"Here I am."
This warrior was the son of the Apache Chief, a tall and nobly-built lad of sixteen to seventeen. His features were handsome, his glance was haughty, his demeanour simple, and noble without boasting.
"This boy is my son," Blue-fox said to the Comanche Chiefs.
"Good!" they replied, bowing courteously.
"Does my son consent to remain as a hostage in the place of his father?" Black-deer asked him.
The young man bowed his head in assent.
"My son knows that if his father does not come to liberate his pledge, he will die in his place?"
A smile of contempt played round the boy's lips.
"I know it," he said,
"And my son accepts?"