All was as silent as the grave. They sat in expectation for a while; then he again shouted,—
"Shotaye samām! Come out!"
Nothing was heard. He noisily removed the grinding-slab from the entrance and cried,—
"Shotaye, we must go. Bring the feathers."
"Let me alone and go," sounded the dull reply at last.
"Give me the feathers first," Zashue demanded.
"Come and get them yourself," replied the voice inside.
This was rather an awkward invitation, for both men, like almost everybody else at the Rito, were afraid of the medicine-woman's private room.
"Do bring them," Zashue begged.
"Go! I will not come out any more," growled the voice within.