“You miserable, dirty, ugly little wretches! The idea of your going to court this maiden when she has refused the finest young men in the land!”
“Well, we will go,” said he.
“I don’t want you to go,” replied she. “Your names will be in the mouths of everybody; you will be laughed and jeered at.”
“We will go,” said they. And, without paying the slightest attention to their grandmother, they made up their bundle—a very miserable bundle it was; the younger brother put in little rocks and sticks and bits of buckskins and all sorts of worthless things—and they started off.
“What are you carrying this bundle for?” asked Áhaiyúta, the elder brother.
“I am taking it as a present to the maiden,” said Mátsailéma, the younger one.
“She doesn’t want any such trash as that,” said the other. “They have taken very valuable presents to her before; we have nothing to take equal to what has been carried to her by others.”
They decided to throw the bundle away altogether, and started out with absolutely nothing but their bows and arrows.
As they proceeded they began to kill wood-rats, and continued until they had slaughtered a large number and had a long string of them held up by their tails.
“There!” exclaimed the younger brother. “There is a fine present for the girl.” They knew perfectly well how things were, and were looking out for the interests of their children in the villages round about.