s that he would draw from her simple
explanation. He interpreted her words as very encouraging for him, not
only because the girl understood the art of making pottery, but he drew
the conclusion that she was thinking of furnishing a household of her
own.

Hannay improved the opportunity to still further praise her child. She
said,--

"Mitsha does not only know how to paint; she can also shape the
uashtanyi, the atash, and the asa." With this she rose, went to the
wall, and began to rummage about in some recess. Okoya had meanwhile
taken one of the girl's hands in his playing with her dainty fingers
which she suffered him to do.

"See here," the woman cried and turned around. He dropped the girl's
hand and Hannay handed something to him.

"Mitsha made this." Then she sat down again.

The object which Okoya had received from her was a little bowl of clay,
round, and decorated on its upper rim with four truncated and graded
pyramids that rose like prongs at nearly equal intervals. The vessel was
neatly finished, smooth, white, and painted with black symbolic designs.
There was nothing artistic in it according to our ideas, but it was
original and quaint. Okoya gazed at the bowl with genuine admiration,
placed it on the floor, and took it up again, holding it so that the
light of the fire struck the inside also. He shook his head in
astonishment and pleasure. Mitsha moved closer to him. With innocent
pride she saw his beaming looks, and heard the admiring exclamations
with which he pointed at the various figures painted on the white
surface. Then she began to explain to him.

"Lightning," said she, indicating with her finger a sinuous black line
that issued from one side of the arches resting on a heavy black dash.

"Cloud," he added, referring to the arches.

"Rain," concluded the maiden, pointing at several black streaks which
descended from the figure of the clouds. Both broke out in a hearty
laugh. His merriment arose from sincere admiration, hers from equally
sincere joy at his approbation of her work. The mother laughed also; it
amused her to see how much Okoya praised her daughter's skill. She was
overjoyed at seeing the two become more familiar.

Okoya returned to his former position, placing the vessel on the floor
with tender care; and Mitsha resumed her sitting posture, only she sat
much nearer the boy than before. He still examined the bowl with wonder.

"Who taught you to make such nice things?" he