A change has taken place in our immediate vicinity.  The stone panthers and the stone enclosure have vanished, and the ground is bare, like all the ground in the neighbourhood.  Looking beyond we see that a transformation has also taken place on the spot where stood the ruin.  The crumbling walls and heaps of rubbish are gone, and in their place newly built foundations are emerging from the ground; heaps of stone, partly broken, are scattered about; and where a moment ago we were the only living souls, now Indians—­village Indians like our guide, only somewhat more primitive—­move to and fro, busily engaged.

Some of them are breaking the stones into convenient sizes, for the friable pumice breaks in parallelopipeds without effort.  The women are laying these in mortar made of the soil from the mesa, common adobe.  We are witnessing the beginning of the construction of a small village.  Farther down, on the edge of the timber, smoke arises; there the builders of this new pueblo dwell in huts while their house of stone is growing to completion.  It is the month of May, and only the nights are cool.

These builders we easily recognize.  They are the fugitives from the Rito, the little band whom the Tanos of Hishi have kindly received and charitably supported until a few months since, when they allowed them to go and build a new home.  They came hither led on by Hayoue, who is now their maseua; for each tribe, however small, must have one.  Okoya is with him, and Mitsha, now Okoya’s wife, comes up from the bottom with the water-urn on her head, as on the day when we first saw her on the Rito de los Frijoles.

And now we have, though in a trance, seen the further fate of those whose sad career has filled the pages of this story.  We may be blindfolded again, turned about right to left; and when the bandage is taken from our eyes the landscape is as before, silent and grand.  The ruins are in position again; the panthers of stone with their mutilated heads lie within the enclosure; an eagle soars on high; and our Indian points to it, smiles, and whispers,—­

“Look! see! the Shiuana are good!”