"Black Cat is one of the great sachems of his tribe, nothing is hidden from him. At this moment all the pirates of the prairie, joined by the half-breeds, are advancing to surround the rock which serves as a refuge to the great pale warrior; tomorrow, perhaps, six thousand redskin warriors will be here. My sister can, therefore, see that her vengeance is assured; unless the palefaces fly through the air, or plunge into the waters, which cannot happen—they are lost."
The young girl made no reply; not thinking of the chief, whose piercing eye was fixed on her, she rose and began walking up and down in great agitation.
"Oh Heavens!" she said in a low voice, "They are lost! Oh, why am I but a woman, and can do nothing for them? How can they be saved?"
"What does my sister say? Has the Wacondah troubled her mind?" the chief asked her, as he stood before her, and laid a hand on her shoulder.
The Spaniard looked at him for a moment, then let her head fall in her hands, muttering in a choking voice,—
"Oh, Heavens! I am mad."
Black Cat took a searching glance around, and then bent down to the girl's ear.
"My sister must follow me," he said, in a firm and significant voice.
White Gazelle raised her head, and looked at him; the chief laid a finger, on his lip, as if to recommend silence to her, and, turning his back, entered the wood. The girl followed him anxiously, and they walked on thus tor some minutes. At length they reached the top of a mound denuded of trees, where the eye could survey all around. Black Cat stopped and made the girl a sign to approach him.
"Here we can talk; let my sister speak; my ears are open."