"Most frequently they collect green wood: in that case the wood, which is damp, produces in burning a white thick smoke, very difficult to hide on the prairie; while the Indians only employ dry wood, whose smoke is light, thin, almost impalpable, and soon becomes confused with the sky."
"Decidedly, on the desert," Don Pablo said, with an air of conviction, "the Indians are better than us; we shall never come up to them."
"Humph!" said Valentine; "If you were to live with them a while, they would teach you plenty more things."
"Look," Eagle-wing continued; "what did I tell you?"
In fact, during this conversation the hunters had continued their journey, and at this moment were not more than a hundred yards from the spot where the fire burned which had given rise to so many comments. Two Indians, completely armed and equipped for war, were standing in front of the travellers, waving their buffalo robes in sign of peace.
Valentine quivered with joy on recognising them; these men were Comanches, that is to say, friends and allies, since the hunter was an adopted son of that nation. Valentine ordered his little party to halt, and carelessly throwing his rifle on his back, he pushed on, and soon met the still motionless Indians.
After exchanging the different questions always asked in such cases on the prairie, as to the state of the roads and the quantity of game, the hunter, though he was well aware of the fact, asked the Indians to what nation they belonged.
"Comanches," one of the warriors answered, proudly. "My nation is the Queen of the Prairies."
Valentine bowed, as if fully convinced. "I know," he said, "that the Comanches are invincible warriors. Who can resist them?"
It was the Indian's turn to bow, with a smile of satisfaction at this point-blank compliment.