"The great hunter of the Palefaces is severe to his Red brother," the Indian answered, with feigned humility, "What matter the days that have passed, if the hunter finds again his friend of the olden time?" The Canadian smiled disdainfully as he shrugged his shoulders. "Am I an old woman, to be deceived by the smooth words of a forked tongue?" he said. "Blue-fox is dead; my eyes only see here an Apache Chief, that is to say, an enemy." "Let my brother remove the skin from his heart, he will recognise a friend," the Indian continued, still in a honeyed voice. Tranquil involuntarily felt impatient at such cynical impudence. "A truce to fine speeches, whose sincerity I do not believe in," he said. "Was he my friend who a few days ago tried to carry off my daughter, and at the head of his warriors attacked the calli in which she dwelt, and which is now reduced to ashes?" "My brother has heard the mockingbird whisper in his ear, and put faith in its falsehoods; the mocker is a chattering and lying bird." "You are more chattering and lying than the mocker," Tranquil exclaimed, as he violently stamped the butt of his rifle on the ground. "For the last time I repeat to you that I regard you not as a friend, but as an enemy. Now, we have nothing more to say to one another, so let us separate, for this unpleasant conference has already lasted too long." The Indian took a piercing glance around him, and his eye sparkled ferociously. "We will not part thus," he said, as he walked two or three steps nearer the hunter, who still remained motionless. The latter attentively followed his every movement, while affecting the most perfect confidence. As for Fray Antonio, through certain signs that do not deceive men accustomed to Indian tricks, he understood that the moment for acting vigorously was fast approaching, and while continuing to feign the most perfect indifference to the interview of which he was witness, he had quietly drawn the pistols from under his gown, and held them cocked in his hand, ready to employ them at the first alarm. The situation was growing most awkward between the two speakers: each was preparing for the struggle, although the faces were still calm and their voices gentle. "Yes," Tranquil continued, without displaying the slightest emotion, "we will part thus, Chief, and may Heaven grant that we may never find ourselves face to face again." "Before separating, the hunter will answer one question." "I will not, for this conversation has lasted too long already. Farewell!" And he fell back a pace. The Sachem stretched forth his arm to stop him. "One word!" "I will not," the Canadian replied. "Then die, miserable dog of a Paleface," the Chief exclaimed, at length throwing off the mask and brandishing his tomahawk with extreme rapidity.