The Canadian stooped down to Ivon, and whispered some words in his ear.
"Yes," the Breton replied, "provided I am not afraid."
"Bravo!" the hunter said, with a smile; "you will do what you can. That is agreed?"
"Agreed."
"Look out, comrades," the Count shouted; "here are the enemy!"
In truth, the Indians were ready to renew the attack. Natah Otann and White Buffalo were resolved on taking the Count alive, and without a wound; they had consequently given their warriors orders not to employ their firearms, content themselves with parrying the blows dealt them, but take him at every risk. During the few moments' respite which the Indians had allowed the white men, the other Indians had run up to take part in the fight; so that the hunters, surrounded on all sides, had to make head against at least forty Redskins. It would have been madness or blind temerity to attempt opposing such a mass of enemies; and yet the white men did not appear to dream of asking quarter. At the moment Natah Otann was going to give the signal for attack, White Buffalo, who had hitherto stood aloof, gloomy and thoughtful, interposed,—
"A moment!" he said.
"For what good?" the Chief remarked.
"Let me make the attempt. Perhaps they will recognize that a struggle is impossible, and consent to accept our propositions."
"I doubt it," Natah Otann muttered, shaking his head; "they appear very resolute."