“It is possible that other French persons could have been kept there without your knowledge?”
“Oui, monsieur,” said the boy wondering—“but why should the great Paracousi, who had been so kind, keep me away from the people of my race? I cannot understand.”
“You may know in time, my good Pierre. But there is a mystery which you may help us to solve—only let no word of this come to the ears of the Paracousi.”
“Monsieur,” said Pierre firmly, “Satouriona is my father and if any harm——”
“Ah, my child, you do not comprehend,” smiled De Brésac. “We are friends of Satouriona and with him we will fight the Spaniards. You must take our word that we mean him no harm.”
“I will, messieurs,” replied the boy at last, sighing.
“It is well, mon ami. You will have no cause for regret,” said De Brésac. “You have been to the village of Tacatacourou?” he continued.
“No, monsieur. It is a day’s journey from the village of Satouriona.”
“Did you not wish to go?”
“Oui, monsieur, but there was no opportunity. The Paracousi Olotoraca feared I should be captured by the Spaniards.”