And a third at the Rito, although unknown to them, also began to see the truth gradually with a distinctness that was fearful, that was crushing to him.  That man was the head war-chief, Topanashka Tihua.  A series of logical deductions brought him to ravel step by step the game that was being played.  He saw now why Tzitz hanutsh had been made to bear the first assault.  It was on account of Shotaye.  But as the demand was put, it involved ultimately the question of residence, and consequently an expulsion of the Water people.  This could never have been merely on account of one woman and in order to get rid of her, since it was so easy to put Shotaye out of the way by the mere accusation of witchcraft.  That accusation itself appeared to the old man to be a mere pretext and nothing else.  To expel the small Water clan alone was not their object either.  His daughter, the child of Tanyi, was also implicated, and with this thought came a flash of light.  Not one clan alone, but several, were to be removed, and as he now saw plainly, mostly the clans occupying houses which were not exposed to the dangers which threatened the cave-dwellers from the crumbling rock.  Tzitz had only served as an entering-wedge for their design that the house-dwellers should make room for the others.  The more Topanashka thought over it, the more he felt convinced that he was right.  And the stronger his convictions the more he saw that the plans of the two fiends, Tyope and the Naua, were likely to succeed.  They were bad men, they were dangerous men; but they certainly had a pair of very subtle minds.

Was it possible to defeat their object?  Other men, differently constituted from Topanashka, might have come to the conclusion that it was best to leave the Rito with their people at once, without any further wrangling, and make room peaceably.  To this he could never consent.  None of his relatives or their friends should be sacrificed to the intrigues of the Turquoise people.  Rather than yield he was firmly determined that the Turquoise people themselves should go.  But only after they had done their worst.  It was true, as Tyope had said, that a division of the tribe entailed a dangerous weakening of both fragments; but then if it must be, what else could be done?  Still he was in hopes that the Shiuana would not consent to a separation, and in his firm belief in the goodness of Those Above he resolved, when the time came, to do his utmost for the preservation of peace and unity.  But it was a crushing weight to him.  Not a soul had he with whom to communicate, for his lips were sealed; not one whom he might enlighten and prepare for the hour of the crisis.  And he felt unconsciously that he was the pillar on which rested the safety of his people,—­he and the Shiuana!  The feeling was no source of pride; it was a terrible load, which he longed in vain to share with some one else.  Topanashka did not attempt to do penance externally; he was too shrewd for that; but he prayed as much as any one,—­prayed for light from above, for the immense courage to keep silent, to hope, and to wait.