"May the day bring thee good fortune, and the night better, my lad. Come hither. There is something I would ask. This seemeth a gala day, is it not?
"The Feast of the Full Moon, Viracocha," replied the boy, respectfully.
"The Feast of the Full Moon! Good! Dost live in Xauxa?"
"No, Viracocha. I am here but for the day. I live yonder, up the valley," indicating the direction by turning and pursing out his lips, a gesture habitual with the Peruvians, and surviving to this day.
"Yonder, up the valley!" said Pedro, imitating his grimace. "Hum! Thou 'rt a good boy, I take it from thy face. Sleepest at home, and early?"
"Why, where else, Viracocha?" asked the other innocently.
"Ah! Where else, to be sure! But in my country o' nights, the boys oft go chasing nightingales—a bird which I have not yet seen in Tavantinsuyu. 'T is quite as well. But what I would ask is this: The folks seem curious. Now, what draweth their attention hereabout? What held thy lower jaw away from its fellow a moment since?"
"Viracocha?" asked the boy, puzzled.
"I observed thee looking this way. What is the interest which hath brought this crowd?"
"Oh!" exclaimed the youth, enlightened. "Why, you are one of the Viracochas—your pardon."