“And the royalty would be a weak stomached lot if they gained not even extra corn for all their sceptre waving, and royal nods;––eh? But what of this Po-Ahtun-ho––this man who is not king––yet who is supreme?”
This query was interpreted by José, and after talk and deliberation one of the oldest men made answer.
“The Po-Ahtun is an order very ancient. When the earth was yet soft, and the rocks wet, and the first people were taught words by the mocking bird,––in that time of our Ancient Fathers, gods spoke 150 to men––and in that time the order of Po-Ahtun was made. It was made that men could work together on earth for spirit good. When the Mountain God, Po-se-yemo, lived as a man on the earth,––he was the chief priest of the Po-Ahtun order. Po-Ahtun means ‘The Ruler of Things from the Beginning.’ Many men belong to the Po-Ahtun, and learn the prayers, and the songs of the prayers. When the Po-Ahtun-ho walks no more on the earth––and his spirit goes on the twilight trail to Those Above, at that time the brothers of the order name the man who is to be Ruler––and he rules also until he dies.
“Then it seems your Cacique is really a king. You but call him by a different name.”
“No––it is not so. Tahn-té has told the men of Povi-whah what a king is. We have no king. A king fights with knife, and with spear, and he, in his own village, punishes the one who does evil, and orders what men work on the water canal for the fields:––and what men make new a broken wall, or what men clean the court which is the property of all. The king and his men say how all these things then must be done. With the people of Povi-whah the governor does these works and orders them done, and has the man whipped if the work he does is bad work. The chief of war does work as do other men, until the Navahu and the Yutahs have to be driven away;––then it is his work to fight them––he is a warrior, but he does king work in war. These are the men who do king work. But we have no king.”
“By our Lady!––’tis a nice distinction,” said Don Ruy as the old man ceased, and the men of Te-hua nodded their appreciation of the old man’s statement. 151 “Save your quill scratching, Chico––until you are in camp. Their eyes show little favor for the work.”
The secretary obediently thrust in his pouch ink horn and quill, and clearly Don Ruy was right, for the bronze faces brightened, and their eyes regarded the young man with approval––the magic of that black water might prove potent and forbidding––never before had it been seen in council.
Padre Vicente had given a cigarro to each man, and while the ancient speaker rested, and José interpreted, all smoked the wonderful smoke from the south, and Chico took occasion to say low to Don Ruy:
“Of all this there is little to make record that is new. Tribes of Mexico have such rules of life. The legends of our people say they came ages ago out of the far North. These are maybe but the children of their brothers who the records say stopped on the way to plant corn, or to hunt, or to rest from travel.”
“Records?––Where are such records?” asked Don Ruy derisively,––“in the royal archives of some mud hut?”