"You are a better judge than I in such a matter, sir; as you insist on it, I will go," the hunter said, with a mournful shake of his head.
"Above all, be prudent, do not expose yourself to risk in quitting the camp."
The hunter smiled disdainfully.
"You know," he said, "that the Redskins cannot harm me."
"That is true; I forgot it," the young man said, laughingly; "so, good-bye, my friend, stay no longer, but go, and joy be with you."
"Good-bye, Mr. Edward; will you not give me a shake of the hand before we part, not knowing whether we shall ever meet again?"
"Most gladly, for are we not brothers?"
"That is famous," the hunter said, joyfully, as he pressed the Count's offered hand.
The two men presently separated. The Count fell back on the pile of furs that served as his bed, while the hunter, after assuring himself that his arms were in good condition, quitted the tent. With his rifle under his arm, and head erect, he crossed the camp. The Indians did not seem at all to trouble themselves at the hunter's presence among them, and allowed him to depart unimpeded.
Bright-eye, when he had gone about two musket shots from the camp, stopped, and began reflecting on what was best to be done to liberate the Count; after a few moments' reflection, his mind was made up, and he proceeded toward the squatter's settlement with that long trot peculiar to the hunters.