Fresh personages, among whom were Valentine and his friend, had arrived at the village, and, attracted by curiosity, mingled with the crowd collected round the body. The two Frenchmen could not comprehend anything of this scene till their guide had briefly explained it to them; then they followed the different phases of it with great interest.
"Speak!" said the Ulmen, after a short pause. "Does not my father know the name of the man of whom we must demand an account of this murder?"
"I know him," the sorcerer replied, in a solemn tone.
"Why, then, does the inspired machi preserve silence, when the dead body cries for vengeance?"
"Because," the machi said, looking this time the newly-arrived chief full in the face, "there are powerful men who laugh at human justice."
The eyes of the crowd turned to the man whom the sorcerer appeared indirectly to point out.
"The guilty man," the Ulmen cried, in a loud voice, "whatever be his rank in the tribe, shall not escape my just vengeance; speak without fear, priest of fate! I swear that the man whose name passes your lips shall die!"
The machi drew himself up majestically; he raised his arm slowly, and, amidst the general anxious curiosity, he, with his finger, pointed to the chief who had offered such cordial hospitality to the strangers, saying, in a loud, ringing voice—
"Accomplish your oath, then, Ulmen—that is the assassin of your father, Trangoil-Lanec cast the charm upon him which has killed him!"
And the machi veiled his face with the corner of his poncho, as if overwhelmed with grief at making the revelation.