At the time of which we are speaking, the chief civil officer of the
tribe at the Rito,--its tapop, or as he is now called, governor,--was an
Indian whose name was Hoshkanyi Tihua.
Hoshkanyi Tihua was a man of small stature; his head was nearly round,
or rather pear-shaped, for the lower jaw appeared to be broader than the
forehead. The lips were thin and the mouth firmly set, the nose small
and aquiline. The eyes had usually a pleasant expression, but when the
little man got excited they sparkled in a manner that denoted not merely
an irascible temper, but a disposition to become extremely venomous in
speech and utterance. Hoshkanyi Tihua was nimble, and a good hunter. He
seldom returned from a hunt without a supply of game. On such occasions
he was always suitably welcomed by his wife, who suffered him to skin
the animal and cut up the body. When that was performed she allowed her
husband to go to rest, but not before; for Koay, Hoshkanyi's wife, was
not so much his companion in life as his home-tyrant; and however
valiant the little fellow might try to appear outside of his home, once
under the immediate influence of that home's particular mistress he
became as meek as a lamb. Koay was an unusually tall woman for an
Indian,--she overtopped her husband by nearly a head; and the result of
this anomalous difference in size was that Hoshkanyi felt very much
afraid of her. Koay had a temper of her own, besides, which temper she
occasionally displayed at the expense of the little tapop's bodily
comfort. Among the Pueblo Indians the wife is by no means the slave only
of the lord of creation.
Koshkanyi had somehow or other acquired the reputation of being an
experienced warrior. Whether he really deserved that reputation or not
was never accurately ascertained. At all events, he was the lucky
possessor of one scalp, and that gave him prestige. There is no doubt
that he acquired the trophy in a legitimate way; that is, he had not
stolen it. Once upon a time a war-party of Navajos infested the avenues
to the Rito. They succeeded in killing a defenceless Indian, who had
wandered from the bottom of the gorge, and whom they found on the mesas
somewhere wending his way back to the homes of his tribe. After the fact
became known, a party went out to take revenge, and it so happened that
there was deep snow, and the murderers could easily be trailed. On the
top of what to-day is called the Potrero Viejo the avengers surprised
the Navajos fast asleep. It was bitterly cold, and evil tongues affirmed
that the Navajo whose scalp Hoshkanyi Tihua brought home had been frozen
to death previous to the arrival of the hero from the Tyuonyi. However
that may be, our governor returned with one scalp; and he was declared
to be manslayer, and henceforth counted among the influential braves of
his community.
Hoshkanyi Tihua was by no means silly. He possessed the valuable faculty
of keeping his mouth closed and of holding his tongue under
circumstances when it would be disadvantageous to him to speak. This
faculty had been inculcated after long and earnest training by his great
wife. Whenever there was no danger, Hoshkanyi proved very outspoken; but
as soon as there was the slightest sign of active opposition he became
extremely wise, and shrouded his views in a cloud of dignified gravity.
In addition to these qualities Hoshkanyi was the happy owner of an
unlimited amount of personal vanity. His ambition had no definite
object, provided some external authority was associated with his person.
After having for a long time fulfilled the rather insignificant office
of assistant to the governor of the tribe, his ambition at last became
gratified with the announcement that after the governor's demise the
Hotshanyi, or chief penitent, and his associates had designated him as
the incumbent of the office. So Hoshkanyi Tihua rose suddenly to the
rank of one of the chief dignitaries of his commonwealth.
The choice thus made by the religious heads of the Queres did not
satisfy everybody, but everybody was convinced that Those Above had
spoken through the mediums to whose care the relations between mankind
and the higher powers were specially committed. Everybody therefore
accepted the nomination, and the council confirmed it at once. The
majority of the clans opposed Hoshkanyi because he belonged to the
Turquoise people, who were rendering themselves obnoxious to many by
pretensions which they upheld by means of their number, and by their
connection with the leader of the Koshare. The Turquoise clan was
beginning to assert in tribal affairs an unusual influence,--one that
really amounted to a pressure. Tyame and Tanyi particularly felt this
growing power of Shyuamo at the expense of their influence. Of all the
less numerous groups, Tzitz hanutsh was almost the only one who took the
side of Tanyi under all circumstances, and this was due exclusively to
the fact that the marriage of Zashue with Say Koitza bound the two clans
together. Topanashka himself was a member of the Eagle clan, and through
him the Water clan, feeble in numbers, enjoyed the support not only of
Tanyi but also of Tyame hanutsh.
