Chopah nodded.
“No, no, Chopah, don’t tell Hondurah this;” and for a moment the chief hid his eyes in his hands. “Do not tell him that Clearwater is a traitress.”
“Chopah never hides the truth,” was the reply reluctantly given. “The young braves—the braves who have lied—will say that Chopah speaks the right words. Braves—”
He paused suddenly, for the young warriors were gone! One by one, silent and sullen, they had sneaked unperceived from the spot, unable to withstand the anger of Hondurah, when Chopah should denounce them.
Hondurah smiled faintly at the chief’s consternation.
“Let them go,” said the latter chief. “They have basely deceived us, and at some other time they shall pay the penalty attached to deception. Clearwater fell beneath the aim of Chopah’s braves,” continued the chief; “but while we pursued the White Tiger and his tigress, a man came and stole her, and tore from their heads the scalps of our braves.”
“How does Chopah know that a man came?”
“By the mark on the tree.”
The tomahawk pointed to the White Tiger’s mark, and Hondurah stepped nearer and examined it.
“The White Tiger was far away when this was cut?” he asked, curiously.