her boys should come to see her she
might perhaps strike them. But you, sa uishe,"--the woman moved closer
to him,--"you, I am sure, she will not send away. Is it not so, Mitsha?
Okoya may come to see you, may he not?"

The poor girl was terribly embarrassed by this more than direct
question, and Okoya himself hung his head in confusion. He pitied the
maiden for having such a mother. As Mitsha gave no answer, Hannay
repeated,--

"Speak, sa uishe; will you send this mot[=a]tza away as you do the
others?"

"No," breathed the poor creature thus sorely pressed. A thrill went
through the frame of Okoya; he looked up, and his eyes beamed in the
reflex of the fire. The woman had watched him with the closest
attention, and nothing escaped her notice. Her eyes also sparkled with
pleasure, for she felt sure of him.

"Well, why don't you give the mot[=a]tza some food?" she asked her
daughter again. "On your account he has walked the long way from the big
house. Is it not so, Okoya?"

"Yes," the boy replied innocently.

Quick as thought Mitsha turned around, and her eyes beamed on him for an
instant. He did not notice it, and she forthwith stepped up to the
hearth. Even though she lacked evening toilette, Mitsha presented a
handsome picture; and her friend became absorbed in contemplation of the
lithe, graceful form. She lifted the pot from the fire, placed the
customary share of its contents before Okoya, and retired to a corner,
whence she soon returned with a piece of dried yucca-preserve, regarded
as a great treat by the Indians, because it has a sweet taste. As she
was placing the dessert on the floor, the boy extended his hand, and she
laid the sweetmeat in it instead of depositing it where she had
originally intended. Okoya's hand closed, grasping hers and holding it
fast. Mitsha tried to extricate her fingers, but he clutched them in
his. Stepping back, she made a lunge at his upper arm which caused him
to let go her hand at once. Laughing, she then sat down between him and
her mother. The ice was broken.

"You are very strong," Okoya assured her, rubbing the sore limb.

"She is strong, indeed," her mother confirmed; "she can work well, too."

"Have you any green paint?" the girl asked.

"No, but I know a place where it is found. Do you want any?"

"I would like to have some."

"For what do you use the green stone?"

"Next year I want to paint and burn bowls and pots." Mitsha had no
thought of the inference