The deep, musical voice of the red man revealed such bitter feeling that Hugh Edwards was moved to pity. And then, as he stood there in the silence that had fallen upon them, a strange thing happened. It was as if the spirit of the Indian had somehow touched the inner self of the stranger and had quickened in him a kindred savage lusting for revenge upon some enemy who had brought upon him, too, humiliation and shame and suffering beyond expression. The white man’s hands were clenched, his breast heaved with labored breathing, his face was black with passion, his eyes were dreadful with the scowling light of anger and hate.
A faint smile came like a swift shadow over the face of the watching Indian; then he spoke with deliberate meaning:
“And why have you come to the Cañada del Oro? Why should a man like you wish to live here, in the Cañon of Gold?”
Hugh Edwards gained control of himself with an effort.
“I came to look for gold; as you see,” he said at last.
Again that faint smile like a quick shadow touched the face of the red man.
And this time the other saw it. Looking straight into the eyes of the Indian, he said coldly:
“And you, what do you do for a living?”
Natachee, returning look for look, answered simply:
“I live as my fathers lived.”