"Yes."
"Red Cedar is there," said Black Cat, pointing in the direction of the river.
"Far?"
"About half an hour."
"Good. How does my red brother know it?" the hunter asked, with ill-concealed suspicion.
"The great pale warrior is the brother of Black Cat; he saved his life. The redskins have a long memory. Black Cat assembled his young men, and followed Red Cedar to deliver him to his brother Koutonepi."
Valentine did not for an instant doubt the good faith of the Apache Chief; he knew how religiously the Indians keep their oaths. Black Cat had formed an alliance with him, and he could place implicit confidence in his words.
"Good," he said, "I will wake the pale warriors; my brother will guide us."
The Indian bowed and folded his arms on his chest. A quarter of an hour later, the hunters reached the encampment of the redskins, when they found that Black Cat had spoken the truth, for he had one hundred picked warriors with him, so cleverly concealed in the grass that ten paces off it was impossible to perceive them.
Black Cat drew Valentine aside, and led him a short distance from the bivouac.