Eagle Head then left the tree behind which he had been screened, and began to creep with extreme address and velocity, in the direction of the village. On reaching the skirts of the forest he stopped; then, after casting round an investigating glance, he imitated the neighing of a horse with such perfection that two horses of the village immediately replied to him. After waiting for a few seconds, the practised ear of the chief perceived an almost insensible noise among the leaves; the bellowing of an ox was heard a short distance away; then the chief arose and waited. Two seconds later a man joined him. This man was White Eyes, the old hunter. A sinister smile curled the corners of his thin lips. "What are the white men doing?" the chief asked. "They are asleep," the half-breed answered. "Will my brother give them up to me?" "For a fair exchange." "A chief has but one word. The pale woman and the grey head?" "Are here." "Shall they belong to me?" "All the inhabitants of the village shall be placed in the hands of my brethren." "Och! Has not the hunter come?" "Not yet." "He will come presently?" "Probably he will." "What does my brother say now?" "Where is that which I demanded of the chief?" the hunter said. "The skins, the guns, and the powder, are in the rear, guarded by my young men." "I trust to you, chief," the hunter replied, "but if you deceive me----" "An Indian has but one word." "That is good! Whenever you please, then." Ten minutes later the Indians were masters of the village, all the inhabitants of which, roused one after the other, were made prisoners without a struggle. The fort was surrounded by the Comanches, who, after heaping up at the foot of the walls trunks of trees, carts, furniture, and all the farming implements of the colonists, only waited for a signal from their chief to commence the attack. All at once a vague form stood out from the top of the fort, and the cry of the sparrowhawk echoed through the air. The Indians set fire to the kind of pyre they had raised and rushed towards the palisades, uttering altogether that horrible and piercing war cry which is peculiar to them, and which, on the frontiers, is always the signal for a massacre. CHAPTER VIII. INDIAN VENGEANCE. The position of the Americans, was most critical. The captain, surprised by the silent attack of the Comanches, had been suddenly awakened by the frightful war cry they uttered, as soon as they had set fire to the materials heaped up in front of the fort. Springing out of bed, the brave officer, for a moment dazzled by the ruddy gleam of the flames, half-dressed himself, and, sabre in hand, rushed towards the side where the garrison reposed; they had already taken the alarm, and were hastening to their posts with that careless bravery which distinguishes the Yankees. But what was to be done? The garrison amounted, captain included, to twelve men.