In proposing for the vacant position of tapop a member of the Turquoise
people, the chief penitents had in a measure acted discreetly. They
certainly acted very impartially, or they considered that already one
important office,--the office of maseua, or war-captain,--was held by a
member of one of the most numerous hanutsh, Tyame. It appeared unwise to
them to refuse to as large a cluster as Shyuamo an adequate
representation in the executive powers of the community. So they chose
Hoshkanyi, as a member of the Turquoise clan, and proposed him for the
office of tapop, or civil chief. That more opposition was not made to
this selection was due to two facts,--first, to the tacit acknowledgment
on the part of all that it seemed fair to give Shyuamo a share in the
tribal government, and second, to the equally tacit conviction that
Hoshkanyi, while in appearance a man of determination and perspicacity,
was in fact but a pompous and weak individual, ambitious and vain, and
without the faculty of doing harm. In both these points public opinion
at the Rito was right.
It will be seen from what has been said that there prevailed a strong
desire on the part of the chief religious authorities to preserve a
certain equilibrium between the components of the tribe. That anxiety to
maintain an even balance of power was in itself evidence of danger that
this equilibrium might be disturbed. The great penitents,--or as they
are erroneously called to-day, caciques,--had not and could not have any
clear conception of the condition of affairs in the government of their
people. Men old, even prematurely old from the effects of the life of
constant abnegation and self-sacrifice to which they had to resign
themselves, excluded from listening to anything that was or might
indicate strife and contention, they knew not what was going on under
cover of apparent harmony. Theoretically and from the standpoint of
their duty, which consisted in praying and suffering for the peace and
happiness of the community, and thus securing these boons by means of
more direct intercourse with Those Above, their choice was excellent.
Practically, it was the most dangerous step that could have been
suggested and carried out.
They did not consider that instead of giving to Shyuamo a legitimate
share in the government of the tribe, they virtually gave the Turquoise
people a majority. For the latter had already two representatives of
great influence. Tyope was delegate to the council, where he represented
his clan; and the Koshare Naua, who also was a member of Shyuamo, not
only belonged to the leading councilmen but was one of the religious
heads! By adding Hoshkanyi as tapop it gave the Turquoise clan an unfair
preponderance. For while Hoshkanyi was a weak man,--while he was
mortally afraid of his inflexibly honest colleague, the maseua
Topanashka, he was dependent upon Tyope and upon the chief of the
Delight Makers, because both belonged to his clan. He very soon began to
display an utter flexibility to the desires of the two last-mentioned
individuals, to the disadvantage of those who did not coincide with
their views.
This marked preponderance of Shyuamo in tribal affairs aroused
apprehensions on the part of the other strong clans; it also caused the
greater number of the weaker clusters to gravitate toward the growing
element of power held by the Turquoise people. A schism was slowly and
imperceptibly preparing itself among the people of the Rito. That schism
was not the work of circumstances, it was being systematically prepared
by two crafty men,--Tyope and the Koshare Naua.
[Illustration: Juanico: A member of the modern village-council]
In working at such a division these two men had in view well-defined
objects. Their aim in itself was not absolutely illegitimate, since it
foreshadowed what would be an inevitable necessity in the course of
time. What rendered their doings reprehensible and positively odious
were the means employed to hasten events. Their object was nothing less
than to expel a part of the people, for the exclusive benefit of the
remainder.
The extent of land that can be cultivated in the gorge of the Rito is
small, and the tribe was growing in numbers. The time was sure to come
when the crops would no longer be adequate for all. Furthermore, a
positive danger threatened the people in their dwellings. The rock,
being extremely friable, crumbled constantly; and now and then inhabited
caves were falling a prey to the wear and tear of the material in which
they had been excavated. As this slow decay was sure to continue, it was
logical to expect that room must be found for the houseless outside.
Already the Corn clan had been compelled to build a house in the bottom
of the valley. All this further tended to curtail the space for
agriculture, and rendered a diminution of numbers prospectively
imperative.
These facts had been recognized by Tyope, and he had talked with the
Koshare Naua about them for some time past. They were the only persons
who had thought of them, not so much deploring the necessity arising
therefrom in the future as hailing them as welcome pretexts for their
immediate personal aims. Neither Tyope nor the Naua had such high
ambition as to aspire to a change of the basis of social organization.
