It was now the turn of the delegate of the Water people; and much depended upon what he would say, for he was, besides the members from Shyuamo, the party most interested in the proceedings.  Kauaitshe, as he was called, was not, unfortunately, the man for the situation.  Short and clumsy in figure, extremely good-natured and correspondingly slow in thought and action, he was intellectually heavy and dull.  When the demand upon his clan was first formulated, he listened to it like one whom it does not concern, and only gradually came to the conception that the matter was after all of prime importance to him and to those whose interests he had been selected to defend.  Kauaitshe was thunderstruck upon arriving at full comprehension; he was bewildered, and would much rather have run away from the council.  But that was impossible.  He heard the men speak one by one, and—­what to him caused most anxiety—­he saw the moment approaching when he also would be called upon; and the prospect filled him with dismay.  What should he say!  What could he say!  The injustice intended toward his constituents, the necessity of undertaking a task for which he felt himself incapable, terrified him at first and soon drove him to utter despair; and as all weak and lazy natures, when they see themselves driven to the wall, become frenzied, Kauaitshe, when the tapop turned to him, exploded like a loaded weapon, venting his wrath upon the governor instead of calmly discussing the matter itself.  He saw in the governor not only a member of the clan whose plans were detrimental to the interests of his kinsmen, but chiefly the instrument by means of which he was placed in the present difficult position.  His face turned dark, then yellow.  His eyes glowed like embers.  Bounding from his seat, he advanced toward the chairman and hissed,—­

“I have heard.  Yes,”—­his voice became louder,—­“I have heard enough.  Enough!” he screamed.  “You want to take from us what is ours!  You want to rob us, to steal from my people in order that your people may prosper and we may suffer!  That is what you want,” and he shook his clenched fist in the face of the tapop.  The latter started up like an irate turkey, and screamed,—­

“You lie! what we want from you is right!  You are only a few people, and you are lazy; whereas we are many and thrifty; you are a liar!”

“Hush! hush!” sounded the voice of the principal shaman, between the shouts and screams of the disputing parties.

“No! no!” shrieked Kauaitshe, “I will not hush.  I will speak!  I will tell these friends—­”

“Water-mole!” yelled the tapop in response; and both the Koshare Naua and Tyope cried at once,—­

“We are Shyuamo, not shuatyam.”  Their voices sounded like the threatening snarls of wild beasts.

“Hush! hush!” the Hishtanyi Chayan now sternly commanded.  Rising, he grasped the little governor by the shoulder, pulled him back to his place on the floor, and warningly raised his hand toward Kauaitshe, whose mouth one of his colleagues had already closed by force.