"Are you sure of what you say?" asked the old man.
"Kouha-hande knew him," replied the chief.
"Go on," gloomily remarked old Berger.
"The two men approached each other, spoke for a long time in a low tone, and then separated, after exchanging one phrase, which the sachem heard distinctly. This phrase, which seemed to summarise their conversation, was—"
"'You swear upon your honour that she will be quite safe and respected in every way,' said the squatter."
"'As if she were my own sister or daughter, I swear unto you,' replied the hunter."
"The two men then parted. That was all. Two hours passed away. Just about the time when the blue jay begins its first song, the sachem, who had remained still in his hiding place, his eye and ear on the strain, heard a noise approaching rapidly, like that of a number of people who, fearing no surprise, thought it useless to take any precautions. They soon came in sight. They were no less than thirty palefaces, armed with rifles. They surrounded the hut and attacked it on all sides."
"The squatter and his servants defended themselves like people taken by surprise—that is, feebly."
"The assailants soon entered the hut. My grandfather now heard a great tumult inside. But he was alone, could do no good, and therefore remained in his hiding place. At the end of an hour the men came out, escorting a fainting female, who was wrapped in a frazada. Satisfied with the result of their expedition, they went off without even closing the doors behind them. Kouha-hande waited some little time, and then, convinced that the assailants had departed, went into the wigwam."
"All was in disorder. The furniture was overthrown and broken; the squatter, his wife, and servants, tied and gagged, lay on the floor. The sachem hastened to stir up the fire, then he lighted some torches, after which he set all the people at liberty. Even then for some time they were unable to move or speak."