He went on—
“The eagle may hide his track in the air from the eye of an Apache; the salmon in the stream leaves no trace behind him; but a white man who crosses the desert is neither a salmon nor an eagle.”
“Nor a gosling,” murmured Pepé; “and a gosling only betrays himself by trying to sing.”
The Indian listened again, but hearing no sound, continued, without showing any signs of being discouraged, “The white warriors of the north are but three against twenty, and the red warriors engage their word to be friends and allies to them.”
“Wagh!” said Bois-Rose, “for what perfidy has he need of us?”
“Let him go on, and we shall hear; he has not yet finished, or I am much mistaken!”
“When the white warriors know the intentions of the Blackbird, they will leave their hiding-place,” continued he, “but they shall hear them. The white men of the north are the enemies of those of the south—their language, their religion is different. The Apaches hold in their toils a whole camp of southern warriors.”
“So much the worse for the gold-seekers,” said Bois-Rose.
“If the warriors of the north will join the Indians with their long rifles, they shall share the horses and the treasures of the men of the south; the Indians and the whites will dance together round the corpses of their enemies, and the ashes of their camp.”
Bois-Rose and Pepé looked at each other in astonishment, and explained to Fabian the proposal made to them, but the fire of their eyes and their disdainful looks, showed that the noble trio had but one opinion on the subject—that of perishing rather than aiding the Indians to triumph even over their mortal enemies.