It was the first time Oliver, since his journey on the prairies, had seen an Indian so near, and under such favourable circumstances. He at once formed a friendly opinion of him.
The chief bowed, and then pointed to the sun gilding the summits of the trees.
"It is five o'clock. Here is Numank-Charake."
"I say welcome, chief. I know your extreme punctuality. Supper is ready."
"Good," said the chief, alighting from his horse with one bound.
Bright-eye then placed his hands on his friend's shoulders.
"Let my brother listen. The hunter is my friend."
"Numank-Charake has read it in the eyes of Bright-eye," replied the Indian, turning to Oliver; "I put my hand on my heart, what will my brother give me in return?"
"My hand and my heart; that is," he added, with a smile, "all that is not Bright-eye's."
"I accept my share; henceforth we are three in one, one in three. Numank-Charake was once the Bounding Panther. Let that name be the name of my brother."