"No, he is a Paleface; but if his skin is white, the Great Spirit has placed an Indian heart in his bosom." "But why does not the Chief frankly go and join his friend, if he knows where he is? He would be probably delighted to see him again." At this insinuation, which he was far from anticipating, the Chief frowned, and a cloud momentarily crossed his face; but the monk was too little of an observer to remark this emotion: he had asked the question, as he would have done any other, unmeaningly, and simply to show the Chief by replying that he was an attentive listener. After a few seconds, the Indian reassumed that apathy which the Redskins rarely put off, and only when taken by surprise, and continued-- "Blue-fox does not go to meet his friend, because the latter is not alone, and has with him enemies of your Chief." "That is different, and I can understand your prudence." "Good," the Indian added, with a sardonic smile, "wisdom speaks by the mouth of my rather; he is certainly a Chief of prayer, and his lips distil the purest honey." Fray Antonio drew himself up, and his alarm was beginning to be dissipated; he saw vaguely that the Redskin wished to ask something of him--in short, that he wanted his help. This thought restored his courage, and he tried to complete the effect he fancied he had produced on his Machiavellian questioner. "What my brother is unable to do, I can undertake," he said, in an insinuating voice. The Apache gave him a piercing glance. "Wah!" he replied, "Then my father knows where to find the Chiefs friend?" "How should I know it?" the monk objected; "You have not told me his name yet." "That is true; my father is good, he will forgive me. So he does not yet know who the Pale hunter is?" "I know him, perhaps, but up to the present I am ignorant whom the Chief alludes to." "Blue-fox is rich; he has numerous horses; he can assemble round his totem one hundred warriors, and ten times, twenty times more. If my father is willing to serve the Sachem, he will find him grateful." "I ask nothing better than to be agreeable to you. Chief, if it lies in my power; but you must explain: clearly what I have to do, in order that I may make no mistake." "Good; the Sachem will explain everything to his father." "In that way, nothing will be easier." "Does my father believe so?" "Well, I do not see what can prevent it." "Then my father will listen. Among all the Pale hunters, whose moccasins trample the prairie grass in all directions, there is one who is braver and more terrible than the rest; the tigers and jaguars fly at his approach, and the Indian warriors themselves are afraid to cope with him. This hunter is no effeminate Yori; the blood of the Gachupinos does not flow in his veins; he is the son of a colder land, and his ancestors fought for a lengthened period with the Long Knives of the East." "Good," the monk said; "from what the Chief tells me, I see that this man is a Canadian."