"Trust me for that; the traitor shall not escape me, so truly as my name is. Brighteye," the hunter answered energetically.
"Good! my brother will kill his enemy, and hang up his scalp at the entrance of his wigwam."
"No, no, Chief; that revenge may suit a Redskin, but it is not that of a man of my race and colour."
"What will my brother do, then?"
The hunter smiled cleverly, but after a few moments continued the conversation, though not in answer to the Indian's questions. "How long have I been here?" he said.
"About an hour."
"No longer?"
"No."
"Heaven be praised. My assassin cannot be gone far."
"Och! An evil conscience is a powerful spur," the Indian observed, sententiously.