“And mine to you, Mayaro, my elder brother.”
“Yet, you watched me at the fire, every night,” he said, with keenest delight sparkling in his dark eyes.
“And yet I tracked and caught you after all!” I said, smiling through my slight chagrin.
“Is my little brother very sure I did not know he followed me?” he asked, amused.
“Did you know, Mayaro?”
The Siwanois made a movement of slight, but good-humoured, disdain:
“Can my brother who has no wings track and follow the October swallow?”
“Then you were willing that I should see the person to whom you brought food under the midnight stars?”