feast of the corn-planting and the last of the winter rains.
Tse-tse-yote was off on one of his wild runnings, but I lay in the back
of the cave and heard the myriad-footed Rain on the mesa. Between
showers there was a soft foot on the ladder outside, and
Willow-in-the-Wind pushed a tray of her best cooking into the door of
the cave and ran away without looking. That was the fashion of a
love-giving. I was much pleased with it."

"Oh!--" Dorcas Jane began to say and broke off. "Tell us what it was!"
she finished.

Moke-icha considered.

"Breast of turkey roasted, and rabbit stew with pieces of squash and
chia, and beans cooked in fat,--very good eating; and of course thin,
folded cakes of maize; though I do not care much for corn cakes unless
they are well greased. But because it was a love-gift I ate all of it
and was licking the basket-tray when Tse-tse came back. He knew the
fashion of her weaving,--every woman's baskets had her own mark,--and as
he took it from me his face changed as though something inside him had
turned to water. Without a word he went down the hill to the chief's
house and I after him.

"'Moke-icha liked your cooking so well,' he said to the turkey girl,
'that she was eating the basket also. I have brought it back to you.'
There he stood shifting from one foot to another and Willow-in-the-Wind
turned taut as a bowstring.

"'Oh,' she said, 'Moke-icha has eaten it! I am very glad to hear it.'
And with that she marched into an inner room and did not come out again