Still, he placed himself before them, crossed his arms on his chest, and waited. Then White Gazelle fixed on him an implacable glance, and said, in a voice which made his blood run cold:—
"Nathan, the chiefs wish you to perform one of those miracles of which the sorcerers of their tribes possess the secret, and of which they are so liberal."
All eyes were curiously turned to the American; all awaited his reply to judge whether he was a brave man or coward. He understood this, for he shrugged his shoulders with, disdain, and answered, with a haughty smile:
"The Comanches are dogs and old women—the men of my nation drive them back with whips. They pretend to be so clever, and yet a white man has deceived them, and had it not been for you, Niña, deuce take me if they would have detected me."
"Then you confess you are not an Indian sorcerer?"
"Of course I do. This Indian skin I have put on smells unpleasantly, and oppresses me; I throw it off to resume my proper character, which I ought never to have left."
White Gazelle turned with a smile to Unicorn.
"The chief sees," she said.
"I do see," he replied, and addressing the American, he asked—"Is my brother a warrior in his nation?"
The other grinned.