A PAGAN PRIEST IN COUNCIL
Little else was spoken of in the camp of the Castilians, but the witchcraft of the noble steed. The more pious picketed their own animals at a respectful distance from the one healed by sorcery.
Don Diego took the healing as a sign that the Evil One walked openly between the rows of the adobe dwellings, and that the field camp was a safer haven than a house whose every corner was, without doubt, a matter of unsanctified prayer in the building.
Others there were who had grown weary of drenchings of summer rains, and Yahn, hearing their arguments, warned them that old Khen-yah the rain priest was making medicine for more corn rains––they could easily hear his tombé if they but hearkened.
“That we can easily do without any strain to our ears,” agreed Don Ruy––“but what of that? Is a piece of hide tied around a hollow log to serve as thunder from which the rain must come, whether or no?”
The girl did not grasp his raillery and liked it little. When Don Ruy spoke to her––or spoke of her, she felt she was being laughed at. Only her determination to be in some way a power through these strange people, kept her from betraying her anger.
“The rain comes,” she stated coldly. “The drum of Khen-yah never rests in quiet until it does 168 come. One night and one day he has made medicine––soon it must come.”
“Then I cast my vote for the cover of a solid roof, gentlemen,” decided Don Ruy. “I’ve had one taste of their red magic––it was speedy and effectual. If the old magician should decide to send us a flood, the sorcery would not be so much to my liking.”
After some further discourse all agreed to accept the offered dwelling, though Don Diego warned Don Ruy it was unwise to speak in so light a manner of the power of the Evil One when it was rampant in the land. Already he had taken up the valiant battle for converts. His success was gratifying in that one woman had without understanding, yet with pleasurable smiles listened to the credo, and had accepted with equal gratification a string of blue beads of glass, and a rosary.––It was Säh-pah. She had found courage to slip alone into the camp while Yahn talked in the village. After the little matter of the beads she at once became as a shadow to Don Diego, who had great confidence of leading her away from her false gods. When he stated his pious hope to the official interpreter of Don Ruy, that damsel seemed little gifted with the devout apprehension or sisterly affection so much to be desired in females. She was angry because of the blue beads, and later, when the sulkiness had departed enough that her tongue found again its right usage, she stated that the pious Don Diego would find little trouble in leading Säh-pah to any place he chose––nor would any other man who wanted a convert!
Whereupon the eager and pious gentleman gave thanks––let the others discuss civil or ecclesiastical rule among the savage people––or even risk their souls in dealings with sorcerers, but he had made the 169 only convert on this first day, and thus it was recorded by the secretary on the first page of the “Relaciones” pertaining to the chapters of Povi-whah, in that part of the “Province of New Spain in the Indian Island which is refreshed by the majestical stream called in the savage language P[=o]-s[=o]n-gé, but the same called by the Castilians the Rio Bravo and the Rio Grande del Norte.”