and peered down upon the body. Then she croaked hoarsely, jumped
to a lower limb, and peered again. Thus the bird continued to descend
from one branch to another, croaking and chuckling as it were to
herself. At last she fluttered down to the ground, a few paces from the
body, peeped slyly over to where it lay, and walked toward it with slow,
stately steps and eager nods. But something rattled in the distance; the
bird's head turned to the east, and as quick as lightning she rose in
the air and flew off with a loud, angry, "kuawk, kuawk, kuawk!"

Two men are coming toward the spot. They are Indians from Tyuonyi who
came up in the course of the afternoon with bows and arrows. They
perceive the body, and the blood on it and around it. Both stand still,
terrified at the sight. At last one of them exclaims,--

"It is one from the Zaashtesh!"

They run together to the spot, heedless of the danger which may yet be
lurking about. They bend over the dead, then look at each other
speechless, confused. At last they find words, and exclaim
simultaneously,--

"It is our father, Topanashka Tihua!"

"It is sa nashtio maseua!"

Both men are young yet, they weep. Their sorrow is so great, in presence
of the loss sustained by them and by all, that they forget all caution.
Had the Navajos been about still, two more of the house-dwellers would
have fallen.

They attempt to decide what is to be done; their thoughts become
confused, for the terrible discovery distracts them. Little by little
they become conscious that it is impossible to leave the body here, a
prey to the wolves and carrion crows; that it must be brought home, down
into the valley where he was so beloved, so worshipped almost, by
everybody. Nothing else can be done.

With sighs and sobs, stifled groans and tears, the body is raised up,
one supporting the head, the other the feet. Thus they drag and carry it
along on the old trail to the Rito. Blood clings to their hands and to
their dress. Never mind. Is it not the blood of a good man, and may not
with that blood some of his good qualities perhaps pass into them? Not a
word is spoken, not even when they lay down the corpse to rest
themselves a while. In such moments they stand motionless, one by the
mutilated head, the other at the feet. They look neither at each other
nor at it, for if they should attempt it tears would be sure to come to
their eyes. Without a word they lift up the body again, tenderly as if
it w