"What?"
"You will receive an awful thrashing."
El Buitre repressed with difficulty a gesture of ill-temper.
"Enough," he said; "you do not know the Indians. This chief is one of the bravest sachems of his tribe. His reputation is immense in the prairies. The warriors placed under his orders are all picked men."
"Very good. Do what you please: I wash my hands of it."
"Can we at least reckon on you?"
"I will execute punctually the orders I received from the general."
"I ask no more."
"Then nothing is changed?"
"Nothing. Always the same hour and the same signal."