The medicine-man offered me the knife.
"But must a messenger of Tirawa have a knife to cut hide thongs?" he inquired, curious as a child.
"No," answered Tawannears, "but if the power of Tirawa is used, the power of the thunder and the lightning which shakes the world, who shall say what harm may come? The Chahiksichahiks have been fools. Let them be satisfied with what has happened. If they are wise they will possess the favor of Tirawa. If they continue to be foolish Tirawa will wipe them out here on this spot!"
He raised his arm in a menacing gesture, and chiefs and medicine-men cowered before him.
"No, no," pleaded the medicine-man. "We have seen enough. Release the Black One with the thin face. We did not understand him. He spoke to us after the manner of the Comanche and the Dakota, telling us, as we thought, that our gods were not, that we must worship this one he spoke of. We did not understand him, that waft all. We were ignorant, but we meant no harm."
Tawannears shrugged his shoulders.
"That is to be decided," he said. "The Taivo will consult with Black Robe, and afterwards will speak through me. It is for him to decide."
I strode into the empty circle of people and walked slowly, so as not to seem undignified, up to the stake, stepping across the material for the fire which would now be roasting the priest but for our unexpected arrival, and the conjunction of circumstances it had set in train. The fire-makers had gone. There was nobody inside the circle except Black Robe and myself, and he stood yet, with his eyes shut, a trickle of Latin pattering from his lips.
For a moment I was shocked by the traces of suffering in that haggard face, the skin tight-drawn over the prominent bones, the cavernous eye-holes so shadowed, the deep lines graven in the pallid cheeks. I seemed to see in retrospect the labors he must have achieved in the years since we had parted. Who could imagine how far he had wandered, the hardships and suffering he had borne without the assistance of a single comforter of his own color? And this thought enabled me to envision as never before the ardent flame that was the driving force of his life, the ardent devotion to a creed which ignored every other consideration save that of the service to which he had dedicated himself. I warmed to him in that moment, forgetting ancient animus, brushing aside the barrier of hostile race and religion.
"Père Hyacinthe!" I said softly in French.