“We don’t know,” replied the Indian, “for we did not find anything else.”

“Have you looked for more?” emphasized the medicine-man.

The other hung his head as if he felt the reproach.  “No,” he said in a low tone.

“Why not?”

“Because we were afraid that other Tehuas might be around.”

“How do you know that the people from the north have killed our nashtio?”

“Because the Moshome Dinne never wear such.”  He pointed to the sandal, which he had handed to the tapop.

“Did the shoe lie where our father died?”

“No, we found it closer to the Tyuonyi.”

A flutter went through the group,—­a movement of surprise and of terror.  Many persons had collected, and the steps of more were heard coming up.  In the valley the wind sighed.  Louder than its plaintive moaning sounded the howling wail that continued in the great house with undiminished power.  The Hishtanyi continued,—­

“How did the shuatyam kill our father?” His voice trembled as he uttered these words.

“With arrows.”

“Have you brought them along?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“One.”

“Where is the corpse?”

“At the house of Tanyi hanutsh.”

The shaman turned around.  “Tyame,” he called to the delegate of the Eagle clan, “do your duty.  And you, too, Tapop.”

The group was about to disperse when the Shikama Chayan called back the men who had brought the news.  All stood still and listened.

“Is the head entire?” asked the medicine-man.

“The scalp is not on it.”

A murmur of indignation arose.  The chayan turned away and walked slowly along the foot of the cliffs toward his dwelling.  Every one set out for the great house, talking together excitedly, but in low voices.  The tapop, Tyame, and the two men who had found the body took the lead.  The Hishtanyi Chayan and the Shkuy Chayan came last.

The nearer they came to the great building, the louder and more dismal sounded the lamentations.

The storm was approaching with threatening speed.  One dense mass of inky clouds shrouded the west.  From time to time it seemed to open, and sheets of fire would fill the gap.  To this threatening sky the death-wail ascended tremulously and plaintively, like a timid appeal for redress.  In response the heavens shot angry lightning and thunderpeals.  The cliffs on the Tyuonyi trembled, and re-echoed the voices from above, which seemed to tell feeble humanity below, “We come!”

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