“Heiti-na, Heiti-na,
        Nat-yu-o-o, Nat-yu-o-o, Ma-a-a-se-e-e-ua.”

The woman began to dig.  She dug with feverish haste.  The dance lacked interest for her; time and again had she witnessed it, and well knew the figures now being performed.  She made the hole as small as possible, digging and digging, anxiously listening, eagerly looking up now and then at the doorway, and starting timidly at the least sound.

At last her instrument struck a resisting though elastic object; it was the feathers.

Cautiously she pulled, pulled them up until she had drawn them to the top of the hole, then peered about her, intently listening.  Nothing!  Outside the uproar went on, the chorus shouting at the top of their voices,—­

        “Ei-ni-a-ha, Ei-ni-a-ha-ay,
        Tu-ua Se-na-si Tyit-i-na,
        Tyit-i-na-a-a, Ma-a-a-se-ua.”

Wrenching the bundle from its hiding-place, she concealed it in her bosom; then carefully replaced the earth and clay; put ashes on this, then clay; rubbed the latter with a stone; threw on more ashes and more clay; and finally stamped this with her feet,—­all the while listening, and glancing into the outer room.  At last, when it seemed to her that the most rigid search could detect no trace of her labours, she brushed the ashes from her wrap and went out under the doorway again.

She appeared composed and more cheerful, but her heart was palpitating terribly; and at every pulsation she felt the dangerous bundle concealed beneath her clothing, and she tightened still more the belt encircling her waist.

The third act of the dance soon ended, and the jesters went to work once more,—­women and girls now became the objects of their attentions.  The screams and shrieks from the roof terraces when a Koshare is tearing about amongst the women, loud as they are, are drowned by the uproarious laughter of the men, who enjoy hugely the disgust and terror of the other sex.

From some of the houses the white painted horrors have taken out the grinding-slabs.  Kneeling behind them, they heap dirt on their flat surfaces, moisten it with water, and grind the mud as the housewife does the corn, yelping and wailing the while in mimicry of the woman and her song while similarly engaged.  The pranks of these fellows are simply silly and ugly; the folly borders on imbecility and the ugliness is disgusting, and yet nobody is shocked; everybody endures it and laughs.

[Illustration:  The Dance of the Ayash Tyucotz]

Say Koitza herself enjoyed seeing her sex made a butt by coarse and vulgar satyrs.  Suddenly two of the beasts stand before her, and one of them attempts an embrace.  With a loud shriek she pushes him away, steps nimbly aside, and so saves the treacherous bundle from his grasp.  Both the monsters storm into the house, where a terrific uproar begins.  Corn is thrown about, grinding-slabs are disturbed, pots and bowls, robes and mats, are dragged hither and thither; they thump, scratch, and pound every corner of her little house.  Gasping for breath, quaking from terror and distress, she leans against the wall, for in the fellow who sought to embrace her she recognizes Tyope.