"For what purpose?"
"To be strong and everywhere respected: we owe it to our brothers, as they owe it to us; life is only a loan which the Master of Life makes us, on the condition that it is profitable to those who surround us. By what name shall I present my father to the men from whom we may ask asylum and protection?"
"By any you please, my son; as I am no longer to hear my own, any other is a matter of indifference to me."
Sparrowhawk reflected for an instant.
"My father is strong," he said, "his scalp is beginning to resemble the snows of winter, he will henceforth be called the White Buffalo."
"The White Buffalo; be it so," the stranger answered, with a sigh; "that name is as good as another; perhaps I shall thus escape the weapons of those who have sworn my death."
The Indian, charmed at knowing how henceforth to call his friend, then said to him, joyfully—
"In a few days we shall reach a village of Blood Indians or Kenhas, where we shall be received as if we were sons of the nation; my father is wise, I am strong, the Kenhas will be happy to receive us; courage, old father! this country of adoption will be, perhaps, worth your own."
"France, farewell!" the stranger uttered, in a choking voice.
Four days later they reached the village of the Kenhas, where a friendly reception was given them.