Neither of them had any conception of government but what was purely
tribal, but they both aspired to offices and dignities such as tribal
organization alone knows. These seemed unattainable for them as long as
there were other powerful clans at the Rito besides their own, whereas
in case some of the former were expelled, it would leave vacant and at
their disposal the positions which they coveted.
Tyope, for instance, looked forward to the dignity of head war-chief,
or maseua; but as long as Topanashka lived he saw no chance for himself.
He therefore concocted with the young Navajo the sinister plan of
murdering the old man. It was even uncertain, in presence of the two
powerful clans of Tanyi and Tyame, whether after the death of Topanashka
it would be possible for him to secure the succession. For the chief
penitents, who selected officially the new incumbent, while they were in
no manner accessible to outside influence, might consider the general
tendency of affairs, and for the same reasons that they chose Hoshkanyi
Tihua for tapop might determine upon appointing some member of Tanyi or
Tyame as maseua. Tyope had foreseen such a contingency, and had
therefore suggested to Nacaytzusle the propriety of converting the
isolated murder into a butchery of the adult men as far as possible. His
suggestion to surprise the Rito while the Koshare were at work in their
estufa had a double aim,--in the first place it made it less dangerous
for the Navajos, in the second it appointed a time when most of the men
of the Turquoise clan were out of reach of an enemy. The blow must then
fall upon the males of other clans, for the majority of the Koshare were
from the people of Shyuamo. This plan was out of the question since the
night when his negotiations with Nacaytzusle had come to such a
disastrous termination. But Tyope had laid his wires in other directions
also. Seeing that he could not reduce the numbers of the tribe by one
fell blow, or that at least his endeavours might not succeed, he was
devising in his peculiar underhand way means to create a disunion, and
trying to secure for the time of the crisis a commanding position for
his own clan.
As he could never have attempted all this alone, he needed an associate,
an accomplice. That accomplice he readily found in the old Koshare Naua.
In the same manner that Tyope aspired to the position of war-chief, the
chief of the Delight Makers was coveting the rank of leading shaman, or
medicine-man. Not the dignity of cacique,--for that position entailed
too many personal sacrifices, and carried with it a life of seclusion
and retirement that presented no redeeming features,--but the office of
hishtanyi chayan, or principal medicine-man, was what the Naua desired
to obtain. That position did not entail greater privations than the one
which the old schemer occupied, but it secured for its incumbent much
greater sway over the people, and placed him in the position to exert a
degree of influence which was beyond the pale of Koshare magic. The Naua
was working toward his end by ways and with means different from those
employed by Tyope. His machinations were directed against the religious
heads of the tribe, and he persisted in securing for the society of
Delight Makers a prominence that lay outside of their real attributes.
Therefore Hayoue did not speak amiss when, in his interview with Okoya,
he accused the Koshare, and principally their leader, of attempting to
usurp functions and rights belonging properly to the main official
shamans, and thus secure for themselves undue advantages.
Tyope and the old Naua had found each other, in accordance with the
proverb about birds of a feather. Their understanding was perfect,
although it had been brought about gradually and without the formality
of a conspiracy. Each worked in his own line and with his own means, and
neither had any thought of going beyond what the tribal organization
could give them. There was no idea of revolutionizing or even reforming
the organization. Had one of them entertained such a thought the other
would have become his bitterest enemy, for both were deeply imbued with
the principles on which rested the existence of the society in which
they had been born. All they aspired to was to eliminate a certain
number of men or people, in order to secure with greater ease certain
advantages. It was the survival of the fittest, as primitive society
understands it and as refined society attempts to enact, though with
more refined means.
The stumbling-blocks in the path of these intriguers were the chief
penitents,--the cacique, or as their titles run, the Hotshanyi, or
principal cacique, and his two assistants, the uishtyaka and the
shaykatze. These men, selected for the purpose of doing penance for all
and thus obtaining readier access to the ear of the immortal ones, were
the official keepers of peace among the tribe. For the Indian feels that
a house divided against itself cannot stand, and that the maintenance of
harmony through a constant appeal to the higher powers is the most
important feature in the life of his tribe. To discredit in an underhand
way the caciques was the special aim of the Koshare Naua, and to direct
the eyes of the people to his own achievements in religious magic,--in
one word to place the power of the Koshare and their specific medicine
on a higher plane than all that the official penitents might achieve. To
do this was a very slow piece of work, and it had to be brought about in
such a manner that nobody could suspect his object. But both Tyope and
the aged scoundrel were working their plans with the utmost caution, and
the religious heads of the tribe had not the slightest suspicion of what
was going on against them.
