"I tell you, satyumishe," a.s.serts the latter, "you are mistaken, or words have been spoken to you that are not true. This wife of mine is good. She has nothing to do with evil, nor has she tampered with it.

You have done her wrong, Tyope, and that is not right." His features, already distorted by the paint, took on an expression of anger.

The other responded hastily, "And I tell you, Zashue Tihua, that I saw your wife sitting by the hearth with Shotaye,"--his voice trembled at the mention of her name,--"and I heard when that mean, low aniehna"--his eyes flashed, giving a terrible expression to his already monstrously disfigured countenance--"spoke to the yellow corn!"

"Did you understand what she said?" Zashue interjected.

"No, but can any one ask aught of the yellow corn but evil? I know, too, that this shuatyam picked up the body of an owl on the mesa"--he pointed to the southern heights--"and carried its feathers back to her foul hole in the rocks."

"But you did not see Say with them?" Her husband looked in the eyes of the other inquiringly, and at the same time threateningly.

"That is the truth, but why does she go with the witch, and for what purpose does that female skunk need owl's plumage, if not to harm the tribe? She has done harm, too,"--he stamped his foot angrily,--"she is the cause of our having no rain last summer. She destroyed the maize-plant ere it could bring forth ears. She did it, and your wife helped her." Furious, and with flaming eyes, Tyope turned his head and stared into s.p.a.ce.

"Are you sure that Shotaye has done this, and that it is not P[=a]yatyama's will?"

"Did we not fast and mortify ourselves while it was yet time, all of us from the Hotshanyi down to the youngest Koshare?" exclaimed Tyope. "Was it of any use? No, for that base woman had power over us in order to destroy the tribe."

"I am not defending her," Zashue muttered, "but it is not certain that she is guilty, nor is it proven that she is the cause of the hunger we suffered last winter."

His companion threw at him a glance of intense rage. The other's incredulity exasperated Tyope, but he suppressed his feeling and spoke in a quieter tone.

"Come, satyumishe, the Naua is expecting us, and in his presence we shall speak further. Our father is wise and will teach our hearts."

Say Koitza's husband stood motionless, looking away from his friend.

"Come," Tyope urged, placing his hand on the other's shoulder. Zashue at last turned around and reluctantly followed him. Both went toward the new estufa of the Maize clan.

From this circular building faint sounds, as of a drum beaten by a weak or lazy hand, were issuing. The princ.i.p.al Koshare and the Naua had retired thither for recuperation after the dance. Although the old man was not of the cl.u.s.ter to whom the estufa belonged, he had obtained permission from Yakka hanutsh to use the room on this occasion as a meeting and dressing place for himself and his a.s.sociates. The club-house of the Corn people thus served to-day a twofold purpose, and was used by two distinct groups of the inhabitants of the Rito.

At this hour the Koshare Naua was its sole occupant. He sat on the floor, holding the drum in his lap and touching the instrument lightly from time to time. His vacant gaze was fixed upon a small heap of dying embers, nearly in the centre of the room and beneath the hatchway.

Occasionally he raised his head to glance at the wall opposite him. The interior of the estufa appeared quite different from what it did on the day when Shyuote's peep into it was so poorly rewarded. Its walls had been whitened, and were in addition covered with strange-looking paintings. The floor was partly occupied by a remarkable display of equally strange objects.

The painting in front of which the old man sat, and at which he gazed from time to time, represented in the first place a green disk surrounded by short red rays, which three white squares, bordered with black, converted into something like the rude semblance of a human face.

This disk stood for a picture of the sun. Below it was the symbol of the moon's white disk, encircled by a black and red ring, and provided also with square eyes and mouth. Still lower were painted two crosses, a red one and a white one, both with black border.

Above the sun there appeared a form intended to be human, painted in very gaudy colours. This was P[=a]yatyama, the sun-father. On each side of him rose a terraced pyramid painted green, and from the top of one of these pyramids to that of the other there spanned or stretched a tri-coloured arch, red, yellow, and blue, over the sun-father's head. On each side of sun and moon was the crudely executed picture of an animal,--the one on the right, being intended for a bear, painted green; the one on the left, for a panther, painted red. The heads of these beasts were turned toward the central figures. Still farther, beyond these beasts of prey, two gigantic green serpents with horned heads swept over the remainder of the wall, leaving but a narrow s.p.a.ce facing the sun, where four maize-plants, two green ones and two of a reddish-brown hue, were painted.

Below the central figures and not quite reaching up to them, an arch of wood, painted green with a yellow middle stripe, was held aloft by two poles driven into the floor of the estufa. Under this arch stood a wooden screen, green and black with a yellow border at the bottom, while the upper edge was carved into four terraced pyramids surmounted by as many black arches. Both right and left of the screen, pine-branches resembling Christmas-trees of to-day were stuck into the floor. This strange decoration expresses symbolically a meaning similar to that intended to be conveyed by the dance of the ayash tyucotz.

