"The Grey Bear, the paleface chief, is ferocious, cruel, and a thief, but he is brave and truthful." Oliver and Clinton stared. "What he has said he will do, he will do. What he has offered he will give. Did we go openly to him? No! We hunted him like a wild beast Wounded, dying, we wished to kill him. He escaped; thanks not to cunning, but to audacity. He is a great chief." The whites exchanged glances. "Nothing would have been more easy for him than to laugh at our menaces and to conceal himself from us. Instead of that, he has sent us a collar--letter--in which he invites us to an interview, for the purpose of ending the troubles which divide us." "This may be a trick," said Oliver. "No! It is neither the act of a false nor of a double-faced man. No! It is the act of a brave and loyal warrior. That is my opinion. Whatever may happen during the next few hours, I am convinced that if we have confidence in him I shall be found right. I have said." The chief relighted his pipe, which had gone out during his speech, and from that moment he appeared to take no further part in the conversation. Still he listened to what the others said. "As far as I am concerned," observed Oliver, "I think the chief has spoken well. I agree with him on every point. As far as I can judge, this pirate or this outlaw, whichever you choose to call him, is not a man like other men. There is something in him which is not at all ordinary. In one word, he may, it is true, be a brigand, but, certainly, his is a very lofty nature. Until further events, I, for one, shall believe in his word." "All this is very possible," observed Bright-eye, shaking his head doubtingly, "but no one can deny that he is the captain of a monstrous set of brigands." "What does that prove?" said Oliver. "Nothing that I know of. Still I am decidedly of opinion that his word is not to be trusted." "Then allow me to observe," said George Clinton, drily, "why are we here?" "Why, because one always lives in hope, despite our better reason. Still we ought to be prudent." "Though I am not quite of the opinion of Bright-eye," said Charbonneau, "I think we should be wise not to rush headlong into a possible trap which the bandits may be preparing for us. He is right as to the wisdom of prudence." "I, too, am an advocate for prudence," said George Clinton; "nothing can be more wise than to take all proper precautions. That I fully agree with. But do not act in such a way as to cause our loyalty to be suspected, or our confidence in the man's word." "That can be easily arranged, my friends," said Charbonneau, with a cunning smile "let me alone, and, believe me, all will go well." "My worthy friend, act just as you think proper. You, perhaps, more than anyone, have experience of the desert, and nobody objects to your taking every precaution."