“Wait for that till I get through,” said Payuchi, laughing. After all had eaten a hearty meal, more than for many weeks they had been able to have at any one time, the tired women each gathered her children together and took them to her own jacal, leaving the men sitting around the camp fire. Payuchi, who tumbled to sleep as soon as his head touched his sleeping mat, was wakened by some one pulling his rabbit-skin coat, which he wore nights as well as days.
“Payuchi,” said a voice, “wake up.”
“I have not been asleep,” answered the boy, stoutly, as he rubbed his eyes to get them open. “What do you want, Nopal?” for he saw his brother speaking to him.
“Hush, do not waken mother,” said Nopal, speaking very softly. “I know that the men will make an offering to Chinigchinich. I am going to watch them. We are old enough, at least I am. Do you want to come?”
A star shone in at the top of the jacal, and Payuchi gazed up at it, blinking, while he pulled his thoughts together.
“They will punish us if they find us out,” said he at length.
“But we won’t let them find us out, stupid one,” replied his brother, impatiently.
“What if Chinigchinich should be angry with us? He does not like to have children in the ceremony of the offering,” said Payuchi.
“I will give him my humming-bird skin, and you shall give him your mountain quail head; then he will be pleased with us,” answered Nopal.
“All right,” said the boy; “I do not like very well to part with that quail head, but perhaps it is a good thing to do.”