His black eyes stared out of the dirty coating that covered his face, like living coals.

The appearance of his mother put an end to his hostile actions,--he felt uncertain about the manner in which they would be viewed by his parent.

Say quickly changed his forebodings into absolute certainty.
"Are you not ashamed of yourself, you big, ugly uak," she scolded, "to beat your poor little sister ?" "She would not come home." "Neither would you, lazy brat, else you would have been here a long while ago! Do not cry, my heart,"-- she turned to the weeping child,--"do not weep.

He will not hurt you any more, the bad, bad mocking-bird.

Weep not." She took the crying child into her arms in order to carry her into the kitchen, but on the way she turned back and called,-- "Shyuote!" "What do you want," growled the boy, and stumbled after her.
"Do you know where your nashtio is ?" "He is coming." "Go and tell him to come.