“Father was there,” said Cleeta.
“Yes, and many others,” said Payuchi. “Then some of the men and all of us boys got green branches of trees and came down on this side of the wash. Nopal started the fire. It burned along in the grass slowly at first, and when it came too near the jacals on one side or the woods on the other, we would beat it out with the branches, but soon it ran before the wind into the cactus and bunch grass. The rabbits were frightened out and ran from the fire as fast as they could, and in a few minutes they were right at the feet of father and the other hunters. They killed forty before the smoke made them run too.”
“My dress was made of their skin,” said the little girl, smoothing her gown lovingly. “It keeps me so warm.”
“Did the fire burn long?” asked Gesnip.
“No, we beat it out, or it would have gone up the wash into the live oaks; then we boys should have been well punished for our carelessness.”
Here their mother called to them.
“Payuchi,” she said, “put away this basket of grasshopper meal. And, Gesnip, go to the jacal and find me the coils for basket weaving.”
“What shall I bring?” asked Gesnip.
“The large bundle of chippa that is soaking in a basket, and the big coil of yellow kah-hoom and the little one of black tsuwish which are hanging up, and bring me my needle and bone awl.”
“Do you want the coil of millay?”