The Guaycurus warriors, stretched before the fires, slept, enveloped in their ponchos.
But the sentinels watched, and were motionless as bronze statues, their eyes open to the surrounding country, and their ears ready for the least sound.
A complete calm reigned in the desert; the night was warm, clear, and starlight.
The Cougar looked for a moment pensively at his companion, and then, after looking inquiringly around him—
"Of what is Gueyma thinking at this moment?" said he, with a gentle voice, and in a tone of tender nation; "Is he communing with his heart? Do his thoughts recall the pleasant memory of Dove's Eye, the Virgin with the azure eyes or is his spirit busy with the meeting scheduled for tomorrow?"
The young man trembled, raised his head and cast an uncertain look, in which a spark glowed, on the old chief, who looked at him sadly.
"No," he replied with a voice, silent and broken by inner emotion: "my father has not clearly read in the heart of his son; the memory of Dove's eye is ever present in Gueyma's soul: she need not be called up to shine even more. The result of the conference that will take place tomorrow is not of the young chief's concern. His mind is elsewhere; he wanders in the midst of the clouds guided by the wind to seek his father."
The face of the old chief suddenly grew dark with these words; he frowned his brow and answered after a while with an uncertain, emotional voice:
"Is that thought still tormenting you, my son?"
"Still!" replied the young man with some animation; "Until the Cougar has fulfilled his promise."