"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.
CHAPTER XI.
The four days at the expiration of which the council was to take place were drawing to a close, for it was the night of the fourth, that on which the uuityam was to meet. It was a beautiful night; the full moon shone down into the gorge in its greatest splendour, and only along the cliffs was it possible to walk in the shadow. The air was cool and balmy; not a breeze stirred; and the population of the Rito seemed to enjoy the luminous, still, and refreshing hours that followed upon a warm and busy day. Laughter, singing, shouting, came from the roofs and the vicinity of the houses, as well as from the caves and their approaches. The people felt happy; few if any suspected that a momentous question agitated the minds of some of their number.
Two men were walking along the cliffs toward the group of cave-dwellings which the Prairie-wolf clan inhabited. They hugged the rocks so closely that most of the time their figures disappeared in the inky shadows of projecting or beetling cliffs and pillars. One of these men asked in a low tone,—
"Are you going to the uuityam?"