He rose to his feet, though plainly suffering in some slight degree from that brief collision with the huge beast, and smiling frankly into first one face, then the other, took Bruno's hand, touched it with his lips, then bowed his head and placed the whiter palm upon his now uncovered crown.
In like manner he saluted Waldo, after which he drew back a bit, still smiling genially, to add, in slowly spoken words:
“You save Ixtli. Bear kill—no; you kill—yes! Ixtli glad. Sun Children great—big heart full of love. So—Ixtli never do hurt, never do wrong; die for white brother—so!”
More through gesticulation than by speech, the young Indian brave made his sentiments clearly understood, and if they could have placed full dependence in that pledge, the brothers would have felt vastly relieved in mind.
But they only too clearly recalled numerous instances of cunning ill-faith, and, in despite of all, they could not well avoid thinking that this was really something like a white elephant thrown upon their hands.
“All right. Play we swallow it all, but keep your best eye peeled, old man,” guardedly whispered Waldo. “Fetch him along, yes or no, for it may be growing worse than dangerous right here, after so much shooting.”
“You mean for us to—”
“Take the fellow along, and keep him with us, until uncle Phaeton comes back to finally decide upon his case,” promptly explained Waldo. “Of course we ought to've let him die; ought, but didn't! We couldn't then, wouldn't now, if it was all to do over. So watch him so closely that he can't play tricks even if he wishes.”
There was nothing better to propose, and though the job promised to be an awkward one to manage, Ixtli himself rendered it more easy.
Past all doubt he could understand, as well as speak, the English language, for he took a step in evident submission, speaking gently: