the maidens late into the night. There comes to
me now the picture of two young men with their
robes over their heads, and only a portion of the
hand-made and carved chotanka, the flute, protrud-
ing from its folds. I can see all the maidens slyly
turn their heads to listen. Now I hear one of
the youths begin to sing a plaintive serenade as in
days gone by:


"Hay-ay-ay! Hay-ay-ay! a-ahay-ay!" (This
"Listen! you will hear of him--
Maiden, you will hear of him--
Listen! he will shortly go

Wasula feels that she must come out, but she
has no good excuse, so she stirs up the embers of
the fire and causes an unnecessary smoke in the
teepee. Then she has an excuse to come out and
fix up the tent flaps. She takes a long time to ad-
just these pointed ears of the teepee, with their
long poles, for the wind seems to be unsettled.

Finally Chotanka ceases to be heard. In a
moment a young man appears ghost-like at the
maiden's side.

"So it is you, is it?" she asks.

"Is your grandmother in?" he inquires.