Okoya hastily gathered up his arrows, and called Shyuote to his side.  But the boy did not care to obey.  Thirst for revenge held him to the spot of his defeat; he shook his fists at the girls, clenched his teeth, and began to threaten vengeance, and to shower uncomplimentary expressions upon them.  As soon, however, as the one who had so effectually routed him showed again a decided movement toward his raven locks, he beat a hasty retreat to his elder brother.  This change of base excited new hilarity, and under a shower of jokes and sarcasms the two boys departed.  Okoya walked along at a steady gait; but Shyuote, as soon as he considered the distance safe enough, turned around, making grimaces at the belligerent damsels, vowing vengeance, and uttering opprobrious epithets of the choicest kind.  He noticed that the two returned his compliments without reserve, whereas Mitsha stood in silence leaning against the house-wall.  One single look, one earnest almost sad glance, she sent after the disappearing form of Shyuote’s elder brother.

The main building was now close at hand.  It was an irregular pentagon, and at places two, at others three stories high.  With one single exception these stories formed terraces, retreating successively from the ground to the top like so many steps of a staircase.  Nowhere did there appear any entrance.  Notched beams led up to trapdoors in the roofs, similar beams penetrated into the interior below.  Absolute stillness reigned about the edifice.  Some women scoured scanty clothing in the ditch running past the structure; on the terraces not a soul appeared.  The lads directed their course toward that side where the three stories presented a perpendicular wall, and as they neared it an entrance, or doorway, high enough for a man and wide enough for four abreast appeared in the vertical front.  It led them through a dark passage into an interior court which was fairly clean and contained three estufas.  Its diameter did not exceed one hundred and fifty feet.

Toward this court, or yard, the stories of the building descended in terraces also; but though everywhere beams leaned up as ladders, access to the ground-floor was also afforded by narrow doorways closed with hides or mats.  It was hot and quiet in this yard; the sun shed glaring light into it and over the roofs.  Naked urchins played and squirmed below, whereas above, an old woman or some aged man would cower motionless, shading their blear eyes with one hand and warming their cold frames in the heat.  Okoya went directly to one of the ground-floor openings, lifted the deerskin that hung over it, and called out the usual greeting,—­

“Guatzena!”