“What have you done with the white stranger that came to your camp last evening?”
The old impostor had no doubt seen me at the same time I had seen him as I crossed the mountain, but he was determined to make a mystery of it. Tamaque seemed puzzled.
“How did you know of his coming?” he inquired.
“Tamaque doubts the conjurer’s wisdom,” he replied.
“No!” said Tamaque, “you would not tell me what I come to hear. Go on, now, and I’ll believe you.”
“Has the stranger been put to death?”
“He is gone,” said Tamaque.
“It was wrong,” said the conjurer; “he should have died at the stake. The Great Spirit calls for a sacrifice. The missionary and his daughter must die.”
“No!” said Tamaque, “it is impossible.”
“It must be so,” replied the conjurer; “they must die before sunset.”