Their sorcerer had traded his robe of office for the evil love of an enchantress:––never again must a god be offended by sound of his prayers!
And no one offered him the pipe, and no one spoke to him. He sat alone and looked with unseeing eyes at the weeping god on the altar.
Padre Vicente was seated in a place of honor. He looked at Tahn-té across the circle, and it was plain that the ways had changed since that other day of council when they had looked into each other’s eyes, and the pagan had been the Ruler!
The right hand man of the governor arose. He was the oldest man, and he spoke.
“While the earth has trembled we have talked––and the trembling has grown little while we talked,” he said. “It is plain that the gods have sent these signs that we may know our white brothers are indeed of the sun, and the symbol of the sun should be given to their keeping.”
Another man arose.
“Also these new brothers will guard our fields from the Navahu and the Apache,” he said. “We will have the tamed animals to ride, and our enemies will run before the fire sticks our brothers will give us.”
The governor arose.
“Their god we are asked to take, and the god will do much for us if the sun symbol is given to their keeping. To us that seems good. The keepers of the sun symbol are two, and must be only two. Let it be for the ancients of the Po-Ahtun to say which man of their order gives up the secret, and makes medicine to forget it was ever in his keeping.”