"Permit me," the Count remarked coolly, drawing his watch from his pocket, "it is now half-after seven; you have our parole till the same time tomorrow evening."
"Very good," White Buffalo said, with a bow.
"And now, where are you going to take us, if you please?" the hunter asked, with a crafty look.
"To the village!"
"Thank you."
The two men jumped into their saddles, and followed the Indians, who only waited for them to start. Ten minutes later, this place, on which so many events had occurred during the day, became again calm and silent.
We will leave the Count and the hunter returning to the village under good escort, to follow the track of Ivon.
After leaving the battlefield, the latter rode straight ahead, not caring to lose precious time in looking for a path; for the moment all were good, provided that they bore him from the enemies he had so providentially escaped. Still, after galloping for about an hour across the wood, reassured by the perfect silence that prevailed around him, he gradually checked his horse's speed. It was high time for this idea to occur to him, as the poor horse, so harshly treated, was beginning to break down. The Breton profited by this slight truce to reload his weapons.
"I am not brave," he said in a low voice, "but by Jove! as my poor master says, the first scamp that attempts to bar my way, I will blow out his brains, so surely as my name is Ivon."
And the worthy man would have done as he said, we feel assured. After advancing a few hundred yards, Ivon looked around, stopped his horse, and dismounted.