"Blue-fox!" said Lanzi.
"Ah," Tranquil said, ironically and with a dark frown, "I have known Blue-fox for many years, and you, Chief?" he added, turning to Black-deer.
The name of the Apache Sachem had produced such an impression on the Pawnee, that the hunter was startled by it. The Indians retain under all circumstances an apathetic mask, which they consider it an honour not to remove, whatever may happen; but the mere name of Blue-fox, pronounced as if by accident, was sufficient to melt that indifference, and cause Black-deer to forget Indian etiquette.
"Blue-fox is a dog, the son of a coyote," he said, as he spat on the ground disdainfully; "the gypaètes would refuse to devour his unclean carcase."
"These two men must have a mortal hatred for each other," the Canadian muttered, as he took a sideglance at the inflamed features and sparkling eyes of the Indian Chief.
"Will my brother kill Blue-fox?" the Pawnee asked.
"It is probable," Tranquil answered; "but in the first place, let us try to play this master rogue a trick, who fancies us stupid enough to be caught in the clumsy snares he lays in our path. Be frank, monk, have you told us the truth?"
"On my honour."
"I should prefer any other oath," the Canadian said ironically, in a low voice. "Can you be trusted?"
"Yes."