The Tyuonyi, therefore, was quiet on the surface, but there were
occasional ripples of that placid brook which earnest and thoughtful
observers could not fail to notice. Hayoue, although very young, was one
of these observers; but none saw more and penetrated deeper into the
real state of affairs than Topanashka. He and the Hishtanyi Chayan, who
to some extent was his trusty friend, felt that a tempest was coming.
Both saw that the disturbing powers were rooted in the society of the
Koshare, that Tyope and the Naua must be the leading spirits. But how
and to what ultimate end the machinations were intended escaped their
penetration. For the same reason they could not come actively to the
relief of the situation, as no overt action had as yet been committed
which would justify an official movement against the conspirators.
Topanashka had for several days been keeping the informal fast upon
which he had determined for the benefit of his grandson's wooing. It was
a warm, pleasant afternoon. Since the rain which followed upon the ayash
tyucotz the sky had been blue again as before; the season for daily
showers had not yet commenced, and the people were in the corn-patches
as busy as possible, improving the bright days in weeding and putting
the ground in order. The bottom of the gorge therefore presented an
active appearance. Men and women moved about the houses, in and out of
the cave-dwellings, and in the fields. From the tasselled corn that grew
in these plots a tall figure emerged; it was Topanashka himself, and he
directed his steps toward the cliffs at the lower end, where the
Turquoise people dwelt. The old man moved as usual with a silent,
measured step which would have appeared stately had not his head leaned
forward. He was clad in a wrap of unbleached cotton, and a leather belt
girded his loins. Around his neck a string of crystals of feldspar was
negligently thrown; and a fetich of white alabaster, representing rudely
the form of a panther, depended from the necklace hanging upon his
breast.
The people of the Turquoise or Shyuamo resided on the lower range of
cliffs, and formed the most easterly group of cave-dwellings on the
Rito. Here the rocks are no longer absolutely perpendicular; they form
steps; and the slope leading to them is overgrown with shrubbery,
except where erosive action of wind, as well as of water or frost, has
scooped out strange formations in advance of the main wall. These
erosions are mostly regular cones, tent-shaped, between and behind which
open chasms and deep rents like the one above which, as we recollect,
lies the estufa of the Koshare. Topanashka walked toward the upper part
of the cluster of dwellings of Shyuamo, where the ascending slope was
sparsely covered with brush. In front of one of the caves sat a woman.
She was unusually tall for an Indian, and neither young nor old. She
appeared to be busy extracting the filaments from shrivelled leaves of
the yucca, which had been dried by roasting, and afterward had been
buried to allow the texture to decay. So engrossed was the woman by her
task that only when the old man stood by her side, and asked, "Where is
the tapop?" did she notice his presence.
Koay, for it was she, the towering consort of the governor of the
Tyuonyi, did not condescend to reply in words to the inquiry of the
war-captain. She resorted to a lazy pantomime by gathering her two lips
to a snout-like projection and thrusting this protuberance forward in
the direction of the doorway before which she was squatting. Then she
resumed her occupation.
The visitor paid no further attention to the uncivil woman. He passed in
front of her unceremoniously, and entered the cave. The apartment was
like those we have previously described, with the single difference that
it was better lighted, somewhat larger, and that the household effects
scattered and hung around were of a different character. Implements of
warfare,--a bow and a quiver with arrows, a shield--convex and painted
red, with a yellow disk, and several green lines in the centre,--were
suspended from the wall. The niches contained small vessels of burnt
clay and a few plume-sticks. A low doorway led from this room into
another, and beyond that there was even a third cell, so that Hoshkanyi
Tihua, the civil chief of the Queres, enjoyed the luxury of occupying
three apartments.
Still this was not the dwelling which he commonly inhabited. His wife
descended from the Bear clan; and her home, and consequently his also,
was higher up the gorge, among the caves belonging to the people of the
Bear. But as his father had recently departed this life, and his mother
was left alone, she had begged her only son to remain with her until one
or the other of her brothers or sisters might be ready to take her in
charge, either by moving into her abode or by her going to them.
