ly for yourself,--that
Shotaye is bad, very bad! After being Tyope's wife for a while, I should
not be surprised if--"

"Does she speak to those that can do us harm?" Okoya interrupted in a
timid whisper.

"It may be. There is no doubt but she is a harlot; I know it myself, and
every man on the Tyuonyi knows it. Other women are also spoken of, but
nobody says it aloud. It is not right to speak thus of people when we do
not know positively. I have not seen Shotaye since our father died. She
is mourning perhaps, for her cave is shut and the deerskin hangs over
the doorway. She is likely to be inside in quiet until the trouble is
over and the men can go to her again."

Okoya rose to go.

"Are you coming along?" he asked his uncle.

Hayoue shook his head; he still wished to remain alone.

"It may be," he said, "that we shall have to leave in two days against
the Tehuas, and I shall remain so that I may be ready when the tapop
calls upon us. You rely upon it, satyumishe, we shall go soon, and when
it so happens that we both must go you shall come with me that I may
teach you how the scalp is taken."

Thus dismissed, Okoya sauntered back down the valley.

When opposite the caves of the Water clan he furtively glanced over to
the one inhabited by Shotaye. The deerskin, as Hayoue had stated, hung
over the opening, and no smoke issued from the hole that served as vent
and smoke-escape. The woman must be mourning very deeply, or else she
was gone. She did not often enter his thoughts, and yet he wished
Shotaye might come now and see his mother. He was convinced, without
knowing why, that his mother would have been glad to see her.

At all events the dismal period of mourning was drawing rapidly to a
close, and with it official sadness would vanish. He could hardly await
the morrow. On that day he hoped that the question would be decided when
the great work of revenge should commence and whether he would be
permitted to take part in it. The words of his uncle had opened an
entirely new perspective to Okoya. To become uakanyi was now his aim,
his intense ambition. As warrior, and as successful warrior, he
confidently expected that no one would dare refuse him Mitsha. This hope
overcame the grief he had harboured during the days that elapsed, for
that grief belonged to the past; and as the past now appeared to him, it
seemed only a stepping-stone to a proud and happy future.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 11: I borrow these fa