"A Ute! a Ute!" was the response of the man whom Ulna was making a desperate effort to cast off.
In an instant every brave had fallen on Ulna, and, almost as quickly, he was bound hand and foot, but he uttered neither cry nor groan to show the pain nor to tell of his mental anguish.
"Who are you?" asked Blanco, bending over him.
"I am a Ute," was the reply.
"Have you a name?"
"I have."
"What is it?"
"Ulna."
"What! the nephew of the hated Uray?"
"The nephew of the great chief, Uray."