No wonder, therefore, that the boy greeted his mother with a happy face and a pleasant smile. He had passed Shotaye in the entrance, and his salutation to her was widely different from the gruff notice he had taken of her in the morning. When, afterward, he met his mother's gaze and saw how kindly she looked at him, how warm her invitation to come in sounded, his heart bounded with delight, and he obeyed her summons with a deep sigh of relief. His appearance was not very prepossessing, for between the caves and the big house a number of newly created mud-puddles and rivulets had crossed his path. His scanty clothing was profusely bespattered, and broad cakes of mud clung to the soles of his naked feet. Before entering the house he carelessly shook off and scraped away the heaviest flakes, and then went in and sat down on the bundle of skins. Say Koitza offered him no change of clothing; she did not bring a pair of slippers, warm and dry, for his wet feet. No, she simply went into the kitchen and let him alone. Such is the Indian custom. But in the kitchen she began to move about. She was cooking, and that proved beyond a doubt that everything must be right again. After a while she squatted in the inner doorway and inquired,—
"Where were you while it was raining?"
"With Hayoue."
"How late did he come home?" She laughed; he chimed in and answered,—
"Late enough; I had to wait a long time before he came, and so sleepy was he,—as tired and sleepy as a bear in spring."
"Do you know where he spent the night?" The tone of the conversation sounded easy and pleasant.
"I don't know the name of the makatza,"—here Okoya laughed again and his mother caught the contagion,—"but she must belong to Oshatsh. He did not say much, for he was tired from yesterday."
"Was she a short, stumpy girl?"
"I don't know. It must have been the same one with whom he was at the dance. I paid no attention to her."
"It is Haatze; I know her. She is a strong girl and tall."