led him. He coughed and grew giddy, and the smoke all
hot and stinging went through every part of him. It filled all his
feathers, making even his brown eyes bluer and blacker, in rings. It is
not to be wondered at, the blueness of flesh, blackness of dress, and
skinniness, yes, and tearfulness of eye which we see in the Raven
to-day. And they are all as greedy of corn food as ever, for behold! No
sooner had the old Raven recovered than he espied one of the ears of
corn half hidden under the mantle-covers of the trays. He leaped from
his place laughing. They always laugh when they find anything, these
ravens. Then he caught up the ear of corn and made off with it over the
heads of the people and the tops of the houses, crying.

"Ha! ha! In this wise and in no other will ye find thy Seed Maidens."

But after a while he came back, saying, "A sharp eye have I for the
flesh of the Maidens. But who might see their breathing-beings, ye
dolts, except by the help of the Father of Dawn-Mist himself, whose
breath makes breath of others seem as itself." Then he flew away cawing.

Then the elders said to each other, "It is our fault, so how dare we
prevail on our father Paiyatuma to aid us? He warned us of this in the
old time."

Suddenly, for the sun was rising, they heard Paiyatuma in his daylight
mood and transformation. Thoughtless and loud, uncouth in speech, he
walked along the outskirts of the village. He joked fearlessly even of
fearful things, for all his words and deeds were the reverse of his
sacred being. He sat down on a heap of vile refuse, saying he would have
a feast.

"My poor little children," he said. But he spoke to aged priests and
white-haired matrons.

"Good-night to you all," he said, though it was in full dawning. So he
perplexed them with his speeches.

"We beseech thy favor, oh father, and thy aid, in finding our beautiful
Maidens." So the priests mourned.

"Oh, that is all, is it? But why find that which is not lost, or summon
those who will not come?"

Then he reproached them for not preparing the sacred plumes, and picked
up the very plumes he had said were not there.

Then the wise Pekwinna, the Speaker of the Sun, took two plumes and the
banded wing-tips of the turkey, and approaching Paiyatuma stroked him
with the tips of the feathers and then laid the feathers upon his
lips....

Then Paiyatuma became aged and grand and straight, as is a tall tree
shorn by lightning. He said to the fat