"At the latest, on the first day of next month. Why this question?"
"My brother is a Paleface: if Addick himself does not introduce him into the Queche, the white Chief cannot enter it."
"That is true; at the period I stated, I will meet you at the foot of the mound where we parted."
"Addick will be there."
"Good! I count upon you; but now I must leave you: night is rapidly falling; the wind is beginning to blow furiously. I must be off."
"Farewell," the Chief said laconically, making no attempt to stop him.
"Good-bye."
The young man leapt into the saddle, and started at full speed. Addick watched him depart with a pensive air; then, when he had disappeared behind a clump of trees, he leaned slightly forward, and imitated twice the hiss of a cobra capello. At this signal the branches of a thicket a short distance from the fire parted cautiously, and a man appeared. After looking suspiciously around him, he walked toward the Chief, in front of whom he stopped.
The man was Don Stefano Cohecho. "Well?" he said.
"Has my father heard?" the Indian asked, in an equivocal tone.