council would undoubtedly mete out to her,—­death; a cruel, terrible death.  But she was his only child, and ere he placed faith in the suspicion communicated to him in secret by one of the shamans in the tribe, he wanted to satisfy himself from her own behaviour whether it was true or not.  To his deepest sorrow Say Koitza’s behaviour seemed to prove that she was not falsely accused.  It was a terrible blow to the old man, who for the first time in his life rose from a task bewildered and hopeless.  Duty was to him paramount, and yet he could not utterly stifle the longing to save his only child from a cruel and ignominious fate.

His daughter too felt utterly wretched, and despondent in the highest degree.  For the accusation against her was true.  She had practised the dread art; and yet, strange to say, while conscious of guilt, in the bottom of her heart she felt herself innocent.  Let us recall the past life of the unhappy being to see whether there is in it anything to explain this apparent anomaly.

When Say Koitza was fourteen years of age her husband Zashue Tihua began to pay her his first attentions.  He called at her mother’s home oftener than any other youth of her tribe, and one afternoon, when she was returning from the brook with a jar filled with water on her head, he stopped her, dipped some water out of the urn, drank it, and whispered something to which she gave no reply, hurrying home as rapidly as possible.  She could not speak to her mother about this, for her mother was hopelessly deaf, and it would not have been proper to consult her father, since the father belonged of course to another clan.  A whole night and one full day Say pondered over the case; at last her mind was made up.  The girl took a dish filled with corn-cakes and rolls of sweet paste of the yucca-fruit, and placed it on her head.  With this load she climbed up the rugged slope leading to the dwellings of the Water clan, to which Zashue belonged.  The lad was sitting in the cave inhabited by his family, busying himself with straightening arrow shafts over the fire, when the girl, pushing before her the loaded tray, crept through the port-hole.  Silently she placed the food before him, and went out again without a word.  This was her affirmative reply to his wooing.  Thereafter, Zashue visited the quarters of the Gourd people at the big house every night.  Along the foot of the cliffs, in soft ground, and in a lonely sheltered spot, he meanwhile planted four stakes connected by cross-poles.  From end to end cotton threads were drawn lengthwise, and here Zashue wove a cotton wrap day after day.  The girl would steal out to this place also, carrying food to the young artisan.  She would cleanse his hair while they chatted quietly, shyly at first, about the present and the future.  When the mantle was done and it looked white and firm, Zashue brought it to Say Koitza’s mother, who forthwith understood the intention of his gift, and felt gratified at the prospect of securing a son-in-law who possessed cotton.  The plant was not cultivated near the upper Rio Grande at that time, and had to be obtained from the far south by barter.  Many journeys distant, Pueblo Indians lived also, and thither the Queres went at long intervals to trade and to hunt the buffalo on the southwestern plains.