"I will do all that is required for that. It is sufficient that the Chief is your friend, for me to desire that he should become mine. Up to the present, though I have wandered about the woods a long time as a runaway slave, I have never seen an independent Indian; hence it is possible that I may commit some awkwardness without my knowledge. But be assured that it will not happen through any fault of mine."
"I am convinced of it, so be easy on that head. I will warn the Chief, who, I fancy, will be as surprised as yourself, for I expect you will be the first person of your colour he has ever met. But night has now quite set in; you must be fatigued by the obstinate pursuit you experienced the whole day, and the powerful emotion you endured: sleep, while I watch for both, especially as I expect we shall make a long march to-morrow, and you must be prepared for it."
The Negro understood the correctness of his friend's remarks, the more so as he was literally exhausted with fatigue; he had been hunted so closely by his ex-master's blood-hounds, that for four days he had not closed his eyes. Hence, laying aside any false shame, he stretched out his feet to the fire, and slept almost immediately.
Tranquil remained seated on the canoe with his rifle between his legs, to be prepared for the slightest alarm, and plunged into deep thought, while attentively watching the neighbourhood, and pricking his ear at the slightest noise.
[CHAPTER IV.]
THE MANADA.
The night was splendid, the dark blue sky was studded with millions of stars which shed a gentle and mysterious light.
The silence of the desert was traversed by thousands of melodious and animated whispers; gleams, flashing through the shadows, ran over the grass like will-o'-the-wisps. On the opposite bank of the river the old moss-clad oaks stood out like phantoms, and waved in the breeze their long branches covered with lichens and lianas; vague sounds ran through the air, nameless cries emerged from the forest lairs, the gentle sighing of the wind in the foliage was heard, and the murmur of the water on the pebbles, and last that inexplicable and unexplained sound of buzzing life which comes from God, and which the majestic solitude of the American savannahs renders more imposing.
The hunter yielded involuntarily to all the puissant influences of the primitive nature that surrounded him. He felt strengthened and cheered by it; his being was identified with the sublime scene he surveyed; a gentle and pensive melancholy fell upon him; so far from men and their stunted civilization, he felt himself nearer to God, and his simple faith was heightened by the admiration aroused in him by these secrets of nature, which were partly unveiled in his presence.