"Good I believe it to be; but are you still resolved to break the truce that seven moons ago you concluded with the whites?"
"What is that to the sertanejo?" drily answered the Guaycurus.
"I want to know before explaining to you what brings me here."
"Let the warrior speak, and the captains will hear him; they will judge of the truth of his words."
"Very well; this is why I wish to ask you the question. I know the honour that you carry into all your transactions—even with the whites. If you consent, as I know for some days they have begged you, to prolong the truce, I should have nothing to propose to you, for the simple reason that you would refuse to give me your assistance against the people with whom you would be at peace. You see I speak to you frankly."
These words, which manifested the respect of the Indians for their pledged faith, and for the honesty which they import into their relations with their mortal enemies, were, notwithstanding the praise they implied, listened to coldly.
"Two suns have already passed," proudly answered the Guaycurus, "since I notified to the Paulistas the rupture of the truce."
Malco Diaz, master as he was of himself, could not suppress a gesture of satisfaction at this declaration.
"So you have recommenced the war," said he.
"Yes," briefly answered the Indian.