"Say ye so?" said the Raven, ruffling his collar and opening his mouth so wide with a lusty _kwa-la-ka_, that well he might have swallowed his own head. "Go ye before, then," said he, and he followed them closely into the court of dancers. Not ill to look upon was he, for upon his shoulders were bands of cotton, white, and his back was blue and gleaming as the tresses of a maiden dancer in sunlight. When the warriors had spoken to the fathers, the master priest of them, rising, came forward and greeted the Raven, bidding him sit and smoke. "Ha! there is corn in this, else why the stalk thereof?" said the Raven as, taking the cane cigarette of the far-spaces, he noticed the joint thereof. Therefore, forthwith, as he had seen the master do, so did he, only more greedily. He sucked in such a throatful of the smoke, fire and all, that it well nigh strangled him, and he coughed and grew giddy and sick to such a pass that the smoke, all hot and stinging, went through every part of him, and filled all his feathers, making even his brown eyes bluer and blacker in rings! It is not to be wondered at, this blueness of flesh, blackness of dress and tearfulness, yea and skinniness, of eye which we see in his kindred today. Nay, nor is it matter of wonder, either, that for all that, they are as greedy of corn-food as ever, for look now--no sooner had the old Raven recovered than he espied one of the ears of corn half hidden under the mantle-covers of the trays. He leapt from his sitting place laughing (as they always do when they find anything, these ravens), then catching up the ear of corn, he made off with it over the heads of the people and the tops of the houses, saying, "Ha! ha! in this wise and in no other meseems will ye find thy Seed maidens!" Nevertheless, after some absence, he came back, saying, "A sharp eye have I for the flesh of the maidens, but of their breathing-beings, who might see them, ye dolts, save by help of the Father of Dawn Mist himself, whose breath makes others of breath seen as itself;" whereupon he flew away again kawkling. THE BESEECHING OF PAÍYATUMA, AND HIS REVERSAL OF THE PEOPLE'S EVIL. "Truly now, truly," said the elders to one another; "but how shall we find, and how prevail on our father Paíyatuma to aid us, when so grievous is ours the fault? Which same, moreover, he warned us of in the old time."