"Why does my father pretend to be ignorant of our just reasons for war with the palefaces?" replied the Apache, feigning to be discontented with the major's speech. "My father knows that we have for centuries been at war with the Long Knives,[1] who dwell on the other side of the mountains. Why has my father's nation, which assumes to be at peace with us, made treaties with them?"
"Chief, you are only seeking a quarrel; but that does not signify. I would rather you had told me frankly that your wish was to pillage and steal our horses and cattle, than give me a reason without common sense. We should be at war with the Comanches, if you really meant what you say. Therefore, chief, mock me no more, but proceed to facts. What is it you demand?"
The chief burst out laughing.
"My father is cunning," he said. "Listen; thus say the chiefs: 'This land belongs to us: we will have it.' The white ancestors of my father had no right to establish themselves in it."
"That pretext is, at all events, specious; for my ancestors bought this land from one of your sachems."
"The chiefs in assembly round, the tree of the Master of life have determined to return to the great white chief, without reserve, all the articles formerly given to the sachem in exchange for the land, and to resume the country belonging to them, in which they will no longer have the palefaces."
"Is that all you were deputed to tell me?"
"It is all," said the chief, bending his head.
"And how much time," answered the major, "do the chiefs allow the governor of the presidio to discuss these proposals?"
"Two hours."