“Ma foi, Cabanacte, I’m glad to see your giant form again!” cried de Sancerre, smiling as he perused de la Salle’s epistle. It ran as follows:
“Let this chance, monsieur, to serve your king atone for your disobedience to me. Be firm, unbending, and conservative. Well I know that you will be courageous. Await me where you are. I return shortly, and will send for you. I must teach the mouth of this great river to speak the name of France. I go to ring the knell of Spain! Adieu et au revoir!
“De la Salle.”
“Bien!” exclaimed de Sancerre, kissing his hand to old Noco, smilingly. “We hold the cards we need. ’Twill be my fault if blunders now should lose the game we play.”
The old woman had come to the side of her eccentric guest.
“My captain,” went on de Sancerre, in a lower tone, “a brother of the moon-god, like myself, tells me in this note that he goes to seize a kingdom from our Spanish foes. You are content, señora? You are content?”
“Aye, señor, well content!” answered the old hag with grim emphasis.
“And now,” exclaimed the Frenchman, beckoning to Cabanacte to approach them, “we’ll hold a solemn council, for the truth is this: unless I soon have speech with Coyocop, my throbbing heart will thump itself to death. Tell me, Cabanacte, is there danger for yon maiden, whose brother died the death?”
The bronze athlete had stretched himself at de Sancerre’s feet in such a position that he could fix his gaze upon the sombre beauty of Katonah’s face. He showed his perfect teeth, and his black eyes gleamed as he answered:
“Danger for her? No, none! Not while Cabanacte lives.”