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One of the Tanos threw his arm around Zashue's neck, shouting at the top of his voice, "Hiuonde tema kosare!" He pressed him to his breast, whispering, "Oga P' Hoge Pare!" No mistake was possible; the Tano was a brother, a Koshare like Zashue, and delighted to meet another from the far-distant west.
Still we miss among that little band of Queres fugitives those with whom we have become more closely acquainted. In vain we look for Say Koitza, for Mitsha, for Okoya. Can it be true, as Hayoue surmised, that his bosom friend, Zashue's eldest son, is dead? The throwing about of fruit has ceased; the dance is resumed, and new figures may appear.
"And talk to you," said Hayoue, for he was Zashue's companion; "afterward I shall go." He emphasized the "I" and grinned. "Yes, you are likely to go home," she exclaimed. "To Mitsha you will go, not to your mother's dwelling." "Mitsha is a good girl," replied the young man, "but I never go to see her." His brother meanwhile attempted to approach the woman again, but she forbade it.
At once all conversation ceased, and the Tanos became silent and grave. The new-comer spoke first; he spoke rapidly and in a low voice, then grasped Hayoue's hand to breathe on it, and held it fast. Zashue's hands as well had been seized by two Tanos. They were disarmed. Then all moved on, forded the stream, and took a trail that led directly to the foot of the hill where stood the pueblo.
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