lent.
Neither could Say Koitza utter a word; only from time to time her
spasmodic sobs broke the stillness of the room. The bright disk which
the light from the outside painted on the wall opposite was fading
little by little, a sign of approaching sunset.

Shotaye's features displayed few signs of the terror which her friend's
disclosures had produced. Soon her face betokened that fear could not
retain its hold long on her resolute mind, that intense reflection had
superseded dismay. She turned to her visitor and asked,--

"Tell me, sister, how you came to know that the Delight Makers are
acquainted with your doings? Tell me, and do not weep." And as Say
remained silent and immovable she crouched beside her, removed her hair
gently from her face, then raised her head and placed it so as to rest
on her bosom. Then she looked deep into the eyes of the poor woman. They
were glassy and almost lifeless. While thus gazing intently at Say,
Shotaye's features changed and became sad and dejected.

It was for a moment only. Soon the expression of hopelessness vanished
and the lines of her face became resolute, hard, and determined.
Surprise had yielded to reflection, reflection to pity and remorse. Now
remorse in turn gave way to determination. Shotaye felt that she, much
rather than her friend, was lost, irretrievably lost; but her energetic
nature demanded that she should see the situation clearly. Although the
spasmodic hints of Say, her broken words, spoke enough, she wanted more.
Her mind craved the full truth, however terrible it might prove.

Say Koitza had slowly recovered from her stupor. She became quieter and
quieter. In the arms of her resolute and sympathizing friend
consciousness returned; she sobbed no more, and from time to time would
raise her eyes with a look that besought pity, mercy, and assistance.
The medicine-woman eagerly watched these changes and repeated her
previous query.

"How do you know that the Koshare are aware of it?"

"Sa nashtio told me," moaned the poor woman.

Shotaye sighed. This was bad news indeed. She muttered,--

"This is bad, very bad. If the maseua knows it, then the tapop will not
be long without notice."

"The tapop knows nothing," breathed Say.

"But how can the maseua have been informed without the knowledge of the
other?" Shotaye asked with surprise.

"He is my father," replied Say, and wept aloud. "He is my father, and
yet"--she started to rise and grasped her hair