Okoya started, horrified. "Is Tyope as bad as that?" he asked.
"Do you recollect Nacaytzusle, the savage stranger boy?" Hayoue inquired in return.
"I do; but he has left us."
"It does not matter; for to that wild wolf he would rather give Mitsha than let her be your wife. There is no danger of my obtaining her," he added, with a grim smile, "for he hates me like a water-mole. True it is that I, too, detest him as I do a spider."
Okoya felt bewildered.
"Why should he give Mitsha to a Moshome?" he timidly inquired. "What would he gain by it?"
"I don't know; and nobody knows, except perhaps the young Navajo, that fiend. But sure it is, and it bodes no good for us at the Tyuonyi."
A violent crash of thunder was followed by a few drops of rain. Hayoue looked up and said,—
"Kaatsh is coming; let us go."
Both rose and walked toward the caves for shelter. On the high mesa above, the wind roared through the timber; in the valley, it was yet quiet. Lightning flashed through the clouds. Hayoue stood still, grasped the arm of his companion, and pointed at the southern heights.