The sun-father, soaring above the sun, moon, and stars,--for the red cross is the star of morning, the white the evening star,--is surrounded by the symbols of the princ.i.p.al phenomena in nature that are regarded as essentially beneficent to mankind. Thus the terraced pyramids are the clouds, for the clouds appear to the Indian as staircases leading to heaven, and they in turn support the rainbow. The two princ.i.p.al beasts of prey, who feed upon game, like man, and whose strength, agility, and acute senses man hopes to acquire, are represented as the bear in the colour symbolic of the east, and the panther in that of the south.

Farther away from the sun-father are the two monstrous water-snakes, genii of the fish-bearing and crop-irrigating water-courses. The sun-father stands surrounded by all these elements and beings; he fixes his blissful magic gaze upon the nourishing maize-plants, that they may grow and that their ripe fruit may sustain the tribe. Thus much for the allegory on the wall.

But in order that the wish and hope which this allegoric painting expresses on the part of man may become realized, invocation rises before the picture in the shape of the screen, denoting an altar on which the rainbow has again settled down as a messenger from above. Both are green, since it is summer; and the summer sun, or summer home of the sun-father, is green also, like the earth, covered with luxuriant vegetation.

Invocation alone does not suffice to incline the hearts of Those Above kindly toward mankind; grat.i.tude is required as an earnest of sincere worship. But this grat.i.tude can be expressed by words as well as by deeds, and prayers must precede, accompany, or follow the offering. In front of the altar a row of bunches artistically composed of snow-white down are placed on the floor. Each of these delicate fabrics has sacred meal scattered about its base, and each of them symbolizes the soul of one household. They are what the Queres Indian calls the _yaya_, or mother, dedicated to the moon-mother, who specially protects every Indian home. All these stand below the altar in token of the many prayers that each household sends up to the moon, painted above, that the mother of all, who dwells in the silvery orb, may thank her husband in the sun for all the good received, and implore him to further shed his blessings on their children. Between these feather-bushes and the embers, a great number of other objects are placed,--fetiches of stone, animal figures, prayer-plumes, sacrificial bowls painted with symbolic devices and surmounted by terraced p.r.o.ngs, and wooden images of household G.o.ds decorated with feathers. Sacred meal is in or about all of them, and all stand for so many intercessors praying for the good of the people, giving thanks in the name of the people and offering their vows in token of grat.i.tude.

Similar to this estufa of the Corn clan are to-day all the other estufas on the Tyuonyi. They contain similar pictures, and similar objects are grouped on the floors in front of them. Before the altars the swan-white mother-souls glisten and flutter. The estufas are without human occupants, their entrances alone are watched by old men or women outside to prevent the work of invocation and grat.i.tude performed inside by symbolic advocates from being desecrated by rude or thoughtless intruders.

While this work is going on thus silently and without direct intervention of man, man himself performs a similar duty in the open air through the ceremonies of the great dance.

In this dance the Koshare came first, for their request was one of immediate importance. That the fruit may ripen is the object of their sacramental performances,--"even the fruit in woman's womb," Topanashka had explained. To this end man must contribute with delight and work with love. Whoever mourns or harbours ill-will cannot expect his task to prosper. In this manner even the obscene performances of the Koshare are symbolic, and their part in the great dance is above all an invocation.

Next the Cuirana came. Their labours are over; the germs which they were to protect with incantations have sprouted long ago, and the plants are ready for maturing. For these results of their work they give thanks to the sun-father,--thanks loud and emphatic, so that he may hear and see how grateful his children are. Their performance to-day is a testimonial of grat.i.tude.

To close the dance, both societies will finally appear together, and with them representatives of the tribe at large. All together they will go through the same succession of ceremonies, in token that all acquiesce in the sentiments of the Koshare and the Cuirana,--that each individual for himself and in behalf of all the others joins in giving thanks for the past and praying for the future.

This is the signification of the ayash tyucotz when performed about the time of the summer solstice. However clumsy and meaningless it may seem, it is still a solemn performance. It gives public expression, under very strange forms, to the idea that has found its most perfect utterance in the German philosopher's[8] definition of "abject reliance upon G.o.d;"

whereas in its lowest form it is still "a vague and awful feeling about unity in the powers of nature, an unconscious acknowledgment of the mysterious link connecting the material world with a realm beyond it."

