"Eh! why should I not do it? Nothing is more easy; as soon as we have rejoined the tribe, since my brother is not willing to dwell with us, his desires shall be satisfied."
There was a moment of silence. The old man, believing the conversation terminated, prepared to retire; with a gesture, the chief ordered him to remain.
After a few instants, the Indian shook the ashes out of his pipe, passed the shank of it through his belt, and fixing upon the Spaniard a glance marked by a strange expression, he said, in a sad voice,—
"My brother is happy, although he has seen many winters, he does not walk alone in the path of life."
"What does the chief mean?" the old man asked; "I do not understand."
"My brother has a family," the Comanche replied.
"Alas! my brother is deceived; I am alone in this world."
"What does my brother say? Has he not his mate?" A sad smile passed over the pale lips of the old man.
"No," he said, after a moment's pause; "I have no mate."
"What is that woman to him, then?" said the chief, with feigned surprise, and pointing to the Spanish woman, who stood pensive and silent by the side of the old man.