The feathers lay buried in the earthen floor of the inner room. Their removal must be accomplished with great care, in such a manner as to leave no signs of the earth having been recently disturbed.[7] There was no choice; they must be removed at all hazards. There would be ample time if she could only afterward obliterate all traces of her work. Luckily the kitchen was very dark, and the hearth covered with ashes. Water was there also, but she dare not use it lest the moistened spot betray her. Her mind was made up, however, and the attempt would be made as soon as the dance was renewed.
Singing and drumming are heard once more; the dancers fall into line; and when the chorus was shouting the second verse,—
"Na-ya, Ha-te Oyo-yā-uā,
Uā-tir-anyi Tya-au-era-nyi,"—
and the jokers had dispersed, Say slowly retreated within the room, cowered down by the hearth, a sharp stone-splinter in her hand and her eyes fixed upon the door, watching lest anybody should appear. She listened with throbbing heart to discover whether there was any shuffling sound to betray the approach of one of the Koshare. She saw nothing, and no sound was heard except the beats of the drum and the monotonous rhythm,—
"Heiti-na, Heiti-na,
Nat-yu-o-o, Nat-yu-o-o, Ma-a-a-se-e-e-ua."
The woman began to dig. She dug with feverish haste. The dance lacked interest for her; time and again had she witnessed it, and well knew the figures now being performed. She made the hole as small as possible, digging and digging, anxiously listening, eagerly looking up now and then at the doorway, and starting timidly at the least sound.
At last her instrument struck a resisting though elastic object; it was the feathers.
Cautiously she pulled, pulled them up until she had drawn them to the top of the hole, then peered about her, intently listening. Nothing! Outside the uproar went on, the chorus shouting at the top of their voices,—
"Ei-ni-a-ha, Ei-ni-a-ha-ay,
Tu-ua Se-na-si Tyit-i-na,
Tyit-i-na-a-a, Ma-a-a-se-ua."
Wrenching the bundle from its hiding-place, she concealed it in her bosom; then carefully replaced the earth and clay; put ashes on this, then clay; rubbed the latter with a stone; threw on more ashes and more clay; and finally stamped this with her feet,—all the while listening, and glancing into the outer room. At last, when it seemed to her that the most rigid search could detect no trace of her labours, she brushed the ashes from her wrap and went out under the doorway again.