The young chief turned sharply to his companion, looking at him with the most lively surprise:
"I begged you," resumed the old man, without in any way manifesting emotion, "not to show on your countenance any sentiments which, during our conversation, might agitate your heart. Collect yourself, then, my friend, in order to avoid awakening the suspicions of our warriors, and allow me to continue."
"I am listening to you; but what you say to me is so extraordinary—"
"That you do not understand me—is that it? But, patience; you will soon have the explanation of this mystery, especially as I shall be able to give you this explanation without perilling the success of the projects that I meditate."
"All this appears to me so strange," said Gueyma, "that my reason almost refuses to comprehend it."
The Cougar smiled silently, and after having cast an inquiring look around him, he unaffectedly approached his companion, and, leaning towards his ear—
"Do you like the whites?" he asked.
"No," decisively answered the chief; "but I do not entertain any hatred towards them. It is true," added he, with an ill-concealed bitterness, "that I am too young yet to have had to suffer from their tyranny."
"Just so; however, my friend, if it is allowable for me to boast before you of my experience, let me tell you that every sentiment is unjust when it is exclusive; that the life you have led, the examples you have had under your eyes, indispose you towards the company of the whites. I understand this, and do not reproach you with it; but you should not, even if you should have had to complain of one or of several of them, render them all responsible for the crime of some, and include them in the same hatred. Amongst the whites there are some good. I even intend soon to make you acquainted with one of them."
"Me!" cried the young man.