"And Okoya your brother," the old man persisted.
"Why do you ask all this?" inquired the child, laughingly.
A look, piercing and venomous, darted from the eyes of the questioning man. He snarled angrily,—
"Because I ask it. I ask, and you shall answer me without inquiring why and wherefore. Do you hear, uak?"
Shyuote hung his head; he felt afraid.
"I forbid you to say anything about what I say to you to your mother," continued the other, grasping the left arm of the boy.
Shyuote shook off the grip, and also shook his head in token of refusal. The old man seized the arm again and clutched it so firmly with his bony fingers that the lad screamed from pain.
"Let me go!" he cried. "You hurt me, let me go!"
"Will you do as I bid you?" asked his tormentor.
"Yes," sobbed the child. "I will obey. My mother shall not know anything. Let me go, you hurt!"