“Quien sabe—who knows?” replied the Spaniard, in the phrase which is the common answer of his native country.
But the sand trampled over by the wild horses who had come to drink, showed no traces of a human foot, and the Indian walked up the stream, still apparently seeking.
“The demon has some suspicion,” said Bois-Rose; “and he will discover the traces that we left half-a-mile off when we entered the bed of the river to get at this island. I told you,” added he, “that we should have entered two miles higher up; but neither you nor Fabian wished it, and like a fool, I yielded to you.”
The deliberation as to the fate of the prisoner was now doubtless over; for cries of joy welcomed some proposition made by one of the Indians. But it was necessary to await the return and approbation of the chief, who was the man already known to us as the “Blackbird.” He had continued his researches, and having reached the place where they had left the sand to enter the river, no longer doubted that the report brought to them had been correct; and having his own private objects, he determined to follow it. Once assured of the presence of the three whites, he returned to his men, listened gravely to the result of their deliberations, answered in a few words, and then advanced slowly towards the river—after having given an order to five of his men who set off at full gallop to execute it.
The aquatic plants were open in the sunshine; the breeze agitated the leaves of the osiers on the banks of the island, which was to all appearance as uninhabited as when the stream flowed only for the birds of heaven, and the buffaloes and wild horses of the plains. But an Indian could not be deceived by this apparent calm. The “Blackbird” made a speaking-trumpet of his hand, and cried in a language half Indian, half-Spanish—
“The white warriors of the north may show themselves; the ‘Blackbird’ is their friend. So, too, are the warriors he commands.”
At these words, borne to them distinctly by the wind, the Canadian pressed the arm of Pepé; both understood the mixed dialect of the Indian.
“What shall we reply?” said he.
“Nothing,” answered Pepé.
The breeze which murmured through the reeds was the only answer the Indian could hear.