The Indian did not seem willing to explain himself more clearly; he turned his head, and, after a moment, said, "My brother will see."
"I am strong—well-armed. I care very little for those who would try to surprise us."
"One man is not worth ten," the Indian remarked, sententiously.
"Who knows?" the young man answered, lightly. "But," he continued, "that is not the question of the moment. I have come here to seek the news the Chief promised me."
"The promise of Addick is sacred."
"I know it, Chief, and that is why I did not hesitate to come. But time is slipping away. I have a long journey to go, to join my comrades again. A storm is getting up; and I confess that I should like very little to be exposed to it during my return. Be kind enough to be brief."
The Chief bowed in assent, and pointed to a place by his side.
"Good. Now begin, Chief; I am all attention," Don Miguel said, as he threw himself on the ground. "And, in the first place, how comes it that I have not seen you till today?"
"Because," the Indian answered, phlegmatically, "as my brother knows, it is far from here to Queche Pitao (the City of God). A warrior is but a man; Addick has accomplished impossibilities to join his Paleface brother sooner."
"Be it so, Chief; I thank you. Now let us come to facts. What has happened to you since our parting?"