"No; they are starting for a great buffalo hunt in the prairies, down by the endless river with the golden waves."
"Wah!" the Chief said, with a certain degree of emotion; "then many moons will pass ere I see my brother again."
"Why so, Chief?"
"Does not the great Pale hunter accompany his brothers?"
"No!" Marksman answered, laconically.
"Och! my brother must be laughing. What will the Palefaces do, if he does not accompany them?"
"I am going in the direction of the sun!"
The Indian started, and fixed a piercing glance on the speaker. "The direction of the sun," he said, as if speaking to himself.
"Yes," Marksman continued; "to the evergreen prairies of the country of Acatlan,[2] on the banks of the fair streams of Atonatiah."[3]
The Chief started violently. Marksman remained calm, and apparently indifferent, although he attentively followed the various emotions which contracted the Chief's features, in spite of the mask he tried to draw over them. "My brother is wrong," he said, presently.