The horseman, who was an Indian warrior, responded to these pacific demonstrations by letting his buffalo robe float out; then he dismounted, and without further ceremony, shook the hands offered him. "You are welcome, Chief," John said; "we were awaiting you impatiently." "My Pale brothers can look at the sun," the Indian answered; "Blue-fox is punctual." "That is true, Chief; there is nothing to be said, for you are remarkably punctual." "Time waits for no man; warriors are not women; Blue-fox would like to hold a council with his Pale brothers." "Be it so," John went on: "your observation is just. Chief, so let us deliberate; I am anxious to come to a definitive understanding with you." The Indian bowed gravely to the speaker, sat down, lit his pipe, and, began smoking with evident pleasure; the hunters took seats by his side, and, like him, remained silent during the whole period their tobacco lasted. At length, the Chief shook the ashes out of the bowl on his thumbnail, and prepared to speak. At the same instant a detonation was heard, and a bullet cut away a branch just over the Chiefs head. The three men leaped to their feet, and seizing their arms, prepared bravely to repulse the enemies who attacked them so suddenly. CHAPTER XVII. THE PANTHER-KILLER. Between the Larch-tree hacienda and the Venta del Potrero, just half way between the two places, or at about forty miles from either, two men were sitting on the banks of a nameless stream, and conversing, as they supped on pemmican and a few boiled _camotes_. These two men were Tranquil, the Canadian, and Quoniam, the Negro. About fifty yards from them, in a copse of brambles and shrubs, a young colt about two months old was fastened to the trunk of a gigantic catalpa. The poor animal, after making vain efforts to break the cord that held it, had at length recognised the inutility of its attempts, and had sorrowfully lain down on the ground. The two men, whom we left young at the end of our prologue, had now reached the second half of life. Although age had got but a slight grasp on their iron bodies, a few grey hairs were beginning to silver the hunter's scalp, and wrinkles furrowed his face, which was bronzed by the changes of the seasons. Still, with the exception of these slight marks, which serve as a seal to ripened age, nothing denoted any weakening in the Canadian; on the contrary, his eye was still bright, his body equally straight, and his limbs just as muscular. As for the Negro, no apparent change had taken place in him, and he seemed as young as ever; he had merely grown lustier, but had lost none of his unparalleled activity. The spot where the two wood rangers had camped was certainly one of the most picturesque on the prairie.