Okoya, as an Indian, felt rather than understood this; and the child's refusal to answer a very simple question aroused his suspicions.

He looked at the stubborn boy for a moment, undecided whether he would not resort to force.

The child's taunts had mortified his pride in the first place; now that child's reticence bred misgivings.

He nevertheless restrained both anger and curiosity for the present, not because of indifference but for policy's sake, and turned to go.

Shyuote looked for a moment as if he wished to confess to his brother all that the latter inquired about, but soon pouted, shrugged his shoulders, and set out after Okoya in a lively fox-trot again.
The valley lay before them; they had reached the end of the grove.
Smiling in the warm glow of a June day, with a sky of deepest azure, the vale of the Rito expanded between the spot which the boys had reached and the rocky gateways in the west, where that valley seemed to begin.
Fields, small and covered with young, bushy maize-plants, skirted the brook, whose silvery thread was seen here and there as its meanderings carried it beneath the shadow of shrubs and trees, or exposed it to the full light of the dazzling sun.