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Updated: May 16, 2025
The poor deaf widow sat with tearful eyes in a corner; her lips moved, but no sound came from them; only, when the leader of the choir broke out with appropriate gesticulations, she chimed in loudly. When at such a signal the other women present began to tear their hair, she did the same, and shouted at the top of her voice like the others, "Heiti-na, Heiti-na!"
It was dusky in the room, for the window as well as the hatchway afforded little light. Subdued voices sounded from the apartment, monotonous recitals, which the loud refrain, "Heiti-na, Heiti-na," at times interrupted.
Heiti-na!" cried the Hishtanyi Chayan aloud. Tyope was in despair. Arrow after arrow was flying past him, rending twigs and shattering branches. The Tehuas shot faster than the Queres. They must have a large supply of missiles. Every shot was accompanied by triumphant yells; the enemy was growing bolder.
It was a very good sign to see the shaman at work with such enthusiasm; still Tyope must disturb him. "Sa nashtio," he cried, "we must go." "Heiti-na! Heiti-na!" shouted the praying shaman, drumming incessantly. He was in ecstasies. His uplifted eyes sparkled; he paid no attention to what was around him. "Sa nashtio yaya," Tyope anxiously insisted. "Do not disturb me, let me alone! Heiti-na!
She saw nothing, and no sound was heard except the beats of the drum and the monotonous rhythm, "Heiti-na, Heiti-na, Nat-yu-o-o, Nat-yu-o-o, Ma-a-a-se-e-e-ua." The woman began to dig. She dug with feverish haste. The dance lacked interest for her; time and again had she witnessed it, and well knew the figures now being performed.
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