hich the father was not
entitled to know, and about which he scarcely ever felt enough curiosity
to inquire. Consequently there grew a habit of not caring about other
people's affairs unless they affected one's own, and of confiding
secrets to those only whom they could concern, and who were entitled to
know them. In the course of time the habit became a rule of education.
Reticence, secrecy, discretion, are therefore no virtues with the
Indian; they are simply the result of training.

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, althou