Valentine, as he said, would have killed Red Cedar without hesitation, like a dog, if chance brought them face to face in a fair fight; but it was repulsive to his feelings and honour to strike a disarmed foe, however vile and unworthy he might be. While inwardly recognising the necessity of finishing once for all with that human-faced tiger called Red Cedar, he was not sorry that another assumed the responsibility of such an act, and constituted himself executioner. White Gazelle carefully watched him, and anxiously followed in his face the various feelings that agitated him, trying to guess his resolution.
"Well?" she asked at the end of a moment.
"What is to be done?" he said.
"Leave me to act; draw in the blockading force, so that it would be impossible for our foe to pass, even if he assumed the shape of a prairie dog, and wait without stirring."
"For long?"
"No; for two days, three at the most; is that too long?"
"Not if you keep your promise."
"I will keep it, or, to speak more correctly, my uncle shall keep it for me."
"That is the same thing."
"No, it is better."