the last of the snake priests disappeared through the temple entrance, and old angwusi left her stool and advanced in front of massi's image, prostrated her bulky figure with much difficulty and then made invocation to the sun, riding high toward mid-afternoon. her words had the form of a prayer, but at intervals responses were intoned by the masked clan dancers behind her, and at the end all the people shouted an answer, turning their faces up to the sky.

she returned to her seat amidst a rapt silence that was broken only when wiki made a signal with his "paho," or prayer-stick, a painted and befeathered baton, which was the symbol of his office. as he raised it the drums in the temple rumbled again, and the masked dancers began to sing, swaying their bodies to the haunting rhythm of the music. after each stanza wiki would chant an invocation of his own, prostrating himself on the sand before massi. and this song terminated, as had angwusi's prayer, in a chorus of all the people, the thudding of the drums running in and out of the roar of voices that echoed against the overhanging cliff.

the singing died away. silence once more. wiki, standing now beside the image of the ruler of the dead, lifted his paho in a second gesture of command. tap-tap-tap! very slow, went the drums. the masked clan dancers sorted themselves into two files facing inward on either side of the temple doorway. the people around us, whose interest in the ceremonies had been perfunctory since the snake dance, bunched forward in attitudes of pleasurable expectancy. a murmur of voices bandied back and forth the one word—"kachina!"

i saw the muscles twisting on tawannears' jaw. his face, that was usually so masklike, was openly expressive. but a look of puzzled inquiry in his eyes changed to bewilderment, when, instead of the sacred dancer, appeared the snake priests, marshaled by kokyan and staggering under the weight of a hurdle upon which reposed a mighty pumpkin. it was twice as thick as peter in girth and half as tall from the litter of stalks and vine-leaves upon which it was set.

the drums throbbed slowly, and to the cadence of their beat the masked dancers struck up a new song, a wailing, minor melody, beseeching, imploring of massi the continued toleration of their wants. the snake priests and their burden passed between the two lines from the temple doorway to the image of the ruler of the dead, halted a moment facing it, turned, and then, with wiki and angwusi preceding kokyan, and the column of masked dancers following the hurdle-bearers, solemnly paraded the circuit of the plaza; whilst all the people sitting or crouching on the ground bent their heads and muttered, "kachina!" or "the sacred dancer comes!" or else addressed impromptu personal prayers to massi, yoki, chua and other lesser divinities.

tawannears' excitement had grown to an extraordinary degree. the breath whistled in his nostrils. his chest rose and fell as though he were running. his features were drawn and haggard. his eyes never swerved from the enormous pumpkin.

"how could they have nourished it to such a size!" i whispered.

he did not hear me, but peter, on my other side, made shrill reply—

"idt is not real."

"not real?"

"ja, you vatch."

i peered at it the more closely, myself. certes, it had all the outward seeming of a pumpkin magnified a score of times. there were the corrugations of the surface, the mottled yellow color with a hint of pale green, the blunt-ended stalk. but whilst i watched, the snake priests completed the plaza's circuit, gently deposited the hurdle in front of massi, and took their position behind the idol in a single rank, with kokyan a step in advance, arms folded on their breasts. the masked dancers formed a ring around the image, the giant pumpkin and the group of priests; and wiki and angwusi, on either side of the hurdle, commenced the next phase of the elaborate ritual.

wiki seemed to be delivering an oration to the god. he included by his gestures the people in the plaza, the village, the priests, the valley below the cliff, and finally the pumpkin. afterward we learned that he had been summing up the tribe's case for divine assistance, speaking from the viewpoint of the men. angwusi, who followed him, described for the benefit of the deity the efforts put forward by the women and the especial reasons they thought they had for meriting aid. and to cap it, both of them united in an address drawing to massi's notice the magnificent pumpkin which they would sacrifice to him.

this brought from the ring of dancers a prolonged shout of applause, the drums in the temple pulsed into a jerky, varying beat, and the masked figures pranced crazily around the idol and the pumpkin, the priests singing another of their weird, hesitating songs. faster and faster thumped the drums. swifter and swifter whirled the dancers. wilder and wilder waxed the song. the end came in a crescendo of noise, color and movement. it snapped off almost with a physical jar. priests and dancers flung themselves upon their faces in the send. the drums were stilled. the quiet was so intense that all about me i could hear people's breathing, the gusty pants of tawannears as loud as musketry by contrast.