Seated comfortably and alone, surrounded by the symbols of his creed, the old leader of the Koshare was tapping his drum and humming softly a prayer. On a sudden the hatchway above him became darkened, and as he looked up he saw the legs of a man appearing on the uppermost rounds of the ladder leading down into the subterranean chamber. As that man continued to descend, the body, and finally the head, of Tyope appeared.

Then followed Zashue Tihua. When both men were below, they went to the nearest sacrificial bowl, each one took from it a pinch of yellow cornmeal and scattered it in front of the altar. Then they turned to the old man, but he did not take any notice of either of them. Tyope squatted by his side, while Zashue remained erect.

"Sa nashtio," began the former, "we have not found anything."

"There is nothing," added Zashue, rather excitedly; "my wife is innocent."

The Naua raised his eyes with an expression of astonishment and surprise, as if failing to understand.

"What is it that you have not found?" he asked, rather dreamily.

"No coco--" Tyope stopped and looked at the pictures on the wall. It is improper to mention the names of evil powers or agencies in presence of the symbols of Those Above. So he corrected himself and said,--

"No hapi."

"Hapi?" the Naua inquired with a vacant stare, "what sort of hapi? Where did you look for them?" He bent his head, as if trying to remember.

"Hapi," exclaimed Tyope, "in the house of Say Koitza, this mot[=a]tza's wife;" and he pointed at his companion.

"Yes, indeed;" the chief of the Koshare now recollected. "I know; I recollect well." His eyes suddenly brightened; they a.s.sumed an expression of cunning as well as of suspicion. His quick glance moved back and forth from one of his visitors to the other. "So you found nothing? Then there is nothing! You were right, Zashue; your wife is good." He gave a chuckle which he intended for a benevolent smile.

"See," Say's husband exclaimed, turning to Tyope; "the Naua believes as I do. My wife is no--" the evil word he suppressed in time. He stopped, biting his lips in embarra.s.sment.

Tyope's features moved not. He spoke to the chief of the Delight Makers as quietly and calmly as possible,--

"I believe as you do, nashtio; but while Say may be guiltless, Shotaye is not."

"Hush!" the Naua sternly interrupted; "think of those here." He pointed toward the symbols. "Don't you know that they must not hear the name of that woman?"

Tyope replied hastily, and eager to drown the reprimand his chief had given him,--

"What shall we do, Naua?"

The old man became impatient. "Don't you see that I am at work? I am busy. Those here," he again nodded at the idols, "leave me no peace. I must be with them until the last otshanyi begins. In three days we go to the kaaptsh,--you, he, all our brethren,--and then we may speak. Now leave me alone. Go! Leave me! Go! Go!" he cried, and waved his hand upward. He was not to be spoken to any longer; he began to beat his drum and took up the low chant again. Zashue hurriedly climbed out of the estufa, and Tyope followed with an angry face. When the latter was on the open ground again, Zashue stepped up to him and said in a very decided tone,--

"You see now, satyumishe, that Say is innocent. Hereafter, Tyope, leave her alone." Turning about, he walked toward the large house. Tyope cast after him a look less of anger than of bitter disappointment.

The last act of the great ceremony began. A tremendous shout sounded from the outer entrance to the gallery leading into the court-yard of the great house. The chant arose stronger and louder than ever before, and several drums rumbled at once. Again were the terraces filled with people, the walls below lined with spectators. Topanashka sat on the roof, cold and impa.s.sable. Say Koitza leaned in the doorway of her home, with a quiet, almost smiling, countenance.

A long array of couples, dressed as before but painted red, opened the procession; then came the Cuirana, and last the Koshare. Topanashka arose and joined the dancers; the Tapop stood beside him, and both stamped along, keeping time as if they were young once more. The singers were reinforced by several aged men with snow-white hair, three of whom wore dark wraps, sleeveless and covered with red embroidery. These were the chief penitents; those without badges or distinctive dress, the princ.i.p.al shamans of the tribe. A thrill of excitement ran through the spectators; children on the roofs gathered in groups, moving in harmony with the strong rhythmic noise below. The jesters had become very quiet; they went about gravely keeping order, for the court was now filled with performers. The green headdresses waved like reeds before the wind, and the whole s.p.a.ce looked like a rhythmically wafted cornfield. When the dancers were executing the beautiful figure of the planting of maize,--man and woman bending outward simultaneously, each one to his side, and all the rattles sounding as if upon command,--everything around was hushed; everybody looked on in respectful silence, so correct were the motions, so well-timed and so impressive the sight. Say also felt genuine delight. She thought of times long past when she, too, had joined in the dance. Now, alas, she could not. With all the relief this day had brought her, there still remained a dull weight in her bosom, and an inner voice forbade her to mingle with those so sincerely engaged in rites of thanksgiving to the powers of good and happiness.