“Father,” she asked, “are those who are precious to the holders of our paths, are they always good?”

“I need not tell you about this,” he replied, fixing upon her a penetrating glance.

“I know of nothing evil,” she stammered, “unless it be bad men.”

“And yet you have used owl’s feathers!”

Her face grew pale.  She asked hoarsely,—­

“Where should I keep them?”

“The Koshare know it,” was the equally husky reply.

She started, her eyes gleamed like living coals.

“Have the Koshare sent you here, father?”

“No,” was the gloomy answer; “but if the old men come to me and say, ‘kill the witch,’ I must do it.  For you know I am Maseua, head-war-chief, and whatever the principals command I must do, even if it takes the life of my only child!”

The woman rose to her feet; her attitude was one of defiance.

“Let the Koshare speak, and do you as you are commanded.  The time must come when I shall have to die.  The sooner it comes, the sooner shall I find rest and peace with our mother at Shipapu.”

Her father also had risen, he clutched his cotton garment as if a sudden chill went through his body.  Without a word he turned and went off dejected, stooping, with a heavy sigh.

The woman dropped to the floor beside the hearth with a plaintive moan.  She drew her hair over her face, weep she could not.  The embers on the hearth glowed again, casting a dull light over the chamber.

Say Koitza, as this wretched woman was called, was the only child of him with whom she had just had this dismal interview.  His name was Topanashka Tihua, and he was maseua, or head-war-chief, of the tribe.  In times of peace the maseua is subordinate to the tapop, or civil governor, and as often as the latter communicates to him any decision of the tribal council he is bound to execute it.  Otherwise the maseua is really a superior functionary, for he stands in direct relation to the religious powers of which we shall hereafter speak, and these in reality guide and command through oracles and prophetic utterances.  In war the maseua has supreme command, and the civil chief and the diviners, or medicine-men, must obey him implicitly as soon as any campaign is started.

Topanashka was a man of great physical vigour notwithstanding his age.  He was highly respected for his skill and bravery, and for his stern rectitude and obedience to strict duty.  He feared nothing except the supernatural powers of evil.  There is nothing the Indian fears, nay hates, so much as sorcery.  Topanashka could scarcely believe that his daughter had tampered with magic by causing the dark-coloured corn to speak, and keeping owl’s feathers in her possession.  Still, if such were really the case, he knew of no other course to pursue but to execute the penalty which according to Indian ideas she deserved, and which the leading men of the tribe composing its