"No one knows her," the hunter answered, in a low voice, "she is a woman whose mysterious life has hitherto foiled the most careful attempts at investigation: she does no harm to any but the Indians, whose implacable foe she appears to be: the Redskins affirm that she is invulnerable, that bullets and arrows rebound from her without doing her any injury. I have often seen her, though I have had no opportunity of speaking with her. I believe her to be mad, for I have seen her perform some of the wildest freaks at some moments, though at others she appears in full possession of her senses: in a word, she is an incomprehensible being, who leads an extraordinary life in the heart of the prairies."
"Is she alone?"
"Always."
"You excite my curiosity to the highest degree," the Count said; "no one, I suppose, could give me any information about this woman?"
"One person could do so, if he cared to speak."
"Who's that?"
"Natah Otann," the hunter said, in a low voice.
"That is strange," the Count muttered; "what can there be in common between him and this woman?"
Bright-eye only answered by a significant glance.
The conversation was broken off, and at the chief's order the Blackfeet remounted their horses.