And he mechanically obeyed the hunter by taking a peep at the tail of his robe, which he had not yet thought of letting go. "Now," Tranquil went on, "be kind enough to regard this man as a friend, and do for him what you would do, if wanted, for me, and I shall feel under the greatest obligations to you." The Chief bowed gracefully, and held out his hand to the Negro. "The words of my brother the hunter warble in my ears with the sweetness of the song of the _centzontle,"_ he said. "Black-deer is a Sachem of his nation, his tongue is not forked, and the words his chest breathes are clear, for they come from his heart; Black-face will have his place at the Council fire of the Pawnees, for from this moment he is the friend of a Chief." Quoniam bowed to the Indian, and warmly returned the pressure of his hand. "I am only a poor black," he said, "but my heart is pure, and the blood is as red in my veins as if I were Indian or white; both of you have a right to ask my life of me, and I will give it you joyfully." After this mutual exchange of assurances of friendship, the three men sat down on the ground, and began their breakfast. Owing to the excitement of the morning, the three adventurers had a ferocious appetite; they did honour to the buffalo hump, which disappeared almost entirely before their repeated attacks, and which they washed down with a few horns of water mixed with rum, of which liquor Tranquil had a small stock in a gourd, hanging from his waist belt. When the meal was ended, pipes were lighted, and each began smoking, silently, with the gravity peculiar to men who live in the woods. When the Chief's pipe was ended, he shook out the ashes on his left thumbnail, passed the stem through his belt, and turned to Tranquil, "Will my brothers hold a council?" he asked. "Yes," the Canadian answered: "when I left you on the Upper Missouri, at the end of the Moon of the burned fruit (July), you gave me the meeting at the creek of the dead oaks of the Elk River, on the tenth day of the Moon of the falling leaves (September), two hours before sunrise: both of us were punctual, and I am now waiting till it please you to explain to me, Chief, why you gave me this meeting." "My brother is correct, Black-deer will speak." After uttering these words, the Indian's face seemed to grow dark, and he fell into a profound reverie, which his comrades respected by patiently waiting till he spoke again. At length, after about a quarter of an hour, the Indian Chief passed his hand over his brow several times, raised his head, took a searching glance around, and made up his mind to speak, though in a low and restrained voice, as if, even on the desert, he feared lest his words might fall on hostile ears.