for a dozen breaths this quiet reigned. then wiki rose, bowed low to that monstrous idol and stepped to the vast yellow pumpkin, sitting serenely upon its hurdle. he extended his paho before massi's unseeing eyes, recited briefly a prayer—and rapped the pumpkin once. a sigh of anticipation burst from the audience. the pumpkin fell apart, dividing cleanly in quarters, and from its hollow shell stepped kachina, a lithe bronze statue came to life, clad from breast to thighs in a sheath of turkey-feathers that puffed out under her arms in a mockery of wings. her blue-black hair floated free beneath the confining band of serpent's-skin around her brow.

for an instant she poised in the fallen shell of the pumpkin, arms spread as though for flight. then she leaped—almost, it seemed, she flew—from the hurdle to the sand, swooped this way and that, always with the gliding, wavy motion of a bird on the wing, hovered before wiki, before angwusi, sank in a pretty pose of piety before massi's warped face, and so sped into the measures of a dance that was all grace and fire and vivid emotion, a dance no indian could have done, and which charmed her beholders by its very exotic spell, its fierce bursts of passion, demonstrative, seductive.

kokyan made no secret of its effect upon him. the gloomy face of the young priest was lit by the unholy fires that burned within him. he came from his place at the head of the snake priests and stood with wiki and angwusi by the wooden idol, his eyes drinking in the sinuous loveliness of the dancer, her slender, naked feet scarcely touching the sand as she leaped and postured from mood to mood, her own eyes flaring through the tossing net of her hair, her lips pouting, smiling, luring, challenging, repulsing.

but i had little chance to observe her influence upon the priest of yoki. beside me tawannears was risen to his knees and in his face was the look of the damned man who sees heaven's gates opening for him, doubting, trusting, unbelieving, paralyzed by joy, scorched by fear. he started to clamber to his feet and the people in back of us volleyed low protests. i seized his arm.

"sit," i adjured him. "what ails you, man?"

i think he did not even hear me.

"use your wits," i exclaimed irritably. "you will have us all slain. you can see the maid anon."

'twas peter gave me the key to his state.

"he t'inks she is gahano," he muttered. "ja, dot's idt."

i exerted all my strength, and dragged the seneca back to his haunches.

"will you ruin us, brother?" i rasped. "this is sacred in the eyes of these people. we are——"

for the first time he seemed to comprehend what i was trying to do.

"otetiani does not know," he said mildly. "she is my lost soul."

"a mist has clouded tawannears' eyes," i answered, realizing that in this humor i must abide by the imagery of his people.

"no, brother," he returned, still without feeling. "you have not seen. you have forgotten. but tawannears knew—before this happened there was a song in his heart that told him this would be."

"of what?" i begged, conscious of the hostile looks that were acknowledging this interruption of the scene. "what said this song? was it of one maid who looked like another?"

"she does not look like another," he said with dignity. "she is another. she is my lost soul."

"you are mad, brother," i groaned.

he smiled pityingly at me.

"no, my eyes are opened. but otetiani cannot see. what said the ancient tale of my people? that the warrior who traveled beyond the sunset would find the land of lost souls——"

"is this land beyond the sunset?" i inquired sarcastically.

"it must be!" his voice rang with conviction. "did we not see the sun set behind the sky mountains? and we crossed the sky mountains—and this land must be still beyond the sky mountains."

"ay, but tawannears, you know that this is but a tale——"

"yes, a tale of my people," he agreed steadily. "if one warrior did it, why could not tawannears? so i believed always. now i know it to be so. i have done it. here we sit in the valley of lost souls. there is ataentsic, brother."

he pointed to fat old angwusi, who was eying us as balefully as kokyan and the snake priests, at last oblivious to the untiring grace with which kachina still danced before massi's wooden grimace.

"and there is jouskeha, her grandson." he singled out wiki. "as the tale told, when the warrior came to the valley his lost soul was dancing with other souls before those two, and jouskeha, in pity for him, took his lost soul and placed her in a pumpkin, and he carried the pumpkin back to his own country.

