I exclaimed aloud. The endless complexities of the laws of these supposedly lawless people were too much for me. It was almost as bewildering as our own courts.
“Meantime,” said Perolli, “the chiefs have torn down this man’s house, and that would make it seem that they will reach some peaceful settlement.”
“Would it?” said I.
“Of course. For if they meant not to stop until they killed him they would not have destroyed his house. I think that they will hold another council and simply banish him from the tribe and from the mountains.”
“But if he does not go?”
“Oh, then, of course, they would really have to kill him. And of course they must kill him now, if they meet him. But as long as the man of Pultit is with him, they will try not to meet him.”
“So,” said I, “wherever there are laws there are ways of getting around them. And,” I continued, remembering, “these men of ours would have to be killing him now, if I were not here?”
“Certainly,” said Perolli. “Our Shala men would have to, because Shala is in blood with Shoshi, and this is a Shoshi man.”
“Even when his own chiefs are hunting him? Even if he were banished from the tribe?”
“Well, one doesn’t stop to ask that. He wears the Shoshi braiding on his trousers.”