Bright-eye smiled.
"You always judge from your knowledge obtained in the civilized world, Mr. Edward," he answered.
"Which means—?" the young man said, intensely piqued at the observation.
"That you are always wrong."
"Hang it, my friend! You will allow me to observe, all individuality apart, that it is impossible at this distance to recognize anybody. Especially when nothing can be distinguished, save a little white smoke."
"Is not that enough? Do you believe that all smoke is alike?"
"That is rather a subtle distinction; and I confess that to me all smoke is alike."
"That's where the error is," the Canadian continued, with great coolness, "and when you have spent a few years in the prairie you will not be deceived."
The Count looked at him attentively, convinced that he was laughing at him; but the other continued, with the utmost calmness—
"What we notice down there is neither the fire of Indians nor of hunters, but is kindled by white men, not yet accustomed to a desert life."