ching his victim.
When he is close to the body his eyes sparkle with delight and pride,
and his face gleams with the triumph of some hellish spirit.

He touches the corpse. It is warm, but surely lifeless. He grasps at the
wrap; it is of no value to him, although made of cotton. Beneath,
however, there must be something that attracts his attention, for he
quickly tears off the scanty dress and fumbles about the chest of the
victim. A horrible grin of delight distorts his features, already
hideously begrimed, for he has found the little bag and takes from it
the fetich of the dead man. That fetich is a prize, for with it the
magic power that was subservient to the victim while alive now becomes
the victor's. He handles the amulet carefully, almost tenderly, breathes
on it, and puts it back into the bag. Then he detaches his stone knife,
grasps it with the right hand, and with the left clutches the gray hair
of the dead man and with a sudden jerk pulls the head up. Then he begins
to cut the scalp with his shaggy knife-blade of flint.

A faint whistling sound, as of some one hissing near him, is heard; and
ere he looks up a male voice by his side has said,--

"That is good, very good!" The words are spoken in the Dinne language.

The murderer looks up, staying his work of mutilation. By his side there
stands another Navajo, dressed, painted, and armed like himself.

A short time after he had risen from his hiding-place and was stealing
over toward the body of his victim, this other Navajo had appeared in
sight. He watched from the distance his companion's proceedings, and as
he recognized that he was busying himself with some dead body,
approached rapidly, though without the least noise. He discovered the
dead, stood still, fastened a piercing glance on the prostrate form, and
heaved a great sigh of relief. Notwithstanding the paint on his face it
was easy to see how delighted he was at the sight. He again advanced,
not unlike a cat which is afraid to go too near another that is playing
with a mouse, for fear of being scratched or bitten by her. But when
unobserved he had reached the Navajo, he could not withhold a joyful
exclamation that startled and interrupted the murderer. He asked,--

"Dost thou know who that is?"

The other shrugged his shoulders.

"That is Topanashka, the strong and wise warrior. That is very, very
good!"

Navajo number two looked closely at the corpse; then he grasped the hair
again and r