The horses completely caparisoned, stood hobbled, and held by half a score warriors, ready to be mounted.
Hunters and redskins were coming and going in a busy, preoccupied manner.
A rare and almost unknown thing among Indians, sentinels were placed at regular distances to signal the approach of a stranger, whoever he might be.
In short, everything denoted that one of the ceremonies peculiar to the prairies was about to take place. But, strange to say, Loyal Heart, Eagle Head, and Black Elk were absent.
Belhumeur alone watched over the preparations that were being made, talking, the while, to the old Comanche chief Eshis, or the Sun.
But their countenances were stern, their brows thoughtful, they appeared a prey to an overpowering preoccupation.
It was the day fixed upon by the captain of the pirates for Doña Luz to be delivered up to him.
Would the captain venture to come? or was his proposition anything more than a rodomontade?
Those who knew the pirate, and their number was great—almost all having suffered by his depredations—inclined to the affirmative.
This man was endowed, and it was the only quality they acknowledged in him, with a ferocious courage and an iron will.