"My brother travels amidst the mountains in a bad season; the further he proceeds, the worse will the roads be."
"I do not wish to penetrate further into the mountains," answered the stranger; "I wish to get away."
"Then," said Gueyma, "my brother has lost his way."
"I know it," said the stranger, laconically.
"I do not understand my brother," said Gueyma.
"My companions and I have since the morning taken cognisance of the troop of my brother that we precede on the same path. On perceiving that my brothers made preparations for encamping, we held counsel, and I have been charged to retrace my steps, in order to consult with the chief of the cavaliers by whom we have been followed."
"Epoï!" (good!), resumed Gueyma, smiling; "The eye of my brother is straightforward, his tongue is not double, his heart must be loyal. I am the chief of the Guaycurus warriors, who are behind me. Let my brother explain: the ears of Gueyma are open. My brother may speak freely and without restraint."
As the two Indians perceived they were of different tribes, they had begun the conversation in Spanish—a mixed language that both could understand.
"Those who follow me," said the stranger, "are not sons of our territory, they are palefaces whose hunting grounds are very far from here, in the country where the sun hides himself, down there, behind the great Salt Lake.
"I am their guide in these regions which they explore and which they do not know. They come openly to ask aid and protection of my brother, claiming the rights of Indian hospitality, till they consider all danger past."