"Why?" he said, with a sarcastic smile, "because, as you are perfectly aware, the Indians cannot kill me."
"Ah!" Ivon remarked, stupefied by this reason, and gazing on his friend with admiration.
"That is the state of the case," Bright-eye ended his address, and stamped his rifle on the ground.
In the meanwhile the Redskins advanced rapidly. The band was composed of one hundred and fifty warriors at least, the majority armed with guns, which proved they were picked men. At the head of the band, and about ten yards in advance, galloped two horsemen, probably Chiefs. The Indians stopped just out of range of the entrenchments; then, after consulting together for a few minutes, a horseman left the group, and, riding within pistol shot of the palisades, he waved a buffalo robe.
"Eh! eh! Master Black," Bright-eye said, with a cunning smile, "that is addressed to you as the chief of the garrison. The Redskins wish to parley."
"Ah!" the-American said, "I have a great mind to send a bullet after that rascal parading down, as my sole answer," and he raised his rifle.
"Mind what you are about," the hunter said, "you do not know the Redskins. So long as the first shot is not fired, there is a chance of treating with them."
"Suppose, old hunter," Ivon said, "you were to do something?"
"What is it, my prudent friend?" the Canadian asked.
"Why, as you are not afraid of being killed by the Redskins, suppose you go to them. Perhaps you could arrange matters with them."