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Updated: June 26, 2025
He looked at her and laughed aloud, as the Indian does when he feels delighted, pressed both hands against his chest, and uttered proudly, "Cayamo." "Shotaye," she eagerly replied. The black-painted hero burst out in immoderate laughter. "Shotaye, Shotaye," he repeated, caught hold of one of her hands, caressed his chest with it, and danced about merrily, exclaiming,
"Cuindae, Cayamo, cuindae, Shotaye, cuinda!" He counted the number eight several times, and then suddenly bent down. One of his sandals had become loose. These sandals consisted, as mentioned before, of wooden hoops covered by strips of rabbit-skin and tied to the naked foot with bands of the same material.
She went back to the Puye with a sting in her heart forever. Outwardly she led a contented life as the consort of Cayamo, and the Tehuas looked upon her as a useful accession, if not as one who had at one time become the saviour of their tribe; but she could never think of the Rito nor hear it mentioned without feeling a pang. It was remorse, but she did not know it.
The first glance satisfied her that he was not a Navajo, but a village Indian, and indeed her friend Cayamo. Every trace of fear disappeared. Shotaye left the shelter of the bush and stepped up toward him rather noisily, at the same time calling his name.
It was almost needless to avail herself of the understanding with Cayamo; she had far more important things to communicate. By informing the Tehuas of the movement on foot against them, she appeared as a deserter from the enemy, as a timely friend.
Until better informed she drew the conclusion that the Navajos were in pursuit of him, but more she failed to understand. To ascertain his meaning she pointed at him, then at herself, raised four of her fingers, and asked, "Tehua?" Cayamo shook his head, counted two on his fingers, accompanying the gestures with the words, "Tema quio Puye," pointing to the north at the same time.
In this he bent his shield, and the hard leather struck him in the ribs. Cayamo woke up! He opened his eyes and yawned, closed them again, then opened the lids a second time, when his look became suddenly a stare of surprise. Lightning-like he rose to a sitting posture, and grasped the bow as well as his war-club.
It became clearer and clearer to her that it was a human form, and that on its back was a white shield decorated with red. That shield she knew to be Cayamo's. But what could Cayamo be doing here? Or was it perhaps not he, but some Navajo who had vanquished the proud warrior and was carrying home his weapons in triumph? The latter appeared rather improbable, and yet who could tell?
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