"By Jove!" the Count said.
Bright-eye raised his fingers to his mouth, and, as had been agreed with Natah Otann, imitated twice the cry of the owl, with rare perfection. Hardly had the echo of the last cry died away, than a great rumour was heard in the bushes, and, before the three men had time to put themselves in a posture of defence, some twenty Indians rushed upon them, disarmed them in a twinkling, and reduced them to a state of utter defencelessness. The Count shrugged his shoulders, leant against a tree, and, thrusting his glass in his eye, said,—-
"This is very funny."
"Well, I can't see the point of the joke," muttered Ivon, in a grand aside.
Among the Indians, whom it was easy to recognize as Blackfeet, was Natah Otann! After removing the weapons of the white men, so that they could not attempt a surprise this time, he walked towards the hunter.
"I warned Bright-eye," he said.
The hunter smiled contemptuously.
"You warned us after the fashion of Redskins," he replied.
"What does my brother mean?"
"I mean that you warned us of a danger that threatened us, and not that you intended treachery."