"Of what use would it be to repeat to you a name which, according to all probability, is unknown to you, and which cannot interest you? If my brother will permit me, I will retire." "No; not before my mother has told me the name of her son, the great warrior," said the Comanche, knitting his brow and stamping his foot with ill-restrained anger. The old Spaniard saw an end must be put to this; his determination was formed in a second. "My brother is a great chief," he said, "although his hair is still brown, his wisdom is immense. I am his friend, and am sure he would not abuse the chance that has delivered into his hands the mother of his enemy: the name of that woman's son is Loyal Heart." "Wah!" said Eagle Head, with a sinister smile, "I knew that well enough: why have the palefaces two hearts and two tongues? and why do they always seek to deceive the redskins?" "We have not sought to deceive you, chief." "I say you have. Since you have been with us, you have been treated as children of the tribe. I have saved your life!" "That is true." "Very well," he resumed, with an ironical smile, "I will prove to you that Indians do not forget, and that they know how to render good for evil. These wounds that you see me bear, who inflicted them? Loyal Heart! We are enemies; his mother is in my power; I could at once tie her to the stake of torture; it is my right to do so." The two Spaniards hung their heads. "The law of the prairies is an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Listen to me well, Old Oak. In remembrance of our ancient friendship, I grant you a respite. Tomorrow at sunrise, you shall set out in search of Loyal Heart; if, within four days, he does not come to deliver himself up into my hands, his mother shall perish; my young men shall burn her alive at the stake of blood, and my brothers shall make war whistles of her bones. Begone! I have spoken!" The old man eagerly implored mercy. He threw himself on his knees before the chief; but the vindictive Indian spurned him with his foot, and turned away. "Oh! madam," the old man murmured, in despair, "you are lost!" "But be sure, Eusebio," the mother replied, choking with tears, "be sure not to bring back my son! Of what consequence is my death! Alas! has not my life already been long enough?" The old servant cast a glance of admiration at his mistress. "Ever the same!" he said affectionately. "Does not the life of a mother belong to her child?" she said, with a cry which seemed to come from her very heart. The old people sank, overwhelmed with grief, at the foot of a tree, and passed the night in praying to God. Eagle Head did not appear to have an idea of this despair. CHAPTER XVIII. NÔ EUSEBIO.