oon goes behind the mountains."

"Is that all!" exclaimed Zashue, disappointed and angry,--"is that all
you had to say? That much you might have shouted to me. There was no
need of being so secret about it, and"--he glanced at the insignificant
and careless work the boy had performed--"is that all you have done
since you came? You are lazy, uak! Go home. Go home at once to your
mother and tell her that I shall not return for the evening, but will
stay with Hayoue in the caves." And as Shyuote, dismayed and troubled,
appeared loath to go, Zashue turned to him again, commanding in a very
angry tone,--

"Go home! Go home at once!"

[Illustration: (Upper picture) A Navajo Hogan]

[Illustration: (Lower picture) The Heart of the Tyuonyi: The
excavated lower story of the great terraced Communal House]

Shyuote left in haste; he felt very much like crying. Hayoue said to his
brother,--

"Didn't I tell you that Shyuote was lazy? Okoya is far, far more
useful."

"Let me alone about Okoya," growled Zashue; and both went on with the
work as before.

Shyuote stumbled across the patches of corn, rather than walked through
them. He felt sad, dejected, and very wrathful. All the buoyancy with
which his victory over the girls had inspired him was gone. Since that
heroic feat nothing but ill-luck had crossed his path. He was angry at
his father for scolding him and driving him home, in the presence of
Hayoue, for whom the boy had as great a dislike as his uncle had for
him. Why, it was worse than the threats and cuffs of the old Naua! It
was not only an injustice, it was an insult! So the lad reasoned, and
began to brood over vengeance. He was going to show his father that he,
the ten-year-old boy, was not to be trifled with. Yes, he would show his
teeth by refusing to become a Koshare. Would not that be a glorious
revenge! The little fellow did not know that he was pledged to the
Delight Makers by a sacred vow of his parent which it was not in his
power to break. After a while his thoughts changed, and he concluded
that it might be better to say nothing and to go home and ask for
something to eat. But never, never again would he favour his father with
a friendly call in the corn-patch. This latter resolve appeared to him
so satisfactory, the revenge so ample for the injury received, that he
forgot the past and fairly danced through the fields, hopping sometimes
on one foot and sometimes on the other. He crossed the brook and r