“Yes, I think so too,” said his sister. “My back aches, my hands are sore, and my feet are so cold.” Payuchi brought some wild grapevine with which he tied the tule into two bundles, fastening the larger upon his sister’s back; for with his people the women and girls were the burden bearers, and a grown Indian would not do any work that his wife could possibly do for him.
After they had traveled a little way on the homeward path, Gesnip stopped.
“Don’t go so fast, Payuchi,” she begged. “This bundle is so large it nearly tumbles me over.”
“Just hurry a little until we get to the foot of the hill yonder where Nopal and the other big boys are playing, and you can rest while I watch the game,” answered her brother. Gesnip struggled on, bending under the weight and size of her awkward burden until, with a sigh of relief, she seated herself on a stone to rest while Payuchi, throwing his bundle on the ground, stood up to watch the boys.
“See, Nopal is It,” he said. Nopal, coming forward, stooped low and rolled a hoop along the ground, which the boys had pounded smooth and hard for the game.
As the hoop rolled another boy stepped forward and tried to throw a stick through it, but failed. Then all the players pointed their fingers at him and grunted in scorn. Again Nopal rolled the hoop, and this time the boy threw through the ring, and all the boys, and Payuchi too, gave whoops of delight.
The children watched the game until Gesnip said that they must go on, for their mother would be home and want them. When they returned, Macana was warming herself by the fire where the men were sitting.
“See our tule; is it not a great deal?” asked the children, showing their bundles.
“Yes, but not enough,” replied their mother. “You will have to go out another day.”
The women, who had been working all the morning gathering acorns, now squatted near the fire and began grinding up the nuts which had been already dried.