The Indian said no more, but bowed his head in token of acquiescence. But he smiled with such a keen and subtle irony that the hunter was so deeply moved as to blush.
"I fear nothing for myself," he cried.
"Eh, what!" exclaimed Charbonneau, stretching out his arm towards the river, "What is going on?"
Every eye was fixed upon the spot indicated by the hunter's sudden exclamation.
"It is a canoe," said George Clinton.
"Manned by two men," observed Charbonneau.
"And those two men," said the chief, after one glance from his eagle eye, "are two palefaces. He knows them well. One is the old hunter called Sharpear, the other the son of my nation—Leave-no-trail."
"My father and my grandfather!" cried Bright-eye, in utter surprise. "Surely, chief, you must be mistaken. Why should they come here?"
"Very likely," observed Oliver, gently, "the same motive leads them here that has led us."
Meanwhile the canoe, impelled by vigorous arms, approached with extreme rapidity, and soon was at no very great distance from the camp of the hunters. Then it turned rapidly towards the shore, and its bow was soon stuck in the sand.