She listened with throbbing heart to discover whether there was any shuffling sound to betray the approach of one of the Koshare.

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.

She made the hole as small as possible, digging and digging, anxiously listening, eagerly looking up now and then at the doorway, and starting timidly at the least sound.
At last her instrument struck a resisting though elastic object; it was the feathers.
Cautiously she pulled, pulled them up until she had drawn them to the top of the hole, then peered about her, intently listening.