Handing one of the cigarettes to her friend, Shotaye directed her to light it and then puff the smoke successively to the six mythical regions.  After this she was to cast the glowing stub on the pile of corn and feathers.  With a shudder Say Koitza obeyed these instructions; her teeth chattered while the cave-woman recited an invocation.  Then both huddled together to listen.  Even Shotaye felt afraid of the consequences.  For a long time everything was silent; the cold draught from the outside had stopped; the women sat in breathless silence; they listened and listened.  Nothing moved.  Not a sound was heard.

Shotaye overcame her first anxiety and repeated the dread formula.  All was silent.  Suddenly a cold blast pervaded the room again.  It fanned the embers to renewed life; they shed a faint glimmer over the chamber.  The women started; there was a crackling heard; the feathers moved; the ears of corn seemed to change position.  One of the feather bunches rolled on the floor.  They nearly screamed in terror, for their excited imagination caused them to hear ghostly sounds,—­disconnected, uncomprehended words.  It was clear that the black corn had spoken.  What it said neither could tell; but the fact of having heard the noise was sufficient to convince them that Say was under the influence of an evil charm, and Shotaye took care to add that that charm was exercised by the Koshare or by some one belonging to their society.

So powerful was the effect of this incantation scene upon Say that she fainted.  After a while she recovered and Shotaye led her back to the outer room, where, after some time, she began to slumber from sheer exhaustion.  Then the medicine-woman returned to the caves, taking with her every vestige of the conjuration.

It was wise on her part, for as soon as Say awoke from feverish and anxious dreams, her first thought was about the dismal objects.  Everything was quiet.  Zashue had returned, and was quietly asleep by her side.  She arose and glided into the kitchen, noiselessly, stealthily.  The floor was clean.  She felt around; not a trace of the objectionable pile could be noticed.  Unspeakable was the feeling of relief with which she returned to her husband’s side and extended herself on the hides again; sound sleep came to her, and when she awoke it was daylight.  She felt stronger, brighter.  Yet thereafter, as often as Zashue approached her in his harmless, bantering manner, she experienced a strange, sudden pang.  She was reminded of having done wrong in not having been open with him.  The Indian’s conscience is hemmed in by bonds arising from his social and religious organization; why, for instance, should she have told her spouse?  He was neither of her clan nor of her party.  He belonged to the summer people, she to those of winter.  She stood outside of all secret associations, whereas he was a Koshare.