He then drew his knife, buried it twice in the Indian's heart and lifted his scalp, and letting go of the corpse, which floated swiftly on the river, he leaped into the canoe, which during the short struggle had continued to drift, and brought it back to the isle.
"Hilloh!" Valentine said, laughing; "Where on earth do you come from, chief? I thought you were lost." Without uttering a syllable, Curumilla showed him the bloody scalp hanging from his girdle.
"Good," said Valentine; "I comprehend; my brother is a great warrior, nothing escapes him."
The Araucano smiled proudly. The little party had collected; the embarkation took place at once, and the men, each seizing a paddle, began crossing the river slowly and silently, thanks to Curumilla's precaution of muffling the paddles with leaves.
The hearts of these men, brave as they were, palpitated with fear, for they did not yet dare believe in the success of their daring project.
[CHAPTER XVII.]
INDIAN HOSPITALITY.
Not only was the attempt of the hunters to escape not so desperate as the reader might be inclined to suppose, but it even offered, up to a certain point, great chances of success.
The Apaches, when encamped in sight of an enemy, never keep watch, unless they form a weak detachment of warriors, and find themselves opposed to a far superior force; but even in that case these sentries are so careless that it is extremely easy to surprise them, which often happens, by the way, without rendering them any the more cautious.