"Quite right, chief; you have hit it the first time. I was afraid of the fire."
"Good!" the Apache continued, with a mocking smile peculiar to himself. "My brother is not alone. Where is the Great Buffalo?"
"Eh? I do not know the Great Buffalo, chief. I don't even know whom you are talking about."
"All the palefaces have a forked tongue. Why does not my brother speak the truth?"
"I am quite willing to do so, but I do not understand you."
"The Black Bear is a great Apache warrior; he can speak the language of his nation, but he knows badly that of the Yoris."
"I did not mean that. You express yourself excellently in Castilian, but you are speaking of a person I do not know."
"Wah! Is that possible?" the Indian said, with feigned amazement. "Does not my brother know the warrior with whom he was two days ago?"
"O! Now I understand; you are talking of Don Martial. Yes, certainly I know him."
"Good!" the chief replied; "I knew that I was not mistaken. Why is my brother not with him at this moment?"