We know what happened, and how this trick, at first so successful, was foiled by Curumilla. On seeing his son fall, the squatter was momentarily affected by a blind rage, and pointed his rifle at the Indian. Fortunately the monk saw the imprudent gesture soon enough to check him. "What are you about?" he hoarsely whispered, as he struck up the barrel; "you will destroy your daughter."
"That is true," the squatter muttered.
Ellen, by an extraordinary hazard, had seen nothing; had she done so, it is probable that her brother's death would have drawn from her a cry of agony, which must have denounced her companions.
"Oh," Red Cedar said, "still that accursed Trail-hunter and his devil of an Indian. They alone can conquer me."
The fugitives remained for an hour in a state of terrible alarm, not daring to stir, through fear of being discovered. They were so close to their pursuers that they distinctly heard what they said, but at length the speakers retired, the torches were put out, and all became silent again.
"Ouf!" said the monk, "they have gone.
"Not all," the squatter answered; "did you not hear that accursed Valentine?"
"That is true; our retreat is still cut off."
"We must not despair yet; for the present we have nothing to fear here; rest a little while, while I go on the search."
"Hum!" Fray Ambrosio muttered; "why not go all together? That would be more prudent, I think."