"Good! Unicorn is a wise chief; he will do what is necessary."
In the meantime the Comanche warriors had formed their ranks, and only awaited the signal of the sachem to start. The Spanish prisoners taken during the night were placed in the centre bound and half naked. Suddenly a disturbance was heard in the camp, and two men rushed panting toward the spot where stood Valentine, the sachem and Curumilla. They were Don Pablo and Father Seraphin, their clothes in disorder, their features haggard, and their faces glistening with perspiration. On reaching their friends, they fell, almost in a fainting state, on the ground. The proper attentions were at once paid them, and the missionary was the first to recover. Don Pablo seemed stupefied; the tears poured incessantly down his cheeks, and he could not utter a word. Valentine felt strangely alarmed.
"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "What has happened? Don Miguel—?"
The missionary shook his head.
"No," he said, "nothing has happened to him, as far as I know."
"Heaven be praised! But what is the matter, father? What misfortune have you to announce to me?"
"A frightful one, indeed, my son," the missionary replied, as he buried his face in his hands.
"Speak, in Heaven's name! Your delay is killing me."
"Doña Clara—"
"Well!" he hunter said, sharply.