All the Koshare had retired to this secluded spot, and the first day of fasting was nearly over when Shotaye called once more at the home of Say.  The latter guessed the object of her coming and felt afraid.  Without preamble, in a sober, matter-of-fact way, the cave-woman stated that the time had come for a decisive step; and with this she placed three bunches of owl’s feathers on the floor.  In vain Say Koitza protested, affirming that her health was fully restored.  Shotaye would not listen to refusal or excuse.  Now or never, she commanded.  She repeated her former assertion that the charm could not hurt Zashue as long as he was not guilty.  For a long while the women sat arguing the matter; at last Say Koitza yielded, and promised to comply.

Night came, and the people of the Rito went to rest.  The moon rose behind the lava-ridge of the Tetilla; the rocky battlements of the cliffs shone brightly above the gorge, whose depths rested in dark shadow.  A tiny figure crept out of the big building and hurried down the vale along the fields.  When she reached the grove where we met Okoya and his little brother for the first time, she crouched beneath a tree, covered her head, and sobbed aloud.  It was a dire task for Say Koitza, this errand out of which harm might arise to the whole cluster to which her husband belonged.  If the charm which she clutched with trembling fingers should work against him, then he was the guilty party.  So Shotaye had insinuated, and the word had stung her like the bite of a serpent.  It came back to her mind as she hurried to perform the deed, and caused her to start.  She rose hastily and turned toward the cliffs.

The uppermost rocks glistened fairly in the light of the moon; and where the sharp line of the shadows commenced, the ruddy glow of a fire burst from an oblong aperture.  There was the estufa of the Koshare.  From it issued the sound of hollow drumming intermingled with the cadence of a chorus of hoarse voices.  A thrill went through Say, she stopped again and listened.  Was not her husband’s voice among them?  Certainly he was there, doing his duty with the rest.  And if he was as guilty toward her as the others?  That monstrous thought rose again, it pushed her onward.  She crawled ahead slowly, scarcely conscious of the danger attending her mission.  Large blocks of debris, tent-shaped erosive hillocks, impeded her progress; they crowded along the foot of the cliffs like protecting bulwarks, and the trail wound around them on a higher plane.  But this trail she dared not follow, there was not enough darkness on it.  She crept along the base, the sense of danger coming to her with the increasing obscurity, until suddenly she stood before a cleft of almost inky hue.  Here she remembered was the ascent to the estufa, here she had to perform the work, and here overpowered by emotion and excitement she dropped behind an angular block of stone unconscious.