"Now, sleep," Valentine bade them. "I will awake you when necessary, for you will have smart work tonight."
And joining example to precept, Valentine lay down on the ground, closed his eyes, and slept. At about an hour after sunset, he woke again; he looked around, his comrades were still asleep, but one was absent—Curumilla.
"Good," Valentine thought; "the chief has seen something, and gone to reconnoitre."
He had scarce finished this aside, when he noticed two shadows standing out vaguely in the night; the hunter darted behind a tree, and cocked his rifle. At the same instant, the cry of the swan was audible a short distance off.
"Halloh!" said Valentine, as he withdrew his rifle, "Can Curumilla have made another prisoner? Let me have a look."
A few minutes later, Curumilla arrived, closely followed by an Indian warrior, who was no other than Black Cat. On seeing him, Valentine repressed with difficulty a cry of surprise.
"My brother is welcome," he said.
"I was expecting my brother," the Apache chief said, simply.
"How so?"
"My brother is on the trail of Red Cedar?"