Blue-fox reflected for an instant, and then replied, with an ironical smile playing round his thin lips—
"Good; my father is right. He can follow me, then."
"It is evident," the monk thought to himself, "that this accursed pagan is devising some treachery. But I will watch him, and at the slightest suspicious movement I will blow out his brains like the dog he is."
But he kept these reflections to himself, and followed the Chief with an easy and perfectly indifferent air. In the moonbeams, which allowed objects to be distinguished for a considerable distance, they soon perceived, on the extreme verge of the forest, the dark outline of a man leaning on a rifle.
"Ah," the Chief said, "we must make ourselves known."
"That need not trouble you. I take it on myself to warn the hunter when the time arrives."
"Good," the Indian muttered, and they continued to advance.
Blue-fox, though he placed confidence in his companion, only advanced, however, with extreme caution and prudence, examining the shrubs, and even the smallest tufts of grass, as if assuring himself that they concealed no enemy. But, with the exception of the man they perceived before them, the place seemed plunged in profound solitude; all was calm and motionless; no unusual sound troubled the silence.
"Let us stop here," said Fray Antonio, "it would be imprudent for us to advance further without announcing ourselves, although the hunter has probably recognized us already; for, as you perceive, Chief, he has not made the slightest move."
"That is true, but it is as well to be cautious," the other replied.