He gathered her in his arms, and looked once into the pallid face of her accuser and destroyer. At that look from the pagan priest the white priest shrank and covered his face with the cowl.
“You––go?” said Po-tzah.
“In the place of Povi-whah another will hear your prayers to the gods, and I––Tahn-té the outcast––I go!”
No more words were spoken among the men of the council. In silence they watched him as he walked with his burden up the trail of the mesa where he had run so gladly to make his boy vow at the shrine.
No happy sign shone for him this time in the sky. It was as he said to Don Ruy;––those who make vows to the gods,––and forget them for earth people, pay––and pay prices that are heavy! But above him a bird swept into the golden sky. He put up his hand to the wings in his hair––and heard plainly the words of the mate who would wait his call at the trail’s end.
And Don Ruy Sandoval watched the man called “sorcerer” out of sight, and then went to the dwelling of José and gathered to his breast the secretary who had adopted blanket draperies.
Tahn-té; the Outcast Page 326