The address which the governor had directed to the official penitents was a mere formality, but a formality that could not be dispensed with.  It was an act of courtesy toward those who in the tribe as well as in the council represented the higher powers.  But as these powers are conceived as being good, it is not allowed to speak in their presence of anything that might, in the remotest manner even, bear evil consequences such as disunion and strife.  Therefore the caciques, as soon as they had been informed of the subject, could not stay at the meeting, but had to retire.

This happens at every discussion of a similar nature, and their departure was merely in the ordinary routine of business.  Nobody felt shocked or even surprised at it.  But everybody, on the other hand, noticed the reply given by the aged Hotshanyi, felt it like some dread warning,—­the foreboding of some momentous question of danger to the people.  An uneasy feeling crept over many of the assistants who were not, like Tyope and the Koshare Naua, in the secrets of the case.  After the departure of the caciques, therefore, the same dead silence prevailed as before.

The tapop broke the silence by turning officially to the principal shaman and asking him,—­

“Sa umo yaya, what do you hold concerning the demand of our children from Shyuamo?”

The Chayan raised his face, his eyes sparkled.  He gave his reply in a positive tone,—­

“I hold it is well, provided Tzitz hanutsh is satisfied.”  He bent his head again in token that he had said as much as he cared to say for the present.

Hoshkanyi Tihua then interrogated the Shkuy Chayan, who very pointedly answered,—­

“It is good.”

His colleague, the Shikama Chayan, remained non-committal, saying,—­

“It may be good, it may not be good; I do not know.  My hanutsh is Shutzuna,”—­he cast a rapid glance to where the delegate of the Prairie-wolf people was sitting,—­“and we have enough land for ourselves.”

The governor now addressed the same question successively to the Koshare Naua and to the leader of the Cuirana.  The dim eyes of the former began to gleam; his shrivelled features assumed a hideous, wolfish expression as he spoke in a voice trembling yet clear,—­

“It is well.  Our brethren deserve what they demand.  If the crops ripen, my children from Shyuamo are those who pray and fast most of all.  My hanutsh alone counts more Koshare than all the others together.  If they get more land they will fast and pray so much the more, and this they do not for themselves only, but for the benefit of all who dwell on the Tyuonyi.”

The Cuirana Naua, on the other hand, gave a confused and unsatisfactory reply.  In his opinion it would be well if both clans could agree.