"My father will look," the Chief continued, stretching out his arm to the south-west, "does he see that reddish light scarce rising above the horizon?"
Fray Antonio looked attentively in the direction indicated. "Yes," he said, presently, "I do see it."
"Very good; that flame is produced by a campfire of the Palefaces."
"Oh, oh! are you sure of that?"
"Yes; but my father must listen; the Palefaces will receive my father kindly."
"I understand; then I will tell Tranquil that his friend Blue-fox desires to speak with him, point out where he is, and—"
"The magpie is a chattering and brainless bird, which gabbles like an old squaw," the Chief roughly interrupted him; "my father will say nothing."
"Oh!" the monk said, in confusion.
"My father will be careful to do what I order him, if he does not wish his scalp to dry on the lance of a Chief."
Fray Antonio shuddered at this menace.