“Yes. Be they gods or men, I would give a province to know their intention; that, uncles, would enable me to determine my policy,—whether to give them war or peace. As yet, they have asked nothing but the privilege of trading with us; and, judging them by our nations, I want not better warrant of friendship. As you know, strangers have twice before been upon our coast in such canoes, and with such arms;[30] and in both instances they sought gold, and getting it they departed. Will these go like them?”
“Has my master forgotten the words of Mualox?”
“To Mictlan with the paba!” said the king, violently. “He has filled my cities and people with trouble.”
“Yet he is a prophet,” retorted the old councillor, boldly. “How knew he of the coming of the strangers before it was known in the palace?”
The flush of the king’s face faded.
“It is a mystery, uncle,—a mystery too deep for me. All the day and night before he was in his Cû; he went not into the city even.”
“If the wise master will listen to the words of his slave, he will not again curse the paba, but make him a friend.”
The monarch’s lip curled derisively.
“My palace is now a house of prayer and sober life; he would turn it into a place of revelry.”
All the ancients but the one laughed at the irony; that one repeated his words.