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 the straight and lofty pine trunks a whitish glare soon appeared.
Brilliant sunlight broke through the tree-tops, and played around the dark needles, turning them into a brighter, lighter, emerald green.

A background of yellow and cream-coloured rocks, visible now through openings in the shrubbery, showed that the boys were approaching a clear space.
Here the elder one suddenly stopped, turned to his brother, looked straight at him, and asked,-- "Shyuote, what have you heard about the Koshare ?" Instead of answering the child looked down, indifferent and silent, as if he had not heard the query.
"What have you heard, boy ?" continued the other.
Shyuote shrugged his shoulders.

He had no inclination to reply.
"Why don't you answer ?" Okoya persisted.
His brother looked up, cast a furtive glance at the interlocutor, then stared vacantly, but with head erect, before him.

His eyes were glassy and without any expression.
[Illustration: The east end of the Canon of the Tyuonyi] Whenever the Indian does not wish to speak on any subject, whatever it be, no power on earth can compel him to break silence.