Hoshkanyi, therefore, had temporarily gone to live with his mother, but
his portly consort was careful not to let him go alone. They had no
children, and she felt constrained to keep an eye upon the little man.
In the room which Topanashka had entered, his executive colleague was
sitting on a round piece of wood, a low upright cylinder, whose upper
surface was slightly hollowed out. Such were the chairs of the Pueblos
in olden times. With the exception of that well-known garment peculiar
to Indians and babies, and called breech-clout, the governor's manly
form was not concealed by any vestment whatever. But while he evidently
thought that at home the necessities of costume might be dispensed with,
he had not abandoned the luxuries of ornamentation. He wore on his naked
body a necklace of wolves' teeth, ear pendants of black and green
stones, and wristbands of red leather. The latter he carried in order to
relieve his heart, still heavy under the severe blow that he had
experienced through the death of his father.
The tapop was also at work. By means of the well-known fire-drill he was
attempting to perforate a diminutive shell disk and thus transform it
into the shell bead so essential to the Indian. So intent was he upon
this arduous task that he failed to notice the coming of Topanashka; and
the latter stood beside him for a little while, an impassive observer.
At last Hoshkanyi Tihua looked up, and the visitor said to him,--
"Umo, you have sent for me and I have come. But if you are engaged, or
have no time now, I do not mind returning again."
There was a decided irony in the manner in which the old man uttered
these words, and Hoskanyi felt it. He rose quickly, gathered a few
robes, and spread them on the ground. In short he was as pleasant and
accommodating, all at once, as he and his wife had been careless in the
beginning. Topanashka settled down on the hides, and in the meantime the
woman also entered the room and quite unceremoniously squatted beside
the men. Hoshkanyi said to her,--
"We have to talk together, the maseua and I." He fastened on his spouse
a look timid and imploring; it was plain that he did not venture to send
her out directly,--that he was afraid of her. Koay looked at him
carelessly, and said in a very cool manner,--
"I want to hear that talk."
"But I will not allow it," interposed Topanashka; and his cold, piercing
eye rested on the woman's face. She cast hers to the ground, and he
proceeded,--
"As long as you are here, the tapop and I cannot speak."
She lifted her head angrily, with the manifest intention of rebelling,
but as soon as her eyes met the cold, determined glance of the
war-chief, she felt a chill, rose, and left the room. Hoshkanyi Tihua
drew a sigh of relief; he was grateful to his visitor for having so
summarily despatched his formidable spouse. Then he said,--
"Umo, I have sent for you because a speech has been spoken here in this
house, which belongs to my mother. That speech may be good and it may
not be good, and I cared not to tell my thoughts until I had spoken to
you, nashtio. The matters of which it treated belong before the council,
but I do not know whether to say to you, the nashtio of the Zaashtesh,
Call them together, or not." He was manifestly troubled, and fastened an
uncertain glance upon the face of the other.
Topanashka very composedly answered,--
"You are as wise as I, umo; you know what your duties are. Whenever you
say to me, Go and call together the council, I shall do it. If you do
not tell me to do so, I shall not."
Hoshkanyi moved in his seat; the reply did not suit him. After some
hesitation he continued,--
"I know, father, that you do as the customs of the Zaashtesh
require,"--he held himself erect with an attempt at pride, for he felt
that in the present instance his personality and word represented
customs which were law,--"but I do not know that I shall tell you so or
not. Do you understand me, umo?"
"I understand your words, Tapop, but you know that I have only to act,
whereas it is your office to speak."
The cool reply exasperated the little man. He retorted sharply,--
"And yet you have often spoken in the council, when your hanutsh wanted
something!"
Topanashka lifted his eyes and gazed fully, calmly, at the other; he
even suppressed a smile.
"Then it is your hanutsh, Shyuamo, that wants something this time?"
Hoshkanyi felt, as the saying is, very cheap. His secret was out; and
his plan to obtain an expression of opinion from the maseua ere he came
to a conclusion himself, a total failure. The latter added in a
deprecating way,--
"If you do not know what to do, ask the Hotshanyi. He will give you good
advice." This was just what the governor wished to avoid, but he knew
that when Topanashka had once expressed his opinion it was useless to
attempt to dissuade him.
After an interval of silence the civil chief looked up and said,--
"Come, let us go to the Hotshanyi."
