“If you give us the feathers you shall have two green stones and one deerskin.”

“Is it true; do both of you promise it?” asked the woman, after a while.

“Yes! yes!” cried both men together.

“Then put the things near the hearth and sit down,” she commanded.

“We have them not with us.”

“Go and get them.”

“We cannot to-night.”

“Then I will keep my feathers until you bring what you have promised;” and with these words Shotaye crept smiling out of the passage and planted herself before the discomfited men.

“Go home, now, children,” she said.  “I am tired.  I am sleepy.”

They attempted to beg, they pleaded and implored; but she was firm.  All they finally obtained was her promise to deliver the feathers on the next day, provided the price agreed upon was paid.  With this the two men had to be satisfied, and their exit was as crestfallen and disappointed as their entrance had been mischievous and buoyant.

They had been completely outwitted and foiled by the wily woman.  Nevertheless, they never thought for a moment of obtaining by force what she so positively refused.  It would have been easy for the two strong men to overpower her; but both were afraid of the supernatural powers attributed to Shotaye.  For the same reason they were anxious to obtain the feathers.  An object coming from her and having been in her possession was suspected of having acquired thereby virtues which it did not possess before.  But these virtues were thought to be beneficial only as long as the object was obtained from her in a legitimate way, and with her own free will and kind consent.  In the opposite case, the bad will of the woman went with the feathers, and was thought to work harm to their new owner.  It was easy to taunt or to tease Shotaye, but to arouse her anger appeared a dangerous undertaking; and as for harming her person, none but the shamans would have attempted it.

After her guests’ departure Shotaye felt wide awake.  She had dismissed them, not in order to go to rest, but in order to be once more alone with her thoughts.  For during the bantering conversation with the brothers, she had learned several important facts that changed materially her plans.  In order to ponder carefully over the different aspect of matters, she poked the fire again and sat down by the hearth in the same position as before the interruption, and mused.

In the first place, it had become clear to her that Zashue was utterly ignorant of the accusation against his wife.

Next, she was convinced that Hayoue was far from being Tyope’s friend; on the contrary, he seemed to dislike him thoroughly.  Hayoue was known to be very outspoken in matters of sympathy and antipathy, and if he were not fond of Tyope, the latter certainly had come to feel it in some way or other.  Then, for she knew Tyope well, he doubtless hated Hayoue cordially, and would have shown his enmity in the dark,