at all, but the manner in
which the governor spoke and acted looked extremely suspicious. Both of
his listeners became attentive; the cacique displayed no signs of
surprise, but he looked at the speaker fixedly, and inquired of him,
speaking very slowly,--

"Is my brother the maseua willing to go?"

"I have not asked him as yet."

"Then ask him," sternly commanded the old man.

Almost trembling, the tapop turned to Topanashka, who was sitting
immovable, with lips firmly set and sparkling eyes.

"Will you call the council together, nashtio?"

"No!" exclaimed the maseua.

"You have heard what your brother says," coldly proceeded the cacique;
"you know now what you are to do. My brother will not go, and you can
only command him if the council orders you to do so. Therefore send the
assistant; he is your messenger. Do your duty and nothing else, for it
is not good to attempt anything new unless P[=a]yatyama has so
directed." The words were spoken in a tone of solemn warning, and even
Topanashka was startled, for never before had he heard the Hotshanyi
speak thus. The old man had always been very meek and mild in his
utterances, but now his voice sounded almost prophetic. Was he inspired
by Those Above? Did the Shiuana speak through him? Was there danger for
the tribe?

At all events the conference had come to a close, for the cacique had
bent his head, and spoke no more.

"Trouashatze, sa umo," said Topanashka, and left the room. Hoshkanyi
followed hurriedly. The cacique took no notice of their departure.

When both men stood outside, Topanashka turned to the tapop coldly,
asking,--

"Are you going to call the council?"

"I will," whined the little man.

"For what day?"

"I don't know yet."

"But I want to know," sternly, almost menacingly, insisted the other. "I
want to know, for I shall be present!"

"Four days from now," cried Hoshkanyi, trembling.

"What time?"

"I don't know yet. When the moon rises," he added in despair, as the
cold, determined gaze of Topanashka met his eye. Without a further word
the war-chieftain turned and went off.

Hoshkanyi was utterly annihilated. He had made a total failure, and as
he stood there like a child that has just been thoroughly whipped he
began to curse the weakness that had caused him to yield to the advice
and the demands of Tyope. For it was Tyope who had brought him to act
the part in which the unfortunate governor had so disgracefully failed.
Tyope,