"What do the palefaces care for an Indian's life? He is not a man."
"You wrong me, chief; but I know that misfortune makes men unjust, and I forgive you."
"My brother is generous," the chief remarked ironically.
"More so than you imagine; if you will be pleased to listen without interruption you shall have a proof of it."
"My brother can speak, my ears are open."
"I repeat that for certain present reasons I prefer remaining here, and running the risk of what may happen to trying to escape with you; but, for all that, I will not desert you, and, on the contrary, give you the means to attempt a flight."
"Good, what are the means?"
The Canadian drew his knife from the sheath.
"It is probable," he continued, "that a gaoler will soon come to bring us food, for I do not suppose that they intend us to die of hunger. Take this knife; notice, by the by, that it is a most valuable weapon for a prisoner, and that I give up mine for your sake. When the man to whom I refer appears, you will see what you have to do. Still, avoid killing him if you can, for we must never kill even an enemy unnecessarily."
The Indian seized the knife which the Canadian handed him, brandished it round his head with a laugh of savage joy, and then passed it through his belt.