An ironical smile contracted the bronzed faces Of Pedrito's brothers, while Pincheira stamped his foot impatiently. The Indian chief continued, without heeding these marks of disapproval—
"A man's blood is precious. Take away your sister, my good fellow. I give her to you; may she be happy with you."
"Our sister!" the three young men exclaimed with amazement.
"Yes," Pedrito said; "but what conditions do you exact?"
"None," the chief answered nobly.
Nocobotha's generosity was the more disinterested because the bomberos perceived by the first rays of the rising sun a band of nearly one thousand Indians, well equipped, and painted and armed for war, who had silently advanced and formed a a circle round them.
"Can we," Pedrito asked, "trust to your word, and have we no cause to fear a trap?"
"My word," the Ulmen answered haughtily, "is more sacred than that of a white man. We have, like you, noble feelings, more so, perhaps, than others," he added, pointing to a red line that traversed his face; "we know how to forgive. You are free, and no one will disturb your retreat."
Nocobotha followed the thoughts of the bomberos on their faces. The latter felt themselves conquered by the magnanimity of the chief, who smiled triumphantly on divining their astonishment and confusion.
"My friend," he said to Pincheira, "let fresh horses be given to these men."