Topanashka thought over this proposal for a moment. "It is well," he at
last assented; "I will go." With this he rose. The governor rose also,
but was so embarrassed and excited that he would have run out as he was,
in almost complete undress, had not the maseua reminded him by saying,--
"Remember that we are going to the Shiuana," adding, "take some meal
along."
"Have you any with you?" inquired Hoshkanyi, with a venomous look. The
other responded quietly,--
"I do not need any. You are seeking their advice, not I." That settled
the matter.
As both went out, Koay, who had been sitting as close by the doorway as
possible, snappishly asked her husband,--
"Where are you going, hachshtze?"
Topanashka took the trouble of satisfying her curiosity by dryly
answering,--
"About our own business." The icy look with which he accompanied his
retort subdued the woman.
The Hotshanyi, or chief penitent, lived with the people of the
Prairie-wolf clan. His abode consisted of two caves on the lower and one
on the upper tier. The two officers of the tribe wandered slowly along
the cliffs, past the abodes of the Sun clan, Topanashka walking as
usual,--erect, with his head bent slightly forward,--Hoshkanyi with a
pompous air, glad to display himself in company with his much more
respected colleague, to whom all the pleasant greetings which the two
received on their peregrination were really directed. When they reached
the cave wherein the cacique resided, Hoshkanyi entered first.
Close to the fireplace, which was one of those primitive chimneys like
the one we have seen in the home of Shotaye, an old man was seated on
the floor. His age was certainly greater than Topanashka's; he was of
middle height, lean and even emaciated. His eyes were dim, and he
received the greetings of his visitors with an air of indifference or
timidity; it was difficult to determine which. Pointing to the floor he
said,--
"What brings you to my house, children!" and he coughed a hollow, hectic
cough.
The tapop began,--
"We wish--"
"Do not say we," the maseua corrected him, "you wish, not I."
Hoshkanyi bit his lips and began anew,--
"I and my brother here have come because I want to ask you something.
But if you are at work, grandfather, then we will go."
"I am not working, sa uishe," said the cacique. "Speak; I listen. What
is it you wish?"
"Can I see the kopishtai?" Hoshkanyi whispered anxiously.
The eyes of the Hotshanyi brightened. His look suddenly became clear and
firm. With surprising alacrity he rose, as if he had become younger at
once. His whole figure, although bent, attained vigour and elasticity.
Before leaving the cave he looked inquiringly at Topanashka, who only
shook his head and said in a low tone,--
"I have nothing to ask."
The two left the room. The place where Those Above were thought to be
accessible to the intercession of man was the cave adjoining, but there
was no communication between the two chambers.
Presently the cacique crept back to where they had left Topanashka
alone, and Hoshkanyi followed. The former resumed his seat by the
hearth, whereas the tapop cowered in front of him. He looked anxiously
in the old man's face, and at the same time shot an occasional quick
glance over toward the maseua. In a hollow voice the Hotshanyi said,--
"You may speak now, sa uishe; the kopishtai know that you are here."
"Sa umo Hotshanyi," the tapop commenced, "I have listened to a speech.
Things have been said to me that concern the tribe." He stopped short
and fastened his eyes on the floor.
"This is well," the cacique said encouragingly; "you must hear what the
children of P[=a]yatyama and Sanatyaya are doing; you are their father."
Hoshkanyi sighed, and appeared to be much embarrassed.
"Speak, mot[=a]tza," urged the old man.
"I don't know what to do," the little man stuttered.
"Have you been asked to do anything?"
"Yes, they have--" He stopped, sighed again, and then proceeded hastily
and with an expression of anguish in his face, "Shyuamo hanutsh asks
that Tzitz hanutsh--"
The Hotshanyi commanded him to desist.
"Stay, stay, Hoshkanyi Tihua!" he hoarsely exclaimed. "You know that we,
the mothers of the tribe, will not listen to anything that divides our
children among themselves or that might cause division among them. You
ask for advice from me. This advice you shall receive, but only on
things that I can know of and which I dare to hear. If you speak to me
of strife and dispute, I shall not listen to it. Speak of yourself, not
of others."
Topanashka was an attentive listener, but not a muscle in his face
moved; whereas the little tapop was manifestly in great trouble. He
coughed, hemmed and hawed, twisted his body, moved uneasily in his seat,
and at last continued in a faltering manner,--
"I do not know whether or not I ought to call the council together."
"Were you asked to do it?"
"Yes."
