, the little boy.  Go down we could not, for below was such a noise,—­such fighting, struggling, shouting, and wailing!  The Moshome tore the firebrands from the hearths, set fire to the beams, dragged the cloth and the hides into the court-yard and burned them there.  Fire came out of the big house, and great was the smoke and black!  In the smoke we could see how the shuatyam were dancing on the roofs, and how they threw the dead down upon the ground so that their bodies rattled and the blood spurted and spattered everywhere.  Satyumishe, it was sad, very sad; but I could not help, nor could the Naua, for we were alone.  Still I have one scalp,” he added with simple satisfaction.  “Hayoue has many, many!  How many have you brought home?”

Tyope cast his eyes to the ground.

“None,” he breathed; he could not conceal his contrition and shame.  Kauaitshe made no remark.  He was not malicious.

“From the great house they ran into that of Tyame hanutsh.  There they killed your wife.”

“And Mitsha, my daughter?” Tyope asked at last.

“Mitsha was at the brook, and fled with the others.  Nacaytzusle, the fiend, was after her to catch her, but he caught her not.  Hayoue told us afterward that Okoya Tihua killed the savage just as he had overtaken the girl.  Okoya is strong and good; he will become a great warrior, like sa umo the maseua.  That is, if he still live.”

At last a ray of light seemed to penetrate the darkness that shrouded Tyope’s heart.  Nacaytzusle was dead!  The dangerous accomplice, the only one who might have told about Tyope’s attempted conspiracy with the Navajos, was forever silenced.  He felt relieved also to think that Mitsha had not become a prey to the savage, and it pleased him to hear Okoya praised.  If the youth had still been at the Rito he might have become a support for him.

“Where is Okoya?” he anxiously inquired.

“In the mountains or dead,” was the reply.  “When the women fled up to the mesa, Hayoue and Okoya ran to meet them.  But the Moshome were too many, and the two became separated.  Okoya killed the shuatyam, the Navajo boy.  He went close to him and struck him with his club till he died.  So Hayoue says.  Hayoue remained behind; he kept back the Dinne and then came down through the enemy—­how I do not know—­and protected the katityam, helping the Koshare.  All the Moshome who entered the house of the Eagles—­twelve of them—­were killed inside; their scalps are with us.  And when the others saw it they ran out of the big house; but Hayoue and the men followed and killed nine ere they could hide on the Kauash.”