knight was called; and yet her lack of
compliance with her promise was not intentional. She calculated that her
case would have come up by that time; and until this occurred, the
energetic woman had no intention of leaving the Rito, much less of
forsaking her friend Say Koitza. Now that her case had been delayed, the
eight days had grown to nearly ten. The chayani and the caciques were
fasting still, as well as some of the clan delegates.

Twelve days had passed, and it was the last day of official penance.
That evening something was sure to occur to relieve the situation. So
everybody thought at the Tyuonyi; so Shotaye thought herself. But she
felt more than usually excited and worn out. It was not fear; it was the
natural longing of a soul replete with energy and activity to see a
matter ended that kept her in suspense. In regard to Say Koitza she felt
perfectly reassured; the woman had not shown herself at her cave, and
must feel quiet, cautious, and careful.

When the sun rose on the fourth day, it found Shotaye just about to take
her morning meal. That was soon over, for there was no coffee, no hot
rolls, no butter. It consisted merely of cold corn-cakes. When she had
satisfied her appetite, she rose, shook the crumbs from her wrap, and
went out. She had made a full toilet; that is, she had rubbed her face
with her moistened hands and dried it with a deerskin, whereby a little
more dust was added to her cheeks. She felt _pro forma_ clean.

It was yet so early that hardly any one showed himself out of doors. The
sun peeped up behind the volcanic heights in the east, casting a glow
over the summits and crests that rise above the Rio Grande in that
direction. The Tetilla stood out boldly, crowning the black ridges with
its slender, graceful cone.

Shotaye strolled down the Rito. A few people were about; but regardless
of these and what they might think or say, she wandered along past the
dwellings of the Eagle clan. What if Tyope should see her? "Let him see
me," she thought; "let him become convinced that I know nothing, that I
rest easy, without any suspicion whatever of the dreadful fate he has
prepared for me. Later on he may find out that his former wife is more
than a match for him."

She went on and on, and passed the big house. A few men stood on the
roofs, gazing motionless in the direction where the sun rose like a mass
of melted ore. Farther she went, always down stream, quietly and with
the greatest a