"Never!" the Indian answered, his eye sparkling with satisfied pride. "Unicorn has sent many Apache dogs to the happy hunting grounds: their scalps are drying at the door of his cabin."
"Well," the missionary said gently, "try clemency once, only once, and you will know one of the greatest pleasures God has granted to man on earth—that of pardoning."
The chief shook his head.
"No," he said; "a dead enemy is no longer to be feared. Better to kill than leave him means to avenge himself at a later date."
"My son, you love me, I believe?"
"Yes. My father is good; he has behaved well to the Comanches, and they are grateful. Let my father command, and his son will obey."
"I have no right to give you an order, my son. I can only ask a favour of you."
"Good! My father can explain himself. Unicorn will do what he desires."
"Well, then," said the missionary with a lively feeling of joy, "promise me to pardon the first unhappy man, whoever he may be, who falls into; your hands, and you will render me happy."
The chief frowned, and an expression of dissatisfaction appeared on his features. Father Seraphin anxiously followed on the Comanche's intelligent countenance the different shadows reflected on it as in a mirror. At length the Indian regained his stoicism, and his face grew serene again.