"Get out of the way, Mitsha! Let me get at the wren!" cried the youth who had just climbed the roof. Shyuote fled to the very wall of the rock; he gave up all hope and thought himself lost. But the girl quietly asked,—
"What do you want with the boy?"
"He has hurt Sayap, our sister," the tall youngster answered. "He threw a stone at her and caused her to bleed. Now I am going to pay him for it."
"So will I!" shouted another one from below.
"I too!" "And I!" "He shall get it from all of us!" yelled a number of youthful voices, and in an instant the roof was crowded with boys.
Mitsha had placed herself so as to shield the trembling lad with her own body. Very quietly she said,—
"Don't you see that he also is bleeding? Let him go now, it is enough." A stone had indeed grazed Shyuote's scalp, and blood was trickling down his cheek.
"It is not enough!" shouted one of the older boys, angrily. "Get out of the way, Mitsha!"
"You shall not hurt him on this roof," replied Mitsha, in a calm but very positive tone.
"Do you intend to protect him?" cried the tallest one of the pursuers, and another one exclaimed,—