In the centre of a large clearing, illumined by three or four fires, some twenty men were encamped, picturesquely grouped round the fires, and joyously preparing their evening meal, while their horses grazed a short distance off. These horsemen, whom Flying Eagle recognized at the first glance, were Don Leo de Torres, Brighteye, and the Gambusinos detached in pursuit of Don Estevan. The Indian approached the fire near which Don Leo and the hunters were seated, and stopped in front of them.
"May the Wacondah watch over my brothers!" he said, in salutation; "a friend has come to visit them."
"He is welcome," Don Leo answered gracefully, as he held out his hand.
"Yes," Brighteye went on, "a thousand times welcome; though there's reason that his presence should surprise us."
The Chief bowed, and took his place between the two whites.
"How is it we meet you here?" the hunter asked.
"The question my brother asks me at this moment is exactly what I was preparing to ask myself."
"How so?" Don Miguel asked.
"Does not my brother, the Paleface, know where he is at this moment?"
"Not at all. Since our separation, we have constantly followed the trail of an enemy, though we could not catch him up; that trail has led us to parts strange to Brighteye himself."