Okoya too had been under the influence of such training, and he knew that Shyuote, young as he was, had already similar seeds planted within him.  But uncertainty was insufferable; it weighed too heavily upon him, he could no longer bear it.

“Umo,” he burst out, turning abruptly and looking at the boy in an almost threatening manner, “how do you know that I dislike the Koshare?”

Shyuote cast his eyes to the ground, and remained silent.  His brother repeated the query; the little fellow only shrugged his shoulders.  With greater insistence the elder proceeded,—­

“Shyuote Tihua, who told you that the Delight Makers are not precious to me, nor I to them?”

Shyuote shook his head, pouted, and stared vacantly to one side.  He manifestly refused to answer.

Cold perspiration stood on the brow of the elder brother; his body quivered in anguish; he realized the truth of his suspicions.  Unable any longer to control himself he cried,—­

“It is my mother who told them!”

Trembling, with clenched hands and gnashing teeth, he gazed at the child unconsciously.  Shyuote, frightened at his wild and menacing attitude, and ignorant of the real cause of his brother’s excitement, raised his hand to his forehead and began to sob.

A shout coming from the immediate vicinity aroused and startled Okoya.  A voice called out to him,—­

“Umo!”

He looked around in surprise.  They were standing close to the cultivated plots, and a man loomed up from between the maize-plants.  He it was who called, and as soon as Okoya turned toward him he beckoned the youth to come nearer.  Okoya’s face darkened; he reluctantly complied, leaped over the ditch, walked up to the interlocutor, and stood still before him in the attitude of quiet expectancy with downcast eyes.  Shyuote had dropped to the ground; the call did not interfere with his sobs; he pouted rather than grieved.

Okoya’s interlocutor was a man of strong build, apparently in the forties.  His features, although somewhat flat and broad, created a favourable impression at first; upon closer scrutiny, however, the eyes modified that impression.  They were small, and their look piercing rather than bright.  His costume was limited to a tattered breech-clout of buckskin.  A collar of small white shells encircled the neck, and from this necklace dangled a triangular piece of alabaster, flat, and with a carving on it suggesting the shape of a dragon-fly.  His hair streamed loose over the left ear, where there was fastened to the black coarse strands a tuft of grayish down.

This individual eyed Okoya in silence for a moment, as if inspecting his person; then he inquired,—­

“Where do you come from?”

The young fellow looked up and replied,—­

“From below,” pointing to the lower end of the gorge.

“What did you hunt?” the other continued, glancing at the bow and arrows of the boy.