"That is true," the two chiefs answered, with a deferential bow; "my brother is beloved and esteemed by all the Apaches."
"Thanks. Now listen to me: the maiden you call White Lily, and whom you made prisoner, is free by right and in fact, and you know very well that you have no right to ask her of me."
"Several of our brothers, the most valiant warriors of our tribe, have gone to the happy hunting grounds before their hour marked by the Wacondah: their blood cries for vengeance."
"That does not concern me; these were killed fighting like brave men, and those are the chances of war."
"My brother has spoken well," Black Cat said. "The Lily is free; she can remain with the warriors of her nation. I consent to it. But my brother cannot refuse to give up to me the Indian hidden in his camp."
"That Indian is my friend," the hunter answered nobly; "he is not my prisoner, that I can deliver him up. I have no right to compel him to leave me. If he prefers to remain with us, the chief knows that hospitality is sacred on the prairie; if Moukapec wishes to return to his brothers, he is free. But what interest have the Apaches in my giving this man into their hands?"
"He has betrayed his nation, and must be punished."
"Do you imagine, chief, that I should deliberately, and stifling every feeling of gratitude within me, place in your hands a man I love, whose devotion is known to me, in order that you may kill him with horrible torture? On my soul, chief, you must be mad."
"You must do it, or woe to you!" Black Cat said with a degree of heat he could not repress.
"It shall not be," Valentine answered coldly.