he hated Sicto?

"Piang!" It came softly this time, as if from a greater distance. The
underbrush moved, and Piang prayed that it might not be a spirit come
to destroy him. The bush rustled, cracked, and parted as a dazzling
white head made its appearance. Piang shut his eyes, dreading what
was to come. Almost swooning, he slipped, lost his hold, and went
crashing through the branches. Stunned by the fall, it was sometime
before he regained consciousness, but the first thing he was aware of,
was a hot breath on his face. Slowly he opened his eyes, wondering if
he was dreaming. There, bending over him, was a marvelous white fawn.

Startled and ashamed, Piang looked at the lovely thing. He put out
his hand and the animal laid her soft muzzle in his palm, allowing
him to caress her. What did she want? Were some of her babies in
trouble? With his arm about the fawn's neck, Piang allowed himself
to be led along a well defined path, trodden by many feet.

"Piang!" Again his name was called, but for some reason fear had been
banished from his heart, and he advanced without a qualm. Presently
they came to one of the numerous jungle clearings. The sun did not
burn at this altitude, and Piang took a deep breath of the fresh,
crisp air. A flapping of wings startled him, and before he could
prevent, a brilliant mina-bird circled his head and gently lighted
on his shoulder. A soft white mist was floating around and below
him. The clouds! He was in them, "the breath of the wind," and he
thought that this must be fairyland.

"Piang!" This time the voice was near at hand. Both creatures responded
to the call, and Piang suffered himself to be led onward. The fawn
stopped near a gigantic banian-tree. It was the only tree in the
clearing and spread over more than an acre of ground, enticing the
surrounding creepers and orchids to its shelter. Piang had seen these
trees before, but never such a large one. The banian is like a huge
tent; each branch sends shoots to the ground, which take root and
become additional trunks, and year after year the tree increases its
acreage; hundreds of men can find shelter under these jungle temples.

"Piang!" The voice came from within the tree. Astonished, Piang
watched the mina-bird flit through the sunlight and disappear into
the banya. The fawn paused, looked gravely into the boy's eyes,
and with stately mien, walked into the tree.

"Thank you, my little friends, for bringing Piang to Ganassi," sa