"see it is all here. there is the pumpkin. there are the lost souls, who also danced. ataentsic, i think, is loath to give up my lost soul, but jouskeha's face is only sad. it is all as the tale said it would be. all that remains, brother, is to replace the lost soul in the pumpkin, and carry her back to my village."

argument with him was impossible. he believed implicitly in this chain of inexplicable coincidences. he, who was in so many ways as cultured as an english gentleman, was the complete savage in this matter, resting his confidence in the vague mythology of his people, accepting for truth a familiar likeness and a sequence of parallel incidents.

i turned to peter with a gesture of despair.

"what can we do?" i asked.

"nothing," replied the dutchman phlegmatically.

whilst my back was toward him for this fleeting exchange of words, the seneca wrenched loose from my grasp and strode out into the center of the plaza toward the group of priests and masked dancers surrounding kachina's whirling form. the ceremony was suspended, stopped, as if the atrocious image of massi had issued a direct vocal fiat. a growl of resentment came from the watchers on our side of the plaza. the faces of the snake priests were murderous. the leaping hate of the masked dancers was reflected in pose and denunciations. angwusi frowned; kokyan grinned with diabolical satisfaction. kachina showed surprise and a certain distaste. wiki alone concealed his feelings.

for us there was left no other course save audacity. we were committed. the conduct of tawannears was such as to stir the anger of any barbarous people. excuses were impossible. our one chance was to carry it off boldly. and that meant we must make the first attack. 'twas for us to take and keep the offensive.

"come," i said to peter.

he reared himself erect and lumbered beside me.

"ja," he squeaked through his nose, "we hafe a —— of a time."

i caught up with tawannears, and resumed my grip on his arm.

"keep quiet. 'tis for me to do the talking."

he made no answer, offered no opposition. i do not believe he had had any plan in rising when he did. he simply obeyed the urge in his heart to possess himself at once of this girl, whom he supposed to be the incarnation of his lost love, which had torn him free of all restraints, impelled him forward calmly to claim what he considered nobody would dare to deny him. but he had no means of speaking intelligibly to anyone within the priests' circle, unless it was to kachina herself. and whether he had thought of this or not, he obeyed me now as docilely as a child.

"do as i do," i muttered to my comrades, as we passed the circle of the masked dancers.

and opposite massi's image i paused and offered a low bow. tawannears and peter imitated me faithfully; and that served to stall off the first wave of indignation. the priests were nonplussed. we had accepted their deity, rendered him adequate honor. i drove home the advantage whilst i held it.

"we are strangers in your midst," i said to wiki, speaking in spanish. "it may be we have offended against your customs, but let our excuse be that my red brother thinks he has just seen a mighty piece of magic performed."

this whetted their appetites and equally placated their wrath. wiki was naturally pleased with the idea of having an outsider testify to the closeness of his relations with his deity. he and kachina, who had danced to his side, translated rapidly the gist of what i had said. kokyan and his serpent priests scowled blackly. old angwusi looked interested. the others were baffled. but whatever they secretly felt they were induced to lay aside their hostility long enough to listen to my story, and that was everything, because it provided the opportunity for driving in tighter than ever the political wedges which disrupted the priesthood.

the effect of my narrative upon kachina was comic. she swelled with pride, repeating with gusto tawannears' claim that he had known her in a previous existence, and thus arrogating to herself an undeniably superior position. wiki was equally strengthened by the tale, as bearing out his original announcement of kachina's divine origin, but perplexed by the possible contingencies in tawannears' appearance.

angwusi was flatly disdainful of the whole affair. it helped her in nowise, except that she was identified with a goddess of a strange tribe. and against this she arrayed the probable enhancement of kachina's position, and the certainty of increased prestige for wiki.

but the one who foamed at the mouth at my amazing tale was kokyan. the priest of yoki literally stamped and chewed his lips with rage. his hot eyes flickered. the sweat beaded his forehead as he fought for self-control. again and again he ripped out savage objections or mocking comments. he saw in acceptance of our story double defeat for himself; wiki's leadership impregnably fortified and another bar thrown betwixt himself and kachina.

"the red stranger lies," he stormed—wiki translating his criticisms with gleeful assistance from kachina, who delighted in being at the center of the debate. "if kachina was of his people, why can she not talk to him in his tongue?"

"the great spirit took the knowledge from her—for reasons of his own," answered tawannears, and i translated.

