It was the last day of mourning, and nearly everybody at the Rito who could or ought had paid his respects to the dead.  The Chayani of lesser rank alone returned from time to time to perform specially strong incantations in aid of the still travelling soul.  Mitsha had gone down to the brook to get water.  It occurred only once a day during these days, for the people of Tyame fasted, taking but one frugal meal daily.  Everybody was very careful also not to wash, and Mitsha herself was as unkempt as any one else of her clan.

Bearing the huashtanyi on her head, she was returning, when as she passed the corner of the big house her eyes discovered a man standing with his back turned to her, gazing at the cliffs.  He seemed to face the dwellings of the Eagle clan.  As the girl approached, the noise of her step caused him to turn, and she recognized Okoya.

The youth stepped up to her; his eyes were hollow, and now they became moist.  He attempted to control himself, to restrain the tears that were coming to his eyes at the sight of her; but he sobbed convulsively.  When she saw it tears came to her eyes at once.  The two children stood there, he struggling to hide his grief, for it was unmanly to weep, and yet he was young and could not control his feelings; she, as a woman, feeling at liberty to weep.  She wept, but silently and modestly.  It grieved her to see him shed tears.

He, too, felt for her; but it was soothing to his own grief that Mitsha mourned.  He too was longing to meet her; the four days of separation had been very long to him.

“He was so good,” Okoya at last succeeded in saying.  Fresh tears came to his eyes.

Mitsha merely nodded and covered her face with a corner of her wrap.

“Have you been to him?” he asked.

She nodded; Okoya continued,—­

“To-morrow I will come again.”

Eager nods, mingled with sobs and accompanied by rubbing of the eyes, were her reply.  The nodding proved that his call would be very, very welcome.  She uncovered her face, her eyes beamed through tears, and she smiled.  As sincerely as she felt her grief, the announcement that he would return as soon as the mourning-time was over made her happy, and her features expressed it.  She went her way quietly, Okoya following her with his eyes.

He longed to say to her, “Come with me, and let us go together to my mother; she weeps so much.”  But it could not be; it was useless to mention it.  About his mother Okoya felt deeply concerned, for she did not bear her grief as the others bore theirs.  She was not noisy like the rest.  Utterly oblivious of her daily task, she neither cooked nor baked nor cared for anything.  Her husband and children had to go hungry, while she sat in a corner sobbing and weeping.  It was indeed a blessing for her that she was able to weep; otherwise her reason might have given way under the terrible and crushing blow.  With the loss of her father she felt as if lost forever,