Bright Water
By this I know the truth! You never loved him, or you would not now betray him.
The Chisera
(Moving toward the trail.) And you, Bright Water, that think to lie in your husband's arms this night, know that I have lain there before you. And you shall not dare to laugh as a bride laughs, lest it be to him my voice in the dusk; and if he turns and sighs in his sleep, you shall wonder if he dreams of the Chisera. Long and anxiously you shall look in the trail when he is late from the hunt, and the men shall mock him that he could not keep the blessing he had got. (Bright Water turns despairingly and sinks on the ground, holding her mother by the knees and sobbing bitterly. All the Indians draw away from Simwa, leaving him standing, discomfited, in the middle of the camp. All look with awe and dread at the Chisera. She produces a small medicine stick from under her blanket and twirls it with menace. Going.) As for you, Arrow-Maker of Sagharawite, though I cannot curse, yet am I the friend of the gods, and they have regard to me. Look well to yourself, Simwa. Look well.
ACT THIRD
Time.—One year later.
Scene.—The top of Toorape, where the tribe has been driven by their enemies of Tecuya. The women and children hide in holes in the rocks. Off to the right on a jutting boulder, against the sky, stands Yavi, as sentinel; two or three wounded lie about. Crouching over the fire are Seegooche, Wacoba, and Tiawa, showing in their dress and appearance the marks of a year of distress, as do all the others as they appear upon the scene.
Yavi
(To them.) St—st!