"Is it possible to move him?"
"It must be," the Indian said peremptorily; "the war hatchet is dug up against the palefaces, the Aucas chiefs have drunk firewater, the genius of evil is master of their hearts; we must depart before they think of us; in an hour it will be too late."
"Let us depart then," the young man replied, sorrowfully, convinced that Trangoil-Lanec knew more than he was willing to tell, and that some great danger threatened them, since the chief, who was a man of tried courage, had let fall that mask of stoicism which scarcely ever abandons the Indian.
Preparations for departure were made in all haste, and were soon terminated. The hammock in which Louis reposed was solidly fastened to two long cross pieces of wood, and then, as it was, harnessed upon two mules without awakening him. The little band set out, employing the greatest precautions. They proceeded thus for more than an hour, without exchanging a word; the campfires of the Indians became every minute more faint in the distance, and they were, at least for the present, out of danger. Valentine approached Trangoil-Lanec, who rode at the head of the convoy.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To Valdivia," the chief replied; "it is there alone that Don Louis will be able to recover in safety."
"You are right," said Valentine; "but shall we remain inactive?"
"I will do what my brother the paleface wishes; am I not his penni? where he goes I will go—his will shall be mine!"
"Thank you, chief," the Frenchman replied, with emotion; "you have a brave and worthy heart."
"My brother saved my life," said the Ulmen earnestly; "that life is no longer mine, it belongs to him."