The Delight Makers | Page 6

thicket, calling
aloud,--
"Umo,--'grandfather!'"[1]
"To ima satyumishe,--'come hither, my brother,'" another voice replied
in the same dialect, adding, "See what a big fish I have caught."
It sounded as though this second voice had issued from the very waters
of the streamlet.
Pine boughs rustled, branches bent, and leaves shook. A step scarcely
audible was followed by a noiseless leap. On a boulder around which
flowed streams of limpid water there alighted a young Indian.
He was of medium height and well-proportioned. His hands and feet
were rather small and delicate. He carried his head erect with ease and
freedom. Jet-black hair, slightly waving, streamed loose over temples
and cheeks, and was gathered at the back in a short thick knot. In front
it parted naturally, leaving exposed a narrow strip of the brow. The
features of the face, though not regular, were still attractive, for large
black eyes, almond-shaped, shone bright from underneath heavy lashes.
The complexion was dusky, and the skin had a velvety gloss. Form,
carriage, and face together betokened a youth of about eighteen years.

His costume was very plain. A garment of unbleached cotton, coarsely
woven, covered the body as low as the knee. This garment, sleeveless
and soiled by wear, was tied over the right shoulder. A reddish-brown
scarf or belt of the same material fastened it around the waist. Feet,
arms, and the left shoulder were bare. Primitive as was this costume,
there was, nevertheless, an attempt here and there at decoration. The
belt was ornamented with black and white stitches; from each ear hung
a turquoise suspended by a cotton thread, and a necklace of coloured
pebbles strung on yucca fibre encircled the neck.
Like a statue of light-coloured bronze decked with scanty drapery, and
adorned with crude trinkets, holding a bow in the right hand, while the
left clenched a few untipped arrows, the youth stood on the boulder
outlined against the shrubbery, immovable above the running brook.
His gaze was fixed on the opposite bank, where a youngster was
kneeling.
The latter was a boy of perhaps nine years. A dirty wrap hung loosely
over shoulders and back, and no necklace or ear-pendants decorated his
body. But the childish features were enlivened by a broad grin of
satisfaction, and his eyes sparkled like coals just igniting, while he
pointed to a large mountain trout which he pressed against a stone with
both hands. He looked at the older youth with an expression not merely
of pleasure, but of familiar intimacy also. It was clear that both boys
were children of the same parents.
The younger one spoke first,--
"See here, Okoya," he began, grinning; "while you are older than I, and
bigger and stronger, I am more cunning than you. Ever since the sun
came out you have followed the turkeys, and what have you? Nothing!
Your hands are empty! I have just come down from the field, and look!
I caught this fish in the water. Shall we fry and eat it here, or carry it
home to the mother?"
The older brother did not relish the taunt; his lips curled. He replied
scornfully,--

"Any child may catch a fish, but only men can follow turkeys. The
tzina is shy and wary; it knows how sure my aim is, therefore it hides
when I go out to hunt."
The little one replied to this pompous explanation with a clear mocking
laugh.
"Turkeys care nothing about you," he retorted. "It is nothing to them
whether you go out or not!"
"Shyuote," his brother scolded, "stop prating about things of which you
do not know. It is true I am not one of the order of hunters, Shyayak,
but I may become so soon." He stopped, as if a sudden thought had
struck him, and then exclaimed: "Now I know why luck has failed me
this morning! When I left our houses I should have scattered meal, and
placed a pebble on the heap beside the trail, and offered a plume to our
Mother Above. All this I neglected. Now I am punished for it by the
birds concealing themselves. For had they come out--"
"You would have missed them," tauntingly replied the other. "If you
want to kill turkeys join the Koshare. Then you will catch them with
roots and flowers."
Okoya grew angry.
"Hush! foolish boy," he retorted, "what are the Koshare to me? Don't
speak about such things here. Come, take your fish, and let us go
home."
With this Okoya leaped over the brook. Shyuote whispered audibly to
him, "Yes; you are very fond of the Koshare." But the sarcastic remark
was not heeded by the elder lad, who turned to go, Shyuote following
him. Proudly the little boy tossed his fish from one hand to the other.
Beyond