The Canadian could not repress a movement of surprise; the Blackfoot was unarmed, his girdle was empty: he had not even his scalping knife,—that weapon from which the Indians part so unwillingly. Bright-eye offered him his hand.
"Shake hands, chief," he said to him. "You are a man of heart: now speak, I am listening to you: and, in the first place, will you have a draught of firewater?"
"The firewater is an evil counsellor," the chief replied, with a smile; "it makes the Indians mad: Natah Otann does not drink it."
"Come, come, I see that I was mistaken with regard to you, chief; that pleases me: speak, my ears are open."
"What I have to say to Bright-eye other ears must not listen to."
"My friends are in a deep sleep, you can speak without fear; and even if they were awake, as you know, they do not understand your language."
The Indian shook his head.
"Glass-eye knows everything," he replied, "the Grizzly Bear will not speak before him."
"As you please, chief: still, I would remark that I have nothing to say to you: you can speak, therefore, or be silent at your ease."
Natah Otann seemed to hesitate for an instant, and then continued:—