In the meanwhile the night had become more and more gloomy; the wind had risen in the north-east, driving before it heavy grey clouds, which intercepted the moonbeams, and collected over the canyon. The count, obliged to keep silent, and worn out by the fatigue of a long ride, felt his eyelids involuntarily droop. At first he resisted the lethargy that assailed him; but, as he could not change his position, he soon found it impossible to carry on the struggle. His head fell on his chest, his eyes closed, he let his rifle fall, and went fast asleep. The adventurer gazed at him for a moment with an expression of pity mingled with pride.
"A valiant soldier for all that," he muttered, "but incapable of withstanding the fatigue of a lengthened watch in the presence of the Indians; better for him to sleep in peace."
Then, with an anxiety which had something filial in its rough kindness, he took off his thick zarapé, of Indian manufacture, and carefully wrapped him up, the speaker saying in a whisper—
"The dew is heavy at this season of the year, and the nights are cold."
And he resumed his watch, looking around him carefully, in order to assure himself that, during the few seconds he had employed in doing this service to the count, no suspicious movement had occurred outside. Suddenly he started, and his eyes, obstinately fixed on an adjacent thicket, seemed trying to pierce the gloom. Gradually raising his rifle, whose barrel was browned, in order that the moonbeams might not be reflected from it, he cocked and raised it, but at the sound of the hammer a shadow emerged from the centre of the clump, and holding out its arms to the hunter, several times waved a buffalo robe.
At this signal of peace, which was familiar to him, the hunter, without lowering his rifle, so that he might be able to resist any attempted treachery, sharply asked the person standing motionless in front of him, who he was and what he wanted.
"My brother the Sumach is a great paleface brave," the stranger answered; "a chief wishes to sit at his fire, and smoke in council with him."
The hunter, on hearing the name of the Sumach, by which the Indians ordinarily designated him, understood that he was recognized; but he cared very little about it, for he was perfectly aware that the redskins knew the number of white men hidden by the rocks.
"You are drunk, redskin," he answered sharply. "Go and sleep off your mezcal and firewater. This is not the hour to try and enter a war encampment."
"The Sumach is wise," the Indian continued. "His medicine is powerful. What does he fear from one man? The White Crow is a great chief in his nation, and his tongue is not forked."