"Then you must do it; it is your duty," replied the Hotshanyi. He spoke
imperatively, and with remarkable dignity of manner. Thus the first
point was settled. And the tapop with growing uneasiness proceeded to
his next.
"It has been said to me that I should send my brother here," pointing at
Topanashka, "to call together the fathers. Now is it well to do so, or
shall I send the assistant civil chieftain to the men?" Hoshkanyi spoke
like a schoolboy who was delivering a disagreeable message.
The matter in itself seemed of no consequence 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, when as representative of the clan Shyuamo he asked the tapop to
call together the council for a matter wherein the Turquoise people were
interested, had artfully told him that as one of their number it would
be better if the maseua would issue the call. He knew very well that
this was an innovation; but the deceiver made it apparent that if
Topanashka should yield, and commit the desired misstep, the blame would
of course fall upon the war-chief, and the civil chief would profit by
the other's mistake, and would gain in the opinion of the people at the
expense of the maseua.
But Tyope, cunning as he was, had underrated the firmness and
perspicacity of Topanashka as much as he had overrated the abilities of
Hoshkanyi. As soon as the latter saw the rigidity of his colleague in a
matter of duty, he felt completely at sea; he lost sight of everything
that Tyope had recommended, tumbled from one mistake to another, and
finally exposed himself to grave suspicions. As the popular saying is,
he let the cat out of the bag, and made an absolute, miserable fiasco.
All this he saw clearly, and he cursed Tyope, and cursed himself for
having become his tool. More than that, he trembled when he thought of
what Tyope would say, and also what his own energetic wife would call
him, and even perhaps do to him, if he went home. For Koay was sure to
exact a full report of what had occurred; and to save himself, nothing
remained but to tell her lies. This he finally determined upon. But to
Tyope he could not lie; to Tyope he must tell the truth; and then?
Hoshkanyi Tihua wended his way home wrapped in thoughts of a very
unsatisfactory nature.
While the governor of the Queres was thus agitated by unpleasant
forebodings, the mind of the war-chief was not less occupied by gloomy
thoughts. Of all the leading men of the tribe, Topanashka saw perhaps
most clearly the sinister machinations of some of the Turquoise people.
Still he had not discovered, and could not even surmise, the real object
of their intrigues. Of an intention to divide the tribe he had no idea.
Personal ambition, greed, and thirst for influence was all he could
think of; and he felt sure that they would not prevail, for to personal
ambition the tribal system afforded little, if any, opportunity. It was
manifest however from what Hoshkanyi had involuntarily divulged, that
the clan Shyuamo intended to press some claim against the small Water
clan, which besides was so distantly located from the abodes and the
lands of the Turquoise that he could see no just reason for a claim. It
was equally impossible for him to imagine the nature of the claim.
Quarrels between clans are always most dangerous for the existence of a
tribe, for disruption and consequent weakening is likely to result from
them. The old man felt the gravest apprehensions; he saw imminent danger
for his people; and still he could not arrive at any conclusion before
the threatening storm had broken. There was no possibility of averting
the peril, for he could not even mention its approach to any one.
Topanashka was calm and absolutely brave. His life was nothing to him
except as indispensable for the performance of his duty. He knew long
ago that the leaders of the movement for which the Turquoise people were
used as battering-rams hated him, that he was a thorn in their flesh, a
stone in their crooked paths. If the revelations of Hoshkanyi created
deep apprehensions in him, it was out of no personal fear; in the
present instance it was clear that a trap had been set for the purpose
of decoying him into a false move. It was the first time that anything
of the kind had been attempted; and Topanashka looked upon it as very
serious, not for his individual sake, but because it showed that it was
undertaken jointly with a move that was sure to bring about internal
disturbances, and was probably a part of that move itself, and because
it exhibited a degree of boldness on the part of the schemers which
proved that their plans were nearly, if not absolutely, mature. A crisis
was near at hand; he saw it, but it could not be prevented. A deep gloom
settled on the heart of the old maseua, and something like despondency
crept over him at times. It caused him to forget the matter of his
grandson's wooing and his proposed appeal to the Shiuana in behalf of
Okoya, and to look forward to the momentous time, four days hence, when
his mind would become enlightened on the impending danger. All his
thoughts were henceforth with the council and the object for which it
was to be held. He looked forward to it with sadness and even with fear.
It was clear to him that the hour of that council must become an evil
hour in the annals of his people.