"I know it. The palefaces call him Red Cedar, the Indians the Maneater."
"Oh! As for him, chief, you are avenged, for he is dead."
"My father is mistaken."
"How so? Why, I killed him myself."
The Indian shook his head.
"Red Cedar has a hard life," he said: "the blade of the knife my father used was too short. Red Cedar is wounded, but in a few days he will be about again, ready to kill and scalp the Indians."
This news startled the hacendero: the enemy he fancied he had got rid of still lived, and he would have to begin a fresh struggle.
"My father must take care," the chief continued. "Red Cedar has sworn to be avenged."
"Oh! I will not leave him the time. This man is a demon, of whom the earth must be purged at all hazards, before his strength has returned, and he begins his assassinations again."
"I will aid my father in his vengeance."