the tribe, old and young, boys and girls, marched up the hills to the harvesting, singing songs with choruses. All was bright sunshine, and their haylli, or harvest song, was in praise of the shade:
'Seek the shadow, seek the shade,
Hide us in the blessed shade.
Yahahaha,
Yahaha.
'Where is it? where, where, O where?
Here it is, here, here, O here.
Yahahaha,
Yahaha.
'Where the pretty cantut[1] blooms,
Where the chihua's[2] flower smiles,
Where the sweet amancay[3] droops.
Yahahaha,
Yahaha.
'There it is! there, there, O there!
Yes, we answer, there, O there.
Yahahaha,
Yahaha.'
The child listened to the sounds of singing as the harvesters passed away out of sight, and then played among the flowers, surrounded by his personal attendants. The place was entirely deserted. When the sound of the singers had died away in the distance there was profound silence. Suddenly, without the slightest warning, the warcry
