about it. Now, every man who was a handful or two short of his crop
began to look at us doubtfully. Then they would crowd around the Cacique
of the Sun to argue the matter. They remembered how our Shaman had gone
apart to pray to her own gods and they thought the Spirit of the Corn
might have been offended. And the Cacique would inquire of every one who
had a toothache or any such matter, in such a way as to make them think
of it in connection with the Shaman.--In every village," the Corn Woman
interrupted herself to say, "there is evil enough, if laid at the door
of one person, to get her burned for a witch!"

"Was she?" Dorcas Jane squirmed with anxiety.

"She was standing on the steps at the foot of the Hill of the Sun, the
last we saw of her," said the Corn Woman. "Of course, our women, not
understanding the speech of the Stone Houses, did not know exactly what
was going on, but they felt the changed looks of the people. They
thought, perhaps, they could steal away from the town unnoticed. Two of
them hid in their clothing as much Seed as they could lay hands on and
went down toward the river. They were watched and followed. So they came
back to the house where Waits-by-the-Fire prayed daily with her hand on
the Medicine of the Sun.

"So came the last day of the feast when the sacred seed would be sealed
up in the god-house. 'Have no fear,' said Waits-by-the-Fire, 'for my
dream has been good. Make yourselves ready for the trail. Take food in
your food bags and your carriers empty on your backs.' She put on her
Shaman's dress and about the middle of the day the Cacique of the Sun
sent for them. He was on the platform in front of the god-house where
the steps go up to the Hill of the Sun, and the elders of the town were
behind him. Priests of the Sun stood on the steps and the Corn Women