"Good!" the latter replied, not adding another word.
He left his hiding place, and walked forward, with a pistol in one hand, and a tomahawk in the other, stopping at intervals to look around him, and listen to those thousand sounds, without any known cause, which at night trouble the silence, though it is impossible to guess whence they come, or what produces them. On getting about one hundred yards from the spot where the landing was effected, the hunter stopped, and began gently whistling the first strains of a Canadian air. Another whistle answered his, and finished the tune he had purposely broken off. Footsteps were heard, and a man showed himself. It was Quoniam, the Negro.
"Here I am," he said. "Where are your men?"
"Hidden behind the rocks close by."
"Call them up, for we have not a moment to lose."
Tranquil clapped his hands twice, and a moment later the Captain and his men had rejoined him.
"Where is the person we have come to deliver concealed?" the Captain asked.
"At a rancho about two miles from here. I will lead you to it."
There was a moment's silence, during which the Captain studied the Negro's noble face, his black flashing eye, which glistened with boldness and honour; and he asked himself whether such a man could be a traitor? Quoniam seemed to read his thoughts, for he said to him, as he laid his hand on the Canadian's shoulder—
"If I had intended to betray; you, it would have been done ere now. Trust to me, Captain; I owe my life to Tranquil. I almost witnessed the birth of the maiden you wish to save. My friendship and gratitude answer to you for my fidelity. Let us start."