“Oh, no!” said the boy. “I meant that each family does not get its own breakfast.”
“Then who does get it?” asked Docas.
“Well, you see my mother and some of the other women stayed home and got breakfast ready for all of us while we were at mass,” said the boy. Then he asked, “Where is your mother?”
“She is down at the creek trying to grind some more corn while I build the fire,” answered Docas.
“Let’s surprise her,” said the boy. “Have you some baskets? Get one, and we will go and get the breakfast while she is gone.”
Docas went into the hut and brought out one of the flat baskets. The boy looked at it; then he said, “Haven’t you any deeper basket? They give you so much to eat here.” Docas went back, and this time he brought out one of the deep baskets in which Ama used to carry the grass-seed. Then they went off.
Soon Ama came back. She looked all round, but could not find any fire. “I wonder what has become of Docas,” she said.
Docas had not put any big wood on the fire, but only some small sticks, so by the time Ama came up from the creek it was all burned out.
In a little while Ama saw Docas coming toward them, carrying a basket very carefully in his hands. The other Indian boy was with him.
“I wonder where he has been and what he is carrying in that basket. I should think he would be hungry himself, and build the fire, instead of running off to play before breakfast,” thought Ama.