"Oh, oh! Is that your final word?"
"The last; in half an hour I will come for your answer."
And he turned to go out. The Count bounded like a jaguar, and stood before the Chief, his gun in one hand, his knife in the other.
"A moment," he shouted.
"Wah!" the Chief said, crossing his hands on his wide chest, and gazing at them sarcastically. "You had taken your precautions, it appears."
"By Jove!" Bright-eye said, with a grin; "I rather fancy it is our turn to make conditions."
"Perhaps so," Natah Otann replied, coolly; "but I have no time to lose in vain words; let me pass, gentlemen."
Bright-eye threw himself quickly before the door.
"Come, Chief," he said, "things cannot end like that; we are not old women to be frightened. Before we are fastened to the stake, we will kill you."
The Chief shrugged his shoulders disdainfully,