The sachems returned the salute with the innate good breeding of the redskins.
"My brother is welcome," said a chief. "Will he sit by the council fire?"
"No," said the hunter; "my time is short."
"My brother is prudent," resumed the chief; "he has abandoned the palefaces, because he knows that the Tigercat has delivered them over to the barbed arrows of the Apache warriors."
"I have not abandoned the palefaces: my brother deceives himself. I have sworn to defend them; I will do so."
"That is against the orders of the Tigercat."
"I take no orders from him. I hate treachery. I will not let the redskin braves accomplish what they meditate."
"Oh!" grunted the sachem; "My brother lifts his voice very high. I have heard the hawk mock at the eagle, but a blow of its mighty wing crushed the hawk to powder."
"A truce to sarcasm, chief. You are one of the most renowned braves of your tribe, and cannot consent to become the agent of an infamous treachery. The Tigercat has received these travellers in his calli; he has treated them with hospitality. Is not hospitality sacred in the desert?"
The Apache burst into a laugh.