"One minute more," he said; "I have still something to demand of you."
Silence was in an instant re-established.
"I have proved to you, in an incontrovertible manner, that the chief is not guilty—have I not?"
"Yes! yes!" they shouted simultaneously; "the paleface is a great medicine man! he is beloved by Pillian!"
"Very well. Now, then," he added, with a sardonic smile directed towards the machi, "your machi should prove in his turn that I have calumniated him, and that it was not he who killed the Apo-Ulmen of your tribe. The dead chief was a great warrior; it ought to be avenged."
"Yes," the warriors cried, "he ought to be avenged."
"My brother speaks well," observed Curumilla; "let the machi be put to the proof."
The unfortunate machi perceived at once that he was lost. He became livid, and a cold perspiration bathed his temples, whilst a convulsive tremor shook his limbs.
"This man is an impostor," he muttered, in a voice scarcely audible; "he abuses your good faith."
"Perhaps I am," said Valentine; "but, in the meantime, imitate me."