He heard himself speak the words aloud there alone where the new altar was––he seemed to hear himself saying it over and over as if by the sound of his own voice he could kill the sound of the tortured red men in the court.
A blanketed figure ran in at the open door, halted at the sound of Tahn-té’s voice––and then flung himself forward. It was Ka-yemo and his teeth were chattering at the thought of the inferno without.
“It may be they will not look for us here,” he said as he saw who it was in the chapel––“Perhaps––if one keeps near––to their strong god: and you are close also––and––”
“I stay close because it is my work,”––said Tahn-té. “Some of the men tied to the stakes out there bent before their strong god and said prayers there.––Did it save them?”
“They will kill us––we will never see our people––they will kill us!” muttered Ka-yemo shaken with fear.
“I do not think they want to kill us:––they still need us for many things. We are only boys, we have not wives that we refuse to give to the white men––if we had it might be different, who knows?”
“Is that the cause?”
“The white men will give a different one––but that is the cause! The men of this valley think it is enough if they give their houses, and their corn, and their woven blankets to their fine white brothers:––the red men are foolish men,––so they burn at the stake out there!”
Ka-yemo stared at him, and crouched in his blanket.