"Why did you not stay with your father?" cried Say.
"Because,"—he held his arm up to his eyes and commenced to sob,—"because my father drove me off."
"Why did he drive you away?"
"Because—" He stopped, then raised his head as if a sudden and wicked thought had flashed across his mind.
His eyes sparkled. "I dare not tell." He cast his eyes to the ground, and a bitter smile passed over his lips.
"Why dare you not tell?" both Say and Okoya inquired. "Has sa nashtio told you not to say anything about it?"
"Not he, but the Koshare Naua." It was like an explosion. Say Koitza felt a terrible pang; she stared vacantly at the wicked lad for a moment, and then turned and went into the kitchen. Shyuote wept aloud; his brother looked down upon him with an expression of mingled compassion and curiosity.
The doorway was suddenly darkened by a human form, and with the usual guatzena the grandfather, Topanashka, entered the apartment. Okoya stood up quickly and replied,—
"Raua opona."
"What is the boy crying for?" inquired the old man.