Is it not so, Nacaytzusle?
Answer me." The Navajo shrugged his shoulders.
"It is true," he said, "but I have nothing in common with the House people." "It may be so now, but if thou dost not care for the men, the women are not without interest to thee.

Is it not thus ?" "The tzane on the brook," replied the Navajo, disdainfully, "amount to nothing." "In that case"-- Tyope flared up and grasped his club, speaking in the Queres language and with a vibrating tone--"why don't you look for a companion in your own tribe?
Mitsha Koitza does not care for a husband who sneaks around in the timber like a wolf, and whose only feat consists in frightening the old women of the Tyuonyi!" The Navajo stared before him with apparent stolidity.

Tyope continued,-- "You pretend to despise us now, yet enough has remained within your heart, from the time when you lived at the Tyuonyi and slept in the estufa of Shyuamo hanutsh, to make my daughter appear in your eyes better, more handsome, and more useful, than the girls of the Dinne!" The features of the Dinne did not move; he kept silent.

But his right hand played with the string of the bow that lay on the wolf's skin.
"Nacaytzusle," the other began again, "I promised to assist you to obtain the girl against her will.

Mind! Mitsha, my daughter, will never go to a home of the Dinne of her own accord, but I would have stolen her for your sake.