Thus it went on for three years.  During the dry seasons there were no signs of the illness; but as soon as, in July or August, thunderstorms shed their moisture over the mountains, and chilly nights alternated with warm sunshine, the fever made its appearance.  Two years before the rainy season had lasted unusually long, and it was followed immediately by snow-falls.  The attacks from the disease were therefore unusually violent, and by November Say Koitza thought herself dying from weakness and exhaustion.  Her condition was such that her husband felt alarmed, and every effort was made to relieve her by the aid of such arts as the Indian believes in.  The chief medicine-man, or great shaman, of the tribe had to come and see the patient, pray by her side, and then go home to fast and mortify himself for four consecutive days.  His efforts had no effect whatever.  Every indigenous medicine that was thought of had been already used, and none had been of any avail.

At last the shaman, encouraged by the many blue and green stones, cotton wraps, and quantities of corn meal which Zashue Tihua contributed in reward of his juggleries, resolved to make a final trial by submitting himself and his associates to the dangerous ordeal of fire-eating for the invalid’s sake.  This ceremony was always performed by a certain group of medicine-men, called therefore Hakanyi Chayani, or Fire Shamans.  The Hishtanyi Chayan was their official head, and he, with the four others belonging to the fire-eating crew, fasted rigorously for four days and nights.  Then they went to the house of Say Koitza, and in her presence sang the powerful song, while each one of them in turn waved a burning bunch of long dry grass to the six sacred regions, and each time bit off a piece of the burning weed and chewed it.  When all had gone through the performances, and their mouths were well filled with ashes, each one gravely stepped up to the invalid, and spat the contents of his mouth in her face.  Then they departed as quietly as they had come, and went home to await the results of the wonderful remedy.[5] It was a last, a supreme effort.

The condition of Say could not fail to arouse the sympathies of her own sex, even outside of her clan.  Many were the calls from compassionate women.  They would drop in, squat down, tender their services, suggest remedies, and gossip.  Only one woman made herself directly useful, and that was Shotaye, a member of the Water clan.  Shotaye was a strange woman.  Nobody liked her, and yet many applied to her for relief in secret; for Shotaye possessed great knowledge of plants and other remedies, and she had a keen practical sense.  But people dreaded her; she lived alone in her cave among the abodes of the Water people, and nobody knew but she might know more than the official medicine-men themselves.  In short, the majority of the tribe believed that Shotaye was a witch; but the woman was so wary that nobody could prove her to be one.