"Speak, motātza," 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."