"One moment. Can you do without Ruperto for a little while?"
"Yes."
"What's the matter?" the latter asked.
"You can do me a service."
"Speak, Marksman, I am waiting."
"No man can foresee the future. Perhaps, in a few days we shall need allies on whom we may be able to count. These allies the Chief here present will give us whenever we ask for them. Accompany him to his village, Ruperto: and, so soon as he has arrived there, leave him, and take up our trail—not positively joining us, but managing so that, if necessary, we should know where to find you."
"I have understood," the hunter said, laconically, as he rose. "All right."
Marksman turned to Flying Eagle, and explained what he wanted of him.
"My brother saved Eglantine," the Chief answered, nobly; "Flying Eagle is a sachem of his tribe. Two hundred warriors will follow the warpath at the first signal from my father. The Comanches are men; the words they utter come from the heart."
"Thanks, Chief," Marksman answered, warmly pressing the hand the Redskin extended to him; "may the Wacondah watch over you during your journey!"