here are two mouths
of Shyuamo there is only one of Tzitz; but when Tzitz raises one ear of
corn, Shyuamo grows not more than one."'"

He had spoken, and drew a heavy sigh of relief. The most profound
silence reigned. Tyope remained with his head bowed and his face covered
with both hands. Topanashka sat rigidly immovable, his cold piercing
gaze fastened on the tapop. The representative of the Water clan made a
very wry face and looked at the fire.

The tapop had yet to perform one duty ere discussion could begin. He
turned to the Hotshanyi and addressed him,--

"Sa umo, you and your brethren the shaykatze and the uishtyaka, I
address; what do you say to what Shyuamo is asking? Speak, yaya; we are
your children; we listen. You are old and wise, we are young and weak."

The old cacique raised his dim eyes to the speaker and replied in a
hoarse voice,--

"I thank you, sa uishe,--I thank you for myself and for my brethren here
that you have put this question to us. But"--the voice grew more steady
and strong--"you know that it is our duty to pray, to fast, and to
watch, that peace may rule among the Zaashtesh and that nothing may
disturb it. We cannot listen to anything that calls forth two kinds of
words, and that may bring strife,"--he emphasized strongly the latter
word; "we cannot therefore remain. May the Shiuana enlighten your
hearts. We shall pray that they will counsel you to do good only."

The old Hotshanyi rose and went toward the doorway. His form was bent,
his step faltering. His two associates followed. Not one of those
present dared to look at them. None of them noticed the deeply,
mournfully significant glance which the cacique, while he crept through
the door, exchanged with Topanashka.

The address which the governor had directed to the official penitents
was a mere formality, but a formality that could not be dispensed with.
It was an act of courtesy toward those who in the tribe as well as in
the council represented the higher powers. But as these powers are
conceived as being good, it is not allowed to speak in their presence of
anything that might, in the remotest manner even, bear evil consequences
such as disunion and strife. Therefore the caciques, as soon as they had
been informed of the subject, could not stay at the meeting, but had to
retire.

This happens at every discussion of a similar nature, and their
departure was merely in the ordinary routine of business. Nobody felt
shocked o