"No." Joan replied; "it was Curumilla that sent me."
"Curumilla!" the three men cried.
Don Tadeo breathed more freely.
"Curumilla is my friend," he said; "no harm has happened to him, I hope?"
"Here are his poncho and his hat," Joan replied.
"Heavens!" Louis exclaimed—"he is dead!"
"No," said the Indian, "Curumilla is brave and wise. Joan had carried off the young, pale, blue-eyed maiden; Curumilla might have killed Joan; he was not willing to do so; he preferred making a friend of him."
"Curumilla is good," Don Tadeo replied; "his heart is large and his soul is not cruel."
"Joan was the chief of those who carried off the young white girl. Curumilla changed clothes with him," the Indian continued, sententiously; "and said 'Go and seek the Great Eagle of the Whites, and tell him that Curumilla will save the young maiden, or perish!' Joan has come."
"My brother has acted well," said Don Tadeo.