After an interval of silence the civil chief looked up and said,—­

“Come, let us go to the Hotshanyi.”

Topanashka thought over this proposal for a moment.  “It is well,” he at last assented; “I will go.”  With this he rose.  The governor rose also, but was so embarrassed and excited that he would have run out as he was, in almost complete undress, had not the maseua reminded him by saying,—­

“Remember that we are going to the Shiuana,” adding, “take some meal along.”

“Have you any with you?” inquired Hoshkanyi, with a venomous look.  The other responded quietly,—­

“I do not need any.  You are seeking their advice, not I.”  That settled the matter.

As both went out, Koay, who had been sitting as close by the doorway as possible, snappishly asked her husband,—­

“Where are you going, hachshtze?”

Topanashka took the trouble of satisfying her curiosity by dryly answering,—­

“About our own business.”  The icy look with which he accompanied his retort subdued the woman.

The Hotshanyi, or chief penitent, lived with the people of the Prairie-wolf clan.  His abode consisted of two caves on the lower and one on the upper tier.  The two officers of the tribe wandered slowly along the cliffs, past the abodes of the Sun clan, Topanashka walking as usual,—­erect, with his head bent slightly forward,—­Hoshkanyi with a pompous air, glad to display himself in company with his much more respected colleague, to whom all the pleasant greetings which the two received on their peregrination were really directed.  When they reached the cave wherein the cacique resided, Hoshkanyi entered first.

Close to the fireplace, which was one of those primitive chimneys like the one we have seen in the home of Shotaye, an old man was seated on the floor.  His age was certainly greater than Topanashka’s; he was of middle height, lean and even emaciated.  His eyes were dim, and he received the greetings of his visitors with an air of indifference or timidity; it was difficult to determine which.  Pointing to the floor he said,—­

“What brings you to my house, children!” and he coughed a hollow, hectic cough.

The tapop began,—­

“We wish—­”

“Do not say we,” the maseua corrected him, “you wish, not I.”

Hoshkanyi bit his lips and began anew,—­

“I and my brother here have come because I want to ask you something.  But if you are at work, grandfather, then we will go.”

“I am not working, sa uishe,” said the cacique.  “Speak; I listen.  What is it you wish?”

“Can I see the kopishtai?” Hoshkanyi whispered anxiously.

The eyes of the Hotshanyi brightened.  His look suddenly became clear and firm.  With surprising alacrity he rose, as if he had become younger at once.  His whole figure, although bent, attained vigour and elasticity.  Before leaving the cave he looked inquiringly at Topanashka, who only shook his head and said in a low tone,—­