"i can talk in tawannears' tongue," snapped kachina. "it comes to me easily." she cast a sly glance at the seneca. "i am sure i must have known it once."

"it is a lie," howled kokyan. "has he not said that this lost soul of his was a maid full-grown when she died? and do we not know that kachina was a child with new teeth when wiki brought her to homolobi?"

"the great spirit's ways are not our ways," returned tawannears steadily. "he may change the maid's years, but he cannot change her face or the soul that was lost. what are years to him?"

"bah!" snarled kokyan. "will wise men believe such tales? is it likely the ruler of death or any other god would allow such wanderers as these to have knowledge of the heaven-sent?"

wiki, who had said little after his habit, contenting himself with translating the arguments back and forth, and now and then checking kachina when she developed a tendency to embroil still further the irate kokyan, now pursed his lips and sought for safe middle-ground.

"here is no question to be judged with heat," he declared. "there is much that is strange in what these strangers say. yet how can priests, who live their lives with what is unreal, be unwilling to believe a tale because it denies what seems truth? it does seem strange to me that massi, whose servant i am, has never been disposed to acquaint me with what the strangers have said, although often, as you know, he has come to me and made clear the future—to the great good of the village."

at this there were cries of:

"great is wiki!"

"favored above other priests is wiki!"

"the chief priest speaks wisdom!"

"but who am i," continued wiki, "to expect that massi will tell me all? no, if he did so, then would i be as great as he, and a god. perhaps massi sent these strangers here to tell me this message, instead of summoning me into the desert to fast until wisdom came to me. i do not know. but i do know that the strangers have told us a marvelous tale. if it is true, then, indeed, are we favored of massi, and kachina, the sacred dancer, is twice holy. if it is not——"

"how can it be true!" insisted kokyan boldly. "chua the snake, as all know, has taken homolobi under his protection. have not i had his confidence for two years past? has he not told me things which massi, busy ruling the villages of the dead, has forgotten? is it likely that chua would forbear to tell me of so wondrous an occurrence?"

"chua has told you some things that did not come to pass," flashed kachina. "you told us he said these strangers would bring bad-luck, and they brought good-luck."

"yes, that is in their favor," interposed wiki.

"there has been bickering about them since they set foot in the valley," angwusi thrust in spitefully.

"there was bickering before," said wiki sternly. "enough has been said. we will examine the matter with care. i am massi's priest, and i serve him in this. let all——"

he was interrupted by shouts of alarm on the outskirts of the throng of village people who had clustered thickly about the group of priests, edging closer and closer as the discussion became more animated. we all turned in the direction of the disturbance. a lane was being formed through the crowd. villagers with bows and arrows were forcing back the bystanders to make room for a little knot of squat, naked, brown-skinned men, who walked between the jostling walls with wary glances and startled leaps to avoid contact with those not of their kind.

a murmur rose—

"the awataba!"

people gave ground more readily when they saw that the newcomers were the bowmen of the rock desert, men a degree or two above the level of the beasts, their bodies crusted with filth, their hair matted, their weapons crudely formed, their bellies protuberant from eating dirt when other food failed, their eyes dully stupid, but alive with animal dread of the unknown. these came forward until they reached the open circle in front of massi's image, and at first sight of that dread countenance they cast themselves flat upon the ground and wriggled on until their leader was able to put his hand upon wiki's foot.

the villagers who had attended them made brief report, and kachina started, bending forward betwixt tawannears and me, her lips close to my ear.

"this is bad," she whispered. "the field guards say the awataba have left the cliffs and descended into the valley. they are come to ask wiki to give you up to them. they——"

but now the awataba were talking for themselves in awkward guttural clicks and clucking noises, peeping at us from under beetling brows and hanging mats of muddy hair, prostrating themselves anew at a wrinkle showing in wiki's face; but withal, demonstrating a dumb persistency, a blunt determination, that reminded me of the smoke that swirled daily above the valley cliffs.

kachina gasped.

"they are asking for you," she interpreted. "they say they have dreamed that if they sacrifice you three their wanderings will come to an end and they will always have food."

wiki checked her with an order which sent the snake priests to close around us. they herded us out of the crowd and up to the temple roof, making signs that we were to enter the room assigned to us. in there we could neither see nor hear anything of what went on, and leaving one man to watch us from the terrace, they hastened back to take their share in the decision of our fate.