"Good," the chief said, "two warriors will come."
The Apaches consulted for an instant together, and then took from among the lofty grass in which it was concealed a light raft, which the hunters had not noticed, and prepared to gain the island.
The whites awaited them, resting on their rifles, apparently careless, but anxiously watching the shrubs on the bank, behind which the Apache warriors were doubtless hidden, and watching them in their turn.
The Indians landed and walked toward the hunters with all the etiquette prescribed by the law of the prairies. On seeing that the Indians were unarmed, Valentine handed his rifle to Don Pablo, who laid it a few paces behind him.
"Good," Black Cat muttered, with a smile; "my brother acts loyally. I expected that from him."
"Hum, chief!" Valentine answered, sharply; "Enough of compliments—what have you to say to me?"
"My pale brother does not like to lose time in vain words," the Indian said; "he is a wise man. I bring him the propositions of the principal chiefs of the tribe."
"Let us hear them, chief. If they are just, although we are not in so bad a position as you may suppose, we may possibly accept them, merely for the sake of saving bloodshed."
"There are at this moment more than two hundred warriors assembled on the riverbank; tomorrow there will be five hundred. Now, as the palefaces have no canoes, as they are not otters to plunge unseen into the 'endless river,' or birds to soar in the air—"
"What next?" Valentine interrupted him impertinently.